North America’s smallest cicada

Photo details: Canon 100mm macro lens on Canon EOS 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/18, MT-24EX flash 1/2 power w/ diffuser caps.

Photo details: Canon 100mm macro lens on Canon EOS 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/18, MT-24EX flash 1/2 power w/ diffuser caps.

While searching the hilltop prairies for Cylindera celeripes (swift tiger beetle) at McCormack Loess Mounds Natural Area in northwestern Missouri, I ran across a species of cicada that I’d not yet encountered in the state – Beameria venosa.  Cicadas as a rule are quite large insects, but with a body measuring only 16 mm (well under an inch) in length, B. venosa is one of – if not the – smallest species of this group in all of North America.  Had it not been for its distinctly cicada-esque call I might have thought it was some sort of fulgoroid planthopper (albeit a rather large one).  But a cicada it is, and a beautiful one at that despite its small size.

Beameria venosa is a prairie obligate species occurring from Nebraska and Colorado south to Texas and New Mexico.  To my knowledge, it has not been formally recorded from Missouri, although it is certainly already known from the state (it is listed in the 2009 issue of Missouri Species and Communities of Conservation Concern Checklist as “vulnerable” due to the restricted occurrence in Missouri of the prairie habitats in which it lives).  Froeschner (1952) listed 14 species of cicadas from Missouri but did not include this species even among those of possible occurrence in the state.  In my younger days, I managed not only to find all 14 of those species, but also a fifteenth species – the magnificent Tibicen superbus – in the southwestern corner of the state (formally recorded from the state some years later by Sanborn and Phillips 2004).  The occurrence of B. venosa in Missouri now brings to 16 the number of cicada species known from Missouri.

Despite its small size, the calling song of B. venosa is quite audible.  In fact, it was only due to its call that I noticed and began looking for this individual.  This brings up an interesting point regarding conspicuous insect songs and their role in enhancing predation risk.  Many predators are known to orient to the calls of cicadas (Soper et al. 1976), which in turn exhibit a variety of predator avoidance behaviors such as high perching, hiding, fleeing, and perhaps even mass emergence in the periodical cicadas.  Beameria venosa appears to avoid predators by producing its continuous train of sound pulses at a very high frequency.  Although audible to humans, the high frequency call apparently is not audible to birds and lizards – their chief predators (Sanborn et al. 2009).  In the open, treeless prairies where B. venosa lives, high frequency calling appears to provide the selective advantage for predator avoidance that fleeing, hiding, and high perching cannot.

REFERENCES:

Froeschner, R. C.  1952. A synopsis of the Cicadidae of Missouri. Journal of the New York Entomological Society 60:1–14.

Sanborn, A. F., J. E. Heath and M. S. Heath.  2009.  Long-range sound distribution and the calling song of the cicada Beameria venosa (Uhler) (Hemiptera: Cicadidae).  The Southwestern Naturalist 54(1):24-30.

Sanborn, A. F. and P. K. Phillips.  2004.  Neotype and allotype description of Tibicen superbus (Hemiptera: Cicadomorpha: Cicadidae) with description of its biogeography and calling song.  Annals of the Entomological Society of America 97(4):647-652.

Soper, R. S., G. E. Shewell and D. Tyrrell. 1976. Colcondamyia auditrix nov. sp. (Diptera; Sarcophagidae), a parasite which is attracted by the mating song of its host, Okanagana rimosa (Homoptera: Cicadidae).  The Canadian Entomologist 108:61-68.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2009

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North America’s most bizarre lizard

Hmm, something funny going on here.  This is a bug blog – specifically a beetle blog, yet it’s a post about a lizard that generates a flurry of comments.  I don’t know if lightning will strike twice so quickly, but I did have this second ‘lizard’ post already lined up in the queue.

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The day after seeing a couple of male eastern collared lizards at Four Canyon Preserve in northwestern Oklahoma, I got my second saurian treat with this horned lizard (genus Phrynosoma).  There are actually some dozen species of horned lizards in North America, but the majority are found further west in the U.S. and down into Mexico and Central America.  Of the two that occur in Oklahoma, this particular individual can be identified as a Texas horned lizard (P. cornutum) by the two occipital (back of the head) spines, presence of lateral abdominal finge scales, and dorsal white stripe.  Oklahoma’s other horned lizard (round-tailed horned lizard, P. modestum) is restricted to the northwestern corner of the panhandle and differs from the Texas horned lizard by having four occipital spines, lacking lateral abdominal fringe scales, and more solid pale coloration.

IMG_0392_1200x800Again, my claim of “most bizarre” might be open to debate, as there are certainly many bizarre lizards in North America.  The gila monster once more comes to mind, but I think grotesque is a better descriptor for that animal, and the fan-shaped toe pads of geckos might also get them some votes.  Nevertheless, do a Google search on the phrase “bizarre North American lizard” and the results will be overwhelmingly dominated by references to horned lizards.  It’s no surprise – their squat body form is more suggestive of toads than lizards¹, for which they are commonly called “horned toads” or “horny toads,” and their covering of “horns” (actually modified scales) gives them an otherworldly, almost dinosaurian appearance.  Who among my generation wasn’t terrorized by the sight of these lizards, cheaply magnified, as they threatened the scientists that encountered them in the 60’s sci-fi classic The Lost World?

