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  • Edith's Copper | ButterfliesofOregon

    Gallery Prev Next Bristow Prairie, Lane Co, July 8 - female Edith's Copper Tharsalea editha AKA Lycaena editha Size: 1.1 - 1.25 inches wingspan ​ Key ID features: Female above gray-brown with black spots and orange "arches" along upper HW trailing margin. Male above gray, with only a few small spots along HW trailing margin. Below HW grayish brown with brown spots outlined with darker brown, and submarginal white band. Female with darker, bolder spots on VFW and bolder orange line along VHW trailing margin. ​ Similar species: Great Copper is larger, dorasl ground color often lighter, and HW spots smaller and further apart. Great Copper often has a more noticeable tale. Host plant: Dock (Rumex ) species and Knotweeks (Polygonum ). ​ Habitat: Meadows, open areas along streams, roadsides. ​ Range: Widespread in Siskiyou Mtns, Klamath Mtns, Warner Mtns, Southern Cascade Mtns, Ochoco Mtns, Blue Mtns. Wallowa Mtns. ​ Season: Mid-June to early September ​ Abundance: Common Conservation Status: Secure

  • Hoffman's Checkerspot | ButterfliesofOregon

    Gallery Prev Next Bachelor Mtn, Linn Co, July 13 Hoffmann's Checkerspot Chlosyne hoffmanni Size: 1.25 to 1.75 inch wingspan ​ Key ID features: Above, bands of orange and yellow-orange, separated by black lines and patches . Median band usually lighter. Basal 1/3 of HW above is mostly black with little orange. Below bands of off-white and brick red with black veins and edges. Red spots in postmedian band often longer than in similar species. ​ Similar species: Northern Checkerspot does not have the large black area on the basal HW above, and below postmedian band spots are generally shorter than in Hoffman's. ​ Hostplant: Asters, including western showy aster (Eurybia conspicua ) and Cascade aster (Eucephalus ledophyllus ) . ​ Habitat: Moist montane meadows, canyons, streamsides, clearings in conifer forests. ​ Range: Cascade Range above 1000 feet. ​ Season: Early May to early September ​ Abundance: Common Conservation Status: Secure

  • Great Copper | ButterfliesofOregon

    Gallery Prev Next West Eugene Wetlands, Lane Co, July 25 - female Great Copper Tharsalea xanthoides AKA Lycaena xanthoides Size: 1.25- 1.75 inches wingspan ​ Key ID features: Large for a copper. May have very short tail. Female above gray-brown with tan patches, black spots, and orange lunules (series of crescent shapes) on the trailing edge of the HW. Male above gray-brown, with only a few small spots along HW trailing margin. Below HW grayish brown with black spots, submarginal white band, and pale zigzag orange line along VHW trailing margin. Female with bolder zigzag orange line along VHW trailing margin. Often has a noticeable though small tail. ​ Similar species: Edith's Copper is smaller, often with darker dorsal ground color, and VHW spots are larger and closer together . Edith's tend to have no tail or a tiny stub of a tail. Host plant: Dock (Rumex ) species are suspected. ​ Habitat: Grassy hillsides in the south, wet meadows in the Willamette Valley. ​ Range: South Siskiyou Mtns, southern Willamette Valley. ​ Season: Mid-June to early September ​ Abundance: Locally common Conservation Status: Secure throughout most of its range, but population in southern Willamette Valley is perilously small.

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Blog Posts (43)

  • Yes, We have Volcanos!

