One-shot Wednesday: Mallodon dasystomus

Mallodon dasystomus | southeast Missouri (Mississippi Co.)

Mallodon dasystomus | southeast Missouri (Mississippi Co.)

Today’s (slightly belated) edition of “One-shot Wednesday” features a beetle that I saw just about this time last year while blacklighting along the Mississippi River in the southeastern lowlands of Missouri. Mallodon dasystomus¹ is a prionid longhorned beetle (family Cerambycidae, subfamily Prioninae) that is sometimes called the “hardwood stump borer”. It is perhaps one of the most widely distributed members of its group, occurring across the southern tier of the U.S. down through Mexico and Central America as far as northern South America.

¹ Until recently the specific epithet was consistently misspelled in most of the literature as “dasytomus“. A closer look at the Greek root words dasus (δασύς), meaning “hairy”, and stoma (στόμα), meaning “mouth”, shows the misspelling to be nonsensical. I, myself, am guilty of using the wrong spelling in my checklist of Missouri longhorned beetles (MacRae 1994), although I can claim to have been “going with the flow”.

Despite the beetle’s wide geographical range, I searched for it both eagerly and unsuccessfully during the 1980s as I was gathering data for my checklist of Missouri longhorned beetles (MacRae 1994). I eventually published that checklist and included the species on the basis of a few specimens seen in other collections, but I never encountered it for myself until some years later during a visit to Cave Creek Canyon in southeast Arizona. As noted by Linsley et al. (1961), this species is common there and is associated with large, partially dead Arizona sycamores (Platanus wrightii). Although nearly 20 years ago, I still recall seeing the large beetles crawling high up on the trunks and sitting in their emergence holes with only their massively-mandibled heads protruding as they tantalizingly waved their antennae about.

That experience would directly lead to my eventually finding this species for myself in Missouri. Shortly after returning to the state in the mid-90s, I was driving along a road in the state’s southeastern lowlands when I passed a very large, half-dead American sycamore (Platanus occidentalis). Even at a speed of 40 mph I could see the large emergence holes that immediately reminded me of what I had seen in Arizona, so I hit the brakes, made a quick U-turn, and came back to look at the tree a little more closely. I was convinced the holes were made by this species, and my hunch was proven when I eventually found several beetle carcasses on the ground around the base of the tree. I returned the following weekend with a chainsaw, cut several one-cubic-foot sections of wood from the dead portion of the massive tree’s trunk (with landowner permission), and eventually reared a nice series of adults from the wood. Having uncovered the association of this species with sycamore in the state, I was able to find the species also in several other locations in southeastern Missouri, but I have not managed to find the species in any areas north of the southeastern lowlands in Missouri despite the common occurrence of the host tree.

The beetle in the above photograph landed on the foliage of a large silver maple (Acer saccharinum) next to the ultraviolet light I had setup in wet bottomland forest along the Mississippi River, and wanting to ensure that I got at least one in situ photo of the beetle that is where I shot it. I did try to move it to the trunk of a large, dead sycamore nearby for a more realistically representative photo of how these beetles are usually encountered, but the beetle became quite agitated when I moved it and my considerable patience was never rewarded. I popped it into a vial in hopes of photographs the next morning, but conditions were not to the beetle’s liking and it expired before I had another chance to photograph it. Just the other night I setup a blacklight in a spot not too far from where I saw this beetle in hopes of getting another chance to photograph it. That effort was not successful, but I did find a longhorned beetle species that I had not seen in nearly 30 years! I was successful in photographing that species but (please excuse the teaser) will save those photos for a future post.

REFERENCES:

Linsley, E. G., J. N. Knull & M. Statham. 1961. A List of Cerambycidae from the Chiricahua Mountain Area, Cochise County, Arizona (Coleoptera). American Museum Novitates 2050:1–34 [full text, pdf].

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 [pdf].

© Ted C. MacRae 2014

Black is beautiful!

