Bollworms rising!

One of the most pernicious pests that U.S. farmers have battled is the larval stage of Helicoverpa zea (Lepidoptera: Noctuidae). This insect is destructive enough to have earned not just one official common name, but four (corn earworm, cotton bollworm, soybean podworm, and tomato fruitworm)—one for each of the crops in which it has attained major pest status. It isn’t only North American farmers, however, that must deal with this pest, but South American farmers as well. For many decades, corn and cotton have been its most important hosts in North America, but in recent years its importance has increased steadily in soybean as well, particularly across the mid-south. In South America, however, it seems satisfied—curiously—to confine its attacks to corn. Lest you think that South American farmers are getting off easy, there are other species of Helicoverpa in South America that are causing problems of their own. Perhaps the most troubling one is H. armigera, the Old World bollworm¹—a sister species to H. zea (Goldsmith & Marec 2010) native to Africa, Asia, and Australia and just as polyphagous as H. zea that was recently found infesting corn, cotton, soybean, and other crops in several areas of Brazil.

¹ Interestingly, in the Old World this species is called the “American bollworm,” despite the fact that it did not come from the Americas at all. I guess neither hemisphere wants to take the blame for this species.

Helicoverpa gelotopeon (South American bollworm) | Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

Helicoverpa gelotopeon (South American bollworm) | Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

While we wait to see what impact H. armigera ends up having in South America, another species of the genus is quietly rising from the ranks of secondary to primary pest further south on the continent. For many years, Helicoverpa gelotopeon (or South American bollworm) has been a sometimes pest of cotton and other crops in Argentina, Chile and Uruguay (Evangelina et al. 2012), but in a situation that mirrors the rise of H. zea on soybean in North America, the incidence of H. gelotopeon has grown during the past few years in the more southern soybean growing areas of South America as well. Like its North American counterpart, this insect causes not only indirect damage by feeding on the foliage of the plant during vegetative stages of growth (reducing photosynthetic capacity of the plant), but also direct damage by feeding on the developing pods during reproductive stages of growth. Predictably (and regrettably), farmers have responded by increasing applications of organophosphate insecticides, but the efficacy of these products—despite their relatively high toxicity—has often been inadequate to prevent yield losses. As a result, other management techniques and technologies will be required to keep this insect from having a major impact on soybean production in the temperate regions of Argentina.

Young larvae feed on foliage (note the very small caterpillar in the lower center area of the leaf).

Young larvae feed on foliage (note the very small caterpillar in lower left area of the leaf).

A mid-instar larvae feeding on soybean foliage.

A mid-instar larvae feeds on soybean foliage and exhibits the black pinacula characteristic of the subfamily.

Larger larvae feed on developing pods, breaching the wall of the pod to consume the seeds within.

Larger larvae feed on developing pods, breaching the wall of the pod to consume the seeds within.

Adults are slightly smaller than H. zea and a little darker with somewhat bolder markings.

The photographs in this post may well be the best—and perhaps even the only ones—available of this species. A Google image search turned up nothing, and have I been unable to find any literature with photographs of either the adults or the larvae and their damage. If you are aware of any please leave a comment with the citation.

REFERENCES:

Goldsmith, M. R. & Marec, F. 2010. Molecular Biology and Genetics of the Lepidoptera. CRC Press, Boca Raton, Florida, 368 pp.

Evangelina, P., F. Crepo & J. C. Gamundi. 2012. Evaluación del daño simulado de “oruga bolillera” Helicoverpa gelotopoeon (Dyar) en estados vegetativos del cultivo de soja. Unpublished report, Instituto Nacional de Tecnología Agropecuaria (INTA), 6 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

These bugs rock!

