L-R: Ted “BugMan” MacRae, Pete Kozich, David Seidensticker, “Ozark Bill” Duncan, Lisa Meihls, Chris Brown.
The Webster Groves Nature Study Society (WGNSS) Entomology Group began its final outing of the 2025 field season when eight participants (Chris Brown, Nathalie de Rocquigny, “Ozark Bill” Duncan, Jack Hambene, Pete Kozich, Ted “BugMan” MacRae, Lisa Meihls, and David Seidensticker) met up in the parking lot at Hughes Mountain Natural Area. Tucked into the southeastern corner of Washington Co., this gem of a natural area features 1.5 billion year old Precambrian outcrops that are among the oldest continuously exposed rocks in North America. Once molten as a result of volcanic activity associated with the St. Francois Mountains, the now hardened and weather-resistant rhyolite that formed after it cooled lies still exposed at the summit and surrounding areas. To the geologist, the polygonal columnar pattern of cracking at the summit—resulting in a unique formation called the “Devil’s Honeycomb”—might be the area’s most interesting feature. To the botanist, the xeric grasslands that formed on the surrounding exposures—i .e., “igneous glades”—might instead take this honor. To the entomologist, however, the unique fauna of insects associated with this interesting natural community earns top billing.
Rhyolite glade at Hughes Mountain Natural Area.
On two previous visits, the group has been fortunate to see one of Missouri’s rarest and most beautiful longhorned beetles—Tragidion coquus. Velvety black with vivid orange elytra, this charismatic species is usually seen during fall, and we hoped to be fortunate enough to see it again. Two species of fall tiger beetles—Cicindela limbalis (claybank tiger beetle) and Cicindela splendida (splendid tiger beetle), both colored iridescent green and brick red—were additional possibilities. A clear consensus quickly became apparent, however, when most participants voiced a desire to see Trimerotropis saxatilis—the famously and colorfully cryptic lichen grasshopper! It didn’t take long to see the first ones as soon as we began reaching the swathes of exposed rhyolite with their coverings of green and black lichens. Sitting motionless on the lichen-encrusted rocks, the grasshoppers were almost impossible to see, so perfectly colored and patterned was their camouflage.
The abundance of lichen grasshoppers on the glades was somewhat expected, but what was not was the diversity of other grasshoppers also present at the margins of the glades and in the surrounding dry woodlands. Four such species were documented, including Hippiscus ocelete (wrinkled grasshopper), Melanoplus ponderosus (ponderous spur-throat grasshopper), Melanoplus rusticus (obovate-winged grasshopper), and Spharagemon bolli (Boll’s grasshopper)—all possessing their own forms of cryptic coloration that made relocating them after they jumped difficult.
Two non-grasshopper orthopterans as well were found—several Scudderia furcata (fork-tailed bush katydid), ranging from green to tan to almost pinkish(!), were seen in the glades and woodlands, and an unusually cooperative Ceuthophilus sp. cave cricket (family Rhaphidophoridae) was also seen.
Scudderia furcata (fork-tailed bush katydid—family Tettigoniidae).
The group fanned out across the glades as they worked their way up towards the summit. Of special interest were flowers that might host pollinating insects (and possibly even T. coquus). Few flowers would be found, however—a consequence of abnormally dry conditions since late July, and we found ourselves looking for other targets. Ted managed to photograph a beautiful red-marked variegated meadowhawk dragonfly (Sympetrum corruptum), while David “captured” (through the viewfinder) a male black swallowtail butterfly (Papilio polyxenes).
Eventually the group reached the summit, where the “Devil’s Honeycomb” and a spectacular vista awaited us. An unexpected feature at the summit was white splotches on the tops of many of the projecting columns of rock, which the group surmised to indicate use of the summit as a roosting site by turkey vultures.
“Devil’s Honeycomb” at summit of Hughes Mountain.
The group lingered to take in the crisp air, blue skies, and spectacular view created by 1200’ of elevation before turning back to begin the descent back down the mountain.
Buford Mountain (2nd highest point in Missouri) in the distance.
Descending the mountain, however, did not mean an end of things to see. Even before getting off the summit, Lisa noticed Chelinidea vittiger (cactus leaffooted bug) on pads of Opuntia cespitosa (eastern prickly pear). This species feeds and develops almost exclusively on the pads, fruits, and young growth of prickly pear cacti (Opuntia spp.), thus, its range coincides with the distribution of these cacti.
Further down the mountain, another “variegated” species was seen—this time a variegated fritillary (Euptoieta claudia) butterfly. This well-worn individual was only the third butterfly species seen on the day, the aforementioned black swallowtail and a particularly fresh common buckeye (Junonia coenia) being the other two. This one was probably making its way south to overwinter in the southern U.S., where the species is a year-round resident.
Along the way, the lichen grasshoppers continued to attract our attention due to their abundance and striking diversity of coloration. We were treated to a particularly obvious example of this when we encountered a mating pair with the much smaller male exhibiting shades of brown instead of the greens exhibited by the much larger female.
It had been a leisurely descent off the main glade, and once clearing the woodland to emerge into the last glade fragments before the final descent, Chris and Ted were further delayed by a trio of observations in rapid succession. A large, impressively marked Neoscona crucifera (spotted orbweaver) spider hunkered down on a twig first caught Chris’ attention. Photographing it turned into an adventure when an effort to manipulate the twig on which it was resting ended up alarming the spider and causing it to drop down to the ground. They returned the spider to the twig using other twigs and leaves, but invariably it dropped again. Eventually, they learned they could “reel” the spider back up to the twig by its silk line if they acted quickly enough, and with repeated efforts both succeeded in getting photographs of the spider back up on the twig.
While this was going on, the unmistakable droning buzz of Milesia virginiensis (yellowjacket hover fly or Virginia flower fly) caught their attention. The resemblance of the adults of this species to wasps is remarkable, and they are often seen hovering in midair, making erratic shifting movements, and then suddenly flying away. This particular fly, however, cooperated by landing on a rock (briefly) and allowing a few photographs before it abruptly departed.
Spider and fly photographs in hand, Ted and Chris resumed their descent but took only a few steps before another sighting demanded photographs—a rough green tree snake (Opheodrys aestivus) peering quizzically from amongst the rust-red leaves of a stunted blackjack oak. The snake cooperated at first, allowing a few closeup photographs before making a run for it. Fortunately, this is a very docile species that rarely (if ever) bites when handled, so Chris and Ted were able to corral it for additional photos before returning it back to the tree from whence it came.
Opheodrys aestivus (rough green snake—family Colubridae).
At last, they were able to complete the descent and join the rest of the group in the parking lot, but not before making one last interesting find—the bizarrely beautiful caterpillar of Isa textula (crown slug moth). Like many members of the family Limacodidae (slug moths), the pale green, flattened caterpillars bear stinging spines/-in this case on lobes that radiate out from around the edge of the body. The caterpillar was found on the ground (it is probably mature and was looking for a protected place to spin a cocoon in which to spend the winter) and coaxed onto a leaf to bring it to the parking lot so everyone could have a chance to photograph it (it looked particularly stunning when set on a bright red sumac leaf).
This is the 10th “Collecting Trip iReport”; this one covering 13 days of collecting in western Texas, southern New Mexico, and southeastern Arizona July 19–31, 2021. This trip was a “two-parter”—the first week with frequent field mate Jeff Huether (our seventh joint collecting trip) as we made our way from western Texas through southern New Mexico and into southeastern Arizona on our way to a memorial celebration for Jim Wappes at the home of Steve Lingafelter and Norm Woodley (for which I took the day off from collecting), and the second week visiting various locations in the “Sky Islands” of southeastern Arizona with several other entomologists.
Day 1 – Monahans State Park, Texas This was my first stop on the previous trip back in late April and early May, and what a difference a couple of months with good rains makes—dry as a bone then but bursting with a great variety of wildflowers now. Like last time we stopped at the Shin Oak Picnic Area first, and almost immediately Jeff got an Acmaeodera gibbula on living Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite). I started beating the trees and got a good series of that species along with a good series of an Actenodes sp. (prob. A. mendax). There were also some mesquites that had been killed (apparently by herbicide), and when I started beating them I got several more A. gibbula and one Paratyndaris sp. It went from blazing hot when we arrived to raining about an hour later, and for a while after the rain moved through it stayed cloudy and quite comfortable. Eventually we decided to look for another spot with more mesquite to beat.
Monahans Sandhills State Park with rain moving in!
Poecilanthrax effrenus (family Bombyliidae) on flower of Thelosperma megapotamicum (rayless greenthread).
Acanthochalcis nigricans (family Chalicididae) female looking to oviposit on dead Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite).
Palafoxia sphacelata (othake).
Palafoxia sphacelata (othake).
Asclepias arenaria (sand milkweed).
Asclepias arenaria (sand milkweed).
Penstemon ambiguus (gilia beardtongue).
