Lordi Marker Prairie Bioblitz

Heidi and I participated for the fifth consecutive year in the annual bioblitz conducted by the Missouri Prairie Foundation, on June 6-7, 2026. This year it was at the Lordi Marker Prairie, which is adjacent to some other protected prairie acreage, at least one of which is under the ownership of Missouri Department of Conservation. The area is south-southwest of Sedalia, Missouri, in Pettis County.

Per our usual duties, we led a bug walk each day, and deployed a blacklight at night on Saturday.

The turnout for these events is always excellent, and diverse, with people of all ages and ethnicities gathering in a welcoming space.

Once again, the weather turned out to be better than expected, though those people who tent camped on the property did experience thunderstorms and showers in the middle of the night, early Sunday morning.

An iPhone 14 photo of a Margined Leatherwing beetle on yarrow.

Upon arriving, we were a bit startled by how many flowers were blooming. Especially abundant was New Jersey Tea, but the flowers seemed to attract relatively few insects except for beetles. The Margined Leatherwing, Chauliognathus marginatus, was one of the most abundant of insects, as is usually the case in early June in this part of the country. The Dark Flower Scarab, Euphoria sepulchralis, was also common.

Dark Flower Scarab, Euphoria sepulchralis, on New Jersey Tea.

One of the highlights of our visit was seeing a couple of Regal Fritillary butterflies, Argynnis idalia, formerly Speyeria idalia, flitting from flower to flower in the distance. This is a vulnerable, if not threatened, prairie-dependent insect, which feeds on the leaves of violets in the caterpillar stage. Its presence here indicates a high-quality habitat, even if “reclaimed” from its history as a hayfield. I can apparently show you this species, despite its conservation status.

Regal Fritillary leaving a flower.

There were different group leaders for butterflies, and for bees, and it proved something of a challenge to document many of those pollinator species. They were there, but widely scattered and difficult to intercept. We had somewhat better luck, if only because we had few taxonomic constraints. Anything insect or arachnid was fair game.

An immature White-banded Crab Spider, Misumenoides formosipes, waits in ambush on a flower.

One of the bee experts joined us on Sunday morning, and furnished participants with vials, and nets, they could use to capture specimens and bring them back to show everyone. This worked very well, and we will adopt this strategy for future outings.

Late instar nymph of a Broad-winged Sedge Grasshopper.

Our sharp-eyed and curious party members secured some truly exciting finds. Chief among them were nymphs, and a couple of adults, of the Broad-winged Sedge Grasshopper, Stethophyma celatum. I had never heard of it, either! In fact, I wrongly identified it as a species in the genus Chloealtis, when it doesn’t even belong in the same subfamily. Someone on iNaturalist corrected my repeatedly, which caused me to consult some grasshopper experts I know personally, and they confirmed it. I then apologized to the iNat person for doubting them.

Adult Broad-winged Sedge Grasshopper.

This grasshopper is another prairie obligate denizen, and a significant record.

Another unique species was a large fulgorid planthopper, Cyrpoptus belfragei, pictured above. It looks like a cross between a spittlebug (we saw plenty of evidence of those, too), and a cicada.

As a precaution for potential severe weather, we simply hung the blacklight on the bigtop tent.

Blacklighting produced some cool bugs, too. My favorite was probably a Bruner’s Earth-boring Scarab Beetle, Bolbercerosoma bruneri, that disappeared as quickly as we had uncovered it in a fold at the bottom of the tent flap.

Bruner's Earth-boring Scarab Beetle.

We also documented a vulnerable moth species, which I cannot, in good conscience, disclose its identity. There are enough unscrupulous collectors and dealers that it would put this population at risk of anihilation. Suffice that this prairie exceeds expectations for flora and fauna.

Another interesting moth, the Bog Glyph, Deltote bellicula.

While I am a member of, and volunteer for, the Missouri Prairie Foundation, I am not being compensated for singing its praises. This is one of those rare organizations that pays attention to details, and recognizes the importance of contributions from all demographics, including Indigenous peoples. It works with landowners over the long term to secure protection for habitat in perpetuity.

A longhorned beetle, Batyle suturalis, on a flower.

Those human relationships, between all the volunteers at the bioblitz, and between the nonprofit and private property owners, are what we need to promote across our entire country. It is becoming clear that when left to political institutions, little is truly sacred, and even less is enduring.

Spangled Pelochrista moth, Pelochrista scintillana, was common.

