entomology

Why I Roamed the Marsh at Night

/ Ted C. MacRae / 22 Comments

Tetracha floridana (Florida Metallic Tiger Beetle) | Pinellas Co., Florida

For two years I waited.  The narrow strip of coastal scrub and mangrove marsh along the intracoastal waterway behind my sister-in-law’s condominium in Seminole, Florida had been an unexpected surprise during my first visit in August 2009.  Despite its small size and urban surroundings, it proved to be a good spot for tiger beetles, including Ellipsoptera marginata (Margined Tiger Beetle) and the closely related E. hamata lacerata (Gulf Coast Tiger Beetle).  Also living there was a much rarer tiger beetle—the Florida-endemic species Tetracha floridana (Florida Metallic Tiger Beetle), but I did not know this at the time.  In fact, had I not happened upon some larval burrows as I was leaving the preserve and decided to collect a few and rear them to adults, I would still not know they were there.  Only after the two larvae that made it back to St. Louis alive emerged as adults in their rearing container did I realize what I had found.  The reason I had not seen any adults during my visit was simple—they, like all members of the genus to which they belong, are strictly nocturnal!  Nevertheless, I knew I would return sooner or later and have another shot at seeing adults of this species in the wild.

A male, distinguishable by the thick brushy pads on the front tarsi.

And return I did.  My wife and I decided fairly early this year that we wanted to return to Florida for our summer vacation.  She likes the beach and her sister, and the kids like the beach and their aunt.  I don’t like the beach so much (though my sister-in-law is pretty cool), but I love Florida for its diversity of tiger beetle species and their high level of endemism.  During my 2009 trip I managed to find nine species, which, in addition to T. floridana, included also the very rare and potentially threatened Cicindelidia highlandensis (Highlands Tiger Beetle), known only from the Lake Wales Ridge in central Florida, and the (near) endemic Ellipsoptera hirtilabris (Moustached Tiger Beetle).  This year I set my sight on several other endemics—e.g. Cicindelidia floridana (Miami Tiger Beetle)—and near-endemics—e.g. Cicindelidia scabrosa (Scabrous Tiger Beetle).  My searches for these targets would have to wait for a few days, but for T. floridana I had only to wait until nightfall on the day we arrived.  The bleating chorus of tree frogs was my signal, and as the rest of the family retired to their bedrooms I geared up with my collecting fanny pack, camera bag and headlamp and headed out to the marsh.

The species lacks the violaceous reflections found on the elytra of T. carolina.

As I mentioned in my previous post, it was a little unnerving to walk into the marsh surrounded by darkness and greeted by scuttling hordes of sea slaters.  The anticipation of finally seeing T. floridana, however, was more than enough motivation to forge onward while deliberately scanning the ground with my headlamp.  For some amount of time I focused on the more barren areas, which is where I would have expected the adults to occur, but only after I also began scanning some of the sparsely vegetated ground—typically slightly elevated above the moister and more barren areas—did I see the first adult.  Its agile dash into and through the vegetation upon my approach was a little surprising and required more effort than I expected to finally capture it.  Elation!  Finding rare species is always a treat, but it is extra special when you find one where nobody previously knew it existed.  Over the course of the next 1½ hours (as well as the following night and two nights after that) I would see countless adults, giving me comfort that I could collect a reasonable voucher series without causing negative impacts on the population.

A female oviposits in the soil amongst the sparse, salt-tolerant vegetation.

I had hoped to see mating pairs but never did; however, I did find a female in the act of oviposition.  Consistent with the apparent adult preference for sparsely vegetated areas rather than barren ground, the female was nestled amongst the vegetation while she excavated a hole for the egg she would lay.  On the last night that I visited the marsh, I focused my efforts on finding larval burrows, starting in the area where I had seen them two years ago.  I only found a few but succeeded in fishing one 3rd-instar larva out of its burrow.  You see, even though I photographed one two years ago, the larva of this species remains undescribed in the literature.  Since I allowed the two larvae I had collected to complete their development to adulthood, I still lacked preserved specimens that could be used for the basis of a description.  I now had one, but for a formal description it would be better to have at least a few examples.  Remembering that I had seen the female ovipositing amongst vegetation rather than out in the open, I began searching the nearby vegetated areas for burrows.  This approach was met with better success, and from the dozen or so burrows that I was able to find, I succeeded in fishing out two more 3rd-instars.  I already have several preserved larvae of Tetracha virginica (Virginia Metallic Tiger Beetle) and a single T. carolina (Carolina Metallic Tiger Beetle) collected in southeastern Missouri by my good friend Kent Fothergill—this small series of T. floridana now leaves me lacking only the also-undescribed T. impressa (Upland Metallic Tiger Beetle) among the four North American (sensu stricto) species of Tetracha.  I will be anxious to compare the larvae of T. floridana I now have with those of T. carolina and T. virginica in an effort to find species-specific characters.

