Desmocerus palliatus – elderberry borer

Desmocerus palliatus (elderberry borer), Squaw Creek Natl. Wildlife Refuge, Missouri.

Last June I made two trips to the Loess Hills in northwestern Missouri to survey additional sites for Cylindera celeripes (swift tiger beetle), which my colleague Chris Brown and I had discovered in some of the area’s few remaining loess hilltop prairie remnants the previous year. One of these potential new sites was  Squaw Creek National Wildlife Refuge, where a few tiny slivers of hilltop prairie can still be found on the fingers of loess bluffs that border the refuge’s several thousand acres of restored wetlands that famously host large concentrations of snow geese and bald eagles during the fall and spring migrations.  On the first visit, I had arranged to meet with Corey Kudrna, Refuge Operations Specialist, who was kind enough to take several hours out of his day to personally guide me to each of the site’s loess hilltop prairie remnants. 

As we crossed the highway right-of-way at the base of the bluffs on our way to the one of the remnants, we passed through a large patch of common elderberry, Sambucus nigra ssp. canadensis.  Anytime I see patches of this plant, especially in June, I immediately think of Desmocerus palliatus (elderberry borer) – a spectacularly colored longhorned beetle (family Cerambycidae) that breeds exclusively in the living stems and roots of this plant.  It is not a particularly rare species, but for some reason I have not had much success in finding this species.  In my close to three decades of collecting beetles, I had encountered perhaps a half dozen individuals – never more than two at the same time.  Still, when I get the chance to look at elderberry I look for this beetle, and when I did so this time I was delighted to see one within a few moments of entering the patch.  I was ecstatic when I saw another one almost immediately after the first, and I was stunned when I realized that they were all around me!  Good fortune continued on my subsequent visit two weeks later, when I was able to spend a little more time trying to get a good field photograph.  Wind was a problem, the beetles were easily alarmed, and their tendency to rest in the upper reaches of the plant made it difficult to brace myself and the camera while shooting, making this a rather difficult subject to get a good photograph of.  The photo shown here is literally the last of around two dozen that I took and is the only one that I really like.

Many cerambycid beetles are mimics of other more noxious species, mostly ants and wasps.  However, elderberry borers appear to be the exception in that they are themselves noxious.  The cobalt blue and bright orange coloration of the adults screams aposematic (warning) coloration, and it is reasonable to assume that they accumulate in their bodies for defensive purposes the cyanogenic glucosides produced by elderberry plants (Huxel 2000).  Even their movements are those of a chemically protected model – lumbering and clumsy, without the alert evasiveness usually seen with other flower longhorn species.  Presumably this species participates in a Müllerian mimicry complex involving netwinged beetles (family Lycidae, particularly species in the genus Calopteron) and perhaps Pyromorpha dimidiata (orange-patched smoky moth, family Zygaenidae) as well, and it may serve as a Batesian model for the equally colorful but completely innocuous Lycomorpha pholus (black-and-yellow lichen moth, family Arctiidae).

Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ 100mm macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/10), Canon MT-24EX flash w/ Sto-Fen diffusers.

REFERENCE:

Huxel, G. R.  2000.  The effect of the Argentine ant on the threatened valley elderberry longhorn beetle.  Biological Invasions 2:81–85.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Cicindela pulchra on white

Two more photographs taken with my new diffuser, this time the spectacular Cicindela pulchra (beautiful tiger beetle). Which one do you like better?

Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ 100mm macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/16), Canon MT-24EX flash w/ oversized concave diffuser. Standard post-processing (levels, unsharp mask).

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Forgotten Foto Friday: Centruroides vittatus

I got this idea from Doug Taron over at Gossamer Tapestry, who credits Steve Borichevsky at Shooting my Universe for an occasional feature called Forgotten Photo Friday (hopefully my use of the alternative spelling “Foto” won’t be considered too presumptuous).  Perfect timing, as I recently ran across these photos of Centruroides vittatus (striped bark scorpion) that I took last fall after finding him secreted under a rock in a dolomite glade at White River Balds Natural Area in extreme southwest Missouri.  One other photo from the series did make it onto the blog last year – an extreme closeup of his seemingly “smiling” face (see A face only a mother could love), and while these photos are less extreme, I think they still deserve to be shared nevertheless.



