Class and order are gimmes – can you name the family, genus, and species? Common name? Something significant about its biology or behavior?
Photographed 25.ix.2010 in shortgrass prairie habitat atop the Pine Ridge in Sioux Co., Nebraska.
Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ MP-E 65mm 1-5X macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/11), Canon MT-24EX flash w/ Sto-Fen + GFPuffer diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).
Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010
While searching through shortgrass prairie atop the Pine Ridge in northwestern Nebraska in hopes of finding Cicindela nebraskana (prairie long-lipped tiger beetle), this harvestman caught my eye. Harvestmen are, of course, arachnids related to spiders, but they lack fangs and poison or silk glands and are placed the separate order Opiliones (Phalangida when I was in school). Admittedly, I haven’t paid much attention to harvestmen before now, but this one seemed different from any I’d seen before – nearly black with relatively short legs and distinctive orange intersegmental articular membranes at the base of the legs. Harvestmen are known to employ chemical defenses through special repugnatorial glands that produce phenols, quinones, ketones, and/or alcohols, and this individual seemed to display a clear example of aposematic coloration to warn any potential predators of its distastefulness.
Although beetles are my focus, I normally try to do my own identifications in other groups as well. However, some rather persistent searching through the extensive harvestman holdings at BugGuide failed to turn up a good match. In gestalt it seemed to belong to the family Sclerosomatidae, but even that was just guessing on my part. So, I did what I’ve done only a few times before and posted the photos to BugGuide’s ID Request. A day and a half later I had my answer – Trachyrhinus favosus. BugGuide Contributing Editor V. Belov had sent the photos to harvestman expert Marshal Hedin, who had this to say in response:
Cokendolpher describes males as ‘body ranging from solid black…’ with bases of femora ‘yellow-brown’. The species is also known from western Nebraska. Cool.
I was pleased to learn that these photographs represented a new species for BugGuide and no longer felt bad about not being able to find a good match. Further, my leanings toward the family Sclerosomatidae had been confirmed. According the Cokendolpher (1981), T. favosus ranges in a narrow band from North Dakota south to north-central Texas and is active only during fall. I had intended to try to get an even closer photograph, but after taking the second photograph above I accidentally disturbed the critter and then watched in amazement as it began bouncing up and down vigorously. This apparently is a defensive behavior that functions to blur the body form. I watched it bounce and became even more amazed as it began calmly walking away while continuing its vigorous bouncing – quite a spectacle!
Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ MP-E 65mm 1-5X macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13), Canon MT-24EX flash w/ Sto-Fen + GFPuffer diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).
REFERENCE
Cokendolpher, J. C. 1981. Revision of the genus Trachyrhinus Weed (Opiliones, Phalangioidea). Journal of Arachnology 9:1–18.
Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010
A few weeks ago I was fortunate to get a chance to blast down to the White River Hills in extreme southwestern Missouri. Cicindela obsoleta vulturina (prairie tiger beetle) was my quarry – I had made arrangements to meet up with fellow cicindelophile Steve Spomer (principal author of Tiger Beetles of South Dakota & Nebraska, Spomer et al. 2008) and show him a few of the better sites I had found for this species. We would have good success due to gorgeous fall weather and perfect timing, and the next day I would be fortunate to extend its known distribution further north and east. Still, the beetles are not early risers, and I found myself that second morning with some time on my hands while waiting for these sleepy-heads to arise from their slumber and begin their foraging activities. As I trolled the thinly soiled dolomite exposures of a new site I had identified the previous day, a spot of red jerking erratically through the sparse vegetation caught my eye, and looking closer I was delighted to see this small but brilliantly colored jumping spider (family Salticidae) trying to evade my gaze.
Jumping spiders are perhaps the most diverse of all spider families, but it is their extraordinary visual capabilities and complex predatory and courtship behaviors that they are best known for. Popular as research subjects, to the rest of us they are simply endearing little animals. Some of the largest and most colorful jumping spiders belong to the genus Phidippus, which is also one of the most diverse genera in the family and boasts some 60 species in the continental United States (Edwards 2004). The genus is characterized by details of the eye placement and carapace shape (Richman 1978) but can often be recognized by their relatively large size, numerous erect hairs, and conspicuous iridescent chelicerae just below the front eyes. The species can be quite difficult to identify, especially the females, but I feel reasonably confident that this individual is a male of the widespread species P. apacheanus.
