Oklahoma

Cylindera celeripes Larva Revealed

/ Ted C. MacRae / 22 Comments

In a recent post, I provided the first ever glimpse of the previously unknown larva of Cylindera celeripes, or swift tiger beetle.  This little-known flightless species is among the tiniest in North America (adults measure only 8 or 9 mm in length), and so far nobody has succeeded in rearing the species in the lab, or even finding its larva.  As the photographs in that post showed, I am reasonably close to accomplishing that first goal, having successfully obtained a number of eggs from field-collected adults placed in a terrarium of native soil. I fed the subsequent larvae a diet of small rootworm larvae and Lygus nymphs before putting them to sleep for the winter in a cold incubator, and the larvae resumed activity when I pulled them out of the incubator 2 months ago. Since then, they have feasted heavily on small noctuid larvae that we rear in our lab, and now most of the dozen or so larvae have sealed their burrows – I presume for pupation before (hopefully) emerging as adults in the next few weeks.

Cylindera celeripes 3rd instar larva - USA: Oklahoma, Woodward Co.

There is more to the story, however.  I had brought the adults back home in June 2009 from a population I found at Alabaster Caverns State Park in northwestern Oklahoma.  This was a reasonably robust population – news enough for a species that has not been seen in good numbers for many years now, and my discovery of equally healthy populations at several other locations in the general area gives new hope for the long-term prospects of a species that some regard as a potential candidate for listing as an endangered species. It also gave me hope that I might be able to find the larva were I to return to the area in the fall.  I also had a hunch that Cicindela pulchra (beautiful tiger beetle) could be found in the area, based on some very large larvae I found during that June trip, so in early October I made a quick return to northwestern Oklahoma to search for these two species.  While it was too cold and wet to have any hope of finding Cicindela pulchra adults (I still think the species is there), it did not prevent me from realizing my other goal.  May I present one of the first ever field-collected larvae of Cylindera celeripes!

Cylindera celeripes 3rd instar larva - closeup of hump on 5th abdominal segment with hooks to aid in securing the larva in its burrow

I found the larvae at Alabaster Caverns where I had found the adults earlier in June, and although the larval burrows were very small (only 2 to 3 mm in diameter), I knew what they were immediately when I saw them.  As I had observed for the adults, burrows tended to be near the edges of barren patches of soil in proximity to vegetation and not out in the middle of the barren areas.  This makes sense, considering where it would be more likely for prey to be encountered.  Because the weather was cold and gray, I didn’t see (or expect to see) larvae actively sitting at the tops of their burrows, so I began “fishing” to see if I could yank a few from their burrows.  I fished quite a few burrows for the first half hour or so, but none of my attempts were successful.  I began wondering if the larvae were even active at all or if they had already entered hibernation for the upcoming winter.  While I was fishing, I noticed that the burrows all seemed rather shallow – only about 6” or so (most tiger beetles, having larger larvae, dig burrows that are much deeper). This gave me an idea.  I went back to the truck and retrieved a small spade that I carry in case… well, I’d never actually used it before.  Anyway, I inserted a grass stem into a burrow and sunk the spade into the ground right next to it, making sure I got the spade at least as deep as the grass blade.  I then removed the spade and sunk it into the ground on the other side of the burrow, then pried until the entire chunk of soil came up intact.  With the bottom of the soil chunk exposed, I used my knife to carefully remove slivers of soil until I found the end of the grass stem that I had inserted into the burrow.  Carefully removing the soil in this area revealed the larva in a side chamber at the bottom of the burrow.  Success!  I took many photos of that larva right then and there, and over the next hour or so collected several more larvae, all but one of which I presumed were 3rd instars.  I packed each larva in its own small vial of native soil for the trip home, and although I have been attempting to rear them out for confirmation of their identity, there is little doubt that they do indeed represent this species.

Cylindera celeripes 3rd instar larva - that grotesquely beautiful head!

