A Tiger Beetle Aggregation

Not long ago, I received an interesting series of photographs from Joe Warfel, a nature photographer and macro specialist based in Massachussetts.  Joe traveled to Arizona last July, where he photographed an aggregation of Cicindela (Cicindelidia) sedecimpuntata (Western Red-bellied Tiger Beetle¹) near a small pool in the bottom of a dry creek bed at night.  Joe estimates that there may have been as many as 200 to 300 beetles per square meter in the aggregation, most of which were just “hanging out” and with only occasional individuals mating or feeding on moths that had been attracted to his headlamps.

¹ Found in the Sonoran and Chihuahuan Deserts of the southwestern U.S. and south through Mexico to Costa Rica. U.S. and northern Mexican populations are assigned to the nominate subspecies, while more southern populations are classified into four additional subspecies (Erwin and Pearson 2008).

Western Red-bellied Tiger Beetles are among the first tiger beetles to appear prior to the summer monsoons in the Sonoran Desert.  The species is famous for its daytime aggregations of as many as several thousand individuals, which congregate along the drying waterways and prey upon stranded tadpoles and other aquatic organisms (Pearson et al. 2006).  Joe noted that he has seen these aggregations many times before during the daytime at small pools and mudflats, with beetles usually mating and feeding frantically.  However, the aggregation shown in these photographs differs from those daytime aggregations by the relative inactivity of the beetles and the fact that they were congregated on dry ground rather than the moist areas that they frequent during the daytime.  In these respects, it seems to more resemble a communal nocturnal roost such as has been reported for several species of Odontocheila in South America.  In those cases, up to 70 beetles have been found resting on the foliage of low shrubs, apparently as an adaptation to avoid predation by multiplying chemical defense effectiveness as well as awareness of approaching enemies (Pearson and Vogler 2001 and references therein).  Cicindela sedecimpunctata is primarily a diurnal species (i.e., it is active during the daytime), though individuals are often attracted to lights at night, and adults of most diurnal species have been reported spending the night protected in burrows or under detritus and vegetation.  I am not aware of communal nocturnal roosts as a reported behavior for C. sedecimpunctata or any other North American tiger beetle species.

It is a bit ironic to think of tiger beetles – voracious predators that they are – as prey, but they must have many of their own predators to deal with since most species employ multiple antipredator mechanisms. In addition to the communal roosting behavior seen in these photos, a second antipredator characteristic exhibited by this species can be seen in their bright orange abdomen.  The abdomen is fully exposed only during flight, seemingly implying a “flash coloration” function for the bright color that disappears upon landing, momentarily confusing potential predators.  However, Pearson (1985) experimentally determined that orange abdomens in tiger beetles actually have an aposematic function in protecting them from predation against robber flies.  Most tiger beetle species with an orange abdomen also release a combination of benzaldehyde and cyanide² when captured (any tiger beetle collector is familiar with the characteristic “fruity” smell of a tiger beetle releasing benzaldehyde).  Pearson painted the abdomen of paper tiger beetles models either orange or black and endowed them with or without a drop of fresh benzaldehyde.  When presented on a tether to robber flies in the field, orange-abdomened models with benzaldehyde triggered significantly fewer attacks from robber flies than any other combination.  Interestingly however, vertebrate predators (lizards and birds) were not deterred by the defense chemicals or by the orange abdomen, perhaps explaining why only some and not all tiger beetle species produce defense chemicals and have bright orange abdomens (Pearson and Vogler 2001).

² Tiger beetles, thus, join millipedes as being among the few invertebrates that are capable of producing cyanide.

My sincere thanks to Joe Warfel for allowing me to use his photographs. More of his work can be seen at Eighth-Eye Photography.  Joe also recently had several images published in American Scientist magazine (November/December 2009 issue) for an article on harvestmen.  Check out the jaws on that juvenile!

REFERENCES:

Erwin, T. L. and D. L. Pearson. 2008. A Treatise on the Western Hemisphere Caraboidea (Coleoptera). Their classification, distributions, and ways of life. Volume II (Carabidae–Nebriiformes 2–Cicindelitae). Pensoft Series Faunistica 84. Pensoft Publishers, Sofia, 400 pp.

Pearson, D. L.  1985.  The function of multiple anti-predator mechanisms in adult tiger beetles (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae).  Ecological Entomology 10:65–72.