I wasn’t always so confident – browsing images on BugGuide left me confused after finding images of P. apacheanus and P. cardinalis males that looked almost identical. However, further digging reveals P. apacheanus is characteristically a more intense red, while P. cardinalis is more orangey with lighter bristles which may appear silvery. Also, P. cardinalis often displays makings on the abdomen – generally a light line running around the anterior part of the abdomen and sometimes tiny light spots on the dorsum – that are absent in P. apacheanus. (This begs the question as to whether some of the BugGuide photos may be misidentified?) Another Phidippus species that might be confused with P. apacheanus is P. clarus; however, that species has a black cephalothorax and bright abdominal markings. According to Herschel Raney, P. apacheanus is most often seen in fall.
This was a very difficult subject to photograph. He refused to come out in the open, preferring to duck and peek from behind whatever vegetation he could find. Realizing that my desire to photograph him without any manipulation would be a lesson in futility, I used my finger to prod him towards and onto a small, flat, lichen-encrusted rock, where he would look at me with ever-increasing alarm and try to flee at the approach of the camera. Lots of failed shots were discarded in the field before I finally got a few I thought I could live with (which, I think, are a decided improvement over my first jumping spider photos). As I zoomed in for the closeups, I saw for the first time the shimmering of his multilayered retinae moving in the depths of his primary medial eyes. The retina is the darkest part of the eye, thus, when the eye is at its darkest the spider is looking straight at you!
Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ MP-E 65mm 1-5X macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13), Canon MT-24EX flash (1/8 ratio) w/ Sto-Fen + GFPuffer diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).
REFERENCES:
Edwards, G. B. 2004. Revision of the jumping spiders of the genus Phidippus (Araneae: Salticidae). Occasional Papers of the Florida State Collection of Arthropods 11:i-viii, 1-156, 350 figs.
Richman, D. B. 1978. Key to the jumping spider (salticid) genera of North America. Peckhamia 1(5):77–81.
Spomer, S. M., M. L. Brust, D. C. Backlund and S. Weins. 2008. Tiger Beetles of South Dakota & Nebraska. University of Nebraska, Department of Entomology, Lincoln, 60 pp.
Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010
One of the more common species of longhorned beetles (family Cerambycidae) in Missouri, and throughout the eastern U.S., is Stenosphenus notatus. Despite its commonness, however, it is a species that is easily overlooked because of its very early seasonality, emerging during the first warm days of spring (late March here in Missouri) and disappearing by the time the bulk of longhorned beetle species become active during late spring and early summer. I found this individual on a recently fallen mockernut hickory (Carya alba) during the 2nd week of April, as Rich and I hiked the lower portion of the Wappapello Section of the Ozark Trail in southern Missouri (along with several other wood boring beetles species such as Dicerca lurida, Megacyllene caryae, and the woodboring beetle predator Enoclerus ichneumoneus). Longhorned beetles display a variety of host fidelities, ranging from highly polyphagous to strictly monophagous – this species falls near though not quite at the latter end of the spectrum, being associated almost exclusively with the genus Carya (hickories and pecan). I have reared adults from dead branches and trunk sections of not only C. alba, but also C. aquatica (water hickory), C. laciniosa (shellbark hickory), and C. ovata (shagbark hickory) (MacRae 1994, MacRae and Rice 2007). Linsley (1963) also records Celtis (hackberry) as a host, but I have not seen the species myself in association with plants of that genus, nor have I seen other literature references to such – I suspect this may, in fact, be an incidental adult association rather than indicative of a true larval host (an all too common problem in interpreting literature on woodboring beetle host plants).