We found an area closer to the entrance (Equestrian Area) with lots of mesquite and also sunflowers, which Jeff was interested in looking at to search for meloids (blister beetles). Before I even reached the first mesquite I saw an Acmaeodera sp. (maybe A. obtusa) sitting on the flower of Thelosperma megapotamicum (rayless greenthread) and later found another plus one A. immaculata. Off the mesquite I beat just one Actenodes sp. prob. mendax and a few treehoppers, while another and a Chrysobothris sp. got away (it was by now quite hot and they bolted!). I continued beating mesquite but just wasn’t seeing anything, so we decided to take a look at the area around the main dunes and another picnic area.
Helianthus petiolaris (prairie sunflower).
At the Pump Jack Picnic Area, we saw a lot of Thelosperma megapotamicum (rayless greenthread) in bloom and decided to check the flowers for Acmaeodera. We each got a nice series of what appear to be A. obtusa and A. immaculata. Also, I finally found a single Acmaeodera immaculata on the flower of Hymenoppapus flavescens (collegeflower), which I’d been looking at all day thinking it must be a good Acmaeodera flower host. On the way back to the vehicle, I scared up a cicada that had been singing on a nearby plant—I’d been hearing them all day but assumed they were grasshoppers or katydids. I listened for another and saw it perched on the stem of Mentzelia nuda (bractless blazingstar), and netted it—a fine male, smallish and with a very white venter. I wanted to find one more—catching another A. gibbula in flight, and saw one singing in a mesquite tree. This time I took some photos of it (working carefully not to alarm it) and then hand-caught it (later identified as Diceroprocta texana). A nice end to the visit.
Male Diceroprocta texana singing on Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite).
Mentzelia nuda (bractless blazingstar).
Mentzelia nuda (bractless blazingstar).
After dinner, we returned to Shin Oak Picnic Area for night collecting. I setup my new Mercury-vapor (MV) station (first time using the gas-powered generator and tripod—slick setup) and my two ultraviolet (UV) stations. Jeff set out three prionic acid lures. Large numbers of Polyphylla monahanensis (which came mostly to the UV stations) and P.pottsorum (which came mostly to the MV station), but otherwise few beetles showed up and not a single longhorn. Other insects were also limited mostly to large numbers of ground-nesting bees and several big grasshoppers. No Prionus came to the lures—not surprising since we are in the tail end of the season for P. arenarius (April to July) and too early for P. spinipennis (mostly August). I’ve only gotten a few P. monahanensis and P. pottsorum before now, so it’s nice to have good series of each, but I would have preferred to collect some longhorns.
Blacklights humming as dusk settles over the dunes.
Polyphyllapottsorum at the MV sheet.
Day 2 – Toyahvale, Texas We’re on our way to the Davis Mountains, and along the way I decided to stop at the “Agrilus cochisei” spot we found (on a tip from Jason) back during the April trip. I swept the roadsides—not just the host plant (Artemisia occidentalis, western ragweed) but a variety of other plants in bloom but did not find any A. cochisei. I did collect a few meloids (which were on Solanum eleagnifolium) and Zygogramma leaf beetles but nothing else.
Proboscidea parviflora (family Martyniaceae)—doubleclaw or red devil’s-claw.
A bit further down the road from the last stop, we noticed this memorial to the many horses that have been transported along this highway on their way to slaughter.
Davis Mountains, Ft. Davis, Texas Another roadside stop for one of the places where I collected during last April’s trip. I was hoping we would not be too late for Acmaeodera—there were plenty of plants in bloom but we did not see any. Senegalia greggii (formerly Acacia greggii, commonly called cat-claw acacia) and Vachellia constricta (formerly Acacia constricta, commonly called whitethorn acacia) were both in bloom, and off the former I got the obligatory Stenaspis solitaria male/female pair as well as a Lampetis drummondii, but I collected nothing off the latter. Tried for a couple of cicadas and missed ‘em both!
Stenaspis solitaria male on flowering Senegalia greggii (cat-claw acacia).
Lampetis drummundii captured on flowering Senegalia greggii (cat-claw acacia).
Eurema nicippe (sleepy oranges) on yellow asteraceous flower.
Davis Mountains,Boy Scout Rd, Texas This looked like a good spot, with water in the creek and lots of butterflies flying around. Beating, however, yielded nothing but lots of lep larvae. It seems we are in the mid-summer lull—too late for spring things, but too early for late summer-fall species. I think we’ll try some higher elevations and see what it is like.
Argemone aenea (golden prickly poppy).
Argemone aenea (golden prickly poppy).
Argemone albiflora (white prickly poppy).
Argemone albiflora (white prickly poppy).
We were headed back towards the highway when I spotted a stand of Thelosperma megapotamicum along the road. We got out so I could take a look at them and immediately encountered this Texas horned lizard who seems to be saying “WTF?!” I swept through the Thelosperma and picked up two Batyle sp., one Enocleris sp., and a couple of species of meloids. There were lots of other plants in bloom, too, including several that are typically attractive to beetles such as Sphaeralcea and Ratibida. However, nothing was seen on them, further reinforcing our desire to go to higher elevations to see if that would improve the collecting.
Phrynosoma cornutum (Texas horned lizard).
Davis Mountains, Madera Canyon, Texas We wanted to get up to higher elevation to see if that might improve the insect collecting. It is strange—the Davis Mountains are greener than I’ve ever seen them, yet there are almost no insects, no flowers. Jeff and I were wondering if the deep freeze Texas experienced this past winter might have knocked out insect populations. We beat along the way but just we’re not seeing anything on the beating sheets. We hiked our way up to the overlook, and up there I ran into a few species of tenebrionids running along the trail and doing their famous “headstands” when we disturbed them. On the way back down I saw a few large, red and black clytrine chrysomelids on what I take to be a fall-flowering helianthoid aster (old flowering stalks were 5–6 feet tall), so I picked up a few for Shawn (my scope of insects that I’ll collect expands greatly when I’m not finding anything in the groups that I study). I think we’ve had it with the Davis Mountains, and tomorrow we’ll travel further west and try our luck around Fabens.
Lower part of the Madera Canyon Trail.
The trail at upper elevations.
A small Eleodes sp. doing the headstand.
A larger species (Eleodes wenzelisulcicollis) doing the headstand.
Same individual as in the previous photo.
Day 3 – Van Horn, Texas Just a quick stop along the highway when we saw a variety of plants in bloom. Things are different at these lowers elevations compared to the Davis Mountains. Sweeping yielded a number of Agrilus sp. (vittate) and two Agaeocera gentilis—I suspect they were on the Sphaeralcea angustifolia (narrow-leaved globemallow), along with an Acmaeodera sp. and assorted other beetles. On a much taller globemallow I found two Tylosis jiminezi (male/female) perched on the foliage—a first for me! I did a little more sweeping further to the south but came up with only a few melyrids and a blister beetle (Epicauta segmenta). Nice stop!
Tylosis jiminezi on Sphaeralcea angustifolia (narrowleaf globemallow).
San Felipe Park, El Paso Co., Texas When we first arrived, we were not at all optimistic—it looked like it hadn’t rained in years. However, the Larrea tridentata (creosote) and Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite) were both in full bloom, so we began looking about. Almost immediately I saw Stenaspis solitaria in the mesquites, which in itself is not exciting, but two of the first three I saw were the form that has the distinctly reddish-brown pronotum, which I’ve never seen before. I saw a couple more and tried to get photographs, but they were too skittish. As I searched for them, I caught one Aethecerinus latecinctus (a second got away), one Plionoma sp. (not sure if it’s suturalis or rubens), one Chrysobothris sp. (prob. C. octocola) and one Acmaeodera gibbula. The real fun began, though, when I walked by a creosote and saw a Gyascutus planicosta (should be subsp. obliteratus in this area) take flight. I tracked it to see where it landed, caught it, and then put most of my effort into getting a decent series of individuals. I succeeded, but it took more than four hours with the heat maxing out at 96°F! In addition to the Gyascutus, Jeff was quite excited to see the bright green and orange blister beetle Eupompha fissiceps abundant on the creosote in mating pairs and feeding on the petals of the flowers. I finished off the blister beetle fun by finding Cysteodemus wislizeni (black bladder-bodied meloid) crawling in the sand, which, despite the common name, was decidedly bluish.
The author looks out over the vast creosote/mesquite scrub.
Eupompha fissiceps on Larrea tridentata (creosote).
Eupompha fissiceps feeds on Larrea tridentata (creosote) as “Mr. Meloid” (Jeff Huether) looks on.
