Butterflies of Manitoulin Island: An Informal Survey

At the end of July, my wife and I left Toronto to spend a week in a cottage on Manitoulin Island. The largest fresh-water island in the world stretches across the top of Lake Huron for 160 kilometers (100 miles). It takes the better part of seven hours to drive there from Toronto, so I had plenty of time to think. The question that nagged at me was simple: Why do we travel? The only answer that occurred was that we wish to see things we cannot see at home. It may seem trivial to some, but the main reason I wanted to visit Manitoulin Island was to see the kinds of butterflies I would never be able to find in Toronto.

My wife, on the other hand, is a beach addict. So on our first full day on the island, we drove south to Providence Bay, where an extensive series of sand dunes enhances a beautiful white-sand beach. I left my wife there and continued driving east for another twenty kilometers. I wanted to explore the long dirt road that runs between the local highway and the shore at Michael’s Bay. In the heat of the day, butterflies like to come out to wet areas on such roads to “puddle,” that is, to feed on salts that give them the energy they need for reproduction.

The light traffic on the road allowed me to drive slowly along until I saw a butterfly rise up from the ground. Then I would park the car, get out with my camera, and wait till the butterfly settled again. The first species I photographed was a Compton Tortoiseshell (Nymphalis l-album) a strikingly beautiful butterfly, but one I’d seen several times in Toronto.

With the next butterfly, I hit pay dirt. The Green Comma (Polygonia faunus) is a species so rare in Toronto that it has never been recorded there on the internet platform iNaturalist. I recognized it immediately by its extremely uneven wing margins, a trait that sets it apart from other members of the same family, such as the Eastern Comma (Polygonia comma). This was one of my target species for the trip, and I was delighted to add it to my life list.

I found one other new butterfly before calling it a day. The Columbine Duskywing (Erynnis lucilius) is a rather plain species that looks quite similar to its close relative, the Wild Indigo Duskywing (Erynnis baptisiae). But while the Wild Indigo is common in southern Ontario, the Columbine is the default duskywing species in the north. At times, butterflying is like selling real estate in the sense that location makes all the difference.

Of course, there were many other types of insects to see along the road or in the stands of wildflowers that bordered it. Perhaps my most exciting discovery was of a Dragonhunter (Hagenius brevistylus), a large species of dragonfly that is a rare presence in Toronto. It is called Dragonhunter because it kills and eats other species of dragonflies. In Dragonflies and Damselflies: A Natural History, the entomologist Dennis Paulson notes that the Dragonhunter is one of only three species of dragonflies known to capture and kill hummingbirds.

On another day, we drove to Misery Bay Provincial Park, which is also on the south side of the island but much further west than Michael’s Bay. The ecosystem is different too, which means we had a good chance to see different species of butterflies. Most of the park consists of an alvar habitat. Alvar is a Swedish word that refers to a geological formation of limestone bedrock that lies close to the surface of the land. The topsoil in such a habitat is either thin or nonexistent. This makes the land poor for farming, but it also means it supports a number of rare wildflowers and shrubs. This type of vegetation in turn attracts species of butterflies that are rarely seen in more lush habitats.

After stopping at the Visitor’s Centre to pick up a checklist of the local butterflies, we walked through a red pine and cedar forest to reach the shoreline of the bay. Butterflies were scarce in the woods, but I did find an uncommon species of longhorn beetle resting on a type of goldenrod that was also new to me.

Once we came out of the woods and reached the bay, I began walking along the rocky shoreline. I saw many different types of wildflowers growing in the sandy soil, including Kalm’s Lobelia (Lobelia kalmii), Cylindrical Blazing Star (Liatris cylindracea), and Lesser Fringed Gentian (Gentianopsis virgata).

 

 

Soon I began to see butterflies that were attracted to these flowers.

Then I got a quick glimpse of a Dorcas Copper (Lycaena dorcas), a new species for me, resting on top of a small boulder. A little later I found two of these northern butterflies near a stand of Shrubby Cinquefoil (Dasiphora fruticosa), which serves as the larval foodplant for this species.

 

We ate lunch in a wooden pavilion by the shore, then walked a trail that took us through a broad meadow and back to the Visitor’s Centre.

Here I found several Aphrodite Fritillaries (Speyeria aphrodite), a striking orange-and-black butterfly that I’d only seen once before. When it is not nectaring on flowers, this species likes to rest on the ground or on a tuft of moss with its wings open, which makes it relatively easy to photograph.

It was also in this area that I found what may have been my favourite butterfly of the trip, the subtly patterned and rather uncommon Coral Hairstreak (Satyrium titus). It was nectaring on a type of flower whose popular name reads like a dog’s pedigree: Hairy White Old-field Aster (Symphyotrichum pilosum).

These were the highlights of my butterflying sojourn on Manitoulin Island. I did see several other more common and familiar species, including a single Acadian Hairstreak (Satyrium acadica) in the dunes at Providence Bay, where I also found several Monarchs, American Ladies, Red Admirals, and Dun Skippers.

On the drive back to Toronto, I tallied up the results in my head: five new species of butterflies. Was the trip really worth it—all the time and effort and money we put into our week away from home? I thought of the wildflowers and beetles and dragonflies and other forms of wildlife we saw throughout the trip. One truth that our time on the island confirmed for me—a truth I sometimes forget—is that butterflies don’t live in a vacuum. They are part of an ecosystem so complex and interrelated that learning about one aspect inevitably opens our eyes to all the rest.