The photographs I’m showing here are not those first field photographs that I took when I first discovered the larvae.  Looking at those photographs after I returned home, I was dissatisfied with the amount of soil and debris that covered the larvae – especially their grotesquely unique head and pronotum.  Instead, I removed one of the larvae from its rearing tube and gave it a “bath” – brushing it with a fine camel-hair brush in a shallow dish of water – to clean it up for the photographs shown here.  After the photo shoot, I sacrificed this larva for the collection – it will be the basis for a formal description of the larva of this species (along with examples of the 1st and 2nd instars that I had sacrificed from my rearing, not yet confident that I would succeed in getting any of the others to 3rd instar).  The only thing I am waiting on before preparing that description is to see whether I actually succeed in rearing this species from egg to adult – stay tuned!

Photo Details: Canon 50D (ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13-16). Canon MP-E 65mm 1-5X macro lens, MT-24EX flash (1/8 power) w/ Sto-Fen diffusers. Typical post-processing (levels, unsharp mask).

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Email to a friend

Introducing Chrysobothris caddo

/ Ted C. MacRae / 9 Comments

This set of photographs comes from my June 2009 trip to northwestern Oklahoma, which I found at Boiling Springs State Park in Woodward County. They represent only the second buprestid species that I attempted to photograph with my (then) new camera and macro lens setup, the first being Chrysobothris ignicollis which I found at nearby Four Canyon Preserve. The latter species is commonly associated with Juniperus throughout much of western North America – indeed, the individuals I photographed were found on freshly cut J. virginiana (eastern redcedar), and I have reared the beetle from dead branches of this and other Juniperus species. The individual in these photographs represents another species in the same genus – Chrysobothris caddo. It was also found on cut redcedar; however, it is not normally associated with that plant. In fact, it is not very well-known at all, as it was only just described in 2007 (and these may well be the first ever identified photographs of the species).

Chrysobothris caddo is one of a number of new species that were described by Wellso and Manley (2007) in their revision of the Chrysobothris femorata species-group from North America. I’ve previously mentioned the taxonomic difficulties associated with this group, last revised by Fisher (1942), and it had been known for some time that several species – including some unnamed – were masquerading under the “catch-all” taxon of Chrysobothris femorata. Normally, the only people who care about such situations are taxonomists and those who enjoy placing ID labels on specimens (me on both counts – I just hated those “Chrysobothris femorata species-group” labels).  However, there was farther reaching impact in this case since C. femorata is a widespread and important economic pest of shade and fruit trees (eggs are laid on the trunks of the trees, which are then damaged by the boring actions of the larvae that hatch from them). The Wellso/Manley revision has brought some degree of clarity to species limits within the group (doubling its number of described species), but they remain difficult to identify since their recognition relies upon “suites” of characters rather than single “key” characters. For example, we know this individual (a female, based on the form of the pygidium, or upper surface of the tip of the abdomen) represents C. caddo because (see if you can find the characters in the photos as we go here):

  • the antennae are narrowed to the apex (eliminating C. rugosiceps, which has the last antennal segment strongly quadrate)
  • the post-median (back of middle) foveae (circular impressions) of the elytra (wing covers) are joined (eliminating C. viridiceps, which has the foveae distinctly separated)
  • the pygidium is deeply impressed on each side of the middle (eliminating C. quadriimpressa, which has the pygidium shallowly impressed)
  • the pygidium lacks a hyaline (membranous) lateral margin (eliminating C. adelpha, which is unique in possessing this character)
  • the elytra have the posteriolateral margins arcuate and the tips bronze (eliminating C. femorata, in which the margins are straight and the tips reddish)
  • the elytral costae (longitudinal ridges) are connected by cross-veins and interrupted by the foveae (eliminating C. comanche, which lacks cross veins and has indistinct foveae)
  • the frons (face) has the callosities (elevated patches) transverse and bronze (eliminating C. shawnee, which has larger, bronze-black callosities)

Are you cross-eyed yet?! If not, there are four additional species in the group that are distinguished by similarly subtle character suites but whose geographical occurrence outside of Oklahoma (see checklist below) automatically eliminates them from consideration.