After going into town to restock on supplies and catch some dinner, we returned to the park to do some lighting and night collecting. The moon is almost full, which generally puts the kibosh on longhorns coming to the lights, but we decided to try anyway because of the high amount of activity during the day in a rarely-visited location. I set up the Mercury-vapor (MV) light only and skipped going through the trouble to put up the ultraviolet lights also. I also wanted to beat the mesquite since I didn’t have much chance during the day, spending most of my time hunting Gyascutus with an aerial net, and once I got the MV setup going I started whacking the mesquite. Almost immediately, I got three Aethecerinus latecinctus, which came off the first two plants I beat. This motivated me further and caused me to commit to beating for the next hour or so—never even getting a single beetle of any kind! By then the lights had been going for awhile, and I was pleased to see several Derobrachus hovorei (palo verde root borer) crawling on the sand near the light. Even though it is a common species, I’ve not seen many myself, so I was happy to have a nice series to take up beaucoup room in one of my prionid drawers. Otherwise, very few beetles came to the lights, or most other insects as well—the sheet being covered primarily by dozens of white-lined Sphinx moths and lots of wasp/bee-type things. We did enjoy the evening, however, as we sat in our chairs and drank a cold brew between checkings of the light.
Mercury-vapor light setup at dusk.
Mercury-vapor light just turned on at sunset.
Mercury-vapor light going strong as darkened settles.
Derobrachus hovorei (palo verde root borer).
Day 4 – Chaparral, New Mexico We had planned to take NM-213 north to White Sands, but public access was blocked at Ft. Bliss. While backtracking, I spotted Sphaeralcea angustifolia (narrow-leaved globemallow) growing along the roadside and stopped to check it out. There was nothing on any of the plants, despite good growth and appearing to be coming into flowering. I did a little beating on Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite) as well—again very little going on, just a few treehoppers, tiny blister beetles, and one weevil. Larrea tridentata (creosote) was in full bloom, just like at Fabens, and here too there were many Eupompha fissiceps on the flowers and in mating pairs. I couldn’t resist collecting just a few and even made a short video of a mating pair engaged in some interesting behavior. I did see one Gyascutus planicosta as it flew by, but I could not track it to see where it landed. Otherwise all I picked up was another Cysteodemus wislizeni (black bladder-bodied meloid)—along with a photo, and a male cicada (maybe Diceroprocta texana) singing on a dry yucca stalk (hand-collected!).
Eupompha fissiceps mating pair engaged in some interesting behavior.
Point of Sands, New Mexico Jeff wanted to stop here to look for Pleurospasta mirabilis, a really cool-looking blister beetle that looks unlike anything else. He found just one by disturbing the host plant (small purple blooms), and I found none—seems we are right at the tail end of their activity period. I looked around for other things also, but there was not much out. I did catch a couple more cicadas (males singing), and near an Ephedra sp. bush I found a mostly-intact carcass of Sphaerobothris ulkei. The most interesting find, however, was a couple of apparently lost pitfall traps—the barriers had fallen over, and the cops were filled with sand and the carcasses of numerous tenebrionids that had fallen into the traps and never been retrieved. I pulled up the cups and filled in the holes to prevent further loss, finding a few live tenebrionids and trogids and one Pasimachus sp. ground beetle that had not yet succumbed in the process.
Point of Sands, New Mexico.
“Lost” pitfall trap.
Hatch, New Mexico While passing through the town of Hatch, I couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to stop and photograph some interesting town characters.
An interesting take on the Sinclair dinosaur.
Chili Pepper Man!
Cast of characters.
Deming, New Mexico Another roadside stop in an area that was green with flowers and also had Yucca (to look for Tragidion) and Ephedra (to look for Sphaerobothris). Neither of those insects were found, and no buprestids or cerambycids were seen on or swept from any of the many composite flowers about including Thelosperma megapotamicum. I did find a couple of the meloid Lytta biguttata, one on flowers of Cirsium sp. and another on an unidentified yellow composite flower, and Jeff found a huge aggregation of another meloid, Epicauta costata, on herbicide-treated Kali tragus (prickly Russian thistle). I finished off the stop by finding a spectacular ridged tenebrionid beetle walking about after the sinking sun went behind some clouds.
Lytta biguttata on yellow composite flower.
Epicauta costata on herbicide-treated Kali tragus (prickly Russian thistle).
Epicauta costata on herbicide-treated Kali tragus (prickly Russian thistle).
Day 5 – Sunshine, New Mexico We saw a nice stand of what proved to be Picradeniopsis absinthifolia (formerly Bahiaabsinthifolia, hairyseed bahia) and stopped to check them for buprestids/meloids. None were seen, just a few bees and lots of bee flies (genus Geron?). We did find a fair number of Cysteodemus wislizeni (black bladder-bodied meloid) crawling on the roadsides in a patch of Solanum elaeagnifolium (silverleaf nightshade).
Geron? sp. (family Bombyliidae) on flower of Picradeniopsis absinthifolia (hairyseed bahia).
Geron? sp. (family Bombyliidae) on flower of Picradeniopsis absinthifolia (hairyseed bahia).
Columbus, New Mexico We found a moist drainage along the roadside with plants blooming in abundance, including Isocoma tenuisecta (burroweed) and Sphaeralcea angustifolia (narrow-leaved globemallow); however, insects were very scarce. I didn’t see any buprestids or cerambycids at all on any of the plants, only picking up one Lytta biguttata and one Cotinis mutabilis on the Isocoma and sweeping single examples of a small black/red Cleridae from the latter and a yellow-flowered composite.
Pepsis thisbe (Thisbe’s tarantula-hawk wasp) on flowers of Isocoma tenuisecta (burroweed).
Animas, New Mexico We drove a fair distance west hoping to get into a different rainfall system in hope that insects would be present and saw a roadside in good bloom with the surrounding creosote scrub also green and blooming. As soon as we got out of the car we saw big beetles flying overhead and tracked them back to several creosote bushes very near the car with an aggregation of yet another blister beetle, Pyrota postica, which were mating and feeding on the flowers and leaves. After taking a few photos (and collecting my small series), I started sweeping through the variety of plants in bloom along the roadsides. I did not see anything on the flowers themselves (including Baileya multiradiata, pretty good buprestid flower) but collected a series of clytrine chrysomelids and one Dectes sp. While sweeping through Sphaeralcea hastulata (spear globemallow), I got one Agaeocera gentilis, and sweeping though a mix of S. hastulata and S. angustifolia (narrow-leaved globemallow) I got three Agrilus sp. (perhaps the same as I collected south of Van Horn, Texas). Finally, on the latter, I found one more A. gentilis perched on the leaf.
Pyrota postica female on flowering Larrea tridentata (creosote).Pyrota postica female feeding on the flowers of Larrea tridentata (creosote).
Sphaeralcea hastulata (spear globemallow).
Portal, Arizona Finally made it to Arizona, and for the first stop I wanted to try a spot below Portal where I’ve had limited success finding Sphaerobothris ulkei on Ephedra. Last time I was I here I found a few, but not until after being distracted by Gyascutus caelatus and Hippomelas sphenicus in the acacias and mesquites. I vowed not to let that happen this time and weaved a zigzag pattern looking at every Ephedra I could find. While I was doing that. I did see one G. caelatus take flight and then caught another that I saw sitting on Vachellia constricta (white-thorn acacia) but remained focused on looking at the Ephedra. Eventually, after not seeing any S. ulkei, I started looking for other buprestids. The acacias were just beginning to flower—only a few plants had open flowers, and Jeff noticed the tiny silhouette of an insect in flight approaching the flowers. He netted it and showed it to me, and to my surprise it was one of the species in the A. stigmata group (black with two red apical spots)—none of which I have ever collected before but which I believe could be A. davidsoni. We spent the next hour watching for and netting the silhouettes on the few trees we could find with flowers, and then I got the beating sheet out and beat more off of the trees (whether in flower or not) to end up with a nice little series. I’ll be anxious to confirm whether these are A. davidsoni.
Mozena arizonensis on Vachellia constricta (white-thorn acacia).
Vachellia constricta (white-thorn acacia).
South of Willcox, Arizona We got to Willcox around dusk, and the cool, breezy conditions told my gut that it would be pointless to set up the lights. Still, I couldn’t let myself not try, and without much opportunity to look for a good place to set up I just went down Blu Sky Rd to E Moonlight Rd and hoped for the best. My optimism waned rapidly, as conditions continued getting colder and breezier, and not a single insect came to the light—I should’ve listened to my gut!
Moonrise. A twilight zone moment occurred when I realized that I had taken this photo on Moonlight Rd!😮
Day 6 – Jim Wappes Celebration, Hereford, Arizona Fun day with lots of fellow coleopterists at the home of Steven Lingafelter and Norm Woodley in memory of Jim Wappes. We got there in the early afternoon and enjoyed eats, conversation, and war stories from the field.
Min, Sangmi Lee, Lisa Lee, Candy Kuckartz, the author, Margarethe Brummermann, Jason Botz, & Andrew Johnston (photo by Steven Lingafelter).
The author, Andrew Johnston, Norm Woodley, & Ed Riley (photo by Margarethe Brummermann).