Most species in the genus Crossidius exhibit varying amounts of yellow/red/orange coloration on the body. However, one species—Crossidius ater—dispenses with such adornments and remains all-black throughout its expansive range across the Great Basin and surrounding areas. Despite this, they are no less pretty than their more gaudily colored relatives. The adults in these photos were seen on flowers of yellow rabbitbrush (Chrysothamnus viscidiflorus) at two locations in White Pine County, Nevada on 30 August 2013 (all photos w/ natural sky background).

Crossidius ater | 7.2 mi SW NV318 on US6, White Pine Co., Nevada.

Crossidius ater | 7.2 mi SW NV318 on US6, White Pine Co., Nevada.

Crossidius ater | Ely,  1.2 mi S Jct US6/50/93, White Pine Co., Nevada.

Crossidius ater | Ely, 1.2 mi S Jct US6/50/93, White Pine Co., Nevada.

Crossidius ater | Ely,  1.2 mi S Jct US6/50/93, White Pine Co., Nevada.

Crossidius ater | Ely, 1.2 mi S Jct US6/50/93, White Pine Co., Nevada.

© Ted C. MacRae 2014

Why I went to Georgia

Call me biased, but for my money few groups of beetles can match the maddening combination of beauty and difficult taxonomy of jewel beetles (family Buprestidae) (I can already hear the protestations of weevil and scarab workers). In the case of jewel beetles, much of the difficulty is due to a propensity for hyperdiverse genera. For example, in North and Central America more than half of the nearly 2,000 described species belong to just three genera—AcmaeoderaChrysobothris, and Agrilus. It’s enough to make many a casual coleopterist throw their hands in the air and ship their specimens off to “specialists” for identification. This is, strangely, for me part of their attraction. Any reasonably serious effort to study jewel beetles over a period of time is sure to uncover a wealth of new data, from previously unknown hosts associations and distributions to the alpha taxonomist’s raison d’être—new species!

Chrysobothris seminole

Chrysobothris seminole on its host, Chrysoma pauciflosculosa.

One of the more problematic jewel beetle groups is the “Chrysobothris femorata species-group”. For many years, these abundant and conspicuous members of forest and landscape ecosystems have confounded collectors, foresters, and extension entomologists alike. A recent revision of the group by Stan Wellso and Gary Manley (Wellso & Manley 2007) has done much to improve the situation through the description of several new species and clarification of the hosts, distributions, and identifying characters of previously known species. I have benefited more than many from their work, since during the 25 years leading up to that work I had collected large numbers of specimens assignable to this group and was fortunate to have this material examined by Stan and Gary and included in the type series of most of the new species they described. Having in my collection series of nearly all of the known species in this group greatly facilitates identification of specimens received for identification and the recognition of any new species that might come my way. Notice, however, that I said “nearly” all of the known species—there were two species described in that work that I did not have examples of; C. seminole from Georgia and Florida and C. mescalero from New Mexico and west Texas. Happily, I can now say that only C. mescalero is still missing from my collection.

Chrysomoa pausiflosculosa

Chrysomoa pausiflosculosa (woody goldenrod) | Emanuel Co., Georgia.

Chrysobothris seminole is unique in the group by its association not with deciduous hardwood trees, but rather the stems and root crowns of living woody goldenrod (Chrysomoa pauciflosculosa), a member of the aster family (Asteraceae). This plant is not a true goldenrod (genus Solidago), although they are in the same family, but is named such for the profusion of yellow inflorescences that appear during fall and resemble those of goldenrod. However, unlike goldenrod, woody goldenrod is a perennial plant with a woody root crown and stems from which new growth emerges each year. Woody goldenrod is restricted to coastal dunes and sand scrub habitats in the U.S. southeastern coastal plain, although the beetle itself has only been found in a few locations in Florida and southeastern Georgia. The beetle was first collected in numbers by Roy Morris and Edwin Donaldson, who reared adults from woody goldenrod root crowns they had collected in an effort to rear adults of another wood-boring beetle; this one in the family Cerambycidae and also undescribed and restricted to woody goldenrod. That beetle was recently described as Crossidius grahami Morris & Wappes, 2013.

Chrysobothris seminole

Adults are found primarily on lower stems of living plants.