One thing that strikes me about this individual is how marvelously well-matched is his coloration with that of the surrounding rocks – a perfect example of the cryptic coloration that characterizes most members of the family (Buthidae) to which this species belongs.

Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ 100mm macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13-16), Canon MT-24EX flash (1/4 ratio) w/ Sto-Fen. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

A “leafless” leaf-footed bug

Merocoris distinctus feeding on flower stem of Coreopsis lanceolata.

This is Merocoris distinctus, a true bug in the family Coreidae whose members are usually recognized by their distinctive flattened hind tibiae (and hence the common name, leaf-footed bugs). This diminutive species, however, lacks that character, instead sporting strangely curved hind tibiae along with club-shaped (incrassate) hind femora. It’s a chunky little species – much smaller than the typical leaf-footed bugs seen across North America, and is most often encountered in grassland habitats where it feeds on herbaceous plants such as goldenrod, Solidago spp. (Slater and Baranowski 1978). This individual was seen probing the upper flower stem of lanceleaf tickseed, Coreopsis lanceolata, during May of last year at Shaw Nature Reserve in east-central Missouri. I’m not sure how well the life history of this species is understood, but I did find one interesting record of twelve individuals feeding gregariously on a dead chicken (Engelhardt 1912)! Apparently, feeding on carrion and other extra-phytophagous foods such as bird droppings and dung is a not uncommon practice among the Coreidae and closely related Alydidae (Adler and Wheeler 1984).

I kind of lucked out with this shot – I’d just gotten my new camera two weeks earlier and can’t say I really knew what I was doing at this point. I had first noticed and photographed the bug sitting on top of the flower but totally blew the exposure due to the flower’s bright yellow color.  My clumsy approach also caused the insect to move under the flower, where I watched it settle down and begin feeding before trying another shot. The dorsal surface of this species is mottled gray and brown, allowing the bug to blend in with most backgrounds. The underside of the body, however, is thickly matted with white hair, providing a very nice contrast with the black background that I stumbled upon achieved in this photo to emphasize the distinctive appearance of this often-overlooked insect.

Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ 100mm macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/14), Canon MT-24EX flash (1/4 ratio), undiffused. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).

REFERENCES:

Adler, P. H. and A. G. Wheeler.  1984. Extra-phytophagous food sources of Hemiptera Heteroptera: Bird droppings, dung, and carrion.  Journal of the Kansas Entomological Society 57(1):21-27.

Engelhardt, G. P. 1912. A hemipteron on carrion.  Journalof the New York Entomological Society 20:294.

Slater, J. A. and R. M. Baranowski. 1978. How to Know the True Bugs. W. C. Brown Company Publishers, 256 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Saltatorial sidetracks

One thing I’ve realized during these past several years of fall collecting is that there are more than just tiger beetles to capture my interest as the field season enters its final days.  The late season floral burst of goldenrods (Solidago spp.) and tall thoroughwort (Eupatorium altissimum) brings forth a multitude of bees, flies, wasps, and soldier beetles.  Megacyllene robiniae, the locust borer (family Cerambycidae), is also a pleasant, if not pedestrian sight on the goldenrod as well, but if one is lucky to find goldenrod near a patch of Amorpha fruticosa (indigo bush), then its larger, more boldly marked and infinitely more exciting congener M. decora (indigo borer) might also be seen.  Nothing, however, seems to match the diversity and abundance during fall of the great order Orthoptera – grasshoppers, katydids, and crickets.  This is particularly true in the Ozark glades and Great Plains grasslands where I’ve spent the majority of my fall collecting time.  Perhaps it is because of their size – for the most part they are relatively large insects compared to the beetles I normally study, or maybe it is their pervasive reliance on sound – singing in the grass, rasping in the trees, snapping their wings in flight.  Bold and conspicuous, they demand attention.