This male is sporting some very impressive teeth on his mandibles.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011

Creepy Crawly Crustaceans

/ Ted C. MacRae / 11 Comments

During my early August trip to the Gulf Coast of Florida, I spent several nights exploring the small mangrove marsh behind my sister-in-law’s condominium in Seminole. There were other reasons for me wanting to do this that will be revealed in a future post, but suffice it to say that, to this land-locked Midwesterner, the intertidal zone between land and sea is a strange and weird place. The plants are strange—long aerial roots, salt exudate-covered leaves, succulent jointed stems; and the animals are strange—molluscs and crustaceans featuring just as prominently as the insects with which I am more familiar. Even the smells are strange. Add to that the cover of darkness and it seems downright alien. For me, stumbling through the marsh with only the bright tunnel of light from my headlamp to reveal whatever lurks in the surrounding blackness seemed like a walk on another planet—new, exciting, and a tad unnerving!


As I took those first tentative steps through the marsh, one of the first things I noticed scuttling across the moist ground were what looked to me like giant wood lice.  Terrestrial isopods (class Malacostraca, order Isopoda) are nothing new to me—”roly-polys” and wood lice are common where I live, but I have never seen any as large as these, measuring as much as 25-30 mm in length (that’s an inch or more, folks!), not even counting their quite long antennae and uropoda.  They were also quite numerous, abundant actually.  I must confess to feeling a little creeped out at first upon seeing them—I could just imagine these strange, alien creatures suddenly swarming all over me and devouring the flesh from my body under the cover of darkness.  Okay, it was more of a fleeting thought than a palpable fear, but it has been awhile since I’ve encountered an arthropod with which I am so completely unfamiliar.  During the course of the night I photographed a number of individuals, not knowing what characters might be most important for identification and hoping that maximizing the number of photographs would increase my odds of getting the right shot.  Once I sat down to figure out what they were, the answer came quickly, as there is really nothing quite like sea slaters (genus Ligia).  Several species of these apparently common residents of intertidal zones are found on both the Atlantic and Pacific Coasts (Schmalfuss 2003), where they hide during the day and come out at night to scavenge on algae and whatever other organic matter they can find.




Despite my initial thought that a species ID might not be possible, I was eventually able to determine with a fair degree of confidence that the individuals in these photos represent L. baudiniana.  This species is distinguished from two other species in the genus in Florida (Schultz and Johnson 1984) by the combination of its long uropoda (L. oceanica—introduced from Europe—has the uropoda much less than 2/3 the length of the body) and brush-like structures on the first pair of legs of the male, visible in the middle photograph above (L. exotica males lack these structures and possess instead a process at the distal end of the leg). These characters are illustrated nicely in Richardson (1905), which despite its great age seems to still to be a relevant resource for the family in North America.


Congratulations to Morgan Jackson, who wins Super Crop Challenge #8 with 11 points and distinguishes himself as the only participant to correctly identify the species.  Dave and Roy complete the podium with 9 points each.  In the overalls, two-time Session Champ Ben Coulter earned 8 pts to retain his lead with 22 pts, while Mr. Phiddipus and Roy move into a tie for 2nd place just 4 pts off the lead.  It’s still early, but this is shaping up to be a competitive session!

In the next post, I’ll reveal the real reason I was so interested in searching this marsh at night…

REFERENCES:

Richardson, H.  1905.  A monograph on the isopods of North America.  Bulletin of the United States National Museum 54:i–liii, 1–727.

Schmalfuss, H. 2003. World catalog of terrestrial isopods (Isopoda: Oniscidea). Stuttgarter Beiträge zur Naturkunde (Serie A) 654:1–341 [revised and updated online version].

Schultz, G. A. and C. Johnson. 1984. Terrestrial isopod crustaceans from Florida (Oniscoidea). Tylidae, Ligiidae, Halophilosciidae, Philosciidae, and Rhyscotidae. Journal of Crustacean Biology 4(1):154-171. 