In late May of this year, I made the 13½-hour drive from St. Louis to Emanuel Co., Georgia to visit the type locality of C. seminole and try my hand at finding this species. Along the way I met up with two excellent beetle collectors in Tennessee; Joshua Basham and Nadeer Youssef. Josh and Nadeer are among the few people who have succeeded in collecting this species, having visited the type locality during the previous two years and managing to collect a small series of adults. Their experience proved to be invaluable, as we saw only three individuals during our two days in the area. Josh saw the first soon after we arrived at the type locality and was kind enough to let me see it in situ on its host plant and make the collection, and Nadeer was equally kind to give me the third individual we saw. Our consensus was that a combination of early timing and lack of rain was the reason for their scarcity, and to hedge our bets we collected a number of plants that showed evidence of buprestid (as well as cerambycid) larval workings in the lower stems and root crowns to attempt rearing additional specimens. Because of their scarcity, I kept the adults alive and photographed them later that night in a more secure “studio” setting, and while this species has been photographed before I do believe that the photographs presented here are the only photos of live individuals.

Sand scrub habitat | Emanuel Co., Georgia.

Sand scrub habitat | Emanuel Co., Georgia.

In addition to its unique host plant association and restricted distribution, C. seminole can be distinguished from other members of the C. femorata species-group by both sexes having the frons and clypeus uniformly brown (in most other species of the group the frons and clypeus are variously colored, often brightly so in males of the species). The one other species with both males and females also exhbiting a uniformly brown frons and clypeus is C. mescalero (now the only species still lacking in my collection), which Wellso & Manley (2007) distinguished from C. seminole by having three distinct elytral costae (C. seminole has two indistinct costae), its indistinct elytral foveae (in C. seminole the foveae are distinct), and its southwestern distribution and association with oaks. I suppose now I’ll have to start making plans for a June/July visit to sand dune habitats in New Mexico and west Texas sometime in the near future.

REFERENCES:

Morris, R. F., II & J. E. Wappes. 2013. Description of a new Crossidius LeConte (Coleoptera: Cerambycidae: Cerambycinae: Trachyderini) from southern Georgia with comments on its biology and unusual distribution. Insecta Mundi 0304:1–7 [pdf].

Wellso, S. G. & G. V. Manley. 2007. A revision of the Chrysobothris femorata (Olivier, 1790) species group from North America, north of Mexico (Coleoptera: Buprestidae). Zootaxa 1652:1–26 [abstract].

© Ted C. MacRae 2014

“Picudo negro” (black weevil) on soybean in Argentina

During my recent tour of soybean fields in Argentina, I traveled north to Tucumán Province and met with entomologists at the Estación Experimental Agroindustrial Obispo Columbre (“Obispo Columbre Agricultural Experiment Station”). This provincial station, established more than 100 years ago (1909), conducts research on agricultural and production technology for the Tucumán agricultural region. Focus crops include sugarcane, citrus, and grain—primarily soybean, corn, wheat, and dry beans, with research activities ranging from basic biological studies on emerging pests (such as Rhyssomatus subtilis, featured here) and Helicoverpa armigera (recently discovered in Brazil and now in northern Argentina) to resistance monitoring for transgenic crop target pests such as Spodoptera frugiperda, Helicoverpa zea, and Diatraea saccharalis.

Rhysommatus subtilis is a significant regional pest of soybean in Tucumán Province.

Figure 1. Rhysommatus subtilis is a significant regional pest of soybean in Tucumán Province.

In recent years the laboratory has had a dedicated effort to characterize the biology and economic impact of R. subtilis on soybean (Fig. 1). Although practically limited to soybean growing regions in Tucumán Province, this insect has increased greatly in importance within that area in recent years along with two other weevils: Sternechus subsignatus (picudo grande, or “big weevil”) and Promecops carinicollis (picudo chico, or “little weevil”) (Casmús et al. 2010). Of the three species, S. subsignatus is perhaps the most serious because of its stem boring habit that can result in stand loss, while P. carinicollis is the least because its feeding is largely limited to leaves. Rhyssomatus subtilis is intermediate in importance, primarily due to larval feeding within developing pods.

Adults feed by clipping leaf petioles. The impact is minor, but it is a characteristic sign of adult presence.

Figure 2. Adults feed by clipping leaf petioles. The impact is minor but signals adult presence.