It was a good day for a party, as rain made insect collecting a no-go. As dusk settled, I admired the incredible view from Steve’s and Norm’s back patio!
Low clouds hang over the Huachuca Mountains.
The fun extended well into the evening hours. My thanks to Steve and Norm for hosting the celebration—what fun to see and talk to so many entomologists in one place.
Steve Lingafelter, Gino Nearns, “Kira Brummermann,” & the author (photo by Margarethe Brummermann).
Bill Warner, Norm Woodley, Paul Skelley, Jeff Huether, Steve Lingafelter, Andrew Johnston, & the author (photo by Margarethe Brummermann)
Day 7 – Superstition Mountains, Weaver’s Needle Vista Viewpoint, Arizona We awoke to rain yesterday morning in Willcox, and it has stayed with us since—first on our way to Hereford for the Wappes Celebration, then up to Phoenix this morning—our efforts to escape the rain by coming north thus proving futile. I came to this spot on a tip that I might find Agrilus cavifrons on Celtis pallida (spiny hackberry) (although maybe a bit early), and I’d hoped despite the light rain I would still be able to find it. I did not—though I found the plants, but I did get a Chrysobothris sp. that I don’t recognize while beating Senegalia greggii (formerly Acacia greggii, cat-claw acacia). Of course, it was on the first plant that I beat, so I ended up beating for another hour with nothing to show for it! While walking the short paved trail, I found Cercidium sp. (palo verde) tree that had been cut up and showed evidence of buprestid infestation in one of the larger branches, so I retrieved and cut it up for rearing.
Lost Dutchman State Park, Arizona We made a quick stop here to admire its incredible scenery before heading back south.
Superstition Mountains as seen from Lost Dutchman State Park.
Stands of Cylindropuntia fulgida (chain-fruit cholla) frame this view of the Superstition Mountains from Lost Dutchman State Park.
Carnegiea gigantea (saguaro) in front of the Superstition Mountains.
Carnegiea gigantea (saguaro).
Upper Tanque Verde Falls Trailhead, Tucson, Arizona The rain finally moved out and it was sunny for the drive back to Tucson, but with still-cool temps we weren’t sure if lighting would be worthwhile. We decided to try this spot—not too high (based on a tip by Bill Warner), and I setup the lights using a technique recommended by Roy Morris that involved placing one ultraviolet (UV) light on each side of the sheet, extending the Mercury-vapor lamp above to the top of the sheet, and periodically shutting off the latter to allow the UV lights the pull in the “shyer” insects before turning it back on. While I waited for the lights to started pulling things in, I did some beating around the area. I only collected one specimen, but it was a Cleridae that I don’t recognize, which was beaten off of Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite). Temps ended up in the lower 70s to upper 60s, but at the lights we still got a few longhorned beetles (Aneflomorpha sp.), a few melolonthine scarabs, and a nice series of two species of Pachybrachis (that I will send to Bob Barney).
Jeff looks for beetles at the light sheet.
Lethocerus medius at ultraviolet/mercury-vapor light in mesquite/acacia scrub.
Day 8 – Atascosa Mountains, Ruby Rd near Atascosa Lookout Trailhead, Arizona The primary quarry here was Acmaeodera chuckbellamyi, a species I described in 2014 from a single specimen collected by my friend and hymenopterist, Mike Arduser, at this location on flowers of Aloysia sp. Several people have tried to find it since—without success, and in June 2011 the area was severely burned by the 27,550-hectare Murphy Fire. I was hoping enough time has passed to allow the area (and beetle population) to recover in this, my first attempt, at finding the species myself. I knew it was a long-shot, and long sorry short I did not find either the beetle or it’s Aloysia host flowers. I did collect a number of other beetles, however, including Lycus lorises, a few longhorned beetles and pachybrachine leaf beetles, and one Acmaeodera quadrivittatoides on flowers of Eysenhardtia orthocarpa (desert kidneywood), several Aneflomorpha sp. and a few pachybrachines on Quercus oblongifolia (Mexican blue oak), and more pachybrachines on Senegalia greggii (catclaw acacia), Mimosa dysocarpa (velvetpod mimosa)—the latter also yielding a few tiny Chrysobothris spp. (one looking like C. lucanus), and Propopis glandulosa (mesquite). Jeff also collected and gave to me a couple of Acmaeodera parkeri on flowers of Talinum aurantiacum (orange flameflower). I hiked 0.7 mi E on Ruby Rd to a spot where I swept a few beetles from low vegetation, and on the underside of a large, fallen branch of Q. oblingifolium I found a large female Polycesta arizonica. Finally, about halfway back to the trailhead I encountered a few tiger beetles on the road near standing puddles of water from the recent rains.
View from Ruby Rd looking south toward Mexico.
View from Ruby Rd looking southwest toward Mexico.
Lycus loripes on flowers of Eysenhardtia orthocarpa (desert kidneywood).
Lycus loripes on flowers of Eysenhardtia orthocarpa (desert kidneywood).
Talinum aurantiacum (orange flameflower).
Atascosa Mountains, Peña Blanca Lake, Arizona We came here to look for Deltaspis tumacacorii, which like many rare beetles the odds are against finding it despite it having been taken in the area on several occasions. Again, this would not be one of those occasions, but I was happy to find a tiny tiger beetle (Cylindera viridisticta arizonensis) along the creek and even happier to beat a series of two species of Paratyndaris, one large Lampetis webbii (only my fifth specimen). and one Aneflomorpha sp. from mostly dead Senegalia greggii (catclaw acacia).
Leptinotarsa lineata on Ambrosia monogyra (cheeseweed burrobrush)—adult.
Leptinotarsa lineata on Ambrosia monogyra (cheeseweed burrobrush)—larvae.
Huachuca Mountains, lower Carr Canyon, Arizona After dropping Jeff off at his hotel in Tucson (he flies home in the morning), I high-tailed it down to Carr Canyon to do some light collecting. It has been a long time since I’ve seen my sheet covered so quickly and thoroughly with insects! My quarry was longhorned beetles—of which I got a nice variety, but who can resist also the variety of scarabs, ground beetles, tenebrionids, blister beetles, and even planthoppers that flock to the lights in the mountains of southeastern Arizona? I’ll have to control myself a little better in the coming nights! Walking about along the roadsides (hoping to see Amblycheila giant tiger beetles), I encountered a gorgeous male Aphonopelma chalcodes (Arizona blonde tarantula).
Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light setup.
Enaphalodes cortiphagus at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Parabyrsopolis chihuahuae at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Phileurus truncatus (triceratops beetle) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Chrysina beyeri (Beyer’s jewel scarab) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Chrysina gloriosa (glorious jewel scarab) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Pachysphinx occidentalis (western poplar sphinx) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Manduca florestan (Florestan sphinx) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Aphonopelma chalcodes (Arizona blonde tarantula) on ground in in oak/juniper woodland.
Aphonopelma chalcodes (Arizona blonde tarantula) on ground in in oak/juniper woodland.
Aphonopelma chalcodes (Arizona blonde tarantula) on ground in in oak/juniper woodland.
Day 9 – Huachuca Mountains, Copper Canyon, Arizona I met Steve Lingafelter and Norm Woodley at their house, and together we drove to the famed Copper Canyon on the south side of the Huachucas. On the way I got a nice primer about the species that have been collected there and the plants they have been collected on. Steve and I started out walking the trail up the canyon while Norm swept the area down below. I pretty much beat every oak along the way, for a while only getting a smattering of beetles—Agrilaxia sp. on Quercus emoryi (Emory oak) and also on Q. arizonica (Arizona white oak) along with Sternidius decorus?. About a half-mile up the trail I beat dead branches of Q. hypoleucoides (silverleaf oak) and, not seeing anything at first, said “I’m going back; I’m literally not getting anything.” Right then, a small black beetle on the sheet caught my eye. I looked at it closely and realized it was a Mastogenius (prob. M. robustus)! I popped it in the bottle and beat more dead branches from the same tree and got not only another Mastogenius but also Tigrinestola tigrina. Freshly motivated, I spent the next half-hour working all the oaks in the area—and, as often happens, did not see another beetle! Nevertheless, it was hard not to be happy with the beetles that I’d gotten.
An unidentified treehopper nymph, likely something in the subfamily Smiliinae, tribe Telamonini, on twig of Quercus arizonicus (Arizona white oak).
