Since discovering the larva of the rare, endemic Florida metallic tiger beetle (Tetracha floridana) in the small, intertidal mangrove marsh behind my sister-in-law’s condominium in Seminole, Florida three years ago, I’ve looked forward to subsequent visits to see the adults (they’re nocturnal) and gather additional material needed to write the larval description. I had to wait a few days on this year’s trip due to rain (it is Florida, after all), but eventually a dry evening came along and I began “suiting up” for my nighttime foray. Much to my delight, my 12-year old nephew Jack wanted to come with me. Jack had never been in the field with me before, but according to his mom he has become quite interested of late in science and biology. My daughter Maddie, also 12 years old (and a veteran of many trips to the field with me), also wanted to go, so together the three of us slathered on the insect repellent and headed into the dark towards the marsh.
We had only my headlamp as a light source, so the kids trailed behind me as I picked a line through the brush, across a small creek, and onto a ridge that snakes through the marsh that marked one of the areas where I had seen good numbers of the beetles last year. We collected a small number to keep alive and place in a terrarium of native soil, the hope being that they would lay eggs so I could obtain some 1st-instar larvae for the formal description, but what I was really looking for were larval burrows. As we (well, I) searched the ground in front of me with the lamp and the kids trailed behind me in the dark, Jack suddenly stopped and said, “What’s that?” I shone my light to where he was pointing but didn’t see anything and so resumed my search. Right away he said, “There it is again.” I asked if it was a rabbit (we’d seen them at the edge of the marsh during the day), and he said, “No, it’s like a light or something.” I turned off the lamp, and gradually the faint, green glow reappeared. I recognized the source of the light instantly as that of a larval firefly, although truthfully I have never actually seen an actual firefly larva. Seeing a great teaching moment for the kids, we walked to the light, knelt down, and shone the lamp directly on the ground from where the light was coming to find the small (~10 mm long) larva moving slowly through the moist, algae-covered rocks. It had the classic, retractable firefly head and curiously quadruply-spined tergites. I congratulated Jack on finding the larva, emphasizing that I would have never seen it myself had he not been there and been so observant despite not having a lamp.
I went back a few nights later by myself so I could concentrate on photographing some of the things we saw in the marsh the previous night, including the firefly larva. I had no problem relocating one in the same place we found it before (I just turned off my headlamp and waited for the green glow). I’m generally not keen on posting photographs of unidentified insects (just me, but I find photos much more interesting when accompanied by the natural history back story), and I was sure this larva would remain unidentified (I have little knowledge of adult fireflies, much less their larvae). This seemed even more likely after perusing the few identified and many unidentified firefly larvae photographs on BugGuide and finding nothing even remotely similar. I was about to give up when I decided to try the search term “Lampyridae Florida Pinellas” (“Pinellas” being the county where we found the larvae—my thinking being that maybe there was a Florida firefly checklist that could narrow down to the county level the possible species), and high in the results was a page titled Florida intertidal firefly (fiddler crab firefly). On that page was a photo of the larva, although not nearly large and detailed enough to be sure it was the same, but still in my mind almost surely this species because of the stated restricted habitat—intertidal zone of Florida coastal salt marshes! I sent these photographs to lampyroid aficionado Joe Cicero, who kindly confirmed my identification.
Because it occurs only at the edges of salt water marshes around the peninsular coast of Florida, M. floridana is a classic example of shoestring geographic isolation and, thus, serves as a good model for studies of genetic isolation and its impact on speciation (Lloyd 2001). Along with T. floridana, it now makes at least two rare, Florida-endemics occurring in the small private, preserve behind my sister-in-law’s condominium (both of which were first found as larvae rather than adults). Although the larva of M. floridana is already known—albeit by a rough black and white photograph (McDermott 1954)—it’s rarity and restricted habitat nonetheless make it an exciting find well deserving of the more detailed color photographs shown here. However, as I told Jack after receiving confirmation of its identity, he gets full credit for the discovery. I took him into the field with me with the intention of showing him some new things, and he turned the tables on me! Yes, even a 12-year old can discover the larva of a rare, endemic species!
Lloyd, J. E. 2001. On research and entomological education V: a species concept for fireflyers, at the bench and in old fields, and back to the Wisconsian Glacier. Florida Entomologist 84(4):587–601.
McDermott, F. A. 1954. The larva of Micronaspis floridana Green. The Coleopterists Bulletin 8(3/4):59–62.
Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2012
13 thoughts on “Even a 12-year old can discover the larva of a rare, endemic species!”
As usual I love to read about your insect investigations, whether in North or South America. This blog was especially enjoyable on hearing that your young nephew and daughter were willing or even eager to join you to wander through darkness to look for very obscure things. Perhaps one (or both?) of them will go on to pursue the fascinating and important discovery of nature.
If their time with me helps to instill within them an awe of and respect for nature, I will be happy regardless of whether they actually grow up to be biologists 🙂
YES! What Daniel said. I love seeing young people get out and get into nature.
I’m sure you remember when I brought Madison with me out to the Reserve – you can claim a contribution to setting her down the ‘right’ path.
That’s super cool. =) One of the best field assistants I ever had (1 day only, tho’) was the nephew of a volunteer, a 12 year old boy. I was hiking up the hill (where I worked was a peninsula, so everything is either up or down) to the next array of herp traps, and heard something behind me. I looked back, and it was that kid. Normally, no one would keep up with me, ’cause it’s rather aerobic cranking up & down hills all day, and I’m 6′ so can walk pretty fast. This guy was RIGHT behind me, carrying some of our field equipment, cheerful as a lark, bounding up the hill.
SO GREAT! Plus, young kids have AMAZING eyes. They can be SO helpful in the field re: spotting wildlife.
Sounds like you guys had a great adventure. Nicely done!!
That’s a great story!
What a cool-looking larva! Kids are really great at spotting small critters, and it’s always wonderful seeing them get excited about their finds.
I have my late Uncle Paul to thank – he didn’t know anything about insects or plants, but he loved to go for walks in the woods. It was during those walks that I began my “pokings and proddings.”
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Very cool! I came here from Mike the Mad Biologist, one of the minority of links that isn’t about bad stuff in the world.
Anyways, I have a question: why do larval fireflies glow? I had thought it was only the adults, as they were using the light to attract mates. Are the larvae trying to attract prey?
Also, I have a personal goal of taking a photograph of sufficient quality to print and frame of a tiger beetle. They’re too fast for me, though.
Many fireflies are chemically protected against predation – in the case of larvae the flash is probably an aposematic warning signal. What I’m interested in knowing is whether bioluminescence evolved first for communication by adults and was co-opted by larvae for aposematism or vice-versa (I suspect the latter).
Larvae of some species are predators of snails, although to my knowledge such has not yet been observed with this species.
If you want to take photos of tiger beetles, you need to slow down, try several individuals until you find one that is ‘somewhat’ more cooperative, and then work him for awhile to get him accustomed to your presence – then you can close in as close as you want. Be prepared to invest a good half hour or more to get that photo!
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I live in southwest Ohio & just found what appears to be the same thing up & down my driveway. Was doing a search & found your article. Is there anyway to send you a picture?