I have not yet seen S. subsignatus in soybean fields in the area, but I saw P. carinicollis during last year’s tour (see this post) and encountered R. subtilis at several locations during this year’s tour. Rhyssomatus subtilis presence in soybean can be detected even before the adults are noticed by the occurrence of clipped leaflets (Fig. 2), which is caused by adults feeding on leaf petioles.

Adult females chew a small hole into the wall of the developing pod, not to feed but for oviposition

Figure 3. Adult females chew small holes into developing pods, not to feed but for oviposition.

Leaf feeding has little if any impact on the crop; however, as the crop enters pod development stages of growth adult females begin chewing small holes in the pod walls (Fig. 3), not for feeding but for oviposition. Eggs are laid singly in the pod (Fig. 4), with larvae (Fig. 5) feeding on the developing seeds within.

Eggs are laid singly inside the pod.

Figure 4. Eggs are laid singly inside the pod.

This manner of feeding by the larva not only directly impacts yield but also hampers efforts to control active infestations by preventing contact with foliar-applied insecticides. Eventually the larvae mature, exit the pod, and drop to the soil where they burrow, pupate, and emerge as adults during the next cropping season while plants are still in early to mid-vegetative stages of growth.

This neonate larva has just hatched and will feed within the pod on developing seeds.

Figure 5. This neonate larva has just hatched and will feed within the pod on developing seeds.

Management techniques include rotation with grass crops to reduce populations (the weevil is oligophagous on soybean and dry beans), use of insecticide seed treatments to control adults during early vegetative stages of growth, and subsequent use of foliar insecticide applications if adults remain after the effect of seed treatments begins to diminish.

REFERENCE:

Casmús, A., M. G. Socías, L. Cazado, G. Gastaminza, C. Prado, E. Escobar, A. Rovati, E. Willink, M. Devani & R. Avila. 2010. El picudo negro de la vaina de soja en el NOA. Estación Experimental Agroindustrial Obispo Columbre, Tucumán, Argentina, 8 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2014

Tortoise beetles on the job

Back in late February and early March I did my annual tour through the soybean growing regions of central and northern Argentina to look at insect efficacy trials (pretty amazing to me still when I think about it—I actually get paid to spend time in Argentina looking for insects!). Normally on such trips there is no shortage of soybean insects to occupy my attentions—of all the large-acre row crops, soybean probably has the greatest diversity of insect associates, and in South America it is rare for any soybean field to not experience pressure from at least one of them. Soybeans, however, are not the only plants that occur in soybean fields—there are also weeds, many of which also have their own suite of insect associates. Sometimes these weed-associated insects can be even more interesting than the soybean insects I’m look for.

Botanochara angulata?

Botanochara angulata? mating pair | Córdoba Prov., Argentina

On this particular day, as I walked through a soybean field in central Córdoba Province I noticed distinctive red and black tortoise beetles (family Chrysomelidae, subfamily Cassidinae) on some of the plants. I thought it odd that tortoise beetles would be on soybean, as I’m not aware of any soybean associates in the group. A closer look, however, quickly revealed that the beetles were not on the soybean plants themselves, but rather on vines that were weaving their way through the plants. The plant was akin to bindweed and obviously a member of the same plant family (Convolvulaceae), but none of my field mates knew which of the many weedy species of the family that occur in Argentina that this particular plant represented. Species of Convolvulaceae are, of course, fed upon by a great diversity of tortoise beetles—always a treat for this coleopterist to see, and it was all I could do to concentrate on the task at hand and finish doing what I needed to do so I could turn my attention to finding and photographing some of these beetles. Once I began photographing them I found them surprisingly uncooperative (not my normal experience with tortoise beetles), but I soon found a mating pair that was a little more cooperative (probably because they were mating), with the above photo being my favorite of the bunch.

Paraselenis tersa?

Paraselenis tersa? female guarding her eggs | Córdoba Prov., Argentina

As I was searching for beetles to photograph, I encountered some yellow tortoise beetles associated with the same plant but that I had not noticed earlier. Unlike the conspicuously red and black colored species (which seems to best match Botanochara angulata according to Cassidinae of the World), the yellow species (which I presume represents Paraselenis tersa, also ID’d using the same site) seemed almost cryptically colored. When I finished taking photographs of B. angulata, I began searching for a P. tersa to photograph and encountered the female in the above photograph guarding her eggs—score!