Increasingly, I’m finding these fall hoppers harder and harder to resist, especially grasshoppers of the family Acrididae.  Until now I don’t think I’ve given grasshoppers their due respect – compared to my beetles they always seemed so… primitive.  No horns, no jeweled, metallic sculpturing, no over-sized jaws, no unique morphological specializations of any kind other than enlarged, saltatorial (modified for jumping) hind legs – they sport the quintessential ‘general’ insect body plan (open up any college introductory entomology textbook, and what do you see illustrated in the general morphology chapter… a grasshopper!).  Even their movements seemed to me somehow mechanical and robotic.  I always brushed them off as just basic insects, unrefined and uninteresting.

Of course, they are anything but uninteresting – in fact, orthopterans as a whole are among the most popular of insect groups if the number of recently published field guides is any indication.  One of these is The Grasshoppers (Orthoptera: Acrididae and Romaleidae) of Nebraska (2008), authored by Matthew L. Brust and colleagues, and a copy of which I received as a gift from the senior author during my recent collecting trip to Nebraska and surrounding areas.  According to this book, the grasshopper in these photographs is Hippiscus ocelote – the wrinkled grasshopper, a large, handsomely robust species distinguished by the single cut in the pronotum and its surface sculpturing, the orange hind tibia, and the triple-banded and basally blue inner surface of the hind femur.  The species is generally brownish throughout, but this particular individual – seen in the White River Hills of southwestern Missouri in early September – sported a decidedly reddish head and pronotum that contrasted beautifully with its spotted wings and forced me to stop searching for tiger beetles and spend some time photographing it.

There are many reasons why I should not let myself get interested in grasshoppers – they’re big and take up a lot of space (a premium in most private collections such as mine), and by any standard my interests are already spread too thin.  Still, I think it is better to have too many interests than not enough, and a Schmidt box or two full of some of the more interesting grasshoppers that I’ve encountered – properly curated and identified – wouldn’t take too much away from my beetle efforts.  I already have a few specimens of Trimerotropis saxatilis (lichen grasshopper) from Missouri’s igneous glades and the related T. latifasciata (broad-banded grasshopper) from Oklahoma’s Glass Mountains, so a small assortment of other notable species in addition to them couldn’t hurt, right?

Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ 100mm macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/16-f/20), Canon MT-24EX flash (1/2 ratio) w/ Sto-Fen + GFPuffer diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).

REFERENCE:

Brust, M. L., W. W. Hoback and R. J. Wright.  2008. The Grasshoppers (Orthoptera: Acrididae and Romaleidae) of Nebraska.  University of Nebraksa-Lincoln Extension, 138 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Missouri’s disjunct population of Cicindela obsoleta vulturina

Although I’ve been collecting insects since I was a kid (and seriously for nearly three decades), it has only been in more recent years that fall has become an important part of the collecting season for me. With the notable exception of Fall 1978, when the Systematic Entomology course I was enrolled in sent me on a frantic quest to become one of the few undergraduate members of the exclusive “200 family” club (I got 205!), I long viewed fall as a time to hang up the net and begin the winter-long process of mounting, labeling, and curating the hundreds – sometimes thousands – of specimens I had collected earlier in the year during spring and summer.  This has primarily been a reflection of my taxonomic interest – woodboring beetles in the families Buprestidae and Cerambycidae, which occur at their overwhelmingly greatest abundance and diversity throughout most of North America during spring and summer but are found only sparingly later in the season.  Tiger beetles (family Cicindelidae) changed all that, and when I first began serious study of the group around 10 years ago, I found the combination of gorgeous weather and multitude of “spring/fall” species that emerge briefly during fall an irresistible siren call to the field. I’ve not looked back, and the Annual Fall Tiger Beetle Collecting Trip™ is now an established and eagerly anticipated event.

Cicindela obsoleta vulturina - the prairie tiger beetle (Blackjack Knob, Taney Co., Missouri).