All observations from the bioblitz can be found here on iNaturalist. Please explore iNaturalist projects to find bioblitzes near you, and participate in them. I guarantee you will make new friends, have a great time, and probably make some important discoveries, be they personal or scientific.

Grand Western Cicada

On this “True Bug Tuesday,” with Christmas carols seemingly always within earshot, I harken back to summer and the melodic sounds of cicadas. Ok, maybe “blaring noise” is a truer description of those members of the genus Tibicen that were omnipresent during our visits to Ohio, Iowa, and Kansas this year. One of the more impressive species we saw was the “Grand Western Cicada,” Tibicen dorsatus.

T. dorsatus is also known as the “Bush Cicada” and “Splendid Prairie Cicada.” Indeed, it is most abundant in remnants of tallgrass and shortgrass prairie, and savannah-like habitats in the Great Plains states east of the Rocky Mountains and west of the Mississippi River. Scattered records are also known as far east as Indiana. Few populations exist north of Wyoming and southern South Dakota.

This species is one of the so-called “annual” cicadas. That term translates to at least some individuals of a given species emerging as adults every year, even though the life cycle still takes about five years or more to complete. So, emergences are staggered, not synchronized as is the case with the periodical cicadas of the genus Magicicada. Annual cicadas also emerge later in the season than their synchronous relatives. Look for T. dorsatus in July, August, and September (as early as June in some southern latitudes).

The fact that annual cicadas are frequently heard during the hottest part of the summer and fall has lent them additional labels of “dog day cicadas” and “harvestflies.” They also present themselves during the hottest times of the day, depending on the species, adding a literal, audible sizzle to the infernal temperature.

Only male cicadas produce sound, and they do so internally. Most of the abdomen of a male cicada is occupied by two large cavities, each opening on the underside but covered by a lid-like “operculum.” Inside, a large muscle in each chamber can be vibrated at high speed, producing a sound that is amplified and projected outward as the insect contorts its body. The Little Drummer Boy has nothing on these guys.

Most of a cicada’s life is spent underground, of course, living as a hunchbacked nymph sucking plant sap from roots of trees and shrubs and other plants. That diet doesn’t foster rapid growth, and it therefore takes the insect a long period of time to mature. Eventually it does so, though, and claws its way to the soil surface, usually under cover of darkness, to complete its metamorphosis.

As soon as the nymph extracts itself from the ground, it seeks in earnest the nearest vertical object. Climbing to an adequate height (perhaps an individual decision rather than a hard-wired instinctive one) it digs in and splits its exoskeleton down the middle of its back. A soft, pale insect with stubby wings pulls itself out with great effort.

Many cicadas must perish in the act of this final molt, becoming tangled in their own “skin,” or simply not having enough energy to complete the ordeal. Others come out imperfect, unable to fly or with malformed legs. Those that do manage to struggle out of their old selves then hang quietly while the wings inflate and pigments begin to manifest themselves in the otherwise ghostly creature.

Once hardened, cicadas are durable insects. I once saw a Blue Jay catch a cicada in Cincinnati, Ohio, try to hammer it to death on a utility wire, only to have the insect slip out of its beak and fly away.

The Grand Western Cicada is one of our larger species, measuring around 57 millimeters (2.5 inches) from “nose” to the tips of its folded wings. The decorative white markings are actually waxy, and can rub off. The waxy substance also covers the belly of the insect, and cicadas often orient themselves belly-up to the sun so as to prevent becoming overheated.

While many cicada species also call from the canopy of trees, where they are shaded, the Grand Western Cicada often perches low on vegetation where it tends to be more exposed. Despite its contrasting coloration, it is surprisingly cryptic.

Another, very similar species, Tibicen tremulus, has recently been described. Its range overlaps with that of T. dorsatus, and the only way to easily segregate the two in the field is by differences in their songs.

This last summer was apparently a good year if you like cicadas. They were very abundant in the Midwest U.S. If you missed their diversity and concerts, keep an ear cocked for them next year.

Sources: Bartlett, Troy, et al. 2013. “Species Tibicen dorsatus - Bush Cicada,” Bugguide.net.
Cranshaw, Whitney, and Boris Kondratieff. 1995. Bagging Big Bugs: How to Identify, Collect and Display the Largest and Most Colorful Insects of the Rocky Mountain Region. Golden, CO: Fulcrum Publishing. 324 pp.
Hill, Kathy, and David C. Marshall. 2013. Insect Singers.
Salsbury, Glenn A. and Stephan C. White. 2000. Insects in Kansas (3rd Edition). Topeka, KS: Kansas Department of Agriculture. 523 pp.