The very early spring occurrence of this insect can be traced to a peculiarity of its life cycle shared by few other cerambycid species in the eastern U.S. – overwintering in the adult stage. Most eastern U.S. longhorned beetles overwinter within the host wood as either partially or completely grown larvae. Warming temperatures in the spring trigger resumption of growth in the former and a transformation to the pupal stage in the latter, which emerge as adults a few weeks later during mid-late spring. In contrast, S. notatus – which requires two seasons to complete its development – pupates in the latter part of the second season and transforms into the adult before the onset of winter. When warm temperatures return in spring, the adults are ready to emerge and search out fresh hickory wood that has died within the past few months on which to lay their eggs and begin the cycle anew.
As I photographed this individual, I noticed an object attached to its left mesothoracic (middle) leg. Zooming in on the object showed it to be a pseudoscorpion – a type of arachnid (relative of spiders, mites, and true scorpions) in the order Pseudoscorpiones. I have not the resources nor the expertise to attempt a more specific ID, but its attachment to the beetle almost surely represents an example of phoresy – defined as a phenomenon in which “one animal seeks out and attaches to the outer surface of another animal for a limited time during which the attached animal (termed the phoretic) ceases feeding and ontogenesis, such attachment presumably resulting in dispersal from areas unsuitable for further development, either of the individual or its progeny” (Farish and Axtell 1971). Pseudoscorpions have been reported attached to insects from several orders, primarily Diptera but also beetles and including longhorned beetles (Perry et al. 1974, Haack and Wilkinson 1987). Many species of pseudoscorpions develop beneath the bark of dead trees and prey upon the many other small insects and mites found there, and it would be reasonable to presume that their most effective means of dispersal to new habitats (i.e., dead trees) would be by “hitching a ride” with adult woodboring beetles as they emerge and fly to these new sites. As obvious as this explanation might seem, few data have actually been generated to demonstrate it is actually the case, and several competing hypotheses such as accidental boarding (hitching a ride by accident), obligate symbiosis (the pseudoscorpions live exclusively on the beetles), and phagophily (preying upon other beetle associates such as mites) have been offered as alternative explanations. However, at least one fairly recent investigation on the pseudoscorpion, Cordylochernes scorpioides, a frequent inhabitant under the elytra of the giant harlequin beetle, Acrocinus longimanus (family Cerambycidae), does seem to not only support the dispersal hypothesis, but also suggests that large male C. scorpioides even defend a beetle’s abdomen as a strategic site for intercepting and inseminating dispersing females (Zeh and Zeh 1992).
REFERENCES:
Farish, D. J. and R. C. Axtell. 1971. Phoresy redefined and examined in Macrocheles muscaedomesticae (Acarina: Macrochelidae). Acarologia 13:1629.
Haack, R. A. and R. C. Wilkinson. 1987. Phoresy by Dendrochernes Pseudoscorpions on Cerambycidae (Coleoptera) and Aulacidae (Hymenoptera) in Florida. American Midland Naturalist 117(2):369–373.
Linsley, E. G. 1963. The Cerambycidae of North America. Part IV. Taxonomy and classification of the subfamily Cerambycinae, tribes Elaphidionini through Rhinotragini. University of California Publicatons in Entomology 21:1–165, 52 figs.
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.
Perry, R. H., R. W. Surdick and D. M. Anderson. 1974. Observations on the biology, ecology, behavior, and larvae of Dryobius sexnotatus Linsley (Coleoptera: Cerambycidae). The Coleopterists Bulletin 28(4):169–176.
Zeh, D. W. and J. A. Zeh. 1992. On the function of harlequin beetle-riding in the pseudoscorpion, Cordylochernes scorpiones (Pseudoscorpionida: Chernetidae). Journal of Arachnology 20: 47–51.
Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010
As a long-time professional and avocational entomologist, I find beauty and fascination in all manner of joint-legged creatures. Of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and most people don’t exactly share my passion for these animals. Sure, butterflies enjoy almost universal approval, but beetles are just too crunchy, flies too filthy, wasps too aggressive, and cockroaches… well, eww! Even crabs and lobsters, tasty as they are, just move too robotically to engender any feelings of affection. None of these groups, however, seem to be as universally reviled as spiders – scuttling blurs of leg and fur with beady little eyes, just waiting to launch a sneak attack with their venomous gnashers. Few other coin-sized animals can cause an otherwise lucid adult to run screaming from their bathroom with such terror.