Pearson, D. L., C. B. Knisley and C. J. Kazilek. 2006. A Field Guide to the Tiger Beetles of the United States and Canada. Oxford University Press, New York, 227 pp.

Pearson, D. L. and A. P. Vogler.  2001. Tiger Beetles: The Evolution, Ecology, and Diversity of the Cicindelids.  Cornell University Press, Ithaca, New York, 333 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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Euhagena nebraskae in Kansas

Gypsum Hills region of south-central Kansas (Barber Co.)

One of my favorite destinations for insect collecting is the Gypsum Hills region in Barber County of south-central Kansas.  I first went there in May 1986 after seeing a diverse selection of more typically Texan Buprestidae that J. Richard Heitzman, an iconic lepidopterist in the Kansas City area and author of Butterflies & Moths of Missouri, had collected there on soapberry (Sapindus saponaria).  I had my own success with Buprestidae as well during that trip, but in recent years I have returned to Barber County several times during the fall to look for one of North America’s most beautiful tiger beetles, Cicindela pulchra (Beautiful Tiger Beetle).  This species had been recorded in the area by the well-known cicindelophiles Ron Huber and Dave Brzoska, who suggested that I look in the red clay hills just west of Medicine Lodge.  My first trip to look for this beetle in 2004 was unsuccessful, and I suspect the early September timing of my trip may have been a tad too early.  I returned again in 2005, this time in early October and also enlisting the help of local entomologist “Beetle Bill” Smith, who knew of a population on private land near his home in Hardtner (south of Medicine Lodge).  Although at first it looked like success might again elude me, in the end I saw a robust population of these spectacular beetles and published an account of that marvelous experience (MacRae 2006).

As with so many of the things that I have seen over the years, they came before my interest in photography, and I now find myself wanting to re-find some of the more spectacular insects that I’ve previously found so that I can properly photograph them.  Such is the case with C. pulchra, so in October of last year I returned to Barber County in hopes of seeing this species armed not only with an aerial net, but also a Canon 50D.  Sadly, this would not come to pass – the same sudden cold snap that dashed my hopes of finding this species in nearby Woodward/Major Counties, Oklahoma would keep any tiger beetle activity to a bare minimum the following day in Barber County as well.  Despite bright sunny skies, I would see only two tiger beetles the entire day, both representing the dreadfully ubiquitous Cicindela punctulata (Punctured Tiger Beetle).  Not all insect activity, however, was squelched, and after scanning the red soils for an hour or so without seeing the object of my desire I began to notice some of these other not-so-temperature-finicky species.  One of the more magnificent of these is shown in the photo below — Euhagena nebraskae in the family Sesiidae (cess-EYE-id-ee) (formerly Aegeriidae).

Euhagena nebraskae

Euhagena nebraskae (Lepidoptera: Sesiidae)

Although I wasn’t sure of the species at first, I recognized it immediately as a clearwing moth.  I had an interest in this family of moths for a time in my early days as a field entomologist with the Missouri Department of Agriculture.  Many species are important pests of woody plants in orchard and ornamental landscapes, and it was during that time that synthetic pheromones became widely used for monitoring purposes.  I often walked around with a pheromone tag pinned to my bag to attract the male moths — it was fun watching people seeing these moths “buzzing” me and thinking I was under attack by the wasps that they so effectively mimic (despite my calmness in these situations, I still found it hard to actually grab one from the air with my hand – so convincing is their mimicry).

Euhagena nebraskae is one of two species in the genus in North America, both of which develop as larvae in the roots of plants in the evening primrose family (Onagraceae) (Eichlin and Duckworth 1988).  In fact, I had seen its congener — E. emphytiformis — many times in the 1980s in pheromone traps that I used to place in the glades of Jefferson County just south of St. Louis, where it presumably breeds in one or both of two Oenetherea species growing there (O. gaura and O. macrocarpa).  Euhagena nebraskae is a more western species that does not occur in Missouri, occurring instead across the Great Plains west to California and from southern Alberta and Saskatchewan south to Mexico.  It is likely that many entomologists never see this species, as adults are active only during late fall.  Thus, its perception as an uncommon species may be an artifact of its late seasonality. 

