Lynx

Some arachnids wander through the garden, searching for prey. These are not web-weavers, although they often depend on a silken dragline. They hunt and pounce with catlike precision, earning themselves the name of Lynx.

Green lynx spiders (Peucetia viridans) are common in this area, although not commonly seen. Their jewel-toned coloration is formidable camouflage, allowing them to hide in plain sight, patiently waiting...waiting...

This one perches on a rose leaf. Unlike most of the invertebrate world I try to photograph, she stayed still, posing in the patchy sunlight filtering through the walnut tree. Green lynxes tend to stay in the same area for a while. An hour later, I went back outside to find that she was still there, still watching.

Crouching Photographer, Hidden Grasshopper

I belong to the "Assume something interesting is there, and crawl around with a camera until you find it" school of nature photography.

I spotted this guy when he jumped practically on top of me, then I lost him, then found him, then stupidly took my eyes off of him to glance up at some bird noise, then couldn't find him again, then he moved so I could see him. Then I took the picture before it was too late.

He sat almost perfectly still while I crept forward, until the camera's lens was only a couple of inches away. He was absolutely aware of me, perhaps wondering what kind of horrible lens-nosed monster-bird was after him. Knowing that concealment was the best form of protection, he willed himself to become part of the leaf litter as I approached. The only movement that I could detect was a painfully slow drawing up of his left rear leg, as he tensed for the jump he might have to make if his concealment failed him.

I slowly reached forward to pull a weed that was in the way of the picture. This was too much, and he fled a short hop away. I saw where he landed, and kept my eye pinned to that spot as I crawled over there.

I couldn't find him. I clearly saw where he landed, but I could NOT find him.

I thought about brushing my hand through the dead leaves and early spring plants to roust him out again, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It wasn't fair, somehow. My survival didn't depend on finding him. I'd gotten the picture I'd hoped for. He won. His skills of hiding bested my skills of finding.

I'm tentatively calling this the Northern Green-Striped grasshopper (Chortophaga viridifasciata).

Coyote

A coyote drifted through the woods just at the treeline of the back yard yesterday morning. He was a large one, shaggy winter coat just the color of the tree trunks and dead grasses he slipped through. It was a lucky glance in the right direction that caught him--he was silent and almost invisible. I could hardly get the words out: "There's a...in the trees, there's a...dog-thing..." A few seconds later, he was gone, melted into the woods. Gone like someone turned off a coyote-switch and he simply evaporated. No time to take a picture, so I'm left with just a memory of the grey-brown fur and the wary eyes.