Except jumping spiders! Jumping spiders (family Salticidae) possess many of the same traits that condemn other spiders to the ranks of the creepy – hair and venom and lots of eyes; yet they have other unique qualities that make them nevertheless endearing, almost cuddly, to all but the most ardent of arachnophobes. Their human-like “face” featuring two large, forward-facing eyes and inquisitive nature give them a charisma that almost invites interaction. Approach any other spider, and it scampers back into the nearest crevice. Jumping spiders, on the other hand, turn and face the intruder – you can almost see them sizing you up – perhaps even moving forward a little to have a better look. It makes them seem, well… intelligent. Add to that their stunning diversity (~5,000 species), dazzling colors, and the sometimes impressively elongated choppers of the males, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for charm. Bouncy, furry, smart, cute, and big bright eyes – almost sounds like a kitten!
The result of all this charm is that jumping spiders are wildly popular subjects for macrophotography. Accordingly, there has been a veritable explosion of online photographs of jumping spiders, dominated by close-ups of that irresistible face. These shots here represent my first attempt to photograph one of these endearing creatures, and while I’m happy with them considering my relative newness to the field, they are a far cry from the spectacular images being produced by some other photographers. Perhaps the best of these is Thomas Shahan, whose focus-stacked facial shots of these spiders are among the most stunning that you will find. Another photographer who has produced some excellent photographs of Malaysian jumping spiders is Kurt at Up Close with Nature. Perhaps someday my jumping spider photographs will be considered on par with those that these two gentlemen are producing – if that day comes, you can say it began right here!
I’m a beetle-man, so except for a brief attempt at ant taxonomy my area of expertise lies with the Coleoptera. Nevertheless, perusing the well-stocked archives at BugGuide leads me to believe that the individual I photographed is a subadult female in the genus Phidippus – perhaps something in the putnami species-group. I found her on a lower branch of sweetgum (Liquidamber styraciflua) in a wet-mesic bottomland forest along the Black River in Missouri’s southeastern Ozarks feeding on a blow fly (family Calliphoridae). While relatively drably-colored compared to many other species in the family, a glimpse of her bright blue-green chelicerae (fangs) can still be seen. I tried to get her to drop her prey to get a better look at the fangs, but she wasn’t having anything to do with that – mealtime is mealtime!
Photo Details: Canon MP-E 65 mm 1-5X macro lens on Canon 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13-14, MT-24EX flash 1/8 power w/ Sto-Fen diffusers. Minimal cropping and post-processing.
Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010
Granted, the progress of spring seems to advance in halting baby steps with occasional falls onto its muddy bottom, rather than as a determined forward march, but spring is welcome, no matter how it arrives. When little green tips start poking up and there’s a bit of that “spring smell” in the air, I simply must get out and catch up on the status of Nature — the old-fashioned way (she doesn’t have a Facebook account). Over the last week, I’ve gone forth in search of signs that everything else living is about as tired of winter as I am, and wants to get this spring show on the road! There is already so much happening, I can’t recount it all here — A partial list of unphotographed notables: owls breeding; hawks nesting; woodcocks doing their silly, repetitive and almost invisible (because it’s nearly dark) courtship displays; wood ducks on forest ponds; year-round resident songbirds reestablishing territories; spring peepers, chorus frogs, wood frogs and southern leopard frogs singing, especially in the fishless ponds; winter crane flies and midges swarming in sun flecks in the woods; wild filberts, silver and red maples flowering, etc…
Formica pallidefulva sniffs the spring air
Formica pallidefulva with charred earthworm
Prenolepis imparis alate in the clutches of a gerrid
But lest you to think I only have eyes for ants, I feel indeed fortunate to have encountered a tarantula this week, of the same species as Ted recently posted and I didn’t even have to go to Oklahoma for it. This bedraggled individual was at the mouth of its completely flooded burrow in what is most often a very dry habitat — a dolomite glade. Stunned and muddy at the time, my guess is this creature, belonging to a resilient and ancient lineage, will dry off, clean up, and saunter away as soon as she warms up.