I thought it odd that nearly every individual that I saw was sitting on the ground rather than perched higher on a plant.  At first I wondered if the cold temperatures were a reason for this, perhaps causing the moths to seek out the ground as a source of radiant heat.  This seems doubtful, however, since females always seemed to be “calling” – their tufted abdominal tips raised in the air with the scales spread apart, apparently releasing pheromone.  I was fortunate to find this mating pair, which shows nicely the rather high degree of sexual dimorphism seen in these moths.  Note the much more highly bipectinate antennae of the male (pectinate = resembling a comb, bipectinate = ‘teeth’ on both sides of the main stem) versus the simple antennae of the female — males use their antennae for detecting female pheromones, and the bipectinate form presumably provides greater surface area for placement of sensory pores. Note also the male’s smaller size, “hairier” head and thorax, and greater amount of white coloration on the abdomen and wings.  Engelhardt (1946) supposed that the excessive hairiness of adult Euhagena species was an adaptation to their late-season emergence (principally during October and sometimes as late as November), a time when frosty nights prevail in their high-elevation haunts.    

REFERENCES:    

Eichlin, T. D. and W. D. Duckworth. 1988. The Moths of America North of Mexico, Fascicle 5.1, Sesiodea: Sesiidae. Wedge Entomological Research Foundation, Washington, 176 pp.

Engelhardt, G. P. 1946.  The North American clear-wing moths of the family Aegeriidae. Bulletin of the United States National Museum 190:1-222.

MacRae, T. C. 2006. Beetle bits: The “beautiful tiger beetle”. Nature Notes, Journal of the Webster Groves Nature Study Society 78(4):9–12.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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Monday Ménage – Brachyleptura rubrica

Photo details: Canon 100mm macro lens on Canon EOS 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/18, MT-24EX flash w/ Sto-Fen diffusers.

This mating pair of longhorned beetles represents Brachyleptura rubrica, one of several so-called “flower longhorns” (including the rare Typocerus deceptus) that I saw on flowers of Hydrangea arborescens last June at Trail of Tears State Park in southeastern Missouri.  Flower longhorns collectively represent the subfamily Lepturinae, which among the Cerambycidae are distinguished by their posteriorly tapering elytra and generally narrow pronotum that give them a rather broad-shouldered look.  Their conical coxae (basal segment of the leg) and eyes that usually do not surround the base of the antennae distinguish them from the subfamily Cerambycinae, and the prognathous (forward slanting) face distinguishes them from the Lamiinae (flat-faced longhorns).  Additionally, a great majority of Lepturinae are diurnal (active during the day) and visit flowers as adults, whereas most other Cerambycidae (with notable exceptions) are nocturnal and seldom active during the day (most often being encountered by their attraction to lights).  The subfamily is named for its type genus, Leptura — derived from the Greek word λεπτός (leptos), or narrow, which I presume to be a reference to their relatively more slender appearance compared to other Cerambycidae.  Species in the genus Brachyleptura are distinguished from other Lepturinae by their often abbreviated elytra (“brachy” derived from the Greek word βραχύς, or short), although this is only scarcely the case in B. rubrica.  I’m confident most of you can determine the derivation of the species name.

Although fairly widespread across the eastern U.S., I can remember being really excited the first time I saw this species back in the mid-1980s when I was beginning my faunal study of the Cerambycidae of Missouri (MacRae 1994).  It is by no means rare, but at the same time it is not so routinely encountered as other common flower longhorns in the state such as Strangalia famelica solitaria, S. luteicornis, S. sexnotata, Typocerus octonotatus, and T. velutinus.  Unlike those more commonly seen species, B. rubrica shows a distinct preference for plants with white, compound, flat-topped floral structures.  No plant in Missouri meets this description better than Hydrangea arborecens, and it is on flowers of this plant that I have most often seen the species.  Other flowers on which I have collected it include Ceanothus americanus, Cornus drummondiiDaucus carota, and Parthenium integrifolium — all white, compound, and (except Ceanothus) flat-topped.  Larvae have been recorded breeding in a variety of hardwood species such as beech, birch, elm, hickory, and maple; however, I have only reared this species once — a single individual that emerged from a rather punky dead branch of Carpinus caroliniana (blue beech, musclewood, hornbean) (MacRae and Rice 2007).  I suspect that the condition of the wood (slightly decayed rather than freshly dead) is more important than the actual tree species (although perhaps it is confined to hardwoods and does not utilize conifers).

There is a related species in Missouri, Brachyleptura vagans, which resembles B. rubrica in form and by its white-annulated antennae, but it is distinguished by the elytra being wholly black except for small (usually) red patches behind the humeri (shoulders).  I haven’t encountered this species quite as commonly in Missouri, mostly in shortleaf pine (Pinus echinata) forests of the Ozark Highlands.  I’ve collected it on most of the same flowers as B. rubrica, but rather than H. arborescens it seems to be most fond of C. americanus.