I walked back down the trail and met Norm, who was just starting up. He filled me in on the results from below, which included sweeping a few Agrilaxia hespenheidei—one of my target species—and an Agrilus sp. on Bouvardia ternifolia (firecrackerbush). I decided to work the slope under the road, reasoning that Norm had likely already worked the flat ground below. On the first B. ternifolia I approached, I saw an A. hespenheidei on the flower, gave the plant a sweep, and caught not only the A. hespenheidei but also an Agrilus sp. (maybe A. latifrons). Over the next hour I would sweep a nice series of A. hespenheidei from B. ternifolia (but not another Agrilus sp.). While I was doing that, I also swept the numerous stands of Acaciella angustissima (formerly Acacia angustissima, prairie acacia) looking for the large, spectacular Agrilus cavatus. I would find two, and considering that I swept perhaps 50 or more stands they were well earned. Also, in the meantime, I noticed Acmaeodera parkeri on small blue flowers that I eventually identified as Evolvulus arizonicus (Arizona blue-eyes). The flowers were few in number and the beetles difficult to catch, so I only ended up with two specimens. Further down the slope the flowers much more abundant, but there was not a beetle to be found on them. In the waning moments of my visit, I encountered two Trichodes peninsularis horni on flowers of Lasianthaea podocephala (San Pedro daisy).
Bouvardia ternifolia (firecrackerbush), flower host for Agrilaxia hespenheidei.
Acaciella angustissima (prairie acacia), host for Agrilus cavatus.
Evolvulus arizonicus (Arizona blue-eyes), flower host for Acmaeodera parkeri.
Lasianthaea podocephala, flower host for Trichodes peninsularis horni.
Eventually we all met up at the car, compared our catches (not surprisingly, Norm did very well with buprestids and Steve did very well with cerambycids), and I did okay in both counts. We headed back over Montezuma Pass and were greeted with stunning views looking down into the Coronado National Monument!
Coronado National Monument from near Montezuma Pass.
Huachuca Mountains, Miller Canyon, Arizona After dropping Steve off, Norm and I went to nearby Miller Canyon to look at a spot where he has collected three species of Taphrocerus (I’ve only collected two, but only once way back in 1987 at a spot in the lower canyon). We thought it might be too late in the season, but it was at least worth a shot. The sedges were lush and green, but the “sedgy wedgies” were absent. Looks like I’ll have to just come back out in April or May!
After striking out with Taphrocerus, I went back down to the lower elevations of the canyon to look for Tragidion on the stand of Baccharis sarothroides (desert broom) that occurs there. Once again, I was likely too late to find them, but as with Taphrocerus it was certainly worth a shot, and again I would not find any despite looking and most of the large plants in the area. I did find a few Euphoria leucographa feeding on the sap flows and a very large red/black clytrine, so it wasn’t all for naught. Just another reason to come out earlier in the season.
Euphoria leucographa feeding on a sap flow on stem of Baccharis sarothroides (desert broom).
Day 10 – Santa Rita Mountains, upper Box Canyon, Arizona After getting reports of buprestid activity near Madera Canyon, I decided to head to the Santa Rita Mountains today instead of continuing in the Huachucas. The shortest route to this most famous of canyons in the Santa Ritas goes down Box Canyon, a less-well-known but still-fantastic canyon in its own right and where I’ve had good luck collecting the two previous times I’ve been there (August 2018 w/ Art Evans, Steve Lingafelter, and Norm Woodley; and September 2019 w/ Jeff Huether). I stopped at the “dry falls” and worked my way back up the road to a point where I’ve collected the majority of my insects there. Along the way, I beat the flowering Eysenhardtiaorthocarpa (desert kidneywood)—insects were not numerous on the plants, but over the course of the trips up and back I got Acmaeodera gibbula, A. cazieri, two Aneflomorpha sp., and a few Lycus sp. I also swept the just-beginning-to-flower Mimosa dysocarpa (velvetpod mimosa) but got just a single Sphaenothecus bivittatus. When I reached the top of the canyon, I looked for a small patch of Allionia incarnata (creeping four-o’clock) in the steep road bank, off the flowers of which I have previously collected Acmaeodera cazieri, A. parkeri, and A. yuccavora. I found the patch, but the plants were not yet in flower. What was in flower on the flats above the bank, however, was Talinum aurantiacum (orange flameflower), off which I collected all three species (A. cazieri being the most abundant and only a single A. cazieri). As at previous stops this week, it seems that insect activity is beginning but is still a bit shy of coming into full peak.
Larva of Euscirrhopterus gloveri (purslane moth), which was present in outbreak numbers on a portulacaceous plant growing amongst Talinum aurantiacum.
While I was collecting, a caravan of cars came by. They turned out to be filled with entomologists attending the Invertebrates in Education Conference, one of whom I knew—Tad Yankoski of the Sophia M. Sachs Butterfly House in my hometown of St. Louis. He handed me a vial containing a large, live individual of Polycesta aruensis. I was excited to see this, especially when he told me he found it and saw many more in the flats below Madera Canyon, where I had planned to go next!
Santa Rita Mountains, flats below Madera Canyon, Arizona It was a frustrating afternoon on several fronts. Starting off, I had trouble finding the Polycesta aruensis locality, and when I finally did find it there was nary a Polycesta to be seen. Perhaps they sleep during the heat of the day.🤷 After that, there was little time to go anywhere but Madera Canyon, where I spent a half-hour beating Quercus oblongifolia (Mexican blue oak) hoping to see Chrysobothris chalcophoroides (I didn’t) and another two hours checking out Baccharis sarothroides (desert broom) in the area where I collected Stenaspis verticalis and Tragidion deceptus two years ago (also fruitless). Of course, the dreadfully common Stenaspis solitaria was everywhere, but all I ended up collecting was a tenebrionid on the 2-track, a clytrine beaten from Cercidium aculeata (retama), and one Euphoria leucographa along with a nondescript cerambycid (Heaperophanini maybe) on B. sarothroides. On the way back to the vehicle, I encountered a dead, mostly skeletonized deer, and while I rarely collect from carcasses, I noticed a little green beetle crawling on the jaw bone. I figured it must be the cosmopolitan clerid, Necrobia rufipes—something I’d not seen before, so I collected it and tried to collect but missed another one.
Rain clouds gather over Madera Canyon.
Another view of the mouth of Madera Canyon.
Magusa sp. (one of the narrow-wings) caterpillar feeding on Sarcomphalus obtusifolius (lotebush).
Santa Rita Mountains, lower Florida Canyon,Arizona I suppose I can credit my frustrating afternoon for one of my best nights of lighting ever. I stumbled upon this spot at the bottom of Florida Canyon during this afternoon’s Polycesta wild-goose chase and immediately thought, “Wow, what a perfect spot to set up a light!” A nice place to pull off the road with a small, level clearing embedded within low-elevation oak woodland. There was even a babbling creek in the background! It was close to dark by the time I returned and set up the lights (would’ve been even later if I’d gone into town for a “real” dinner). Ironically, there were neither the diversity nor quantity of beetles as two nights ago in lower Carr Canyon. But the cerambycids brought it… and kept bringing it! It seemed like every time I got up to check the sheet there were another 4–5 individuals. I ended up leaving the sheet up for four full hours and collected perhaps 40–50 specimens representing a dozen or more species. A few I don’t recognize, and most of those that I do recognize have resided in my cabinet in precious few numbers until now. It’s been years literally since I’ve had a night like this, and it’s a nice shot of motivation leading into the last few days of what is starting to feel like a long trip.
Sometimes circumstances dictate an unusual dinner.
Enaphalodes niveitectus at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Tigrinestola tigrinus at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Coenopoeus palmeri at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Syssphinx hubbardi (Hubbard’s silk moth) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Eacles oslari (Oslar’s imperial moth) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Day 11 – Madera Canyon Rd, Continental, Arizona I came back to the spot where Tad Yankoski had seen Polycesta aruensis so abundantly yesterday morning but which was completely absent by the time I got there in the afternoon. I did not see any adults on the trees this morning either and was about to give up when I spotted a few partially dead trees with very large, apparently fresh emergence holes in the main trunks that were the perfect size for P. aruensis—good thing I brought my chainsaw! I cut a trunk with its branches and segregated the cut up wood into age (fresh dead versus older) and size (twigs, medium branches, and main trunk) classes. While I was doing this, a Polycesta adult dropped off one of the fresh-dead, medium-sized branches! I beat the remaining branches on the tree and on nearby trees but did not see any more, so whatever Tad witnessed yesterday morning must have been an ephemeral event, perhaps related to synchronized emergence from the very trees among which I collected the wood. NOTE: don’t let anyone tell you that cutting up wood for rearing beetles is anything but a sweaty, exhausting endeavor, even with temps still in the mid-80s and decent cloud cover!
This camouflaged tanker marks the spot—trees on the W side of the tanker.
Job half-done—wood cut up.
Job complete—wood segregated and bundled.