Aphonopelma hentzi in flooded burrow
Male box turtle emerges
One of my destinations on my annual fall tiger beetle collecting trip last October was The Glass Mountains in northwestern Oklahoma. Rising from the red Permian beds of the central Great Plains, the Glass Mountains are a series of mesas and buttes capped by thick layers of the sparkling, glass-like crystal selenite. It is still common to see them referred to as the “Gloss” Mountains, the result of a transcription error by a mapmaker back in the late 1800s, and although the soils that comprise the formations are very old (laid down as sedimentary deposits during the Permian Era some 250 million years ago), the landscape itself is relatively young – a result of erosion by glacial outwash from the Rocky Mountains during the past 1 million years.
Of course, I was not here to study crystals or geology, but to look for tiger beetles! It was at this spot that earlier in the year (June) I had discovered a new population of Cylindera celeripes (Swift Tiger Beetle), a rarely-collected flightless species that has declined worrisomely during the past century, and another seldom-collected flightless species, Dromochorus pruinina (Frosted Dromo Tiger Beetle), was also a good find. Neither of these species were my reason for being here in October, however, since by then adults of both have long disappeared. Instead, I was hoping that the large, unidentified larvae that I had seen in their burrows at this site back in June would be out as adults. Their great size suggested two possibilities – Cicindela obsoleta (Large Grassland Tiger Beetle) or C. pulchra (Beautiful Tiger Beetle), either of which would be a great find. Alas, overcast skies and a cold, biting wind made whatever tiger beetles were there – lovers of sun and warmth that they are – remain secreted within their protected haunts. I still have a shot at finding out what they are – I successfully extracted two larvae from their burrows and fed them well in the laboratory with fat fall armyworm larvae before putting them to sleep for the winter in a 10°C (50°F) incubator. If all goes well, I’ll wake them up this spring and finish them out to adulthood this year.
There were a few consolation prizes on the day, one of which was this large, lumbering male tarantula seen slowly making its way down the red clay slopes. For all their charisma and noteriety, it’s interesting to note that the taxonomy of U.S. tarantulas (almost all of which belong to the genus Aphonopelma) is rather poorly known – some 50 species have been described, but many of the descriptions are inadequately based on limited material (or even single specimens) and often rely upon variable, highly artificial characters (Prentice 1997). Brown or black species with no distinctive coloration (such as this one) seem to present the greatest challenge; however, the internet seems to have concluded that the only tarantula present in Oklahoma is Aphonopelma hentzi.
This spider can be distinguished as a mature male by way of the tibial hooks that can be seen on the undersides of the front pair of walking legs in the first photo. Female and immature tarantulas normally stay in their burrows during the day and come out at night to hunt, but wanderlust strikes the adult males during late summer and fall, during which time they’ve been documented traveling as far as 1.3 km over a period of 2-3 weeks (Janowski-Bell and Horner 1999) – presumably in search of females with which to mate. It is only after the male’s final molt that wanderlust sets in and the tibial hooks appear, which are said to function in holding the female (and her fangs!) at a safe distance during copulation.
It may seem hard to believe, given its large size and slow movement, but I found this spider exceedinly difficult to photograph compared to the tiger beetles that I have spent much more time with. I’m not used to photographing subjects with a 4-5 inch leg spread, which made it difficult for me to judge working distance and get a handle on proper settings and positions for the flash units. Once I did get that under control, I found the tarantula’s incessant desire to keep moving maddeningly frustrating. Tiger beetles, as active and flighty as they are, nevertheless eventually sit still long enough to allow at least a shot or two before bolting, but this tarantula… just… never… stopped… moving! I can’t tell you how many shots I discarded because it’s legs were splayed awkwardly in multiple directions. Eventually, however, I got enough shots that I felt there should be at least a few good ones among them, and those are the ones I share here.