No species embodies all that I love about fall tiger beetle collecting more than Cicindela obsoleta vulturina, the prairie tiger beetle. I first learned of the occurrence in Missouri of this large, dark green species back in 2000, when I saw a single specimen in the Enns Entomology Museum collected in Protem, Taney Co.  I was just beginning my tiger beetle studies and would later learn what the Tiger Beetle Guild already knew – that the occurrence of this species in Missouri was restricted to cedar glade habitats in the White River Hills region in the extreme southwestern part of the state, and that the population occurring there and in adjacent northern Arkansas was disjunct by 300+ miles from the main population in Texas and Oklahoma.  I couldn’t wait to see it for myself and eventually enlisted the help of Eric Eaton, living in the area at the time, and asked him to let me know if he saw a large green tiger beetle after the late summer rains began.  That September, I got a message from Eric saying that he had seen just such a beast not far from his home, and the following weekend he and I would enjoy the chance to meet each other in person and the splendor of the season while finding this marvelous species at several locations in the area.  Thus began my love affair with this species, and for several years I returned to the area each fall to document additional localities for this and other tiger beetle species occurring in the area.

Blackjack Knob is part of an extensive xeric dolomite prairie complex (commonly referred to as cedar glades, though the term is not precisely accurate) in the White River Hills subsection of the Ozark Highlands, providing habitat for prairie tiger beetles and other typically southwestern plants and animals.

In fact, until a few weeks ago it had been several years since I had last seen this species in the field.  I did make an attempt to see it again last year but returned home from that early October trip unsuccessful, cold and wet.  Thus, when tiger beetle enthusiast Steve Spomer mentioned to me earlier this summer that he wanted to see our Missouri population, I jumped at the chance to coordinate our visits this fall and show him some of my favorite sites.  The Patron Saint of Cicindela was smiling down upon us that day, as perfect timing and sunny skies combined to bring adults out in an abundance that I’d not seen in any of my previous visits.  I would take advantage of this rare opportunity and spend the next day in the area as well, documenting a number of new localities along the northern and eastern edge of its known distribution, including a far eastern extension of its range to Caney Mountain Conservation Area in Ozark Co. where we had long suspected the beetle to occur but failed in all previous attempts to find it.

Steve Spomer and yours truly at Cane Creek Rd. site.

The prairie tiger beetle is the easternmost subspecies of the large grassland tiger beetle, which along with its other included subspecies covers a geographic range covering most of Texas, New Mexico, and eastern Arizona and extending up through western Oklahoma and Kansas into eastern Colorado.  Individuals of subspecies vulturina, occurring primarily in eastern/central Texas, are distinguished from the other subspecies (nominate in western Texas and eastern New Mexico north into Colorado, santaclarae in New Mexico and Arizona, and neojuvenilis in south Texas) by their generally black to olive-green coloration and reduced, narrow elytral markings, typically with an inverted “V” at mid-elytron.  The Missouri/Arkansas disjunct population is interesting from several standpoints:

  • Individuals mostly dark olive-green – no black individuals.
  • Elytral maculations more completely developed.
  • Adults active in late summer/early fall rather than summer.

These features, in particular coloration and maculation, have fueled speculation that this isolated population might be subspecifically distinct (Pearson et al. 2006).  A recent review of material from throughout its range found these color characters of limited use in unequivocally diagnosing individuals from the Missouri and Arkansas population as a separate subspecific taxon (Mawdsley 2009); however, a molecular systematics approach ultimately may be needed to resolve the status of this population.  Presumably, the Missouri/Arkansas disjunct population represents a hypsithermal relict, left behind when the return of cooler, moister conditions caused a retreat of the formerly more expansive grasslands to their current position.  If true, then the Missouri/Arkansas population has been isolated from the parent population for ~6,000 years.  I suspect that the late summer/early fall adult phenology is an adaptation to local precipitation patterns, relying on more predictable late summer rains to trigger adult emergence after the generally droughty months of July and August.  In this regard it differs fundamentally from the true “fall” species, which emerge briefly in the fall as sexually immature adults before overwintering and re-emerging in the spring for mating and oviposition.  These Missouri/Arkansas disjuncts do not re-emerge in spring, but instead mate and lay eggs in the fall before the onset of cold weather.  The eggs hatch as well (based on my growth chamber observations of this species), so winter also is passed as a larva – either as newly-hatched 1st instars, or as later instars that hatched during the previous year(s) – rather than as adults.