Santa Rita Mountains, lower Florida Canyon, Arizona I had such good night collecting here last night that I thought I’d come back and see what I could find during the day in this ribbon of riparian oak/hackberry woodland. Almost immediately I beat a Paratyndaris sp. off of dead Celtis reticulata (netleaf hackberry). The tree was very dead, but I knew Paratyndaris spp. like old, dead wood, so I split open some of the branches and found larvae inside and also a dead and unemerged but perfectly intact adult of a very tiny Chrysobothris sp. inside one of the smaller branches. Beating on other plants in the area was, in general, fruitless, but occasionally (and just often enough) I encountered something of interest that motivated me to continue working: Paratyndaris sp. and Agrilus sp. on Quercus oblongifolia (Arizona white oak), a small red/brown elaterid on Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite), and Acmaeoderopsis sp., Paratyndaris sp., and a few clytrines on Senegalia greggii (cat-claw acacia).
Lower Florida Canyon.
Celtis reticulata (netleaf hackberry).
Santa Rita Mountains, Gardner Canyon, Arizona Last night, I got a message from fellow buprestophile Robert Velten, who told me that he would be in Gardner Canyon the next day, so after finishing at Florida Canyon I drove over to Gardner Canyon to meet up with him. Despite being longtime correspondents, Rob and I had never actually met face-to-face, so I was thrilled to have the chance to do so and spend some time with him in the field. Joining him were his mothing buddies Steve McElfresh and Paul Tuskes, and a little later our mutual friend and Arizona coleopterist-extraordinaire, Margarethe Brummermann, also joined us for a night of lighting. It was great to spend time at the lights with so many like-minded folks! There were three light stations between us, but the weather was less than cooperative—a persistent cool breeze accompanied constant lighting and thunder in the mountains above. Eventually, the threat was realized when the skies opened up, prompting a hasty dismantling and storage of all my lighting equipment safely inside the vehicle. Nevertheless, in the time that I was able to collect, I got a small number of longhorned beetles (half of which came to my light in the moments I was taking it down—longhorns typically become very active right before a storm) along with a variety of showy scarabs and clerids. The rain ended as quickly as it began, so the socializing continued. The entire evening I was continuously taunted, however, by a large prionid sitting inside its emergence hole on the trunk of a large Quercus emoryi (Emory oak). It only showed its jaws and antennae, and if I even touched the tree to boost myself up for a closer look it withdrew deep into the hole. I’m convinced it was Nothopleura madericus—a species I’ve never collected. I can still hear it laughing at me! My attempt to find one out and about by scanning the trunks and branches of of the other oaks in the area with my headlight was not successful, although I did collect another elaphidiine longhorn in such manner.
Polyphylla decemlineata (or perhaps a new species) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Lucanus mazama (cottonwood stag beetle) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Xyloryctes thestalus (western rhinoceros beetle) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Hemiphileurus illatus at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Cymatodera horni at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Manduca rustica (rustic sphinx) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Day 12 – Santa Rita Mountains, Gardner Canyon, Arizona Rob had noticed a stand of Anisacanthus thurberi (desert honeysuckle)—a host for Spectralia cuprescens—along the road into Gardner Canyon, so together (after morning coffee!) we checked the spot on the way out. The plants were in the early stages of leafing out, and after visually inspecting them for a while and not seeing anything I decided to get out the beating sheet to sample the stand more thoroughly. My eyes did not deceive me—neither one of us found any. Too early? Low population? Who knows! I did beat one clytrine off the plants and collected a few weevils by beating Prosopis glandulosa (mesquite) before finding Acmaeodera parkeri and A. cazieri on the flowers of Allionia incarnata (creeping four o’clock). The flowers were common in the area around the road, but no Acmaeodera were seen until I started scaling the steep hillside nearby—a similar situation in which I’ve found these species on this flower in Box Canyon.
Rob Velten and the author enjoying morning coffee (photo by Margarethe Brummermann).
Dense stand of Anisacanthus thurberi (desert honeysuckle) in Gardner Canyon.
Gardner Creek running full after last night’s rain.
Yours truly with buprestophile extraordinaire Rob Velten.
Huachuca Mountains, upper Carr Canyon, Reef Township Campground, Arizona I’ve been wanting to explore the higher reaches of Carr Canyon ever since I arrived in Arizona a full week ago. It is the only high canyon in the Huachucas that has a road leading all the way into its upper reaches. At these high elevations the forest is Pinus ponderosa (ponderosa pine) and Quercus hypoleucoides (silverleaf oak). There are many species of woodboring beetles at these high elevations that simply aren’t found down below. Another reason is the recent discovery up here of one of the rarest and most enigmatic of North American longhorned beetles, Placoschema dimorpha. Not even know to science until it was described from Mexico in 2007, it has since popped up here and a few other places in southeast Arizona—some of which have been heavily studied by coleopterists or many decades. Now, I didn’t actually <u>expect</u> to find such a rare thing, but maybe I could get lucky or at least find some other unusual species. The specimen at this location was photographed on a burned pine tree; however, I do not think that is the host (as far as I am aware, no species in the tribe utilizes gymnosperms as larval hosts). I think the host must be oak, as is the case for many trachderines. So, while I kept an eye out for burned pine trees, I also looked for oak, and especially recently dead oaks showing signs of woodboring beetle infestation. I did some of beating on Q. hypoleucoides and had collected just a clerid (Enoclerus bimaculatus) when I came upon a recently fallen Q. hypoleucoides that showed a few buprestid(ish) emergence holes and looked to be “the right age.” Cutting away the bark of the trunk revealed galleries, and chopping into sapwood revealed buprestid larvae in their galleries. I tagged it for retrieval, eventually cutting it up and segregating the trunk sections from the branches. Very nearby, I found another dead Q. hypoleucoides, this one much smaller and apparently cut rather than fallen. Unlike the previous one, however, this one showed the round holes with ejecting frass that indicated infestation by cerambycid rather than buprestid larvae. Cutting into the wood confirmed the presence of such, and so this one also was later cut up and bundled for bringing back. I saw no beetles on the trunks of any of the many fire-scarred pines lofting overhead, but at one point I spotted in the distance the telltale brown flagging of a recently died pine up the slope. Hiking up to it took some effort, but when I reached it the first thing I saw was a giant click beetle—Chalcolepidius apacheanus (Apache click beetle)—nestled against the ground at the base of the trunk (apparently ovipositing?). Inspecting the trunk of the tree itself, I noted just a few buprestid emergence holes that seemed fresh. Once again, chopping away the bark revealed the frass-packed galleries, and chopping into the heartwood revealed a large pre-pupal buprestid larvae. This was put into a vial, and I noted the location so I could return with the chainsaw and “bring ‘er down.” As I was cutting up the oaks, I found some small, recently cut pine branches near where I had parked the car. I found (and accidentally killed) a woodboring beetle larva of some type (I mangled it pretty good, but I think it was a buprestid) in one of them, so that was good enough to earn a spot in the rearing tubs. Unfortunately, I was not able to retrieve the dead pine tree—cutting up the oaks took a fair bit of time, during which darkening clouds gathered over the nearby peaks. Eventually cracks of thunder began piercing the air. It was all I could do to get the oaks into the car and all of the equipment put away before heavy rain drops began pelting the car. I had no idea what the storm would bring, but the last thing I wanted to be was stranded on the top of a mountain on my last full day of field collecting. As it turned out, the storm was more bark than bite (although the sharp drop in temperatures would kill lighting later in the evening). Perhaps I’ll be able to get back up the mountain in the morning and retrieve the pine tree.
Chalcolepidius apacheanus (Apache click beetle) on trunk base of dead Pinus ponderosa (ponderosa pine).
Huachuca Mountains, lower Carr Canyon, Arizona It seems like forever ago that I began this trip, and now the last night of collecting has arrived. I decided to come back to this spot where I’d had such good luck earlier this week, but I wasn’t optimistic given how rain chased me out of the canyon earlier. My pessimism was warranted, and while I did picked up a variety of things, it included only two longhorns—both rather pedestrian species. No, the real charm of the night came not from collecting insects, but after the lights were down and my mind was free to wander as I leaned back in my chair and gazed into the crisp, dark, starry Arizona sky—its perimeter along the horizon bound by a craggy silhouette of nearby oak trees and distant peaks; from listening to the sounds of the night, alternately focusing on the individual cricket or distant coyote versus the chorus as a whole. Only to the north could I see the faint glow of city lights—the only sign that anything beyond me and this moment exist. These moments happen only once on a trip (maybe twice), and they are to be savored; indelibly stamped into the memory banks for future enjoyment; one of those experiences that, when recalled, is guaranteed to trigger euphoric recall.
Campground set for a final night of lighting.
Manduca sexta (Carolina sphinx) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Sphinx dollii (Doll’s sphinx) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Sphinx dollii (Doll’s sphinx) at Mercury-vapor/ultraviolet light in oak/juniper woodland.