Chrysobothris caddo is primarily associated with Celtis (hackberry), and my finding it on redcedar is simply an incidental association. There was a large tree dump in the back area of the park with freshly cut wood from a variety of plant species – such tree dumps are famous collecting grounds for woodboring beetles in the families Buprestidae and Cerambycidae. However, little importance can be given to beetle-plant associations observed in such situations, with multiple potential host plant species in such close proximity to each other. The third photograph shows another female probing cracks in the bark of cut Ulmus rubra (slippery elm) with her ovipositor – perhaps she will have laid an egg or perhaps not, and if she did it is unknown whether the larva that hatched would be able to feed and develop successfully to adulthood on this non-preferred host.

For those with an interest in this group, following is a checklist of the species with their geographical distribution and preferred hosts:

  1. Chrysobothris adelpha Harold – eastern US and southern Canada west to Texas.  Primarily associated with Carya, also reared from Amelanchier and Prosopis.
  2. Chrysobothris caddo Wellso and Manley – Florida west to Arizona and north to Missouri, abundant in Texas.  Primarily associated with Celtis, reared also from Cercis and Ebanopsis [= Pithecellobium].
  3. Chrysobothris comanche Wellso and Manley – New Mexico, Texas, and Utah.  Associated exclusively with Juglans.
  4. Chrysobothris femorata (Olivier) – all continental states and Canada.  Associated with a wide variety of woody plant species, especially those in landscape and orchard settings.
  5. Chrysobothris mescalero Wellso and Manley – New Mexico and Texas.  Associated exclusively with Quercus.
  6. Chrysobothris quadriimpressa Gory and Laporte – eastern US west to Continental Divide.  Primarily associated with Quercus, reared also from Juglans, Liquidamber, and Sapindus.
  7. Chrysobothris rugosiceps Melsheimer – eastern US and southern Canada west to Texas.  Primarily associated with Quercus, reared also from Castanea.
  8. Chrysobothris seminole Wellso and Manley – Georgia and Florida.  Associated exclusively with root crowns of Chrysoma, making it the only species associated with a non-woody host.
  9. Chrysobothris shawnee Wellso and Manley – eastern US west to Colorado.  Primarily associated with Quercus, reared also from Salix and Prunus.
  10. Chrysobothris sloicola Manley and Wellso – Known only from Michigan in association with Prunus.
  11. Chrysobothris viridiceps Melsheimer – eastern US and southern Canada west to Continental Divide.  Associated primarily with Quercus, reared also from Carya, Prosopis, and Ulmus.
  12. Chrysobothris wintu Wellso and Manley – Arizona and California.  Primarily associated with Quercus, reared also from Salix and Prunus.

I have, over the years, collected numerous specimens of most of the species in this group (lacking only mescalero, seminole, and sloicola in my collection), with specimens now assignable to caddo, comanche, shawnee, and wintu included in the original type series as paratypes.

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

REFERENCES:

Fisher, W. S.  1942. A revision of North American species of buprestid beetles belonging to the tribe Chrysobothrini.  U. S. Department of Agriculture, Miscellaneous Publication 470, 275 pp.

Wellso, S. G. and G. V. Manley. 2007. A revision of the Chrysobothris femorata (Olivier, 1790) species group from North America, north of Mexico (Coleoptera: Buprestidae). Zootaxa 1652:1–26 (first page only).

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Email to a friend

Hello World!

/ Ted C. MacRae / 28 Comments

These are two of the Cylindera celeripes (swift tiger beetle) larvae that I’m rearing.  Note: nobody has ever reared this species before!  Nobody has ever even seen its larvae (before now, that is).