Undetermined cassidine larvae.

A single tortoise beetle larva was encountered.

Tortoise beetle larvae are always a delight to see as well—their dinosaurian armature and fecal adornments, both obviously designed to dissuade potential predators, form one of the most ironic defensive combinations one can find. If additional tactics become necessary, they are among the few insects that are known to actually “circle the wagons” (the technical term for this being “cycloalexy“). While I only found a single larvae (of which species I don’t know), its presence seems to further suggest that at least one of the species represented an actively developing population and that the adults I found were not just hangers-on putzing around until winter (such as it is in central Argentina) forced them to shut down for the season.

Undetermined cassidine larva.

Spiky spines and a pile of poop make formidable defenses.

My impression is that tortoise beetles are by-and-large noxious to predators, thus explaining why so many species in the group exhibit aposematic coloration. However, the apparent cryptic coloration of Paraselenis makes me wonder if this is not universally true. It seems especially odd for two species to feed on the exact same species of plant but only one of the species to be noxious, which leads me to even more questions about how two species feeding on the same plant at the same time avoid direct competition with each other. I wondered if perhaps one species was on the wax while the other was on the wane (late February is well along into the latter part of the season in central Argentina), but the fact that both species were involved in reproductive activities (mating in Botanochara and egg guarding in Paraselenis) suggests this was not the case.

Ted MacRae photographing tortoise beetles.

A candid photo of me photographing tortoise beetles (and revealing my technique for getting “blue sky” background photographs).

© Ted C. MacRae 2014

A Crossidius hirtipes subspecies blend zone…

…or, “There’s something fishy going on here!”

After a day in the vicinity of Yearington, Nevada  looking for (and eventually finding) a population of Crossidius hirtipes longhorned beetles assignable to subspecies “rubrescens“, field mate Jeff Huether and I dropped a little further south to look for two additional subspecies—C. h. immaculipennis and C. h. macswaini. Like C. h. rubrescens, populations assignable to these two subspecies are also restricted to a small area in west-central Nevada. Chemsak & Linsley (1959) described C. h. immaculipennis from specimens collected 10 miles north of Smith (Lyon Co.) and two years later (Linsley & Chemsak 1961) described C. h. macswaini from 19 miles SE of Wellington (Douglas Co.). We were still under the smoke plum from the now 9-day old Rim Fire in the nearby Sierra Nevada, which came and went during much of the day (top photo) and eventually settled in to create some amazing sunset landscapes (bottom photo).

19 mi S of Wellington, Toiyabe National Forest, Nevada.

Rim Fire smoke moves in and out of the area | 19 mi S of Wellington, Toiyabe National Forest, Nevada.

As had happened the day before with C. h. rubrescens, success did not come quickly or easily. We first searched for the type locality of C. h. immaculipennis, but many parts of the area have been converted to agriculture, and in the precise area 10 miles north of Smith we found only vast fields of dark green, irrigated alfalfa and not the rabbitbrush chaparral habitat required by these beetles. We did a little searching in surrounding areas and eventually found one rather nice-looking patch of ground with healthy stands of Chrysothamnus viscidiflorus in full bloom. Mindful of the previous day’s experience with finding the beetles often ensconced down within the inflorescences—especially as cooler temperatures set in, we took care to carefully inspect the blossoms in case the cool morning temperatures were inhibiting the beetles from coming back up for the day. Alas, we saw no beetles despite spending a considerable amount of time searching.

Crossidius hirtipes immaculipennis (male) | 6.3 mi W of Wellington, Nevada.

Crossidius hirtipes immaculipennis (male) | 6.3 mi W of Wellington, Nevada.