REFERENCES:

MacRae, T. C. 1994. Annotated checklist of the longhorned beetles (Coleoptera: Cerambycidae and Disteniidae) known to occur in Missouri. Insecta Mundi 7(4) (1993):223–252.

MacRae, T. C. and M. E. Rice. 2007. Distributional and biological observations on North American Cerambycidae (Coleoptera). The Coleopterists Bulletin 61(2):227–263.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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Alkali Tiger Beetle

Eunota togata globicollis - Salt Plains NWR, Oklahoma

I haven’t written much about my early October trip to Oklahoma, where I had hoped to confirm a hunch that the gorgeous Cicindela pulchra (Beautiful Tiger Beetle) would be found in the red clay/gypsum hill habitats of Woodward and Major Counties (the same place where I had found the much rarer Cylindera celeripes the previous June).  Unfortunately, a sudden cold snap and overcast skies conspired against me for the duration of that short, 5-day trip, reducing tiger beetle activity to near zero and sending me back to Missouri with little to show for my efforts — save a scorpion, a torpid Cicindela splendida, and some very beautiful ladie’s-tresses orchids in peak bloom.  I did have one moderately successful day, however, when I returned to Salt Plains National Wildlife Refuge in north-central Oklahoma, a place where I observed seven species of tiger beetles during my June trip.  An eighth species that I did not see on that trip, but which I had observed in previous years, was my goal this time, and despite the cold temperatures and cloudy skies I was fortunate to find several individuals of Eunota togata globicollis.  Occurring primarily on saline flats in the central and southern Great Plain, this subspecies was called the Alkali Tiger Beetle¹ by Erwin and Pearson (2008), who reserved for the nominate form (found in salt marshes and tidal flats along the Gulf Coast) the more descriptive name White-cloaked Tiger Beetle².  A third subspecies, E. togata fascinans (Salt Flat Tiger Beetle) is restricted to salt flats in central New Mexico and west Texas (Pearson et al. 2006) (you may remember this subspecies from my habitat partitioning post last month).

¹ In reality, I have come to consider the term ‘alkali’ as a bit of a misnomer, as it is saline soils specifically — not just those with high pH (alkaline) — that the species is fond of. Moreover, there are many species of tiger beetles in addition to this one that are associated with saline soils.

² Okay, I might as well just get all this off my chest. Pearson et al. (2006) gave common names to each species of tiger beetle in the U.S., but not subspecies. I think most non-taxonomists probably consider this a good thing, although it is not without its problems (some species already had multiple common names applied to them, forcing choices that are sure not to please everyone). Erwin and Pearson (2008) took this further and came up with common names for all of the subspecies as well, and like any good taxonomist they steadfastly applied existing common names only to nominate forms. Eunota togata, however, is an example where the original common name would have been better applied to one of the non-nominate subspecies. The species epithet togata means “cloaked” (being derived from the Latin word toga — a reference to the broad white band running along the elytral margins). Each of the two non-nominate forms are distinguished by the white band being more broadly expanded (indeed, almost entirely covering the elytra in subspecies fascinans), yet it is the nominate subspecies — the least “cloaked” of the three — that retains the original common name. A silly argument I suppose, but if we start applying the “prinicple of priority” to common names in the same manner as scientific names, then what have we gained? Of course, I am of the opinion that most insect groups are too diverse and their taxonomy still too unstable to warrant a rigid system of “official” common names. Is it really any easier to learn White-cloaked Tiger Beetle than Eunota togata? How about Mount Ashland Night-stalking Tiger Beetle instead of Omus cazieri? And this is not even considering what happens when category-level shifts occur. For example, the genus Tetracha was formerly called the Big-headed Tiger Beetles; however, its former subgenera were recently elevated to genus level. Erwin and Pearson, accordingly, applied the common name to the entire subtribe containing Tetracha and its relatives and applied a new common name, Metallic Tiger Beetles, to the new, more limited concept of Tetracha. Thus, in an ironic case of common name instability despite no change in scientific name, the Virginia Big-headed Tiger beetle (Tetracha virginica) became the Virginia Metallic Tiger Beetle. Are your eyes bugging yet? Common names may be appropriate for higher vertebrates, but can they really be used effectively for beetles and other insect groups where the increasing use of molecular tools is sure to result in additional, perhaps radical, shifts in taxonomy? There — I said it, and I feel a lot better!