Day 13 – Huachuca Mountains, upper Carr Canyon, Reef Township Campground, Arizona I went back up to the top of Carr Canyon to retrieve the dead Pinus ponderosa that I found yesterday. Good thing I did, as I also found my favorite hatchet (which I’d inadvertently left behind yesterday). The 9” diameter trunk was almost too big a job for my Stihl MiniBoss chainsaw, but I kept at it and finally felled the the 25’ tall tree. It took three trips up and down the steep slope—each round trip almost a half-mile—to haul out the upper 10 ft of trunk and associated branches, which I segregated into three batches for rearing: trunk, 1–2” día. branches, and <1” dia. twigs. Now let’s hope the effort was worth it and I get some good species out of the wood.
Pinus ponderosa (ponderosa pine) dominates the high elevations in the Huachuca Mountains.
Huachuca Mountains, near Carr Canyon, Waterfall, Arizona One last stop to take in the terrifyingly magnificent views from atop Carr Canyon! You can see the road that I traveled up this morning snaking back down the right side of the mountain. The massif to the left is the highest point that you can see from the valley below, but there are much higher peaks behind me.
Terrifyingly steep, magnificently endless drop!
Carr Canyon Rd snakes up the right side of the mountain.
This massif is the highest point visible from the mouth of the canyon.
Epilogue Sadly, I could squeeze no more stops into the trip—I’d allowed myself two days to make the 24-hour drive back to St. Louis, and it was already almost noon on the first of the two days. I left, however, with a rack full of vials filled with insects and a renewed love for Arizona and the desert southwest that first captured my heart some 37 years ago!
One of the more impressive insects that we found during our visit to Sand Hills State Park in south-central Kansas last June was Plectrodera scalator, the cottonwood borer. Large and robust (in fact, the only larger species in the family are the prionid root borers and their kin), their striking checkered pattern of white pubescence on a glossy black body makes them perhaps the most recognizable of all North American longhorned beetles (Linsley & Chemsak 1984). The very robust body of this individual, along with the relatively shorter antennae (only about as long as the body) identify it as a female—males are generally smaller and less robust with the body slightly tapering and the antennae distinctly longer than the body.
Plectrodera scalator (Fabricius, 1792) | Sand Hills State Park, Kansas
The white coloration on the body of these beetles is not a cuticular pigment (which is rather rare in beetles and is most often associated with species found in white sand habitats, e.g., certain tiger beetles), but instead a result of dense mats of microscopic white setae. The patterns formed by these mats are apparently as unique to each individual as fingerprints are to humans (Yanega 1996), making these beetles at once immediately recognizable as a species yet distinctive as individuals.
Adults of this species are found most often on cottonwood.
These are said to be common beetles in their range across the eastern two-thirds of the country, especially so in the Great Plains where their favored host, cottonwood (Populus deltoides), is especially abundant. Despite this, I have encountered this species only a handful of times in more than 3o years of searching. I know they’re out there, even in my home state of Missouri where I recorded 154 specimens collected in the state and deposited in various collections (MacRae 1994). It was not until around 2000 that I even saw my first ones (on a cottonwood tree in a homeowner’s yard just across the Mississippi River in Illinois), and in fact this one was actually found by Mary Liz Jameson, who had accompanied us to the field that day. It makes me wonder if their coloration, so strikingly conspicuous when isolated against a clean, blue sky background, might actually afford some type of cryptic protection against the normal backdrop of foliage and branches on which they are normally found—a phenomenon that I call “conspicuous crypsis” and which I have noted for other longhorned beetles (e.g., Acanthocinus nodosus). Perhaps, with this species at least, I have not yet set my search image to notice them.
Large, robust size and a distinctive checkered pattern of black and white makes these beetles among the most recognizable longhorned beetles in North America.
REFERENCES:
Linsley, E. G. and J. A. Chemsak. 1984. The Cerambycidae of North America, Part VII, No. 1: Taxonomy and classification of the subfamily Lamiinae, tribes Parmenini through Acanthoderini. University of California Publications in Entomology 102:xi + 1–258. [preview]
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]
Yanega, D. 1996.Field Guide to Northeastern Longhorned Beetles (Coleoptera: Cerambycidae). Illinois Natural History Survey Manual 6, x + 174 pp. [preview]
Continuing with the previous post’s theme on crypsis, here is an interesting insect that I photographed in north-central Oklahoma in late June 2014. I was checking standing and fallen trunks of large, dead eastern cottonwood (Populus deltoides) trees in Woods Co. near the Cimarron River, where just a few days earlier I had found a jewel beetle (family Buprestidae) that had eluded me for more than 30 years—Buprestis confluens. I had found only a single individual and returned to the spot in the hopes of finding more. As I searched the trunk of one particularly large, fallen tree—its trunk still covered with bark, I noticed movement but couldn’t make out right away what I was seeing. A closer look revealed the movement to be from a wasp-like insect, its antennae curiously quivering in a manner that reminded me of an ensign wasp (family Evaniidae). More careful looking, however, revealed the insect to be not a wasp, but a longhorned beetle (family Cerambycidae), which I then recognized to be the species Physocnemum brevilineum.
This beetle is commonly referred to as the elm bark borer, a reference to the larval habit of mining within the bark of living elm trees, but as far as I can tell this beetle is anything but common. Like the Buprestis confluens that I had found a few days earlier, this was a species known to me only by pinned museum specimens (I’m always amazed when a woodboring beetle species is apparently common enough to warrant a common name and is said to reach pest status in some cases, yet eludes my net for decades!). At any rate, my impression based on these pinned specimens and published images was that the species is another of the many longhorned beetles that seem to mimic ants (Cyrtinus, Cyrtophorus, Euderces, Molorchus, and Tilloclytus being among the others). Like many of these other mimics, the species is dark with small amounts of red and bears polished, ivory-colored ridges at mid-elytra to give the illusion of a narrow waist. After seeing a living individual, however, and especially its behavior—in particular the very wasp-like manner in which it moved its antennae, I’m not so sure that ant mimicry alone explains the appearance and behavior of the species.
A lateral view reveals the beetle, but is it trying to mimic an ant, or a wasp, or both?
Of course, there is no reason why it must be ant mimicry or wasp mimicry (or crypsis, for that matter). Evolution has no rule stating that only one survival strategy can be employed at a time, and if, as it seems to me, the beetle is utilizing both crypsis and mimicry—the first to avoid detection and, failing that, the second to give the potential predator pause, then there is no reason why the mimicry portion of its defense couldn’t be modeling both ants and wasps as a way to maximize an overall “nasty hymenopteran” appearance.
Chalcophora virginiensis (Drury, 1770) | vic. Calico Rock, Arkansas
…now you don’t!
Chalcophora virginiensis (Drury, 1770) | vic. Calico Rock, Arkansas
Chalcophora virginiensis (Drury, 1770) is the largest jewel beetle (family Buprestidae) in eastern North America. This beetle is also known as the “sculptured pine borer”, and its easy to see why—its hyper-sculptured, shiny metallic body glitters like a jewel in the sunlight! This feature is typical of many species in the family and, in fact, is the source of the family’s other common name—metallic wood boring beetles.
Such dramatic sculpturing and coloration makes cabinets of jewel beetle specimens among the most beautiful in any museum, and for those who have only seen these beetles as pinned specimens in cabinets it can be hard to imagine what purpose such appearance serves. In its native habitat, however, on native host plants, the reason becomes clear. Rather than conspicuous and easily seen, such coloration actually helps the beetle to blend in with its environment and become almost invisible. Measuring well over an inch in length and possessing no other way of defending itself by biting, stinging, or even just tasting bad, these beetles would be a more than healthy snack for almost any avian or reptilian predator, and going about their activities during the day right under the noses of all these visually based predators makes finding mates and oviposition sites an even riskier proposition. For them, the best way to beat a visual predator is to become… invisible! The two photos above show just how dramatic a difference the substrate plays in allowing these beetles to practice their disappearing act. Land on the trunk of a dead or dying pine tree, its aged bark flaked and graying, and the sculpturing and coloration are a perfect match. Land, however, on a healthy tree, its resin-filled bark bright and full of color, and it suddenly becomes a sitting duck. It’s in the beetle’s best interest to be good at telling the difference between thrifty and unhealthy trees, which they do by “smelling” volatile chemicals emitted by trees under stress.
Those interested in more information on this species and its close relatives may wish to consult the recent review of the genus in North America by Maier & Ivie (2014) (see my review of this excellent paper here).
REFERENCE:
Maier, C. A. & M. A. Ivie. 2013. Reevaluation of Chalcophora angulicollis (LeConte) and Chalcophora virginiensis (Drury) with a review and key to the North American species of Chalcophora Dejean (Coleoptera: Buprestidae). The Coleopterists Bulletin 67(4):457–469 [abstract].
One of my favorite longhorned beetle species is the amorpha borer, Megacyllene decora. Like its close relative, the locust borer—M. robiniae, this large, beautiful, black and yellow beetle is a classic harbinger of fall by virtue of its late-season adult activity period and affinity to flowers of goldenrod (Solidago) and snakeroot (Eupatorium). Compared to the locust borer, however, it is larger, chunkier, and more boldly marked, and despite the commonness of goldenrod flowers it is far less commonly encountered than the locust borer due to the more restricted habitat preferences of the larval host plant (false indigo—Amorpha fruticosa).