    I've been known to describe my avocation of chasing butterflies in Oregon as a game played on the huge game board of the state of Oregon--"the Big Game Board." There's something about these lines drawn on a map, whether they be county or state boundaries, that inspires me to make up rules for a game in a way that motivates me to get organized, get out of the house, and go find something wonderful in nature on a regular basis. I play this game with both butterflies and birds, and I seem to gravitate most often to playing on the "Little Game Board" of Lane County, and on the "Big Game Board" of Oregon. I use these human delineations of the physical landscape to add an element of fun and challenge to my outdoor adventures. Back in August of 2020, I visited Crater Lake to look for two of our as-yet undescribed Blues, the Pumice Blue ("Square-spotted Blue" on Eriogonum marifolium) and the Shasta Blue (Icaricia on E. pyrolifolium var. coryphaeum). After finding both species at Crater Lake, and full of curiosity, I then hiked up into the pumice flats of Wickiup Plain near South Sister to look there. I wanted to find these species in Lane County if I could, and I did find them, which was a lot of fun. Later that fall, my colleague Lori Humphreys, an excellent butterflier and naturalist, told me she'd seen the Volcano Blue in Lane County, on the top of Twins Peak back in 2011. Ever since she told me that, I'd wanted to go see if the Volcano Blue is still there, in Lane County, and photo-document it--playing the game on the Little Game Board! I started a round of the game late last July, when I made the 3 mile, 1500-foot climb to Twins Peak, at over 7,000 feet elevation. Twins Peak is just east of Waldo Lake, in the central Cascade Mountains. On that visit last July, the weather was less than ideal and there was a lot of wildfire smoke around. The weather changed dramatically almost as soon as I got to the steep cinder fields on the west flank of the peaks, and clouds, wind and finally rain, soon drove me off the peak. I saw one blue that day I thought could be a Volcano Blue, but it was pretty beat up and not what I could call definitive. Undaunted by "losing" that round of the game, I planned this year's visit to coincide with the timing of last year's trip to Crater Lake, which was about a week into August. That timing looked like it might have been the peak of the flight season, so I decided to try that again. I knew that there were a couple of wildfires burning near Oakridge, Oregon and that there was the possibility that there would be too much smoke around Twins Peak to make the hike. I certainly didn't want to be sucking in smoky air while climbing up the peak for 90 minutes, but I also didn't want to wait another year for Round 2 of the game. Indeed as I drove through Oakridge, the valley was thick with smoke, and my heart dropped. But, having come that far, I thought it would be worth it to continue a bit further and see which way the smoke was blowing. When I got to the Waldo Lake Road, I saw blue skies to the north and east. Game on! At least I could make the hike up while breathing fresh air, and see what, if any, butterflies were flying near the summit. I hiked pretty fast through the forest, recalling my last time through, when mosquitoes buzzed, chased and bit me all through the forest. My strategy this time was to not stop and to move quickly enough that the mosquitoes might be able to follow the trail of carbon dioxide I was leaving behind, but not actually catch up to me. In case you didn't know, mosquitoes can detect concentrations of carbon dioxide (which we breathe out), and that's one of the ways they find us, even in the dark. My strategy worked pretty well, as I only got bit a couple times on the walk. I was glad when I got to the part of the trail that starts to rise more steeply towards the peak, as the mosquies tend to thin out there. As I reached the lower portion of the cinder field on the west slope, right away I began to see Marumleaf Buckwheat (Eriogonum marifolium), the host plant for the Pumice Blue. The blooms were past their prime, but still standing. I saw just one small Euphilotes blue hanging around a Marumleaf Buckwheat plant, and got just enough of a look at it to confirm its identity. Based on the location, its association with this buckwheat species and its Euphilotes markings, I knew it was Pumice Blue. It was the only Pumice Blue I would see all afternoon. Likely, I was a bit late for the Pumice Blue flight period at this location. As I moved up into the cinder field, I started to also see scattered Shasta Buckwheat (Eriogonum pyrolifolium var. coryphaeum) plants, which are the host plant for the Volcano Blue. These were in various stages of bloom and senescence, but many were still quite fresh. "Excellent!" I said aloud to no one in particular. Not long after that I spotted a blue on a Shasta Buckwheat bloom. I carefully made my way closer to the plant, negotiating the slip-n-slide cinder so as not to stumble and spook the butterfly. I got my bins on it, and, voila! Volcano Blue! I don't really know why it made me so happy that Volcano Blue was surviving on the Lane County side of Twins Peak, but it did. Sure, I'd "won" this round of the game, but it felt like there was something deeper there, too. Something personal. As I slowly continued working my way up the trail, I got several photos of both male and female Volcano Blues, almost always on their host plant--how convenient! I was headed towards the boundary between Lane County and Deschutes County, which cuts a north-south line just a stone's throw east of the two summits. The red cinder field where I'd found the Volcano Blues lay on the west-facing Lane County side. I was curious to see what else was flying so I continued up the trail towards the summit, crossing into Deschutes County. Closer to the summit of the north peak I found several more species, in very small numbers--several species represented by just one individual. I was surprised to find that Volcano Blues were the most numerous species, at a whopping 7 individuals. Three Hydaspe Fritillaries (Speyeria hydaspe) worked hard to elude identification by consistently landing at an angle that prevented me from seeing their ventral disc pattern. However, with patience I got closer and better angle to see their reddish ventral disc and pinkish submarginal band. A couple of male Anna's Blues (Plebejus anna) working the edges of openings in the forest looked huge compared to the smaller Volcano and Pumice blues. I ate lunch facing a grand view out over the central High Desert, entertained by a Mormon Fritillary (Speyeria mormonia) dancing from flower to flower, and a Yellow-bellied Marmot (Marmota flaviventris) who watched me warily from its rocky perch down the steep eastern slope. After lunch, before heading up the south peak, I walked back to the west side to check on the wind and weather conditions. I immediately saw that the smoke plume from the massive Cedar Creek Fire was now headed my way. I passed on the south peak and paused for a moment to ponder what was happening down there, where that smoke was billowing out of the forest, west of Waldo Lake. It was painful to let it sink in... Sigh. Okay, time to skedaddle back down the trail. Last year when I visited Wickiup Plain at the base of South Sister, I had found and photographed Shasta Blue (Icaricia shasta) and Pumice Blue in Lane County. This year, I felt a certain glow of satisfaction to be able to confirm that the Volcano Blue, our other high elevation blue of dry pumice and cinder habitat, is also living in Lane County. It's fun to play the game on these big, beautiful game boards, but that deeper feeling is also there. It has something to do with feeling connected to this land around me. It's important to me, and in some way, I hope to be important to it, to contribute to it. So I learn and share, and I hope to inspire others to know and love and care for this beautiful place we live in. That's more than a game, it's more a way of life. I saw a total of 8 species on the upper slopes of Twins Peak. Interestingly, all the blues were on the Lane County side, and all the other species were east of the line in Deschutes County.