This species is restricted to saline flats in the central/southern Great Plains.

Of the eight tiger beetle species that I’ve now observed at Salt Plains NWR, half of them (Cicindela fulgida, C. nevadica knausii, E. togata globicollis, and Habroscelimorpha circumpicta johnsonii) are true saline habitat specialists.  One of the other four species (Cicindela tranquebarica kirbyi) is also fond of saline habitats but also occurs commonly on dry, sandy soils as well, and two show a high affiinity for nearly any moist (Cicindela repanda) or moist to dry (Cicindela punctulata) soils with little regard for salinity.  Only Cicindela formosa, a denizen of dry, deep sands seems a little out of its element on the moist, salty mud at Salt Plains NWR — perhaps the few individuals I’ve observed here are incidental visitors, mistaking the white, barren expanses of salt-encrusted soil for the dry sand the species prefers during disperal searches.  This again brings up the question of habitat partitioning for competition avoidance among tiger beetle species sharing the same habitat.  Eunota togata globicollis is active during the spring and fall and, thus, temporally isolated from C. nevadica knausii and H. circumpicta johnsonii (both summer-active species).  The other saline specialist at Salt Plains NWR (C. fulgida) is active during the same seasons as E. togata globicollis; however, in my observations that species prefers the sparsely-vegetated zone at the edge of the saline flats, while E. togata globicollis prefers to stay out in the more open areas.  These observations mirror those of Melius (2010) for E. togata fascinans and the other seven species he noted in the Laguna del Perro area of New Mexico, and of Willis (1967), who recorded as many as 11 sympatric tiger beetle species in saline habitats in the central U.S.

Saline flats at Salt Plains NWR are home to eight species of tiger beetles.

Microhabitat selection and seasonal occurrence are not the only isolating mechanisms that can minimize interspecific competition among the different tiger beetle species at Salt Plains NWR.  Cicindela tranquebarica kirbyi is also a spring/fall species and doesn’t appear to display a preference for open versus vegetated areas, potentially allowing it to compete directly with both E. togata globicollis and C. fulgida.  However, C. tranquebarica kirbyi is a decidely larger species, while the other two are smaller, and correlated with such differences in overall size is the size of their mandibles.  Mandibular size directly correlated to prey size in a number of tiger beetle species (Pearson and Mury 1979), thus providing another mechanism for avoiding competition between these three co-occurring species. 

Photo details:
Beetles: Canon 100mm macro lens w/ 68mm Kenco extension tubes on Canon EOS 50D (manual mode), ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/18-20, MT-24EX flash 1/4 power w/ Sto-Fen diffusers.
Landscapes: Canon 17-85mm zoom lens (22mm) on Canon EOS 50D (landscape mode), ISO 100, 1/100 sec, f/10, natural light.

REFERENCES:

Erwin, T. L. and D. L. Pearson. 2008. A Treatise on the Western Hemisphere Caraboidea (Coleoptera). Their classification, distributions, and ways of life. Volume II (Carabidae-Nebriiformes 2-Cicindelitae). Pensoft Series Faunistica 84. Pensoft Publishers, Sofia, 400 pp.

Melius, D. A. 2009. Post-monsoonal Cicindela of the Laguna del Perro region of New Mexico. CICINDELA 41(4):81-89.

Pearson, D. L., C. B. Knisley and C. J. Kazilek. 2006. A Field Guide to the Tiger Beetles of the United States and Canada. Oxford University Press, New York, 227 pp.

Pearson, D. L. and E. J. Mury. 1979. Character divergence and convergence among tiger beetles (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae). Ecology 60:557–566.

Willis, H. L.  1967.  Bionomics and zoogeography of tiger beetles of saline habitats in the central United States (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae).  The University of Kansas Science Bulletin 47(5):145-313.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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Aaack!-maeodera

Warning: post contains hardcore, taxonomic, sciencey geekiness!