These larvae hatched from eggs that were laid by adults I brought back from northwestern Oklahoma last summer.  I placed the adults in a small terrarium of native soil – at first just to see if I could keep them alive, and then to see if I could get them to lay eggs.  The adults lived for about 4 weeks, and a short time later larval burrows started appearing in the soil.  I fed them once or twice a week by placing 2nd instar corn rootworm larvae in the open burrows or dumping Lygus nymphs into the terrarium and letting them catch them naturally.  I wasn’t sure this was working, because as the summer progressed I saw fewer and fewer open burrows.  By October, there were no open burrows, and I feared none had survived.  Nevertheless, I placed the terrarium in a cool (10°C, or 50°F) incubator for the winter and pulled it back out in late March.  Within one week ten larvae had reopened their burrows – I believe all but one of them are 3rd instars, which is the last instar before pupation, and since they have awoken they have fed voraciously on 3rd instar fall armyworm larvae, which I dangle above their burrow.  I love watching them snatch the armyworm from my forceps and drag the hapless prey down into their burrow.  I’ve already preserved examples of the three larval instars and will describe it shortly (although truth be told, the 2nd and 3rd instars are from larvae I found in the field – but that is a post for another day).  However, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the piece de resistance – successfully rearing the species from egg to adult!

Photo Details: Canon MP-E 65mm 1-5X macro lens on Canon 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/13-16, MT-24EX flash 1/8 power w/ Sto-Fen diffusers.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Email to a friend

Tuesday Tarantula

/ Ted C. MacRae / 32 Comments


One of my destinations on my annual fall tiger beetle collecting trip last October was The Glass Mountains in northwestern Oklahoma. Rising from the red Permian beds of the central Great Plains, the Glass Mountains are a series of mesas and buttes capped by thick layers of the sparkling, glass-like crystal selenite. It is still common to see them referred to as the “Gloss” Mountains, the result of a transcription error by a mapmaker back in the late 1800s, and although the soils that comprise the formations are very old (laid down as sedimentary deposits during the Permian Era some 250 million years ago), the landscape itself is relatively young – a result of erosion by glacial outwash from the Rocky Mountains during the past 1 million years.

Of course, I was not here to study crystals or geology, but to look for tiger beetles! It was at this spot that earlier in the year (June) I had discovered a new population of Cylindera celeripes (Swift Tiger Beetle), a rarely-collected flightless species that has declined worrisomely during the past century, and another seldom-collected flightless species, Dromochorus pruinina (Frosted Dromo Tiger Beetle), was also a good find. Neither of these species were my reason for being here in October, however, since by then adults of both have long disappeared. Instead, I was hoping that the large, unidentified larvae that I had seen in their burrows at this site back in June would be out as adults. Their great size suggested two possibilities – Cicindela obsoleta (Large Grassland Tiger Beetle) or C. pulchra (Beautiful Tiger Beetle), either of which would be a great find. Alas, overcast skies and a cold, biting wind made whatever tiger beetles were there – lovers of sun and warmth that they are – remain secreted within their protected haunts. I still have a shot at finding out what they are – I successfully extracted two larvae from their burrows and fed them well in the laboratory with fat fall armyworm larvae before putting them to sleep for the winter in a 10°C (50°F) incubator.  If all goes well, I’ll wake them up this spring and finish them out to adulthood this year.

There were a few consolation prizes on the day, one of which was this large, lumbering male tarantula seen slowly making its way down the red clay slopes. For all their charisma and noteriety, it’s interesting to note that the taxonomy of U.S. tarantulas (almost all of which belong to the genus Aphonopelma) is rather poorly known – some 50 species have been described, but many of the descriptions are inadequately based on limited material (or even single specimens) and often rely upon variable, highly artificial characters (Prentice 1997). Brown or black species with no distinctive coloration (such as this one) seem to present the greatest challenge; however, the internet seems to have concluded that the only tarantula present in Oklahoma is Aphonopelma hentzi.