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011

Super Crop Challenge #8

/ Ted C. MacRae / 23 Comments

Here’s a face you don’t see that often (or at least I don’t).  There’s little doubt about what body parts are shown here, so rather than awarding points for naming structures we’ll treat this as a standard ID Challenge.  However, the categories are a little different from the usual—2 pts each for class, order, family, and genus (I suspect a species ID may not be possible, at least from this photo).  Standard challenge rules apply, including moderated comments (to give everyone a chance to take part) and bonus points awarded on a discretionary basis for a variety of reasons, e.g. as tie-breakers if multiple participants arrive at the same correct answer, providing additional relevant information, humor, etc.  

Reminder: I am quite the pedant—points can be awarded or taken away depending on one’s attention to detail.  Also, when all else fails pity points will be awarded.


Good luck!

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011

The (almost) Florida-endemic Cicindelidia scabrosa

/ Ted C. MacRae / 9 Comments

The recently rediscovered Cicindelidia floridana (Miami Tiger Beetle) may have been the highlight of my 48-hour early August blitz through Florida, but it was by no means the only Florida-endemic that I hoped to find during the trip.  In fact, the day before I saw C. floridana I found the species it was formerly considered a subspecies of, C. scabrosa (Scabrous Tiger Beetle), itself an almost Florida-endemic (its distribution extends just north of the border into extreme southeastern Georgia).  I had word that I might find the species in sand pine scrub habitat along the Gulf Coast around Lower Suwanee National Wildlife Refuge and Cedar Key Scrub State Preserve (Levy Co.).  This area lies very near yet another locality (where I was hoping to find yet another Florida-endemic), further justifying my decision to travel several hours north the day before I was to retrace my route back to the south and then continue on down to Naples to meet up with Dave Brzoska and Chris Wirth for the trip to Miami to see C. floridana.

Cicindelidia scabrosa (Scabrous Tiger Beetle) | Levy Co., Florida

Cicindelidia scabrosa is one of four small, sand-dwelling species with red venters collectively referred to as the abdominalis-species group (Brzoska et al. 2011).  The nominate species, C. abdominalis (Eastern Pinebarrens Tiger Beetle), is the most widespread member of the group, occurring across the Southeastern U.S. Coastal Plain from Maryland and New Jersey to Louisiana (Pearson et al. 2006).  The three remaining species are Florida-endemics (C. floridana and C. highlandensis—Highlands Tiger Beetle) or near endemic (C. scabrosa), presumably evolving during the Pleistocene Epoch (1.8 million to 10,000 years ago) at a time when fluctuating sea levels repeatedly isolated peninsular Florida from the mainland.  I found both C. abdominalis and C. highlandensis during my 2009 trip, so finding C. floridana and C. scabrosa on this trip means that I have now seen all four members of the abdominalis-species group.

Black, sculptured elytra and dense lateral bands of pronotal setae distinguish this species.

There is little doubt about the distinctiveness of C. scabrosa compared to C. abdominalis and C. highlandensis, as neither of the latter two species exhibit the distinctly scabrous elytra or rows of flattened setae on the sides of the pronotum exhibited by C. scabrosa.  The distinction of C. scabrosa from C. floridana, however, is more subtle—C. scabrosa is shiny black and always exhibits a post median marginal spot anterior to the apical lunule, while C. floridana is shiny green and usually lacks the post median marginal spot.  In addition, the legs of C. floridana are somewhat lighter in coloration than those of C. scabrosa.  The difference in coloration is subtle in preserved specimens but obvious in living individuals.  After seeing the C. scabrosa in the field one day and C. floridana the next, my first thought regarding the latter was, “Wow, that’s different!”—a result of the brilliant coppery highlights that are quite evident in living individuals but apparently fade in preserved specimens.