  • Wave the Checkered Flag!

    I first started looking for the enigmatic Checkered White (Pontia protodice) back in 2004, at Picture Rock Pass, in Lake County. It was, of course, Andy Warren who suggested that I search there, as he had found them there the previous year. It was hot, dry, beautiful high desert landscape--just what Checkered Whites usually prefer. In the past five or six years, more and more online resources have been developed by which people can report butterflies they've seen and photos they've taken of them. In the late summer and fall, I enjoy perusing people's photos and sightings and offering some help with identification of Oregon species that folks are struggling with. Last summer, while poking around on the "Butterflies and Moths of North America" website (, I was surprised to come upon a photo taken by my friend and former colleague Cary Kerst. I knew he was a real dragonfly enthusiast, but I didn't recall that he was into photographing butterflies. What was more surprising was that the photo was of a Checkered White, taken in Linn County, Oregon! I had known that there were scattered records of Checkered Whites in the northern half of Oregon over the years, but I hadn't realized that there was a documented sighting within 90 minutes drive of Eugene! As you might imagine, when August rolled around, I was duty-bound to make the trip over to Lost Lake to learn check out the area, where Cary had taken that photo, and perhaps find Checkered White. I had been there in early spring for birding once or twice, but never in late summer. I went on the exact date that Cary had found his, thinking that might put me in good timing for the flight period. What I found were many Western Whites (Pontia occidentalis), zipping hither and yon, inviting me to chase them all over the meadow with Hooper, my trusty butterfly net. They were landing infrequently, and it was a gusty afternoon, making them even faster fliers than normal. So when I say that I found many Western Whites, what I actually mean is that out of the many whites flying that afternoon, the only ones I could see well, photograph and identify with certainty were Western Whites, and I assumed they all were. But a couple of them looked iffy to me. Just to be sure, I shared some of my photos with Ken Davenport, one of California's preeminent lepidopterists, who is very familiar with Checkered Whites, as he encounters them frequently down where he lives. "All Westerns," Ken replied. I decided I needed more preparation and study to be able to find and identify Checkered White, so I deferred further searching to 2022. I had studied many photos of Checkered Whites, and picked Ken's brain for identification tips. He noted that the gray markings at the forewing tips of males are generally smaller, lighter, and have more white space between them compared to the very similar Western Whites. I also learned that the veins on the ventral hindwing are more yellow on Checkered, and more greenish on Westerns. And I learned that the dorsal markings on many female Checkered Whites are more brownish-gray than bluish-gray, as you would see on a Western White. I found a little chart graphic that highlighted these field marks and saved it to my phone for reference. I felt more prepared this year. I again planned my visit around the date on which Cary had photographed his Checkered White, but delayed it a week to take into account the late, wet spring. That put my arrival date on August 10. In spite of heavy wildfire smoke in the central Western Cascades, Lost Lake had crystal-clear, blue skies. It was surprisingly cool that day, however, only 70°F, and I saw only one Western White and one Cabbage White (Pieris rapae). I did see 15 other species altogether, including a surprising "clump" of Sylvan Hairstreaks (10 in one small patch of Pearly Everlasting). I concluded that I was a bit early for Checkered White this year, and planned a second visit. I returned to Lost Lake 10 days later, on August 20. Again, I was blessed with clear blue skies, and it made it into the upper 70's in the afternoon. Still very few whites flying. I spotted six whites out in the meadow, and try as I might, I wasn't able to turn any of them into Checkered Whites. Hydaspe Fritillaries (Speyeria hydaspe) and Golden Hairstreaks (Habrodais grunus) were the most numerous species among the 16 that I saw that day. I decided that I would just keep returning to Lost Lake until I felt satisfied that I had adequately experienced the flight period of the whites there or until I found Checkered White, whichever came first. My next visit was six days later, on August 26. Another glorious day and again smoke-free, with temps in the upper 70's, and breezy with some gusts in the