This spider can be distinguished as a mature male by way of the tibial hooks that can be seen on the undersides of the front pair of walking legs in the first photo.  Female and immature tarantulas normally stay in their burrows during the day and come out at night to hunt, but wanderlust strikes the adult males during late summer and fall, during which time they’ve been documented traveling as far as 1.3 km over a period of 2-3 weeks (Janowski-Bell and Horner 1999) – presumably in search of females with which to mate.  It is only after the male’s final molt that wanderlust sets in and the tibial hooks appear, which are said to function in holding the female (and her fangs!) at a safe distance during copulation.


It may seem hard to believe, given its large size and slow movement, but I found this spider exceedinly difficult to photograph compared to the tiger beetles that I have spent much more time with. I’m not used to photographing subjects with a 4-5 inch leg spread, which made it difficult for me to judge working distance and get a handle on proper settings and positions for the flash units. Once I did get that under control, I found the tarantula’s incessant desire to keep moving maddeningly frustrating. Tiger beetles, as active and flighty as they are, nevertheless eventually sit still long enough to allow at least a shot or two before bolting, but this tarantula… just… never… stopped… moving! I can’t tell you how many shots I discarded because it’s legs were splayed awkwardly in multiple directions. Eventually, however, I got enough shots that I felt there should be at least a few good ones among them, and those are the ones I share here.


Most male tarantulas will die within a few weeks or months of their final molt. Still, that doesn’t deter me from scooping them up whenever I find them and bringing them home to enjoy as pets for whatever time they have left. My daughters probably like tarantulas best of any of the critters that I bring home – I never have to ask “Has anybody fed ‘Hairy’?” (and props to awesome wife for enduring something most ‘normal’ wives couldn’t even begin to contemplate).

REFERENCE:

Janowski-Bell, M. E. and N. V. Horner.  1999.  Movement of the male brown tarantula, Aphonopelma Hentzi (Araneae, Theraphosidae), using radio telemetry.  The Journal of Arachnology 27:503–512.

Prentice, T. R. 1997. Theraphosidae of the Mojave Desert west and north of the Colorado River (Araneae, Mygalomorphae, Theraphosidae). The Journal of Arachnology 25:137–176.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Email to a friend

Alkali Tiger Beetle

/ Ted C. MacRae / 4 Comments

Eunota togata globicollis - Salt Plains NWR, Oklahoma

I haven’t written much about my early October trip to Oklahoma, where I had hoped to confirm a hunch that the gorgeous Cicindela pulchra (Beautiful Tiger Beetle) would be found in the red clay/gypsum hill habitats of Woodward and Major Counties (the same place where I had found the much rarer Cylindera celeripes the previous June).  Unfortunately, a sudden cold snap and overcast skies conspired against me for the duration of that short, 5-day trip, reducing tiger beetle activity to near zero and sending me back to Missouri with little to show for my efforts — save a scorpion, a torpid Cicindela splendida, and some very beautiful ladie’s-tresses orchids in peak bloom.  I did have one moderately successful day, however, when I returned to Salt Plains National Wildlife Refuge in north-central Oklahoma, a place where I observed seven species of tiger beetles during my June trip.  An eighth species that I did not see on that trip, but which I had observed in previous years, was my goal this time, and despite the cold temperatures and cloudy skies I was fortunate to find several individuals of Eunota togata globicollis.  Occurring primarily on saline flats in the central and southern Great Plain, this subspecies was called the Alkali Tiger Beetle¹ by Erwin and Pearson (2008), who reserved for the nominate form (found in salt marshes and tidal flats along the Gulf Coast) the more descriptive name White-cloaked Tiger Beetle².  A third subspecies, E. togata fascinans (Salt Flat Tiger Beetle) is restricted to salt flats in central New Mexico and west Texas (Pearson et al. 2006) (you may remember this subspecies from my habitat partitioning post last month).

¹ In reality, I have come to consider the term ‘alkali’ as a bit of a misnomer, as it is saline soils specifically — not just those with high pH (alkaline) — that the species is fond of. Moreover, there are many species of tiger beetles in addition to this one that are associated with saline soils.