Sand pine scrub, habitat for Cicindelidia scabrosa and Ellipsoptera hirtilabris

The distinction between C. scabrosa and C. floridana is not limited to subtle morphological characters—included also are differences in habitat, distribution, and seasonal occurrence.  Cicindelidia scabrosa occurs broadly across the Florida peninsula in sand pine scrub, a xeromorphic plant community featuring an open canopy of sand pine (Pinus clausa) growing on well-drained, infertile, sandy soils (Brzoska et al. 2011).  The species is absent, however, from much of south Florida where the wet areas of the Everglades limit availability of suitable habitat.  Cicindelidia floridana, on the other hand, is restricted to a small area of Miami-Dade County and parts of the Keys where pine rockland habitat, a savanna-like forest of Florida slash pine (Pinus elliotti var. densa) and scrub understory, can be found growing on limestone outcrops.  The photos in this post were taken on an open 2-track through sand pine scrub near Cedar Key Scrub State Preserve.  Occurring here in asscociation with C. scabrosa was another (almost) Florida-endemic tiger beetle, Ellipsoptera hirtilabris (Moustached Tiger Beetle), which I have also seen in association with C. abdominalis and C. highlandensis (but not C. floridana).

The obligatory face shot!

It is perhaps redundant for me to state that it was extraordinarily hot while I photographed these beetles.  Temperatures were already approaching 90°F when I found the first individuals, and by mid-day when they finally disappeared it was nearly 100°F.  Add to that the mid-summer Florida humidity, and I was about as soaked as I ever get. It’s a photographer’s nightmare—trying to protect expensive gear while scrumming through the sand and sweating profusely, all the while still trying to get the perfect shot!  The beetles were smart enough to call it a day at 12:30 p.m., and I must say I didn’t mind having to get into an air-conditioned car, chug a quart of ice-cold Gatorade, and spend the next several hours not broiling under the hot Florida sun while making the long drive south.

REFERENCES:

Brzoska, D., C. B. Knisley, and J. Slotten.  2011.  Rediscovery of Cicindela scabrosa floridana Cartwright (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae) and its elevation to species level. Insecta Mundi0162:1–7.

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

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011

Predator or Prey?

/ Ted C. MacRae / 25 Comments

Ellipsoptera hamata lacerata | Dixie Co., Florida

Everyone knows that tiger beetles are predators, but look closely at the underside of the head of this female Ellipsoptera hamata lacerata (Gulf Beach Tiger Beetle), photographed in a coastal marsh in Dixie Co., Florida earlier this month.  See the ant head attached by its mandibles to the base of the tiger beetle’s left maxillary palpus?  Detached ant heads latched onto the palp or antenna of a tiger beetle are a fairly common sight—Pearson and Vogler (2001) show the head of an ant attached to the antenna of Eunota togata (Cloaked Tiger Beetle), and Pearson et al. (2006) show one attached to the antennae of Cicindela formosa (Big Sand Tiger Beetle).  I’ve also photographed Cylindera celeripes (Swift Tiger Beetle) with an ant head attached to its antenna.  Pearson and Vogler (2001) and Pearson et al. (2006) both suggest that the ant heads are the result of predation attempts by groups of ants attempting to overpower and kill the tiger beetle, making the ants the predators and the tiger beetles the prey.

Note ant head attached by its mandibles to the base of the tiger beetle's left maxillary palpus.

Although some ants are well known for their predatory horde behavior, I’m not sure I buy this as an explanation for the common occurrence of ant heads attached to tiger beetles.  Tiger beetles themselves often prey on ants, and while I have seen numerous tiger beetles with ant heads attached to them, I have never seen one actually being overpowered by ants (scavenging an already dead tiger beetle, yes—but not overpowering and killing one).  Moreover, the ant heads are nearly always attached to the base of an antenna or palpus—right next to the tiger beetle’s mouth, and almost never on more distal parts of the antennae or other parts of the body.  If the ants were attempting to prey on the tiger beetle, wouldn’t they also (if not even more commonly) be found attached to the tiger beetle’s legs or soft intersegmental membranes?  And how would the ants have come to be decapitated while in the act of attempting to overpower the beetle?  I suggest it is more likely that the ants were prey, latching onto the nearest part of their killer’s body in a last ditch attempt to avoid their inevitable fate.  The antennal and palpal base are about the only tiger beetle body parts that would be within reach of an ant in a tiger beetle’s toothy grasp.  While the rest of the ant was consumed, the head remained because it was firmly attached to the beetle.

I realize that an identification based only on the detached head of an ant may be difficult, but if one is possible it would be appreciated.  The ant head shown in Pearson and Vogler (2001) was identified as Polyergus sp.