Just as there is seasonality in the lives of insects, there is seasonality in the work of those who study them.  For the collector/taxonomist, everything revolves around the collecting season — time spent on anything else is time not available for collecting. As a result, I spend a good deal of my time during the summer in the field and on its associated planning and organizing activities, leaving the winter months for processing and identifying collected specimens, incorporating them into the permanent collection, generating reports to fulfill permit requirements, and ultimately preparing manuscripts for publication — the raison d’être.  Winter is also the time when I identify specimens sent to me by other collectors.  I do this not only because I’m such a nice guy (at least I hope I am), but also because such material often contains species I haven’t seen before or that represent new distributions and host plant associations that I can use to augment the results of my own studies.  Such work has occupied much of my time during the past several weeks, and I now find myself close to finishing the last of the nearly dozen batches of beetles sent to me since the end of last winter.

Of the three groups of beetles that I actively study — jewel beetles, longhorned beetles, and tiger beetles — it is the jewel beetles that are taxonomically the most challenging.  Tiger beetles can often be indentified in the field (especially with the publication of Pearson et al. (2006), or “the Bible” among cicindelophiles), and North American longhorned beetles have been reasonably well worked by a strong contingent of both professional and amateur taxonomists over the past several decades.  Jewel beetles on the other hand, despite their dazzling colors and popularity with collectors, continue to befuddle even the most dedicated collectors due to their extreme variability and poorly-defined species limits.  Of the 822 species and subspecies known from North America, fully three-fifths of them belong to one of just three hyperdiverse genera — Acmaeodera, Agrilus, and Chrysobothris.  No recent taxonomic treatments are available for any of these genera, thus, identifying species belonging to them requires access to primary literature, a well-represented and authoritatively-identified reference collection, and extraordinary patience!  This is particularly true of the genus Acmaeodera, the North American members of which were last treated collectively more than a century ago (Fall 1899) (at which time less than half of the current 149 species/subspecies were known to science).  The recent explosion of web-based images has helped matters (a particularly useful site for those interested in North American Acmaeodera is Acmaeoderini Orbis, with its galleries of Harvard type specimens and BugGuide photos); however, images are still lacking for many species, and others are not easily distinguished from the images that do exist.

Acmaeodera robigo Knull (Val Verde Co., Texas)

It is precisely this taxonomic challenge, however, that makes the group so interesting to me.  Opportunities for discovery abound, as basic information is incomplete or totally lacking for many species regarding their geographical ranges and life histories.  One of the species I encountered in a batch of material sent to me by cerambycid-specialist Jeff Huether contained three specimens that I eventually determined to represent Acmaeodera robigo.  Josef Knull (1954) first described this species from specimens collected at Lake Corpus Christi in south Texas, and nothing more was recorded about the species until Nelson et al. (1996) reported a single specimen cut from its pupal cell in the base of Dalea formosa (Fabaceae) at White River Lake in far northern Texas — a range extension of almost 500 miles!  Obviously, I didn’t have this species in my collection, and it was only after a series of eliminations that led me to the original description (and confirmation of my ID by Nearctic Acmaeodera-guru Rick Westcott based on the photos shown here) did I know for sure what it was.  These specimens were collected at Seminole Canyon State Historic Park, thus, extending into west Texas the species’ known range, and they exhibit variability in the elytral markings and punctation that was not noted in the original description.  While only an incremental increase in our knowledge of this species, collectively such increases lead to greater understanding of the genus as a whole, and Jeff’s generosity in allowing me to retain examples of the species increases my U.S. representation of the genus to 130 species/subspecies (87%).

Acmaeodera n. sp. (Santa Cruz Co., Arizona)

The opportunity for discovery is not limited to range extensions and new host records, but includes new species as well.  A few years ago I received a small lot of specimens collected in Arizona by my hymenopterist-friend Mike Arduser (hymenopterists, especially those interested in apoid bees, are excellent “sources” of Acmaeodera, which they encounter frequently on blossoms while collecting bees).  Among the material he gave to me was the single specimen shown here that immediately brought to my mind Acmaeodera rubrovittata, recently described from Mexico (Nelson 1994) and for which I had collected part of the type series.  Comparison of the specimen with my paratypes, however, showed that it was not that species, and after much combing through the literature I decided that the specimen best fit Acmaeodera robigo (despite being collected in Arizona rather than Texas and not matching the original description exactly).  This was before I had true A. robigo with which to compare, so I sent the specimen to Rick Westcott for his opinion.  His reply was “good news, bad news” — the specimen did not represent A. robigo, but it didn’t represent any known species either!  While the prospect of adding a new species to the U.S. fauna is exciting, basing a description on this single specimen would be ill-advised.  Only through study of series of individuals can conclusions be made regarding the extent of the species’ intraspecific variability and its relation to known species.  Until such specimens are forthcoming, the specimen will have to sit in my cabinet bearing the label “Acmaeodera n. sp.”  For all of you collector-types who live in or plan to visit southeastern Arizona, consider this a general call for potential paratypes!  The specimen was collected in early August on flowers of Aloysia sp. near the Atascosa Lookout Trailhead on Ruby Road in Santa Cruz Co.