¹ Even the genus name, derived from the Greek words phrynos (toad) and soma (body), alludes to its toad-like appearance.

IMG_0397_1200x800In reality, these lizards are anything but terrifying.  Instead they employ multiple strategies to avoid being eaten themselves. These adaptations were all on display as I initially passed this individual without even noticing it lying motionless in the middle of the road. Once I had passed I noted movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see it scurrying towards the vegetation along the side of the road. It’s mottled coloration, blending well with its background, and spine-broken silhouette made it almost invisible. Feeling threatened by my too-close approach, it made a rapid burst for cover, but I cut it off at the pass and blocked its erratic scampers towards the roadside to keep it out in the open so I could take some photographs. Once cornered in the open, it resorted to a third strategy – puffing of the body to make it appear larger. Had I been a true predator, it would’ve had two more strategies up its sleeve that it could have employed as a last resort – bleeding from the eyes (which apparently has a foul taste and will cause a predator to drop the lizard from its mouth) along with the mechanical defense of its hard, spiny scales. Since I didn’t actually try to eat this little guy, I didn’t have a chance to experience these final lines of defense.

The photos here actually represent two individuals – the middle picture is a second lizard that suddenly appeared while I was photographing the first.  The second individual was somewhat smaller than the first and not as boldy marked (note the lack of a distinct dark stripe behind the eye).  Whether these were male and female is difficult to say – horned lizards lack outward sexual characters allow them to be easily distinguished in the field (females do tend to grow a little bit larger). While not threatened or endangered, Texas horned lizards, like many other horned lizard species, have experienced dramatic reductions in its range. Oklahoma has a year-round closed season for both species that makes it illegal to kill or capture horned lizards without written permission. I would see a few more of these fascinating little lizards during my three days at Four Canyon Preserve, suggesting that, at least in this part of the state, horned lizards are doing just fine.

Photo details: Canon 100mm macro lens on Canon EOS 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/11-13, MT-24EX flash 1/4 power through diffuser caps.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2009

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North America’s most beautiful lizard

Whew! My fingers and keyboard are still smoking after that long series on Cylindera celeripes (parts 1, 2, and 3). Exciting as my celeripes finds were, there were other “tiger beetle moments” from the Oklahoma trip as well that I want to highlight in future posts. However, I thought I’d give everyone a break from tiger beetles (and my rambling prose) and remind everyone that I can not only talk about other insects, but even non-insects.

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Isn’t he a looker?!  I came upon this this male eastern collared lizard (Crotaphytus collaris collaris) during my first day at Four Canyon Preserve – fitting, since the species is Oklahoma’s state reptile (a fine choice, unlike their dreadfully pedestrian choice for state insect – the honey bee!  Huh?  It’s not even native!).  When I first saw this fellow he skirted under a branch, then across the trail, under a ledge, up and over to another rock…  By the time I got him accustomed to my persistent approaches (remember, I stalk tiger beetles!) he was posing nicely at chest level and with the sun behind my shoulder for a nice series of photographs.  I have never been able to approach a “mountain boomer” this closely before (encountering them only a few times previously on igneous glades in the the St. Francois Mountains of my beloved Ozark Highlands), and the first time I do I have a Canon 50D and 100mm macro lens in my backpack – que suerte!

IMG_0328_1200x800Perhaps my title is a little presumptuous – surely there are other gorgeous lizards in North America.  However, I can’t imagine anything more breathtaking than the vivid blues, greens, and yellows with sharply contrasting black stripes of male eastern collared lizards.  Perhaps the gila monster might get a vote, although its impressiveness is more grotesque than beautiful.  Horned lizards as well are quite impressive, but again more bizarre than beautiful.  Added to the collared lizard’s visual appeal is their comically dinosaurian ability to run swiftly on their hind legs with the fore legs and head held upright (this is how most of my previous attempts to approach them have ended).

IMG_0314_1200x800The name “mountain boomer” probably originated with the early pioneers, who erroneously believed that they emitted sounds that echoed through the canyons and valleys.  An oft-cited theory in field guides (and also the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation and the Missouri Department of Conservation websites) states that the pioneers may have associated the sunning lizards with the barking of frogs.  This seems unlikely; frogs that make barking noises are creatures of wetlands – far from the rocky outcroppings of the glades and pinyon-juniper, sagebrush, desertscrub, and desert grassland habitats of the central and west-central U.S. where collared lizards are encountered.  Regardless of the source of its nickname, collared lizards in reality make no vocalizations at all (although like most lizards they can hiss when they feel threatened).

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Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2009

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