Rather than beat a dead horse, we decided to drive a short distance south and west to the town of Wellington, where a fellow cerambycid collector had found the subspecies a few years earlier. He had provided us with some detailed notes on the specific localities where he found the beetles, and these proved to be of great help as we passed through endless, seemingly acceptable chaparral habitat trying to decide exactly where we should stop and invest more time to look for the beetle. We stopped at one of the sites indicated in the notes and immediately found a beetle on one of the first plants we checked, and eventually after a gap in finding any more we found an area where good numbers of the plants were supporting decent numbers of the beetles. Chemsak & Linsley (1959) distinguished C. h. immaculipennis by its reddish legs, pale color, and complete lack of elytral markings in the male, exemplified by the male shown in the photo above.

Crossidius hirtipes macswainei? (female) | 6.3 mi W of Wellington, Nevada.

Crossidius hirtipes macswainei? (female) | 6.3 mi W of Wellington, Nevada.

As we searched the plants and found more and more individuals, I noticed an occasional adult that seemed to be a little more yellowish than reddish and with distinct sutural maculae. I didn’t think much about it then, chalking it up to individual variability, but after returning home and having a chance to look at the specimens more closely I was surprised to determine that these few beetles actually are a better fit for the second subspecies we planned to search for that day—C. h. macswainei. We had found both subspecies at the same site and didn’t even realize it. Okay, I know what you’re thinking… subspecies must exhibit allopatric geographic distributions (cannot occur together at the same place and time). It is, thus, tempting to declare that the two “subspecies” are actually not distinct, but rather represent distinctive extremes of individual variation in a single interbreeding population. However, one must also consider the possibility that the two subspecies represent reproductively isolated populations and, thus, qualify as distinct species. I’m not qualified to make that judgement, but I will note that most of the individuals encountered were assignable to C. h. immaculipennis  and the rest to C. h. macswainei, but that no “intergrades” were found.

Crossidius hirtipes macswainei (male) | 19 mi S of Wellington, Nevada.

Crossidius hirtipes rhodopus? (male) | 19 mi S of Wellington, Nevada.

After collecting adequate series from W of Wellington, we traveled further south of town to the type locality of C. h. macswainei (not knowing we already had it!). The holotype and most of the paratypes were collected 19 miles S of Wellington (Linsley & Chemsak 1961), but a number of paratypes had also been collected 14 miles south of town, so we stopped there first in an unsuccessful bid to find the subspecies before moving on to the type locality a few miles further south. Within a few minutes of arriving, I found the individual shown in the photo immediately above, presumed that I had found the subspecies we were looking for, and popped it into a vial alive as a photo backup if we did not find any other individuals with which I could attempt field photographs. Ironically, that is exactly what happened—despite Jeff and I scouring every plant we could find in about a 1-mile stretch along each side of the road, we never found another beetle. Later that evening I took the above individual out of its vial for photographs, but it never really “perked up” to look fully natural, resulting in “bum” antennae that give away the staged nature of the photograph. Again, it was not until I got back home and could look at the specimen closely before I realized that it did not at all fit the description of C. h. macswainei, but instead seemed to be a good match for the subspecies C. h. rhodopus, known from only a short distance further south but—until now, at least—apparently restricted to the Mono Basin in east-central California (see this post for more details about this subspecies). Jeff has since reported to me that some of the beetles he collected at the “C. h. rubrescens” locality (see this post) also are a match for C. h. macswainei, adding yet another wrinkle to those that resulted from this day’s collecting. Such inconsistencies with the published literature may tempt some to scrap all of Linsley & Chemsak’s subspecies, but considering that those two authors examined more than 12,000 specimens during the course of their studies such a reaction would be both premature and presumptuous. What is needed is more study—more specimens from more localities, hopefully augmented with DNA sequence analysis. For the latter goal we did our part, dropping a specimen or two from every locality in which we found beetles into ethanol for just such purpose. Until such studies are done, I prefer to withhold judgement about whether C. hirtipes is comprised of one highly polytopic population, several subspecifically distinct populations, or perhaps even multiple distinct species.

14 mi SE of Wellington, Toiyabe National Forest, Nevada.

Evening haze creates a spectacular sunset | 14 mi SE of Wellington, Toiyabe National Forest, Nevada.