² Okay, I might as well just get all this off my chest. Pearson et al. (2006) gave common names to each species of tiger beetle in the U.S., but not subspecies. I think most non-taxonomists probably consider this a good thing, although it is not without its problems (some species already had multiple common names applied to them, forcing choices that are sure not to please everyone). Erwin and Pearson (2008) took this further and came up with common names for all of the subspecies as well, and like any good taxonomist they steadfastly applied existing common names only to nominate forms. Eunota togata, however, is an example where the original common name would have been better applied to one of the non-nominate subspecies. The species epithet togata means “cloaked” (being derived from the Latin word toga — a reference to the broad white band running along the elytral margins). Each of the two non-nominate forms are distinguished by the white band being more broadly expanded (indeed, almost entirely covering the elytra in subspecies fascinans), yet it is the nominate subspecies — the least “cloaked” of the three — that retains the original common name. A silly argument I suppose, but if we start applying the “prinicple of priority” to common names in the same manner as scientific names, then what have we gained? Of course, I am of the opinion that most insect groups are too diverse and their taxonomy still too unstable to warrant a rigid system of “official” common names. Is it really any easier to learn White-cloaked Tiger Beetle than Eunota togata? How about Mount Ashland Night-stalking Tiger Beetle instead of Omus cazieri? And this is not even considering what happens when category-level shifts occur. For example, the genus Tetracha was formerly called the Big-headed Tiger Beetles; however, its former subgenera were recently elevated to genus level. Erwin and Pearson, accordingly, applied the common name to the entire subtribe containing Tetracha and its relatives and applied a new common name, Metallic Tiger Beetles, to the new, more limited concept of Tetracha. Thus, in an ironic case of common name instability despite no change in scientific name, the Virginia Big-headed Tiger beetle (Tetracha virginica) became the Virginia Metallic Tiger Beetle. Are your eyes bugging yet? Common names may be appropriate for higher vertebrates, but can they really be used effectively for beetles and other insect groups where the increasing use of molecular tools is sure to result in additional, perhaps radical, shifts in taxonomy? There — I said it, and I feel a lot better!

This species is restricted to saline flats in the central/southern Great Plains.

Of the eight tiger beetle species that I’ve now observed at Salt Plains NWR, half of them (Cicindela fulgida, C. nevadica knausii, E. togata globicollis, and Habroscelimorpha circumpicta johnsonii) are true saline habitat specialists.  One of the other four species (Cicindela tranquebarica kirbyi) is also fond of saline habitats but also occurs commonly on dry, sandy soils as well, and two show a high affiinity for nearly any moist (Cicindela repanda) or moist to dry (Cicindela punctulata) soils with little regard for salinity.  Only Cicindela formosa, a denizen of dry, deep sands seems a little out of its element on the moist, salty mud at Salt Plains NWR — perhaps the few individuals I’ve observed here are incidental visitors, mistaking the white, barren expanses of salt-encrusted soil for the dry sand the species prefers during disperal searches.  This again brings up the question of habitat partitioning for competition avoidance among tiger beetle species sharing the same habitat.  Eunota togata globicollis is active during the spring and fall and, thus, temporally isolated from C. nevadica knausii and H. circumpicta johnsonii (both summer-active species).  The other saline specialist at Salt Plains NWR (C. fulgida) is active during the same seasons as E. togata globicollis; however, in my observations that species prefers the sparsely-vegetated zone at the edge of the saline flats, while E. togata globicollis prefers to stay out in the more open areas.  These observations mirror those of Melius (2010) for E. togata fascinans and the other seven species he noted in the Laguna del Perro area of New Mexico, and of Willis (1967), who recorded as many as 11 sympatric tiger beetle species in saline habitats in the central U.S.

Saline flats at Salt Plains NWR are home to eight species of tiger beetles.