REFERENCES:

Fall, H. C.  1899.  Synonpsis of the species of Acmaeodera of America, north of Mexico.  Journal of the New York Entomological Society 7(1):1–37.
[scroll to “Journal of the New York Entomological Society”, “v. 7 1899”, “Seq 12”]

Knull, J. N. 1954. Five new North American species of Buprestidae (Coleoptera). Ohio Journal of Science 54:27–30.

Nelson, G. H. 1994. Six new species of Acmaeodera Eschscholtz from Mexico (Coleoptera: Buprestidae). The Coleopterists Bulletin 48:272–282.

Nelson, G. H., R. L. Westcott and T. C. MacRae. 1996. Miscellaneous notes on Buprestidae and Schizopodidae occurring in the United States and Canada, including descriptions of previously unknown sexes of six Agrilus Curtis (Coleoptera). The Coleopterists Bulletin 50(2):183–191.

Pearson, D. L., C. B. Knisley and C. J. Kazilek. 2006. A Field Guide to the Tiger Beetles of the United States and Canada. Oxford University Press, New York, 227 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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“Cicindelophilically”

 

My good friends Kent Fothergill and Kelly Tindall passed through St. Louis last week on their way back home from a visit to Columbia.  I was happy for the chance to get together with them – if only for a short visit, as I hadn’t seen them since the summer before last when Kent joined forces with Chris Brown and I to conduct a survey for Cylindera cursitans (ant-like tiger beetle) in southeast Missouri.  (You may recall that I orginally met Kent when he emailed me out of-the-blue after moving to southeast Missouri in 2007 to let me know he liked tiger beetles.  I responded by suggesting that he look for this long sought-after species, which he found the very next day!)  Kent had told me in arranging the visit that they had something they wanted to give me, and since I had some specimens of theirs to return it seemed a convenient way to make the exchange.  I had no idea what it was they wanted to give me, but I knew they’d been to the recent Entomological Society of America meetings in Indianapolis and figured they must have purchased a cool beetle specimen or something for me.

After arriving at my office, they told me that they’d had the chance to meet John Acorn, a rare celebrity in the world of natural history study.  Most people known John as the host and creative force behind Acorn the Nature Nut, an award-winning television series in which John’s inspiring personality and infectious love of nature introduce viewers to various aspects of Alberta’s natural history.  John is also, however, an accomplished entomologist, with one of his special interests being… you guessed it – tiger beetles!  In 2001, John published The Tiger Beetles of Alberta: Killers on the Clay, Stalkers on the Sand, one of the most accessible and highly entertaining treatments of the family (er… supertribe) to date (if I can ever get my act together and write The Tiger Beetles of Missouri, I want to model it after this book).  John was at the ESA meetings selling original artwork of the different tiger beetle species occurring in Alberta, and Kent and Kelly mentioned to him that they had a friend back in Missouri who would love one of his prints – selecting “Cicindela purpurea auduboni black morph”.  Somehow, my name and association with this blog came up, to which John replied, “Oh, I know about Beetles in the Bush” and then signed the print for me as shown below.  Wow!

I hope Kent and Kelly understand my stunned silence upon first seeing the print they had so generously given to me and the inscription it bore.  I felt a little silly afterwards returning their kind gesture by just giving them back specimens that were already theirs.  I’m honored by their friendship and will be reminded of it now everytime I look at the print on my office wall.

REFERENCE:

Acorn, J.  2001.  Tiger Beetles of Alberta: Killers on the Clay, Stalkers on the Sand.  The University of Alberta Press, Edmonton, xix + 120 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

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Ants invade Beetles in the Bush!

For months now, your Beetles in the Bush host, Ted, has been nudging me to blog, in the end resorting to offering me a guest blogger gig at BitB. Given this golden opportunity, I’ve decided to utilize my web-logging debut to introduce my favorite insects, the fabulous Formicidae. First, a disclaimer: I have not mastered ant photography, and so will rely on the undisputed king of ant photographers, Alex Wild, through links to his numerous, unexcelled images.