Most male tarantulas will die within a few weeks or months of their final molt. Still, that doesn’t deter me from scooping them up whenever I find them and bringing them home to enjoy as pets for whatever time they have left. My daughters probably like tarantulas best of any of the critters that I bring home – I never have to ask “Has anybody fed ‘Hairy’?” (and props to awesome wife for enduring something most ‘normal’ wives couldn’t even begin to contemplate).
REFERENCE:
Janowski-Bell, M. E. and N. V. Horner. 1999. Movement of the male brown tarantula, Aphonopelma Hentzi (Araneae, Theraphosidae), using radio telemetry. The Journal of Arachnology 27:503–512.
Prentice, T. R. 1997. Theraphosidae of the Mojave Desert west and north of the Colorado River (Araneae, Mygalomorphae, Theraphosidae). The Journal of Arachnology 25:137–176.
Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010
When I started participating in blog carnivals last year, Circus of the Spineless was – for me – the pinnacle of blog carnivals. I wanted to take my shot at hosting this venerable celebration of creepy crawlies, and even though the waiting list for hosting was almost a year long, I offered my services and settled in for the long wait until February 2010. Ten months have passed and the time has come. In the meantime, I did my blog carnival host début with Berry Go Round #21 and snatched the sophomore slot for nature blogging’s newest carnival with House of Herps #2. Through those efforts, I learned that blog carnival hosting is an incredible amount of work/fun, and while plants and herps are fascinating, inverts are my true love. It is, thus, with great pride that I join the ranks of previous hosts in presenting this, the 47th edition of CotS. Featured below are 16 submissions by 14 contributors that cover representatives from 5 classes in 3 invertebrate phyla. A humorous look at some of the personalities behind invertebrate study is presented as a bonus for those who make it to the end.
If you missed last month’s issue, you can find Circus of the Spineless #46 at Kate’s Adventures of a Free Range Urban Primate, and next month’s edition will be hosted by Matt Sarver at The Modern Naturalist.
Coral Reefs
Jeremy at The Voltage Gate reports on peer-reviewed research on the impact of herbivorous fish on the recovery of coral reefs in his post, Protecting herbivorous fishes significantly increases rate of coral recovery. Coral reefs have been hard hit by the challenges of bleaching and disease, pressures likely linked to climate change, and macroalgae, when given the opportunity to dominate, provide even further challenges. This can happen when populations of herbivorous fish, major grazers of macroalgae, are reduced through commercial harvest. The study authors evaluated ten sites over a two-and-a-half year period in and around the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park (ECLSP), which was established as a no-take marine reserve in 1986, finding an increase of coral cover during the study period from 7 percent to 19 percent. However, ECLSP reefs were responsible for all of this increase, with no net recovery occurring outside the ECLSP. These results illustrate the importance of reserves as a refuge for biodiversity and the service they provide in keeping marine systems intact.
Sea slug (Glaucus atlanticus)
This gorgeous nudibranch species got a foul slandering when they started washing up on Gold Coast beaches in Australia. Miriam Goldstein debunks this unfair treatment in her post, Sea slugs have self esteem too, at Deep-Sea News, noting its absolutely stunning iridescent blue and silver color with gorgeous feathery tentacles. Further exception is taken with such descriptors as “slimy”, “venomous”, “blue-bottle eating”, and “cannibals” – with the truth behind each of these terms far more fascinating than the visceral reaction their use was intended to elicit. Good news as well – you don’t have to travel to Australia to see these things – they live throughout the world’s open oceans (but you will have to get far from shore, where the pelagic jellys upon which they feed can be found).
Iron-clad snail (Cyrsomallon squamiferum)
I’ve known about iron-clad beetles, species of Zopheridae whose exoskeleton is so hard and thick it is almost impossible to impale them with an insect pin. I’d never heard of an iron-clad snail, however, until I read Dr. M’s post, The Evolution of Iron-Clad Samurai Snails With Gold Feet, at Deep-Sea News. Unlike the seemingly iron-impregnated beetles, these snails actually utilize iron sulfide in a series of armor plates covering the “foot.” Just described in 2003 from a hydrothermal vent in the Indian Ocean, it is the only known animal known to use iron sulfide as skeletal material. Only time will tell if these snails achieve the same popularity as living jewelry as the beetles.