I have noted considerable variation in the coloration and maculations of individuals in this population.  The individual in the first photograph above is typical of the population – dark olive-green with thin but nearly complete maculations.  That individual comes from Blackjack Knob (Taney Co.), which is near the heart of the White River Hills region.  However, the degree to which the maculations are developed is variable, ranging from rather incomplete to even more fully developed due to the presence of a marginal connection.  Additionally, a few individuals can be found that show greater or lesser suffusion of brown on the head, pronotum, and elytra.  At another location in the county closer to the northern distributional limit (Hwy 160/Cane Creek Rd.), this brown suffusion is more common and variably expressed from minimal to nearly complete.  The photographs below show five individuals from this site expressing differing degrees of brown as well as the variable macular development seen throughout the population:

Male (Hwy 160/Cane Creek Rd.) - green w/ trace brown, marginal band incomplete, median band complete.


Female (Hwy 160/Cane Creek Rd.) - green w/ slight brown, marginal band complete, median band incomplete.


Male (Hwy 160/Cane Creek Rd.) - green w/ moderate brown, marginal band incomplete, median band incomplete.


Male (Hwy 160/Cane Creek Rd.) - green w/ heavy brown, marginal band complete, median band complete.


Female (Hwy 160/Cane Creek Rd.) - completely brown, marginal band complete, median band incomplete.

There is another site even further north in the county (Merriam Woods), which I found for the first time on this trip and, to my knowledge, represents the northernmost extent of the population in Missouri.  At this site, nearly all of the individuals show coppery-brown coloration with almost no hint of green.  These fully brown individuals seem to represent an appearance that is completely unlike that seen in any other part of the range of the species.  The individual in the photo below typifies the appearance of the beetles seen at this site:

Male (Merriam Woods) - brown, marginal band incomplete, median band complete.

I’m less familiar with coloration of the population further south in Arkansas, although in my limited collecting in that area I recall that most individuals I encountered exhibited the dark olive-green coloration typical of individuals at Blackjack Knob and other more southern sites in Missouri.  Thus, there seems to a clinal element to variability in coloration in the Missouri/Arkansas disjunct population.  I suspect that the unique coloration of the beetles in this population is related to the soils with which they are associated.  Light gray Jefferson City-Cotter dolomite bedrock forms the core of the White River Hills landscape and is exposed extensively in the glades that dominate its knobs and slopes.  These exposures are weather-stained black and overlain by thin, black soils that support dark, green-black lichens amongst the sparse vegetation, as seen in the following photographs taken at the newly identified northeasternmost site at Caney Mountain Conservation Area:

Thinly soiled dolomite exposures punctuate the glades in the White River Hills. Prairie tiger beetles are found in these exposures.


Dark green-black lichens encrust the thin black soils overlaying the dolomite exposures. Prairie tiger beetle adult coloration closely matches the coloration of the lichens and soil.

The glades and dolomite exposures where these beetles are found in the White River Hills and the dry oak woodlands that surround them have a characteristic look that is not seen once one leaves the area, and I have found many new sites for the beetle in the northern and eastern fringes of the region by stopping at locations where the roadside exposures had the right “look.”  The variation in maculation and coloration seen in this population may be an indication that the population is still adapting to local conditions since becoming isolated from main population.

Currently, I have 3rd-instar larvae that I collected from their burrows at Blackjack Knob (adults mostly green) and Merriam Woods (adults mostly brown) and hope the rear them to adulthood next year.  If I succeed in getting virgin adults from the two sites, I think it would be interesting to do some single-pair crossings and rear the progeny to see how coloration is expressed.  A long term project, for sure, as these beetles probably require at least two seasons to reach adulthood, but rearing them is fun!  A more difficult, yet far more interesting, project would be to secure virgin adults from the mostly black main population in Texas – or even the bright green, thickly-maculated santaclarae subspecies from Arizona – to see how interbreeding them with these Missouri disjuncts would affect coloration and maculation in their progeny – they could be some of the most unusual appearing large grassland tiger beetles ever seen (not to mention their tongue-twisting taxonomic moniker of Cicindela (Cicindelidia) obsoleta vulturina [Missouri disjunct] x obsoleta santaclarae!).  Timing would be a difficulty, since the Texas and Arizona populations exhibit a more normal summer adult phenology, but it would be worth a try if I could secure a source of larvae for rearing.  Anybody?