REFERENCES:

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

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

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011

Photographing the Newly Rediscovered Cicindelidia floridana

/ Ted C. MacRae / 21 Comments

Cicindelidia floridana | Richmond Heights area, Miami-Dade Co., Florida

When Brzoska et al. (2011) announced the rediscovery of Cicindelidia floridana last April (and also provided convincing evidence for considering it a full species), I could hardly contain my excitement. At a time when increasing numbers of species are being reported in decline or going extinct, the news that this small jewel of a beetle had somehow managed to survive in tiny chunks of remnant habitat (completely surrounded by the sprawling metropolis of Miami) after having not been seen for more than half a century and presumed extinct (Pearson et al. 2006) was cause for celebration.  For me, the timing couldn’t have been better as I was already planning a visit to Florida later in the summer to spend a little time with my family and—of course—search for some of Florida’s several endemic tiger beetle species.  The precise locations where C. floridana have been found have not been publicly disclosed (for obvious reasons), but when I contacted lead author Dave Brzoska and told him of my plans to be in Florida this summer and my interest in seeing the beetles, he graciously offered to take me to the sites himself.  Expedition turned to party when Chris Wirth, author of the cicindelocentric blog Cicindela, made arrangements to fly down from Virginia and join Dave and I on our trip.  This would be Chris’ second visit to see the beetles, having been one of the very lucky first few to see it after its rediscovery while assisting second author Barry Knisley on the initial surveys that were conducted.  For me, it was a cicindelophile’s dream come true—a day in the field with Dave (whom I had not seen in more than 25 years), meeting Chris for the first time, and looking for and (hopefully) photographing one of North America’s rarest tiger beetles.

Pine rockland habitat for Cicindelidia floridana.

Adults beetles frequent sparsely vegetated sandy exposures in the palmetto understory.

After a delightful evening looking at meticulously curated specimens in Dave’s astounding collection, the three of us left early the following morning from his home in Naples to make the 2½-hr drive to Miami.  Temperatures in south Florida during early August can soar as the day progresses, and as they do the beetles—already flighty and difficult to observe—become even more so before eventually taking refuge under debris.  We arrived at the first site right at mid-morning, at which time I was allowed to remove my blindfold (just kidding!).  One of the features that distinguishes this species from C. scabrosa is its habitat—south Florida pine rockland as opposed to the more widespread peninsular sand pine scrub habitat frequented by C. scabrosa.  Pine rockland is a fire-adapted community composed of an open canopy of south Florida slash pine (Pinus elliottii var. densa) and a diverse understory of cabbage palm (Sabal palmetto) and other shrubs.  As I readied my camera gear, Dave told me to look for small exposures in the understory and then watch them for any sign of movement.  The adult beetles, despite their brilliant coloration, are among the smallest tiger beetle species and are exceedingly difficult to detect amongst the vegetation and debris covering the soil.  I could have just let Dave look for the beetle first while I tagged along and then let him “show” them to me, but I wanted to find them for myself, so I struck out on my own and started searching.

Shiny green coloration and reduced elytral maculation distinguish this species from C. scabrosa.

It wasn’t long before I heard Dave and Chris call out that they had seen one, and while the temptation was great to go over to where they were and look at what they had already found, I stayed the course and continued searching on my own.  Finally, I saw one!  It was gorgeous and brilliantly colored—much more copperish in appearance than I had expected (Dave later explained that this is something seen better in the live beetles and not so well in preserved specimens).  Deciding how to approach an unfamiliar tiger beetle for photography is always a crap shoot—until one gets a feel for its behavior and the way it reacts to movement it is difficult to know precisely how to approach it.  I had gone ahead and tempted fate by mounting my 65mm macro lens and its very short working distance, so I would need to draw on the entirely of my experience in photographing tiger beetles to figure out how to get close enough to these beetles to photograph them.  I hadn’t even gotten down on my knees yet before the first adult took flight and disappeared before my eyes.  Knowing what to look for now, I continued searching and found another adult after a short time—with the same result!  Beetle after beetle appeared before me on the sparsely vegetated sand openings and then zipped away well before I had the camera in position.  Finally, by about the 10th beetle that I saw I found one that seemed a little more cooperative (or maybe I had just finally learned how to move in on them).  I carefully, slowly layed down on the ground and got the camera in position as the beetle skitted here and there, obliviously feeding on the occasional ant, then located it in the viewfinder and started firing off shot after shot.  The two photos above represent my favorites from that series and well show not only the elytral sculpturing and flattened pronotal setae that distinguish both this species and C. scabrosa from the other members of the group (C. abdominalis and C. highlandensis), but also the bright greenish coloration, reduced elytral maculation, and lighter leg coloration that Brzoska et al. (2011) used as justification for elevation to a full species distinct from C. scabrosa.