¹ The taxonomy of the Gastropoda is under constant revision, as the results of DNA studies increasingly reveal as possibly polyphyletic many of the former orders (including the Opisthobranchia and Pulmonata, now known as “informal groups”).
Samurai crab (Heikea japonica)
Mike Bok at Arthopoda shares two stories about this crab – one an ancient Japanese legend, the other a modern piece of scientific folklore – in his post, Samurai Crabs: Transmogrified Japanese warriors, the product of artificial selection, or pareidolia? In the first, popular legend alleges that these crabs were transformed from drowned samurai warriors, each one identifiable by the face of the fallen samurai that it bears on its backs and for whom the crab searches in the depths of the oceans around Japan. This ancient legend has led to a modern scientific quibble about whether the stylized face that can be seen on the crab’s carapace is the result of artificial selection by generations of superstitious Japanese fishermen, who have selectively released crabs bearing any resemblance to a human face. This may make for compelling scientific debate, but Mike counters even the considerable eloquence of Carl Sagan in providing his own thoughts on why this likely is not true.
Amphipod (Phronima spp.)
In another example of the intermixture of science and culture, Mike Bok (Arthopoda) asks, Did Phronima inspire the design of the Alien Queen? Mike agrees with the claim that the original “soldier” alien morph seen in “Alien” (1979) was based on a painting by artist H. R. Giger, but he thinks that Phronima more likely influenced the design of the queen alien morph in “Aliens” (1986). The truth may remain hidden at Stan Winston Studios, but the broad crest atop the head of Phronima, bearing tubular, upward-pointing eyes, its “necro-parasitic” tendencies, and a chillingly suggestive photograph of the beast from a 1981 paper lend an air of plausibility to Mike’s hypothesis.
Harvestmen, daddy-long-legs
John at Kind of Curious follows up on David Attenborough’s Life in the Undergrowth Episode 1 with his post, Daddy Long Legs Daddies (aka Harvestman). Looking like spiders but lacking their venomous and silk-spinning abilities, it seems that nobody can agree on the proper name for these spider relatives. Brits call them “harvestmen”, but Americans call them “daddy-long-legs”, a term that in the UK refers rather to crane flies (which less informed Americans simply call “giant mosquitoes”). Let’s not even mention the daddy-long-legs spider (Pholcus phalangioides), which actually is a spider.
Neoscona crucifera (barn spider)
Anyone who hikes along woodland trails in the eastern U.S. during autumn knows what a “spider stick” is – i.e., any handy stick that can be waved probingly in front of one as they hike, lest they run smack into the web of any number of orb weavers that are fond of stretching their large webs across such natural insect flyways. Jason, at Xenogere, has some biggun’s in his neck of the woods, which he describes in intriguing detail in his post, Walking with spiders – Part 3. Barn spiders are some of the biggest, allowing one to fully appreciate their polychroism and polymorphism. I challenge even the most arachnophic of readers to look at Jason’s photographs and not be mesmerized by their beauty.
Autumn meadowhawk dragonfly (Sympetrum vicinum)
Michelle at Rambling Woods~The Road Less Traveled presents a stunning series of photographs of this gorgeous red dragonfly in her post, Circus of The Spineless~Curiosity will conquer fear even more than bravery will.~James Stephens. Perching on her hanging basket of pink-flowered begonias, colors matching perfectly, it was almost as if the dragonfly has staked a claim on the hanging basket as it own personal territory. Where there is one, there are others, and her neighbor’s deck had both a red male and a blue female doing… well, see Michelle’s diagram.
Horned passalus (Odontotaenius disjunctus)
Joan Knapp at Anybody Seen My Focus? shows photographs of this beetle in her post, Bess Beetle: Horned Passalus (Odontotaenius disjunctus), as it lumbered slowly and gracefully over a fallen tree branch. Perhaps the cool temperatures were the reason for its sloth. Or perhaps the missing antenna indicated a feeble, old individual on its last (six) legs. A brief interruption for photographs seemed not to deter the beetle from its destination, somewhere in the leaf litter beyond the log…
Skipper butterflies (family Hesperiidae)
Randomtruth at Nature of a Man loves skippers (are they butterflies, or aren’t they?), and you’ll love his photographs of these delightful little half-butterflies in his post, Day Skippers. While there is some slight doubt about the identity of individuals he sees in his backyard (skippers are notoriously difficult to identify in the field), there is no doubt that these little guys are loaded with personality. You won’t believe the “natural history” moment he caught on film (er… pixels?) and presented in the final photo sequence.
Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus)
Grrlscientist summarizes a recent peer-reviewed paper in her post, Migratory Monarch Butterflies ‘See’ Earth’s GeoMagnetic Field. The paper reports on photoreceptor proteins in monarch butterflies known as “cryptochromes” that not only allow the butterflies to see ultraviolet light, but also allows them to sense the Earth’s geomagnetic field. These highly conserved proteins evolved from the light-activated bacterial enzyme phytolase, which functions in DNA damage repair. Most animals have one of two types of cryptochromes, but monarchs have both – providing the first genetic evidence that the vertebrate-version of cryptochrome is responsible for the magnetoreception capabilities in migratory birds. Further research may provide insight on the workings of the circadian clock, which could lead to better understanding of sleep disorders and mental illnesses such as depression and seasonal affective disorder, as well as development of new treatments for jet lag and shift-work ailments.
Ants (family Formicidae)
Katydids, grasshoppers, cicadas – what do ants have on these singers of the insect world? Plenty, as Roberta at Wild About Ants points out in her post, Ants: No Longer the Strong Silent Types. It turns out that ants have patches of ridge-like structures on their gaster, which they rub against a curved ridge (called a “scraper”) on the petiole to communicate with each other via stridulation. While lacking the decibel level of a cicada, these sounds are nevertheless in the audible range for human ears and are thought to have alarm, mating, and recruitment functions. Even more fascinating, stridulation is not the only tool in the ant music chest – drumming and rattling have also been documented. Curiously, however, ants do not possess ears, rather likely sensing sounds through their legs or by specialized hairs on their antennae. Check out the provided links to SEM photographs and a sound recording.
Bald-faced hornet (Dolichovespula maculata)
Diane Tucker, Estate Naturalist at the Hill-Stead Museum in Farmington, Connecticut, writes at Hill-Stead’s Nature Blog. In her post, Be it ever so humble, she takes a look at some of the different animal nests that become revealed during autumn’s leaf drop – particularly those made by the bald-faced hornet (and also birds such as oriole’s). From its start as simple cluster of chambers, to its growth over the course of the summer – growing fatter until the summer’s apex of warmth and light, then tapering off with the approach of fall, these insect homes are a marvel of nature – intricately constructed homes made entirely of paper.
Common green bottle fly (Lucilia sericata)
Bug Girl discusses the resurging use of bottle fly larvae in her post, Maggot therapy. The academic among us will appreciate her discussion of the mechanisms that allow these seemingly disgusting vermin to function as incredibly delicate microsurge0ns in cleaning and disinfecting open wounds. The morbid among us will appreciate the links to the most entertainingly disgusting medical photos one can imagine. Check it out – but not over your lunch hour!
Wanderin’ Weeta (With Waterfowl and Weeds) was going to make an owl out of Douglas fir cones, but instead she found globular springtails, a crab spider, and a ladybug in a sprig of fir. We’re glad she has an interest in little hitchhikers such as these, even if the kids at school when she was growing up didn’t.
Bug Girl shows that entomologists have a sense of humor with her post, Monday Morning bug jokes – a video compilation of jokesters from the recent Entomological Society of America Annual Meeting in Indianapolis. My favorites were the best dung beetle pickup line (“Is this stool taken?”) and Marvin Harris’ rendition of the minimum number of insects needed to elicit control (1 pubic louse, or 1/2 codling moth larva :)). J. McPherson was equally, if unwittingly, hilarious due to his Christopher Lloyd-esque mannerisms. My favorite entomological joke of all, however, was not featured, so I offer the following addendum to Bug Girl’s post:
Copyright Ted C. MacRae 2010
Beetles In The Bush 