Once a year I like to pick a brutally hot and humid day and take a little walk. The closer to noon, the better.
If I haven’t broken a sweat before the car door closes behind me, it’s not hot enough.
Why do I do this? I’m not exactly sure, to be honest. I tried it by chance one summer day several years ago and really enjoyed it. So I keep doing it.
One of the attractions is I know I’ll be the only one walking the trails at that time. Everyone else has the horses sense to stay indoors — or at least in the shade — when it’s 94 degrees with 100 percent humidity. I’ve always enjoyed those days, even as a kid.
The birdlife is practically non-existent on such days, at least during the afternoon hours. Even birds have the smarts to stay hunkered in the shade, protected from both predators and the sun. But by no means is the world void of all wildlife in the middle of a hot, steamy day — that is if you appreciate bugs and insects as wildlife.
I certainly do, especially the types of insects you’re likely to see on such a day. Butterflies of different varieties flit around the scene, following a path that is sensible only in their own minds. The heat doesn’t bother them, that’s for sure.
Nor does the heat bother dragonflies. I’ve always marveled at the way dragonflies (and damselflies) use their four wings to fly in all directions at lightening speed. Dragonflies also come in a dizzying array of colors, adding to the enjoyment of watching them.
Photographing dragonflies is challenging because the focus has to be perfect and the subjects are small. However, dragonflies do their part to make the job easier for the photographer. They actually sit still for several seconds at a time and often return to the same perch over and over again.
But looking for butterflies and dragonflies is obvious. Fun, but obvious. On these hot days, without birds to distract me or people to look at me funny, I like to look closer for interesting bugs.
Milkweed grows wild in most fields in New England. Where there’s milkweed, there’s usually milkweed bugs, a interesting orange (or red) and black beetle-like bug.
Milkweed, of course, is also critical for the survival of the beloved monarch butterfly, which lays its eggs exclusively on milkweed. I keep an eye out for monarch caterpillars every time I come across milkweed.
I recently took my latest hot-weather jaunt at a small field. The wild flowers hadn’t hit peak season yet and Queen Anne’s Lace was the dominant plant species.
Although the first thing I saw flying around was a black swallowtail — a beautiful, large butterfly — the dominant flying creatures were bees. There were hundreds of them busily going about their day of collecting pollen. I recently saw a nature show about honey bees and have a new respect for bees of all types.
It’s funny how we grow up fearing bees, but eventually realize how harmless and beneficial they are. Sure, some types are more aggressive than others and any bee will sting if provoked (I once leaned back on a bumble bee that had crawled under my shirt and got a minor sting) but on Friday I walked among hundreds (thousands?) of bees without an ounce of fear.
Then again, I used be afraid of dragonflies because of what the older neighborhood kids used to say about them. That really seems silly now. I hope my kids listen to me and not their friends regarding such matters.
The only bird I saw, other than a lone mourning dove, was a young song sparrow. It perched in a small tree and practiced its familiar song.
The air was hot, my shirt was stuck to my skin, the insects were everywhere. Another great walk.

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