IMG_2624_enh_1080x720
These stones were given to me recently by a local insect enthusiast who is an admitted collector of all things natural history. According to him, the stones were among numerous items that he was allowed to “salvage” many decades earlier from the home of a similarly inclined individual from the previous generation. He has stored these and other items in his home ever since but now finds himself in the mood to distribute the items he has spent a lifetime collecting. Beyond this, I know nothing of the provenance of these stones or even if they represent something truly artifactual versus just the classroom efforts of a more contemporary school child. I’ll welcome any opinions that may be had, but even if none are received these stones will nicely decorate some little corner of my “museum”—hopefully for decades to come.

IMG_2606_enh_1080x720

IMG_2608_enh_1080x720

IMG_2610_enh_1080x720

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae

The “little soybean weevil”

Lepidopteran caterpillars are without question the most important pests affecting soybean in South America, while stink bugs run a close second in terms of economic impact and as the targets of insecticide applications. There are, however, a number of weevil species (order Coleoptera, family Curculionidae) whose incidence has increased during the past decade or so as the area planted to soybean continues its decade’s long expansion on the continent. The most important of these is Sternechus subsignatus, a  relatively large (and rather attractive black-and-yellow) species that was first detected in southern Brazil in the 1970s. It has since spread to northern Brazil and in recent years has also begun affecting soybean in Salta and Tucumán Provinces of northern Argentina (sometimes considered a distinct species, S. pinguis). Known locally as “picudo grande” (big weevil), adults clip the petiole of leaves and girdle the stems, leading to stand loss. One adult is capable of killing multiple plants, so that even light infestations can result in severe damage.

IMG_2439_enh_1080x720

Promecops carinicollis | Tucumán Province, Argentina

I’ve not yet seen “big weevils” for myself, but there are at least two other species that are showing up in soybean fields, particularly in Salta and Tucumán Provinces. During my recent visit to Argentina I happened upon a soybean field in northern Tucumán infested with one of them, Promecops carinicollis, a few photos of which I show here. This species is much smaller than S. subsignatus and is, thus, called “picudo chico” (little weevil)—certainly an appropriate name for the 3- to 4-mm long adults. While the integument is black, the body is densely covered with flat scales that form irregular white blotches on the elytra and otherwise give the beetle a mottled-brown appearance.

IMG_2436_enh_1080x720

Damage consists of adult feeding around the leaflet margins, giving them a scalloped appearance.

Like S. subsignatus, it is the adults that cause damage to the plants, although instead of the stems and petioles their feeding seems to be confined to the margins of the leaflets. This gives the leaflets a “scalloped edge” appearance that is quite distinctive and unlike the leaf damage caused by other leaf-feeding insects of soybean. The feeding causes a general reduction of the leaf surface area of the plant, which reduces the plant’s capacity to photosynthesize. However, as soybean has a rather high capacity to compensate for foliage loss by growing new foliage, especially during the earlier vegetative stages of growth, it would take rather high pressure by these weevils to cause enough damage to result in yield loss. It may be one of those soybean pests for which insecticide applications are made much more often than is warranted. The most important impact of this insect probably occurs just after seedling emergence, during which time feeding on the cotyledons and first leaves can weaken seedlings enough to cause stand loss.

Promecops carinicollis | Tucumán Province, Argentina

Beginning the process of making more Promecops carinicollis.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

Baffling beetles

Even though I pride myself as a fairly competent coleopterist, I occasionally run into beetles that—despite my best efforts—I just cannot identify them beyond the family level. I don’t feel too bad about that, as the group’s 350,000 to 400,000 described species represent more than a third of all described life forms! Still, with the amount of information now available online combined with traditional print literature, it’s frustrating when I photograph species that seem quite distinctive but fail to show up in any search result. Here are a couple of South American beetles that I’ve pondered over for a year or more now. If you have any thoughts on their identity I would appreciate hearing from you.

Tenebrionidae? | Campinas, São Paulo, Brazil.

Tenebrionidae? | Campinas, São Paulo, Brazil.

This first beetle was encountered January 2011 on the trunk of a tree in the city of Campinas, southeastern Brazil (São Paulo State). I only got this one shot of it before it dropped and disappeared, and except for the bright green color of the head and pronotum it reminds me of some of the long-jointed beetles—formerly the family Lagriidae but now a subfamily of Tenebrionidae (darkling beetles).