A male sports his impressive pair of choppers.

Photo Details (insects): Canon 50D w/ 100mm macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13-22), Canon MT-24EX flash (1/4-1/2 ratio) w/ Sto-Fen + GFPuffer diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).

REFERENCES:

Mawdsley, J. R.  2009. Geographic variation in U. S. populations of the tiger beetle Cicindela obsoleta Say (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae).  Insecta Mundi 0094:1–10.

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 2010

Jeepers Creepers, where’d ya get those multilayered retinae?

A few weeks ago I was fortunate to get a chance to blast down to the White River Hills in extreme southwestern Missouri.  Cicindela obsoleta vulturina (prairie tiger beetle) was my quarry – I had made arrangements to meet up with fellow cicindelophile Steve Spomer (principal author of Tiger Beetles of South Dakota & Nebraska, Spomer et al. 2008) and show him a few of the better sites I had found for this species.  We would have good success due to gorgeous fall weather and perfect timing, and the next day I would be fortunate to extend its known distribution further north and east.  Still, the beetles are not early risers, and I found myself that second morning with some time on my hands while waiting for these sleepy-heads to arise from their slumber and begin their foraging activities.  As I trolled the thinly soiled dolomite exposures of a new site I had identified the previous day, a spot of red jerking erratically through the sparse vegetation caught my eye, and looking closer I was delighted to see this small but brilliantly colored jumping spider (family Salticidae) trying to evade my gaze.

Jumping spiders are perhaps the most diverse of all spider families, but it is their extraordinary visual capabilities and complex predatory and courtship behaviors that they are best known for.  Popular as research subjects, to the rest of us they are simply endearing little animals.  Some of the largest and most colorful jumping spiders belong to the genus Phidippus, which is also one of the most diverse genera in the family and boasts some 60 species in the continental United States (Edwards 2004).  The genus is characterized by details of the eye placement and carapace shape (Richman 1978) but can often be recognized by their relatively large size, numerous erect hairs, and conspicuous iridescent chelicerae just below the front eyes.  The species can be quite difficult to identify, especially the females, but I feel reasonably confident that this individual is a male of the widespread species P. apacheanus.

I wasn’t always so confident – browsing images on BugGuide left me confused after finding images of P. apacheanus and P. cardinalis males that looked almost identical. However, further digging reveals P. apacheanus is characteristically a more intense red, while P. cardinalis is more orangey with lighter bristles which may appear silvery.  Also, P. cardinalis often displays makings on the abdomen – generally a light line running around the anterior part of the abdomen and sometimes tiny light spots on the dorsum – that are absent in P. apacheanus.  (This begs the question as to whether some of the BugGuide photos may be misidentified?)  Another Phidippus species that might be confused with P. apacheanus is P. clarus; however, that species has a black cephalothorax and bright abdominal markings.  According to Herschel RaneyP. apacheanus is most often seen in fall.

This was a very difficult subject to photograph.  He refused to come out in the open, preferring to duck and peek from behind whatever vegetation he could find.  Realizing that my desire to photograph him without any manipulation would be a lesson in futility, I used my finger to prod him towards and onto a small, flat, lichen-encrusted rock, where he would look at me with ever-increasing alarm and try to flee at the approach of the camera.  Lots of failed shots were discarded in the field before I finally got a few I thought I could live with (which, I think, are a decided improvement over my first jumping spider photos).  As I zoomed in for the closeups, I saw for the first time the shimmering of his multilayered retinae moving in the depths of his primary medial eyes.  The retina is the darkest part of the eye, thus, when the eye is at its darkest the spider is looking straight at you!

Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ MP-E 65mm 1-5X macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13), Canon MT-24EX flash (1/8 ratio) w/ Sto-Fen + GFPuffer diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).

REFERENCES:

Edwards, G. B.  2004. Revision of the jumping spiders of the genus Phidippus (Araneae: Salticidae). Occasional Papers of the Florida State Collection of Arthropods 11:i-viii, 1-156, 350 figs.

Richman, D. B.  1978. Key to the jumping spider (salticid) genera of North America.  Peckhamia 1(5):77–81.

Spomer, S. M., M. L. Brust, D. C. Backlund and S. Weins.  2008. Tiger Beetles of South Dakota & Nebraska. University of Nebraska, Department of Entomology, Lincoln, 60 pp.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

The last survivor

This past June I made two trips to the Loess Hills of extreme northwestern Missouri as part of a follow-up survey for Cylindera celeripes (swift tiger beetle).¹ I was hoping to identify additional populations, however small, of this tiny, flightless, enigmatic species to go along with the three that colleague Chris Brown and I discovered last year.  The results were good news, bad news – no new populations were found, but I was able to re-confirm the beetle’s occurrence at two of the sites where we found the beetle last year.

¹ Some of you may recall my excitement at finally finding this long-sought after species in Missouri – apparently limited to the state’s few remaining high quality loess hilltop prairie remnants.

One of the sites that I had hoped might harbor the beetle is Squaw Creek National Wildlife Refuge in Holt Co. – located very near McCormack Loess Mounds Natural Area where the beetle was seen both this year and last.  Squaw Creek features several thousand acres of restored wetland habitat in the Missouri River valley that serve as resting, feeding, and breeding grounds for migratory birds and other wildlife.  Located within the Mississippi Flyway, the refuge is best known for its large concentrations of snow geese and bald eagles.  Wetlands are not good habitat for C. celeripes, but it was not the wetlands I was interested in visiting (well, I am really interested in visiting the wetlands someday – but on these visits I had other goals).  Rather, it was the tiny slivers of loess hilltop prairie that still remain on the fingers of loess bluffs along the eastern boundary of the refuge.  Twice scouring these prairie remnants over a two-week period failed to reveal the presence of the beetle, but on the first visit I did see this lone, rather ragged-looking adult male Cicindela limbalis (common claybank tiger beetle).  Unlike the aforementioned species, C. limbalis is rather common throughout most parts of the state on upland clay exposures. A spring-fall species, adults first emerge in September, have a little fun (which includes feeding but not mating), and then dig back into the ground for the winter before emerging once again in the spring. It is one of the first insects to greet the new season (I’ve seen them as early as late March) – mating and oviposition occur over the next month or two, and by end of May these guys are pretty well spent.  An interesting feature of the populations found in extreme northern Missouri is their higher degree of elytral maculation.  Compare this relatively fully-marked individual with this female that I reared from a larva collected at Knob Noster State Park in west-central Missouri (incidentally, my first ever reared tiger beetle!).

This male is clearly among the last of his generation in this area – not only did I not see any other individuals on the entire trip, but he clearly exhibits signs of wear and tear.  I found him nibbling on this dead millipede (which larger tiger beetles are known to prey upon); however, I don’t think this guy actually killed the millipede.  Rather, I think he found it already dead and was scavenging one of the only meals still available to him.  Closer examination of the face reveals that his left mandible is broken off near the base (best seen in the enlarged photo) – whether a result of battle with over-sized prey or a narrow escape from predation himself is hard to say.  Regardless, with only one “tooth” his ability to capture prey on his own has been severely compromised, and about all he can do is look for already dead prey items on which he can scavenge.  As one of the last survivors of his class, one can only hope that he lived a long and fruitful life, killed much prey, and inseminated many females.

Photo Details: Canon 50D w/ 100mm macro lens (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/14-16), Canon MT-24EX flash (1/4 ratio) w/ Sto-Fen diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, minor cropping, unsharp mask).

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010