Cicindelidia floridana adults mating.

After failing to get more shots of the next 10 or so adults that I found, I saw a male hop on top of a female and attempt to mate.  I quickly got into position to photograph them, but just as I got them framed they uncoupled and ran their separate ways.  I figured I had probably lost my only chance to photograph a mating pair, but shortly afterwards I encountered another couple that was already engaged.  I saw them before they became disturbed and moved, and as a result I found it relatively (relatively!) easy to get in position and begin photographing without alarming them.  Tiger beetles are often encountered coupled but not actively mating, as the males will often ‘mate guard’ a female for an extended period after mating to prevent other males from mating with her (in many beetles, the last male to mate with a female stands a greater chance of fertizilizing the eggs she lays) (Pearson and Vogler 2001).  This couple, however, was actively engaged as evidenced by the exserted male genitalia firmly penetrating the female genital opening.

Genitalia actively engaged.

I watched the mating pair for a period of time and notice that at times the male held the female more tightly with his front legs, while at other times he held his front legs extended widely out to the sides.  I have seen this same behavior in nearly every tiger beetle species in which I have observed mating pairs and have yet to find or intuit an explanation.  The male has dense, brush-like pads on the undersides of the front tarsi, which presumably are used to aid in grasping the female during mating and may also possibly aid in signaling during courtship.  Perhaps extending the legs to the sides is done at times when the female is not struggling to dislodge the male (itself an interesting subject), allowing them to serve a tactile function to better warn against intruding males.

Sometimes the male held his forelegs against the female...

...while other times the forelegs were extended widely to the sides.

All told we spent about 2½ hours at the site, and I estimate that I saw a total of approximately 30 beetles.  Some may have been the same as those I had seen before, since I tended to focus my searches in three small areas of sandy exposures not too distant from each other.  Chris and Dave each worked separate areas as well, also seeing a good number of beetles and suggesting that the population at this site, despite the limited extent, is quite good.  Puddles of water on the road as we entered the site indicated that the site had received recent rains, which may have been at least partly responsible for the level of adult activity observed. We drove by additional pine rockland remnants in the vicinity before heading back to Naples, some of which are known to contain the beetle and others that still need additional survey to determine the presence of the beetle and its status. With an extent of suitable habitat that is among the smallest of all North American tiger beetles, I suspect that C. floridana will be a good candidate for listing on the Endangered Species List. It will be a second chance for the beetle—and for us to see if we will be able to muster the will to save a species once thought extinct from actually becoming so.

Me with Dave "Dr. Tiger Beetle" Brzoska.

Tiger beetle photographer extraordinaire Chris Wirth.

Congratulations to Ben Coulter, who returns to his winning form and takes this first round in the current BitB Challenge Session (#4) with 14 points. Dave Hubble takes 2nd with 12 points, while Mr. Phidippus and FlaPak tie for the final podium spot with 10 points each.  Nine other participants tested their skills, and if you didn’t play, they’ve all now got the jump on you!

REFERENCES:

Brzoska, D., C. B. Knisley, and J. Slotten.  2011.  Rediscovery of Cicindela scabrosa floridana Cartwright (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae) and its elevation to species level. Insecta Mundi 0162:1–7.

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

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

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011

ID Challenge #10

/ Ted C. MacRae / 39 Comments

It’s time to begin Session #4 of the BitB Challenge Series.  Ben Coulter won Sessions #1 and #2 but was finally unseated by Max Barclay in Session #3.  We start Session #4 with a straight up ID Challenge.  Unlike previous ID Challenges, however, the order and family are gimmes this time, so I’m going to take them off the table and award double (4) points each for the correct genus and species (suggestion: being a stickler for details will increase your chances for full points).  Standard challenge rules apply, including moderated comments (to give everyone a chance to take part) and possible bonus points for being the first to guess correctly (if multiple people offer the same correct answers), offering additional relevant information, or—as always—the ability to make me chuckle.

Reminder: nobody walks away empty-handed, so it pays to try even if you think you’re stumped.  The pity points you earn in IDC#10 could make a difference in the final standings at the end of Session #4.

Good luck!


Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2011