afternoon. I wasn't thrilled about the wind, as it can really wreak havoc with butterfly photography. Imagine a small broad-winged insect that weighs virtually nothing, is easily carried off by the wind, perched on a bendy little plant that swings and sways with every breeze. Now throw in an occasional gust of real wind. Not helpful! All that wind-induced flopping around can make it devilishly difficult to get a sharp image! All part of the challenge and the fun. Riiiiight! This trip, I was accompanied by two friends, John and Rich, who are excellent birders, and quite good with butterflies also. The more eyes, the better! We walked out into the meadow adjacent to the lake, and I noticed a few whites flying, but still not the numbers I had seen here last year. Still, I hoped that our timing was better this visit, and that there would be at least one Checkered White somewhere out in that meadow. We noticed that the whites were heavily favoring purple-flowered asters growing in the higher drier parts of the meadow, away from both the water and the woods. The Orange Sulphurs were also going for them. John and I hung out in those dry areas near the asters, trying to photograph every white we could get in our sights. That's when I saw it: a white that was fresh, but with much lighter markings on the dorsal forewing margin. It landed on an aster near me and I snapped a few photos of it. John got on it right away and also got some photos of it. When I zoomed in to view the photo on my camera's LCD screen, I clearly saw those sparse gray forewing markings, and the yellow veins below. It looked good for Checkered White! Could this be it? Did I just photograph Oregon species number 170? I spent the next hour following that White around the dry meadow, getting as many photos of it as I could. I wanted to make sure that, if I was right that it was a Checkered White, I was not going to miss the opportunity to get a decent photo of it! I easily took 100 photos of that butterfly! Luckily, several of my photos came out clear and showed the needed field marks. When I sent them to Ken Davenport, he said "yes, that is Checkered White." Bingo! Shazam! Cue the "Rocky" theme! I was particularly happy to find this butterfly so close to home, saving a lot of gas, greenhouse gas pollution, time, and effort compared to driving all over southern Oregon on numerous search excursions. It has been both pleasing and surprising to finally find several of my "nemesis" butterfly species relatively easily this year after many years of trying in vain. The experience seems to underscore one of my favorite phrases: "you just have to get your reps in." It works for photographing butterflies, and finding birds, and meditating, and a lot of other things. If the goal is to get reps in, that feels very doable. Focusing on getting to the finish line, on the other hand, means you're constantly looking ahead to see where that finish line is, and that makes it seem farther away, and harder to get to. Its almost like you don't notice that you got to the finish line because you were just focused on getting in your reps--so it almost comes as a surprise. On that third trip to Lost Lake we found 21 species, my highest number for that site. Golden Hairstreaks were still numerous, and Great Spangled Fritillaries (Speyeria cybele) were flying. I went back to Lost Lake a fourth time, just two days later. I was hoping to get even luckier, and find a female Checkered White. On August 28, I did find a worn, bird-struck female white that appeared to have the characteristic brown-gray markings, but its hard to tell what it looked like fresh. Possibly a Western White with flight wear making the markings appear brown? That fourth visit was fun, because it felt like the pressure was off. I found 20 species, including 9 fresh Mourning Cloaks (Nymphalis antiopa) and many fresh Hoary Commas (Polygonia gracilis) and Green Commas (Polygonia faunus), and a variety of ladies, fritillaries, and tortoiseshells. It was like a nymphalid festival! What a fun series of visits to Lost Lake! So--now we're down to it: just three Oregon species yet to go (American Copper, Compton Tortoiseshell, and Gillett's Checkerspot). The three hardest for sure, and all three in Wallowa County. Maybe they still breed in Oregon. Maybe some years they don't. All of the recent sightings of Gillett's Checkerspot were smack in the middle of where the Double Creek fire just burned virtually all of Grizzly Ridge in Wallowa County. Perhaps there were some enclaves higher up on Summit Ridge that didn't burn. I don't know. We'll see. I guess I'll be putting some visits to Wallowa County on my calendar for next year! In my four visits to Lost Lake in August, I found these 29 species:

  • Let's Go Dutch!

    Nope, I'm not talking about coffee--I'm talking about the peak in southern Oregon. You know, Dutchman Peak, in the Siskiyous. It was apparently named after a German miner who got stuck up there in a snowstorm and perished in the 1870's. I think its weird that people name places after people who died there tragically, but who am I to judge? Although it was cool for a summer day when I went in early July to the site of that miner's demise, snow was not an issue I was concerned about. Initially, all I was concerned about was not missing the opportunity that my friends Rob Santry and Stefan Schlick had alerted me to: Spring Whites (Pontia sysimbrii) were flying on Dutchman Peak. Lots of them! Why was that a big deal? Only because I had tried and failed to photograph Spring Whites for years! I had never heard the word "lots" and Spring White in the same sentence before, so I was stoked! Stefan emailed me, relaying info from Rob, who knew that Spring White had been a "nemesis butterfly" for me for several years now. Rob and Stefan had seen several of them near the summit of Dutchman's Peak as part of the Mt. Ashland 4th of July Butterfly Count, and Rob knew I'd want to know. He got that right! I started preparing immediately to drive down to Josephine County the next morning. I emailed both Rob and Stefan to get more information about the best route to get there, and exactly where they'd seen them. When I didn't hear back that evening, I decided I just had to go anyway. After years of unsuccessfully trying to photograph Spring Whites, I decided that I couldn't let some little details get in my way. I hoped to catch up on the details in the morning, one way or the other. I prepared food the night before, gathered my gear, and set the alarm for early o'clock. Everything went smoothly in the morning and I was on the road by 8 am, headed south on I-5. Traffic was light, and the weather looked great. Stefan called me back as I was nearing Roseburg, and gave me the 411. They'd seen the whites near the summit, and then he described the route to get there. He suggested I pull over to take notes on the route, since there were some important nuances. "No" I said, "this I will remember!" I also didn't want to take the time. Ninety minutes later when it came time to recall the details from my "steel-trap" memory those salient details about where to turn... my recall was a bit hazier than I'd hoped. I knew there was a Y junction where I needed to stay left, and a 5-way junction where I needed to take the the second road on my left. The only problem was I couldn't recall exactly how to get to those locations. Where exactly was that first turn off Hwy 238? I made a guess, and, let's just say there were some consequences. Some rocky, washed-out, gnarly, worried-about-the-tires-and-undercarriage-of-my-car consequences. I had turned up Little Applegate Road, when I was supposed to continue on Upper Applegate Road. It was so unfair--that they would name those two very different roads so similarly! From the photo of the peak above, you already know that I made it to the top, but rather than the smooth, gravel highway that Rob later described to me, it was more of a 4WD Jeep track that I chose. By the time I hit the really bad part of the road, I was half way up the ridge. I wasn't 100% sure the road would go all the way through, but my maps made it look like it did. It would take a lot of extra time and delay to go back down and find the correct route, so I white-knuckled my way up that nasty excuse for a Forest Road, and stayed the course. When I came to the top, I realized that I had bypassed the Y junction and the 5-way junction altogether, so I didn't even get to use the measly scraps of the route that I did recall. But I was really relieved that my gamble of not retracing my route to avoid that bone-cruncher had paid off! I was almost to the peak, where I would get my best chance yet at photographing the elusive Spring White! The gate was closed on the road up to the Fire Lookout at the summit, so I would walk up. Stefan had shared that they saw the Spring Whites along this road and at the summit itself. I strapped on my cameras and binos, and started to walk the road. I don't always carry or use Hooper, my beloved butterfly net, but when we're talking about whites near the top of a mountain, they can be hyper-active, madly chasing each other around and wicked hard to identify, let alone photograph. Many species of whites are "hilltoppers," meaning they patrol the area around the summit and engage in aerial battles and chases with others of their kind as well as other species, and sometimes other classes of insects. One theory is that this "king of the hill" game is about earning and defending the most advantageous spot for meeting up with the opposite sex, and ultimately mating therewith. I always thought that theory a bit weak. As I walked along the road, I saw several whites, but could not ID most of them on the wing, nor