Elateridae | Rt 16 nr. Rio Nego, Chaco Province, Argentina

Elateridae | Rt 16 nr. Rio Negro, Chaco Province, Argentina

This is without question a species of click beetle (family Elateridae), but despite its rather distinctive coloration I’ve not found any images that resemble it. I found these beetles fairly commonly on flowers of Solidago chilensis in April 2012 at several localities along Rt 16 in northern Argentina (Chaco Province).

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

Brazilian Bike Adventure

Atlantic Forest

Atlantic Forest in Serra do Mar.

Yesterday I joined my Brazilian colleagues on a bicycling tour from the outskirts of São Paulo to the beaches of the Atlantic Coast. To say that the tour was an ‘adventure’ is an understatement—it was epic! For those not familiar with São Paulo, its 20 million inhabitants make it not only the largest city in Brazil, but also one of the five largest cities in the world. Yet, despite the explosive growth it has seen during the past century, it remains isolated from the Atlantic Coast of southeastern Brazil by the Serra do Mar, a 40-kilometer wide swath of rugged, mountainous terrain and part of the Great Escarpment that runs along much of the eastern coast of Brazil. It is here where some of the last tracts of Atlantic Forest, the second largest forest ecotype in South America after the Amazon, remain. Atlantic Forest once stretched along much of Brazil’s Atlantic coast, turning inland in its southern reaches to Paraguay and the northern tip of Argentina. However, much of the forest, especially in populous southeastern Brazil, has fallen victim to the axe. Only the ruggedness of the Serra do Mar has allowed the Atlantic Forest to survive in such close proximity to one of the world’s most populous cities. Understandably, travel between São Paulo and the coast has been difficult. In former years, vehicles had to snake their way through the mountains along a treacherous 2-lane highway with steep grades and hairpin turns. That highway has since been circumvented by an elevated, double, 4-lane highway of alternating spans and tunnels, and the old highway, now closed to vehicles, is instead used by maintenance crews for the new highway and cyclists who yearn to experience the Atlantic Forest up close and personal.

Our van dropped us off in the outskirts of São Paulo, from where we rode along the main highway a short bit before accessing the old highway. Dropping into the Atlantic Forest was like being magically transported into virgin wilderness. The pavement was so encroached by the forest, steep and slippery in places, that it was hard to imagine it ever served as a link between Brazil’s largest city and its largest port. Heavy rains the previous night made the forest moist and gave it an earthy aroma, and moisture-laden air hung heavy with fog and intermittent drizzle. For a time it seemed we would have an uninterrupted, 40-km downhill freeride; however, just a few kilometers into the ride we encountered the first of what would be many landslides blocking the route. I can honestly say that I’ve never portaged a bike through as rough and tumble a pile of trees, rocks, and mud as I did on this day. Still, perhaps encouraged by the fresh bike tracks that lay before us, we soldiered on. After picking our way through a half-dozen such landslides we came upon a work crew who said there were another 30–40 landslides further down along the route. We were at a tunnel that connected with the main highway, so we decided to play it safe and take the main highway the rest of the way down. That, too, was an adventure, made feasible only by the fact that traffic was crawling at a snail’s pace due to the popularity of the Atlantic beaches with the citizenry of São Paulo. It was enjoyable to swish past the cars as they idled their engines, but we had to navigate about seven kilometers worth of shoulderless tunnels. That would have been impossible in normal traffic, but the congestion made finding room to squeeze by large trucks and buses the biggest problem (and I guess breathing exhaust!). Eventually we made it down into Santos, the largest port city in Brazil, and after picking our way through the center of the city, took a ferry to the beach city of Guarujá. Rain, landslides and traffic had thrown everything they had at us, but we persevered the 53-km trek and watched the sun break through while enjoying our just rewards in a beachside restaurant.

Following are a few more of my favorite photos from the day, and you can see all of them in my Facebook album Brazilian Bike Adventure.