The beetle in these photos is one of two that I found in late September at a site in the lowlands of southeastern Missouri. I’ve not seen the beetle at this site before, but I knew it must occur here because of the stands of false indigo that I noted during an earlier visit to the site. Considering the large number of plants present, two beetles is much less than I would have expected to see (in fact, both beetles were found in a single patch of goldenrod). I have previously featured this species (see A classic fall ‘bycid) from a site about 50 miles east of this one. At that site also only a few beetles were seen despite an abundance of larval host plants (but the adults occurring on snakeroot flowers instead of goldenrod). Only twice have I seen this species in numbers that I would consider plentiful (both times in western Missouri).
Amorpha borers and locust borers are part of a larger complex of black and yellow insects that visit goldenrod flowers in the fall. These include a variety of bees, wasps, and other beetles (e.g., the delta flower scarab, Trigonopeltastes delta—family Scarabaeidae), but perhaps the most abundant is the goldenrod soldier beetle, Chauliognathus pensylvanicus—family Cantharidae (also called the Pennsylvania leatherwing). One can presume that any or all of these species serve as models for the longhorned beetles—bees and wasps are obviously protected from most predators by their ability to sting, and the bodies of soldier beetles are chemically protected by cantharidin, a highly toxic terpenoid that causes blistering and irritation of mucous membranes at low doses and can be fatal at higher doses. As the mimics, amorpha borers and locust borers could be expected to be less abundant than the models. However, considering how difficult-to-see these beetles can be when sitting on goldenrod flowers, their black-and-yellow coloration seems as though it could just as easily serve a cryptic function. It is even possible that mimicry and crypsis both have contributed to evolution of these beetle’s coloration.
Chrysobothris dentipes on exposed root of Pinus virginiana | South Cumberland State Park, Tennessee
A couple of months ago I wrote a post about Chrysobothris orono, a magnificent jewel beetle that I had the opportunity to see earlier in the year. Fellow buprestophile Joshua Basham and his colleague Nadeer Youssef had managed to find this very uncommonly encountered species breeding in exposed roots of Virginia pine (Pinus virginiana) on the edges of high bluff tops in South Cumberland State Park, Tennessee. I traveled to the site with them this past May and was rewarded with one specimen of the species, two Buprestis species that I’d not collected before (B. striata and B. salisburyensis), several photographs of each, and numerous memories. Chrysobothris orono was not, however, the only species in the genus seen that day. We also encountered numerous individuals of another species, Chrysobothris dentipes, on the same Virginia pines that were hosting C.orono, B. striata, and B. salisburyensis. Like C. orono, nearly all of the individuals seen were not on the trunks and branches of the pines, but on dead, exposed roots of the pines.
Presumed Chrysobothris dentipes adult emergence hole in exposed root of Virginia pine. Note pile of frass on the ground below the hole, suggesting that the adult emerged shortly before this photo was taken.
Unlike C. orono, however, which has only been recorded from a handful of states/provinces along the eastern seaboard and around the Great Lakes (and, now, Tennessee—MacRae & Basham 2013), C. dentipes is one of the widest ranging species in the genus, occurring throughout much of the U.S. & Canada and even the West Indies and northern Mexico (Fisher 1942). Throughout this expansive range, C. dentipes larvae develop in dead pine wood, although they have been reared also from tamarack (Larix laricina) and balsam fir (Abies balsamea) (Fisher 1942, Dearborn & Donahue 1993). I remember my excitement at collecting this species for the first time back in the 1980s in Missouri on log piles and slash from logging operations in the shortleaf pine (Pinus echinata) forests of southern Missouri. Eventually I realized how common and widespread a species it is, as it was the one species I could almost always count on seeing whenever I examined recently dead pines wherever I went.
The flattened body and partly yellow antennal segments make this a distinctive species in the field.
The specific epithet (“denti-” meaning tooth, and “pes” meaning foot) apparently refers to the large spine on the front femora, although many species of Chrysobothris exhibit this character. This was one of the earliest described species in the genus, so perhaps other species with spined femora hadn’t been seen yet, or maybe the name refers to the toothed outer margin of the femoral spine rather than the spine itself. In any case, the species is rather distinctive and easy to identify in the field by its moderately large size, somewhat flattened body, and overall matte appearance. The clincher are the antennae, which may not be easy to see in the field but, unlike any but a few other very dissimilar species, have the outer segments partly brownish-yellow in color. Like most Chrysobothris species, adults are very “zippy” and alert in the field, the males running rapidly in short bursts when searching logs for females and both sexes quick to take flight when approached. While the adults in these photos are fairly conspicuous on the wood on which they are sitting, their coloration and surface sculpturing actually serve a cryptic function and make them very difficult to spot on rough pine bark where they are normally encountered.
REFERENCES:
Dearborn, R. G. & C. P. Donahue. 1993. An annotated list of insects collected and recorded by the Maine Forest Service, order Coleoptera, beetles. Maine Forest Service, Department of Conservation, Insect and Disease Division No. 32, 102 pp.
Fisher, W. S. 1928. A revision of the North American species of buprestid beetles belonging to the genus Agrilus. U. S. National Museum 145, 347 pp.
MacRae, T. C. & J. P. Basham. 2013. Distributional, biological, and nomenclatural notes on Buprestidae (Coleoptera) occurring in the U.S. and Canada. The Pan-Pacific Entomologist 89(3):125–142 [pdf].
Eastern hognose snake (Heterodon platirhinos) | Wayne Co., Missouri
Until the past few years, I could probably count on my two hands the number of snakes I’d seen in the field. This despite nearly weekly outings throughout each season going back to young adulthood. I’m sure this has something to do with my search image (beetles), my primary method of looking for them (whacking tree branches with my net handle over a beating sheet), and what I wasn’t also doing at the time (looking for snakes or anything else that wasn’t a beetle). One is unlikely to see these mostly shy, secretive animals when thrashing and whacking through the bush, and even if no ruckus is made to make them scamper they can still hide in plain sight due to their wonderfully cryptic coloration. It wasn’t until I started carrying a camera and began looking for other natural history subjects rather than just focusing on collecting as many beetles as possible that I began to see snakes. And since then I’ve seen a lot of them, including a terrifyingly aggressive timber rattler, a juvenile Osage copperhead, an uncooperative dusty hognosed snake, a death-feigning western hognosed snake, a cute little western pygmy rattlesnake, a rough green snake, a juvenile timber rattler, an adult Osage copperhead, and a yellow-bellied racer. The last three were all seen at what has become for me my favorite “snake spot”—a gorgeous preserve in the southeastern Missouri Ozarks. I’m not sure what makes this place so ideal—perhaps the massive outcroppings of jumbled rhyolite alongside the clear, spring-fed, gravel-bottomed river provide ample habitat and food for a variety of species. Regardless, I have visited the preserve each April (for my annual season-opening birthday bug collecting trip) for the past three years and never failed to see at least one snake.¹
¹ To be clear, I am not a snake collector. That said, I do not have a problem with keeping snakes in captivity, at least in principle, but I am disturbed by the frequency with which snakes and other reptiles are irresponsibly collected at levels that are unsustainable and even “poached” from protected areas. For me personally, it is enjoyment enough to see, be able to identify, and observe these gorgeous animals in their native habitats, leaving with nothing more than a digital record and my vivid memories of that brief encounter.
When threatened, hognose snakes flatten their head and neck, puff up their body, and hiss loudly.
On my most recent visit, I was hoping to once again see one of the timber rattlers that inhabit these rocky hillsides. I tip-toed up and down the rocky slopes as quietly as I could, but no such luck. On the way back, however, I spotted this colorful eastern hognose snake (Heterodon platirhinos) lying just off the path. Despite its brilliant coloration and vivid markings, it was remarkably well camouflaged and I almost walked right past it. Of course, hognose snakes are well-known for their various threat and defensive displays. I’ve experienced some of these in my previous sightings with other species (death-feigning, mouth bleeding, and foul-smelling emissions), but to my delight I got to experience their most classic behaviors—flattening of the head and neck, puffing of the body, and loud hissing. The snake repeatedly performed these behaviors as I photographed it, and because I persisted the snake apparently concluded that these tactics weren’t working. What happened next was something I was completely unprepared for.
”Sir, what’s your name?”
As the snake began trying to crawl away, it opened its mouth widely…
”Uh, his name is…”
…and out came it’s last meal (obviously a frog, but with the head and front legs already digested, too difficult to identify any further)!
”RRRAAAALLPH!”
p.s. If you didn’t get the joke, watch this clip from the classic Cheech and Chong movie, Up in Smoke.
Beetles In The Bush 