could I net them as the whizzed past me just out of reach. They would be either Western Whites or Spring Whites, and likely some of both. When I got up to the Lookout, sure enough, there were several species hill-topping: whites, swallowtails, and greater fritillaries. I consciously tried to ignore all but the whites. Occasionally I did see a white land ever so briefly, and was able to confirm that there were indeed both Western Whites and Spring Whites frenetically flying about at the summit. I sat down to watch their flight to see if any patterns emerged, and soon noticed that there was indeed a pattern. Many of the whites seemed to repeat a rough figure 8 along the ridge of the summit, usually passing fairly close to the south side of the Lookout structure. I strategically stationed myself there, intending to net a few of them and see what the numbers were for each species. After netting several, they seemed to be skewed towards Spring Whites, which was a good sign! I pondered how I would get a photo, with the crazy mayhem of hill-topping going on. I reflected on how many years I'd been trying for this photo, the miles driven, the fuel burned, the time spent, the frustration experienced. I decided to consider break from my tradition of only photographing butterflies where they decide to land. I concluded that the only dependable way to get a clear photo was to use what I like to call the "chill and thrill" method: net the butterfly, put it in a cooler with ice for a few minutes, and release the butterfly from the viewing jar in a suitable spot for a photo. To that end, I scouted around for good photo locations: easy access, good light, and a good background for a photo. Nearby I found a couple of beautiful flat-topped stones that were easy to get to. Photo location: check! Then I resumed my station next to the Lookout building. The first couple Whites I netted were Westerns, and I immediately released them. Then a few minutes later, a lucky swing netted a darting Spring White. I carefully maneuvered the butterfly into the viewing jar, put the jar in my insulated lunch box, which had a couple small blocks of blue ice. I set a timer on my phone for 5 minutes. After the 5 minutes, I brought out the butterfly, and released it onto my flat rock, leaning over it to keep it in shade until I was ready for the shot. Okay, ready, set... gone! Spring whites, being early season flyers, and fairly tolerant of cool temperatures, recovered from the brief chill very quickly--within a minute and a half to two minutes. So I realized I had to work very quickly! The first two flew off before I even got a shot. I repeated my oft-used butterfly photography mantra to myself ("it only takes one"), and went back to my strategic post next to the Lookout with Hooper in hand. The third time was indeed a charm. I verified that I had a Spring White in the net, and again set it in my lunch cooler. I got set up and was poised for photos as I released the butterfly to my chosen rock, and got the following series of shots as the butterfly warmed, spread its wings, and then flew off at breakneck speed. There it is. Finally. After all these years. Spring White! Woo-hoo! This was the first time in about 30 years of photographing butterflies that I concluded that I likely wouldn't get the photo using my tried and true practice of letting the butterfly control where and how I photographed it. I was thrilled and relieved to get such good images of a butterfly that had eluded me for so long. No more long drives to Jackson County in early April to try yet again for Spring White. Now if I go, it will be without pressure, just to enjoy it all. Spring White is the 169th Oregon butterfly species that I've photographed in Oregon. Now there are four left to find: Checkered White, American Copper, Compton Tortoiseshell and Gillett's Checkerspot. I've been searching for all four of them for years, and some or all of them may not breed in Oregon every year. Walking back down the hill, I thought about how lucky I will need to be just to see one of these species, and realized this might not be the last time I need to use the Chill and Thrill technique! I want to give a shout out to Rob Santry and Stefan Schlick again for their key role in helping me finally photograph this species. Thanks so much guys--I literally could not have done it without your help! I feel bad for that German miner who had such bad luck up there--my luck had been decidedly good! This was my first trip to Dutchman Peak, and it was most memorable! Without a doubt I plan to go back again with a broader focus. While I was intentionally excessively focused on finding and photographing Spring Whites, I did happen to notice a few other species. My narrowed attention surely caused me to miss some species, as well as to forego tracking down the Speyeria sp. and Euphilotes sp. to identify them to species. Next time! Here are the 14 species I identified:

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