Descending into the forest.

Descending into the forest.

Magical vistas such as this were around every turn of the road.

Magical vistas such as this awaited us around every turn of the road.

Manacá da Serra (Tibouchina mutabilis) was abundant in the forest.

Manacá da Serra (Tibouchina mutabilis) flowered in abundance in the forest.

Elevated roadways bypass the beauty of the forest below them.

Why did the ‘hellgramite’ (order Megaloptera, family Corydalidae) cross the road? (Thanks to dragonflywoman for the ID.)

The first of many landslides that blocked our path.

The first of many landslides that blocked our path.

The new elevated highway snakes through the Serra do Mar. This portion was closed due to landslides.

The new elevated highway snakes through the Serra do Mar. This portion was closed due to landslides.

Outside of the cicada killer, this digger wasp (family Crabronidae) on the  beach at Guarujá is the largest that I have ever seen.

A large digger wasp (family Crabronidae) greets us on the beach at Guarujá.

My Brazilian colleagues and I enjoy some well-deserved refreshments after our 53-km trek!

My Brazilian colleagues and I enjoy some well-deserved refreshments after our 53-km trek!

I may have looked like a nerd still in my cycling clothes, but the wave experience was unforgettable.

I may have looked like a nerd still in my cycling clothes, but the wave experience was unforgettable.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

T.G.I.Flyday: Argentine robber

I’m back in South America for the next 2+ weeks, and though it will be another week before I actually make it into Argentina, I am celebrating my return to that lovely country with photos of Argentinian insects taken during last year’s extended visit but that I haven’t had a chance to share before now. Earlier this week I featured Camponotus sericeiventris (though I prefer the literal translation, “silky-bellied humpbacked ant“)—easily among the most handsome ants that I’ve ever seen and which I encountered in the remnant quebracho forests at Chaco National Park in northern Argentina. Today’s feature is an equally handsome robber fly (order Diptera, family Asilidae), also seen at the park and which landed on a dead log just long enough to allow one good lateral profile shot of the beast in all its hairy splendidness! (Probably it zipped off to impale an Odontocheila tiger beetle in the back of the neck!)

Triorla sp. | Chaco National Park, Argentina

Triorla sp. | Chaco National Park, Argentina

I sent this photo to a few fly guys looking for a more authoritative opinion about its identity, mentioning its resemblance to some of our North American species of Efferia. Herschel Raney agreed that it belonged to at least that group, while Eric Fisher suggested a species in the genus Triorla (an early segregate of Efferia that is now widely regarded as a valid genus). The most recent checklist of robber flies from Argentina (Artigas & Hengst 1999) lists three species in the Efferia group (all in the genus Nerax); however, both Herschel and Eric confirmed my suspicion that Argentina, and especially the north, is not well studied for Asilidae. Eric further suggested that there could be as many as several times the number listed, mainly undescribed but also described from adjacent countries and occurring in Argentina but not yet recorded from there. Also, I had presumed this individual to represent a female since it lacked the distinctly swollen genital capsule (e.g. see this post, presumably another Efferia-group species), but Herschel thought the terminal structure was odd and did not look female.

REFERENCE:

Artigas, J. N. & M. B. Hengst. 1999. Clave ilustrada para los géneros de asílidos argentinos (Diptera: Asilidae). Revista Chilena de Historia Natural 72:107—150.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

The “silky-bellied humpbacked” ant

Last year during my extended work stay in Argentina, I was able to slip away from my duties during the first week of April and spend some time in the city of Corrientes in the northeastern part of the country. The city is one of my favorites in Argentina, but what I love most about it is its convenience as a base camp for exploring some of the habitats in the Grand Chaco ecoregion of northern Argentina. One day I had a chance to visit Chaco National Park about 100 km northwest of the city, site of some of the last remnants of the great quebracho forests that once covered much of northern Argentina. The forest preserved at Chaco NP takes its name from the quebracho colorado chaqueño (Schinopsis balansae) trees that dominate it, standing in defiant contrast to the vast, hot sea of cotton fields and mesquite fence-rows that surrounds it. While hiking a trail through the heart of the forest, I looked down to see a most impressive ant crawling across the forest floor:

Camponotus sericeiventris

Camponotus sericeiventris | Chaco National Park, Argentina

Because of its black color and the striking, silky sheen of the abdomen, I was immediately reminded of the Camponotus mus ants that I had photographed a year earlier further south in Buenos Aires. However, this fellow (er, fella…) was considerably larger than that species, and looking at the photographs later I was also struck by the acute spines at the humeral angles of the pronotum (in C. mus the humeral angles were obtuse) and the flattened legs. All of this combined to make it one of the most handsome ants that I had ever seen! I posted the above photo on my Facebook page asking for ID help, and James Trager quickly responded that the ant represents Camponotus sericeiventris, which translates roughly to “silky-bellied humpbacked” ant. Now there’s a common name I can get behind.

Camponotus sericeiventris

Of course, it turns out that I could have easily determined the species on my own using the characters I had already noted—primarily the acute spines. Googling “camponotus acute spines” retrieves as its first result a paper by Wheeler (1931) that discusses this ant and a newly discovered (at the time) cerambycid beetle, Eplophorus velutinus [now Euderces velutinus] mimicking the ant (Fisher 1931). As soon as I read Wheeler’s first paragraph I knew I had the right species:

Camponotus (Myrmepomis) sericeiventris, owing to its size, wide distribution and dense covering of silver or golden pubescence, is one of the handsomest and most conspicuous ants of the American tropics.

Apparently this ant is a popular choice of models for mimics in a number of insect groups. Lenko (1964) reported another cerambycid beetle, Pertyia sericea, as a mimic of C. sericieventris (the similarity of species epithets being no coincidence), and friend and colleague Henry Hespenheide has not only described a zygopine weevil, Copturus paschalis, from Costa Rica as a mimic of this ant (Hespenheide 1984) but also postulated mimicry by Apilocera cleriformis [now Euderces cleriformis] and three other species of Cerambycidae collected by him in central Panama. Henry further noted mimics in the families Cleridae and Mutillidae and the fact that all of the beetle mimics of this arboreally foraging ant are themselves woodborers or predators of woodborers as larvae.

It is interesting that Fisher (1931), in his description of E. velutinus, made no mention of the mimicry, while Wheeler (1931) in his paper about C. sericeiventris discussed this in great detail. He further noted the diversity of cerambycids here in our North American fauna that mimic ants. These include species in the genera Clytoleptus, Euderces, Cyrtophorus, Tilloclytus and—most strikingly—Cyrtinus pygmaeus, our smallest species of Cerambycidae which occurs on dead wood among small ants such as Lasius americanus, and Michthisoma heterodoxum which resembles small Camponotus pennsylvanicus workers. I’ve not yet encountered M. heterodoxum, which seems restricted to the southeastern Coastal Plain, but I have beaten C. pygmaeus from dead branches and can personally attest to the effectiveness of their mimicry—some slight something about the way they moved made me question my immediate assumption that they were ants and caused me to take a closer look at them before I shook them off the beating sheet. I wonder how many times before that I collected this species without realizing it!

REFERENCE:

Fisher, W. S. 1931. A new ant-like cerambycid beetle from Honduras. Psyche 38:99–101.

Hespenheide, H. A. 1984. New Neotropical species of putative ant-mimicking weevils (Coleoptera: Curculionidae: Zygopinae). The Coleopterists Bulletin 38(4):313–321.

Lenko, K. 1964. Sobre o mimetismo do cerambicideo Pertyia sericea (Perty, 1830) com Camponotus sericeiventris (Guerin, 1830). Papéis Avulsos de Zoologia (São Paulo) 16:89–93.

Wheeler, W. M. 1931. The ant Camponotus (Myrmepomis) sericeiventris Guérin and its mimic. Psyche 38:86–98.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013