Since about age 5, I can remember being interested in virtually anything living, but especially in small, active creatures. From the beginning, I have had a particular attraction to ants. With some notable exceptions, and aside from the pulchritudinous feature of their svelte waists, ants aren’t what most folks would call pretty, but they are — How else to say it? — just plain “cool”!

First, who are they and where do they come from? Ants constitute a single family, Formicidae, within the insect order Hymenoptera, so their relatives are wasps, bees, sawflies, horntails, gall wasps, and a vast array of small parasitic wasps that are mostly unappreciated except by specialists who study them. Within Hymenoptera, the ants are considered to belong to the superfamily Vespoidea, along with hornets, paper wasps, potter wasps and other solitary relatives.  The evidence at present indicates the first animals we would call ant had diverged from their common ancestry with these other stinging wasps some time in the Cretaceous, 130 million years ago, more or less.  Ants are classified in a varying number of subfamilies, currently at about 20. Fossils in amber up to 100 million years old represent early members of several modern subfamilies, and a few extinct groups. Most of us in the Northern Hemisphere Temperate Zone are familiar only with the big two subfamilies, Formicinae (carpenter ants, weaver ants, honey ants, etc.) and Myrmicinae (fire ants, harvester ants, leaf-cutter ants, etc.). In much of North America, folks may also be familiar with an abundant member of another subfamily, Dolichoderinae, namely odorous house ants, which frequent our gardens, kitchen counters, wall spaces, and even electrical outlets, especially in spring.

Ants are a conspicuous and often dominant presence in the World of the Little (or, what Piotr Nascrecki, in one of my favorite books, calls the “Smaller Majority” ). It is difficult for any observant person to sit still, outdoors in good weather, and not begin to see ants doing what ants do. They scurry about singly, in pairs or threesomes or foursomes, or in long lines, or columns. Our notice may be further piqued by their habit of transporting sundry bits of biomass or mineromass (pebbles, etc.).  Often this is just taking out the inedible food waste, or sawdust or soil excavated while expanding or remodeling their nests.  Less visibly, because more diffusely in space, ants carry a variety of items from foraging to their nests to provide nutrition for their colonies, or to add mass or create functional structure to their nests (to create better drainage, to provide incubation space for developing brood, and in some desert ants, to capture dew). In one of the most spectacular examples of ants transporting things, the so-called “slave-making” ants carry home the mature brood of a related species, these young ants later maturing in the brood-robbers’ nest to become its work force!

Shiny red workers of Polyergus lucidus return with pupae pillaged from a nest of Formica incerta several meters away. Two brown and differently proportioned workers of the latter that matured from raids earlier in the life of this Polyergus colony may be seen at the right of the photo.

Perhaps, not so widely known is that most of what most ants carry home is not some large, heavy particle in their mandibles, but rather is liquid carried in an expansible section of their esophagus called the crop. Because of the fine diameter of their gullets, adult ants cannot eat anything other than the most minute solid particles (e.g., pollen grains, loose cells from their prey).  Solid items may be cut up to feed to the legless, pale larvae, or the larvae may even be placed directly upon the killed prey to bite into it and feed on their own, using their flexible “necks”.  Adult ants get pre-digested food in return, in the form of glandular secretions loosely termed saliva, but which may be either a glandular secretion from the larva itself or simplify pre-liquefied flesh of prey lapped up from the larva’s messy eating.  In some lineages, known as Dracula ants, adults actually “bleed” the larvae through rapidly healing wounds made at particular locations on the larval exoskeleton.

Okay, I need to get back to my regular work, so let’s bring this home (to winter in the United States). Many of us are now in the dead of winter, or so it would seem. But, on sunny days, sap is beginning to flow upward in maple and other trees, and one ant species may actually be seen, creeping slowly through the woods, in search of dead arthropods and earthworms, or perhaps some sweet sap oozing from a sapsucker wound in a tree. This is Prenolepis imparis, sometimes called “winter honeypot ant”. This is a partial misnomer. While foragers may indeed fill their crops to over-full with sweet sap or honeydew, the very bloated “honeypots” in the deep nests of this ant are in fact, fat pots, having converted their food to whitish body fat. This is later converted to a glandular secretion that serves as food for developing larvae.  These ants are likely to be seen anywhere near where oaks of just about any species grow, and the where the soil is moist but well-drained. Look for these shiny little dark brown ants during your walks in the woods, on the sunny days that are sure to increase in number and warmth in the coming months.

Copyright © James C. Trager 2010

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