Microhabitat selection and seasonal occurrence are not the only isolating mechanisms that can minimize interspecific competition among the different tiger beetle species at Salt Plains NWR.  Cicindela tranquebarica kirbyi is also a spring/fall species and doesn’t appear to display a preference for open versus vegetated areas, potentially allowing it to compete directly with both E. togata globicollis and C. fulgida.  However, C. tranquebarica kirbyi is a decidely larger species, while the other two are smaller, and correlated with such differences in overall size is the size of their mandibles.  Mandibular size directly correlated to prey size in a number of tiger beetle species (Pearson and Mury 1979), thus providing another mechanism for avoiding competition between these three co-occurring species. 

Photo details:
Beetles: Canon 100mm macro lens w/ 68mm Kenco extension tubes on Canon EOS 50D (manual mode), ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/18-20, MT-24EX flash 1/4 power w/ Sto-Fen diffusers.
Landscapes: Canon 17-85mm zoom lens (22mm) on Canon EOS 50D (landscape mode), ISO 100, 1/100 sec, f/10, natural light.

REFERENCES:

Erwin, T. L. and D. L. Pearson. 2008. A Treatise on the Western Hemisphere Caraboidea (Coleoptera). Their classification, distributions, and ways of life. Volume II (Carabidae-Nebriiformes 2-Cicindelitae). Pensoft Series Faunistica 84. Pensoft Publishers, Sofia, 400 pp.

Melius, D. A. 2009. Post-monsoonal Cicindela of the Laguna del Perro region of New Mexico. CICINDELA 41(4):81-89.

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 E. J. Mury. 1979. Character divergence and convergence among tiger beetles (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae). Ecology 60:557–566.

Willis, H. L.  1967.  Bionomics and zoogeography of tiger beetles of saline habitats in the central United States (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae).  The University of Kansas Science Bulletin 47(5):145-313.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2010

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Email to a friend

BitB Best of 2009

/ Ted C. MacRae / 22 Comments

In my first post of 2009, I looked back at the photographs I had posted during 2008 and picked some of my personal favorites. I hesitated then to call myself a photographer (and still do), but I at least now have suitable equipment to aid in my progress toward that eventual goal. I have learned much over the past six months in my first attempt at serious insect macrophotography (prioritizing in situ field photographs of unmanipulated subjects as a matter of personal choice).  Through this, I’ve come to realize the following skills to be the most important for success:  

  1. Composition
  2. Understanding lighting
  3. Knowing how to use a flash
  4. Knowledge of the subject

I’ll give myself a “A” in the last of these, but in the other areas I still have much to learn. With this caveat, and for the last post of 2009, I offer the following twelve photographs as my final choices for the 2nd Annual “Best of BitB”:  

Best beetle

Cylindera celeripes (swift tiger beetle), Woodward Co., Oklahoma

From Revisiting the Swift Tiger Beetle – Part 1 (June 30).  A decent enough photograph, especially considering that I’d had my camera for about a month when I took it.  However, the discovery of robust populations of this formerly rare and enigmatic species throughout northwestern Oklahoma (and later also in northwestern Missouri) was the most significant find of the 2009 field season, and this photograph is the best capture of that moment.

Best fly

Stylogaster neglecta, a species of thickheaded fly

From Overlooked, needle-bellied, thick-headed fly (Aug 14).  One of my first good “black background” shots.  The white tip of the abdomen compliments the white flower stamens against the background.

Best “true” bug

Beameria venosa, a prairie obligate cicada

From North America’s smallest cicada (Aug 4).  So many different shades of green with white frosting on the bug’s body.  I tried taking this shot in portrait and it just didn’t work—I liked this landscape shot much better.

Best predator

Promachus hinei (Hines giant robber fly) & Ceratina sp. (small carpenter bee) prey

From Prey bee mine (Sept 14).  Robber flies are immensely photogenic, especially those in the genus Promachus due to their prominent “beards.”

Best camoflauge

Dicerca obscura on bark of dead persimmon

From The “obscure” Dicerca (June 19).  Sparkling and gaudy as specimens in a cabinet, the coloration of many jewel beetles actually helps them blend almost perfectly with the bark of their preferred tree hosts.