Even though we found only a single beetle at the second locality, our persistence in searching until the day ran out was rewarded by a most spectacular sunset caused by thick haze from the nearby Rim Fire in California. It would also be our last day in Nevada before dropping south into California and spending the next several days in successful bids for C. coralinus monoensisC. c. caeruleipennisC. h. nubilus, and C. h. rhodopus.

REFERENCE:

Chemsak, J. A. & E. G. Linsley. 1959. Some new species and subspecies of Crossidius from western North America. Journal of the Kansas Entomological Society 32(4):176–183.

Linsley, E. G. & J. A. Chemsak. 1961. A distributional and taxonomic study of the genus Crossidius (Coleoptera, Cerambycidae). Miscellaneous Publications of the Entomological Society of America 3(2):25–64 + 3 color plates.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2014

Introducing Acmaeodera chuckbellamyi

Acmaeodera chuckbellamyi MacRae, 2014 | Atascosa Mountains, Arizona

Acmaeodera chuckbellamyi MacRae, 2014 | Holotype female (scale bar = 1 mm) (MacRae 2014: Fig. 1).

Of the many entomology journals I subscribe to, there are few that I await with as much anticipation as The Coleopterists Bulletin. Focusing exclusively on the largest order of life on earth, it’s a quarterly dose of elytral ecstasy that no beetle enthusiast should be without. I awaited the March 2014 issue, however, with special anticipation, as this was the issue that would honor my late friend and colleague, Chuck Bellamy. Last week, the issue arrived in my mailbox, and it did not disappoint!

The issue begins with an In Memorium, spearheaded by fellow buprestophile Rick Westcott and containing contributions and photos from many of Chuck’s contemporaries (including me) (Westcott et al. 2014). This is followed by an especially touching remembrance of Chuck by his longtime friend Art Evans (with whom Chuck co-authored An Inordinate Fondness for Beetles), after which come 11 scientific papers with descriptions of new beetle taxa named in Chuck’s honor. These include nine new species of jewel beetles (family Buprestidae) from Mexico, Central America, China, Kenya, Europe, Peru, and Arizona, a new seed beetle (family Bruchidae) from Mexico, and two new checkered beetles (family Cleridae) from Mexico. For my part, I described one of the jewel beetles, a member of the genus Acmaeodera known from but a single specimen¹ collected in southeastern Arizona which I dedicated to Chuck with the name “Acmaeodera chuckbellamyi MacRae, 2014″. Last but not least, the Fall family provides some remembrances of Chuck and his association with BioQuip Products, Inc.

¹ It is generally not advisable to describe a new species based on a single specimen. However, in this case multiple attempts to recollect the species were unsuccessful, and eventually the type locality was significantly altered in 2009 by the Murphy Fire. It is possible (and indeed likely) that the species still exists in similar nearby habitats (especially further south in Mexico), but the circumstances mentioned above make it unlikely that additional material will become available for the foreseeable future. In such cases, it is, in my opinion, better to name the species so that it can be made available to the broader scientific community.

In all, 12 new beetle taxa are named in Chuck’s honor, bringing the total number of patronyms honoring him to six genus-group names and 31 species-group names—a fitting legacy and testament to the breadth of his impact in the taxonomic community. The issue can be found online at BioOne—abstracts are freely available, but membership in The Coleopterists Society is required to access full-text and pdfs. For those who are not society members, I offer below pdf versions of the two papers that I authored or co-authored.

REFERENCES:

Westcott, R. L., S. Bílý, A. R. Cline, S. D. Gaimari, H. Hespenheide, T. C. MacRae, M. G. Volkovitsh, S. G. Wellso & G. Williams. 2014. In Memoriam: Charles Lawrence Bellamy (1951–2013). The Coleopterists Bulletin 68(1):1–13 [pdf].

MacRae, T. C. 2014. Acmaeodera chuckbellamyi MacRae (Coleoptera: Buprestidae: Acmaeoderini), a new species from Arizona, USA. The Coleopterists Bulletin 68(1):50–52 [pdf].

© Ted C. MacRae 2014

Tiger beetles in Argentina’s Chaco forest

The day after I photographed Brasiella argentata on the mud/san banks of the Rio Paraná in Corrientes, Argentina, I decided to drive westward into the heart of Chaco Province. The destination: Chaco National Park, where some of the best remaining examples of the original “Gran Chaco” remain. Once covering nearly a million square kilometers in northern Argentina, Paraguay and Bolivia, this distinctive ecoregion has been largely converted to a vast, hot sea of cotton fields and mesquite fence-rows. A unique plant community in the Gran Chaco is the quebracho forest that takes its name from quebracho colorado chaqueño (Schinopsis balansae)—a tall, massively-trunked tree (related to, of all things, poison ivy!) with beautiful red wood that has been logged relentlessly wherever it occurs. Chaco National Forest is unique for the largely intact example of this forest it preserves and the mature quebracho trees that it contains.

Odontocheila chrysis | Chaco National Park, Argentina

Odontocheila chrysis (Fabricius, 1801) | Chaco National Park, Argentina

Insect life was not abundant as I walked the dark forest path. The lateness of the season (early April) and long-enduring drought occurring in the region had taken their toll, and I was content to see just about anything. At one point, a flash of movement caught my eye, and as I scanned the forest floor in the area where I had seen it, the familiar silhouette of a Golden Forest Tiger Beetle—Odontocheila chrysis (Fabricius, 1801)—became visible. I was already familiar with this species, having seen fairly good numbers of them at another location further east during my first visit to the area 12 years earlier. Long-legged and fast-flying, this tiger beetle occurs throughout much of South America, where it lives in more shaded areas of forest clear-cuts, secondary forests, savannas, and open scrublands (Erwin & Pearson 2008). The ground-dwelling adults are known to congregate along paths and at large openings on the forest floor, and indeed I had seen them in their greatest numbers on a shaded dirt road around the margins of a temporary mud puddle. When disturbed, the wary adults fly up from the forest floor to land in adjacent bare area of substrate or on the leaves of understory plants.

Superposition eyes are adapted to the dark forest environment in which this species lives.

Superposition eyes are an adaptation to the dark forest environment where this species lives.

I faced a bit of a quandary when I saw this individual—do I collect it as a voucher and studio photograph backup, or do I go ahead and try to get the much more desirable in situ photograph of an unconfined adult in its native habitat. Considering that I had already collected a sufficient number during my earlier trip, I opted for the latter. I am fortunate that I got these two quite acceptable photographs before the adult flashed away in the blink of an eye right after I took the second shot, because I never saw another one the rest of the day or even the trip.  

An interesting feature of O. chrysis is its superposition eyes. In such eyes, each rhabdom (light sensitive unit) in the compound eye receives light through many ommatidial facets. This is in contrast to apposition compound eyes, where each rhabdom receives light from only a single facet. Superposition eyes are designed to increase photon capture, which is an advantage in the dark forest habitats where this beetle prefers to live (Brännström 1999).

Brasiella argentata | Chaco National Park, Argentina

Brasiella argentata (Fabricius, 1801) | Chaco National Park, Argentina

Shortly after photographing O. chrysis, I came upon a small opening where the path was a little wider and sunnier and the soil a little sandier and drier. Immediately I saw the small, zippy flits of the same tiger beetle species I had photographed the previous day on the banks of the Rio Paraná—Brasiella argentata. I could not find in the literature whether this species has superposition or apposition compound eyes, but considering that the species occur in great numbers on sunny river banks and that the few individuals I saw in the forest were in a sunny opening, I’m betting it’s the latter.

I couldn’t help but make another attempt to photograph this species, considering the difficulty I’d had the previous day (and that I wasn’t completely satisfied with any of the photos that I had obtained). More good fortune, despite there being only a few individuals to work with, as I managed to get the above photograph, which I consider far better than any that I already had. These beetles, too, quickly disappeared, and I never saw them again, but knowing I had the photos that I wanted made that okay.

Habitat for Odontocheila chrysis and Brasiella argentata

Quebracho forest habitat for Odontocheila chrysis and Brasiella argentata.

REFERENCES:

Brännström, P. A. 1999. Visual ecology of insect superposition eyes. Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation, Lund University, 142 pp. [abstract].

Erwin, T. L. & 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. [Amazon descriptionbook review].

© Ted C. MacRae 2014