Best immature insect

Tetracha floridana (Florida metallic tiger beetle) 3rd-instar larva

From Anatomy of a Tiger Beetle Larva (Oct 22).  “Otherwordly” is invariably the first word that comes to mind when someone sees a tiger beetle larva for the first time.  I was lucky enough to get this one in profile with a nice view of its abdominal hump and its curious hooks.

Best arachnid

Centruroides vittatus (striped bark scorpion)

From A face only a mother could love (Oct 6).  Despite some minor depth-of-field problems with this photograph, I’m fascinated by its “smile.”

Best reptile

Eastern collared lizard (Crotaphytus collaris collaris) adult male

From North America’s most beautiful lizard (July 10).  A simply spectacular lizard—all I had to do was frame it well and get the flash right.

Best wildflower

Spiranthes magnicamporum (Great Plains ladies

From Great Plains Ladies’-tresses (Dec 7).  Few flowers are as photogenic as orchids, even native terrestrials with minute flowers such as this one.  I like the frosty texture of the lip and the starkness of the white flower on the black background.

Best natural history moment

Thermoregulatory behavior by Ellipsoptera hirtilabris (moustached tiger beetle)

From Tiger Beetles Agree—It’s Hot in Florida! (Dec 18). I chose this photo for the classic “stilting” and “sun-facing” thermoregulatory behaviors exhibited by this tiger beetle on a blistering hot day in Florida.

Best closeup

Megaphasma denticrus (giant walkingstick)

From North America’s longest insect (Aug 21).  I haven’t tried a whole lot of super close-up photographs yet.  I liked the combination of blue and brown colors on the black background.

Best Landscape

Sand Harbor Overlook, Lake Tahoe, Nevada

From Sand Harbor Overlook, Nevada (March 23).   My choice for “best landscape” again comes from Lake Tahoe.  This is not a great photo technically—I was still using a point-and-shoot and had to deal with foreground sun.  However, none of the other photos I took during my March visit to the area captivate me like this one.  I like the mix of colors with the silhouetted appearance of the trees on the point.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2009

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

Email to a friend

Cicadetta kansa in Oklahoma

/ Ted C. MacRae / 18 Comments

Photo details: Canon 100mm macro lens on Canon EOS 50D, ISO 100, 1/250 sec, f/14, MT-24EX flash 1/4 power w/ Sto-Fen diffusers.

Another of the insects that I saw this past June at Four Canyon Preserve in northwestern Oklahoma was this small cicada, Cicadetta kansa. Though not as small as the diminutive Beameria venosa (see North America’s smallest cicada), their barely audible call – a soft buzz – makes them even more difficult to notice.  I only realized what they were after noticing something odd about the small, green “grasshoppers” that flitted in front of me as I walked through the mixed shortgrass prairie.  They didn’t quite fly “right” and landed delicately within the grass rather than crashing into it clumsily.  Even after realizing that they weren’t grasshoppers, it was difficult to say what they were at first due to their wariness and lime green coloration that helped them blend marvelously into their grassy surroundings.  A few sweeps of the net solved that problem, and I discovered what was at the time the smallest and most beautiful cicada I had seen to that point (Beameria venosa took both honors later that month in the Loess Hills of northwestern Missouri).

Despite being the only world-wide genus of cicadas, Cicadetta is represented in the U.S. by only two species—C. kansa and C. calliope.  In addition to its pale green coloration, C. kansa is distinguished from C. calliope by having only 4 or 5 apical cells in the hind wing (6 in C. calliope).  Cicadetta kansa occurs from Texas north to South Dakota, while C. calliope is found from Texas to Florida and northwards to Iowa, Ohio and New Jersey.  Little is known about the biology of Cicadetta kansa; however, presumably it is similar to that of C. calliope, which emerges and lays eggs in late spring.  Eggs hatch by late summer, at which time the nymphs burrow into the ground again begin feeding on the roots of grasses.  This feature of their biology protects them from the negative impacts of managed spring and fall burns, and indeed C. calliope is known to increase in prairies that are managed by such burns.  This is in contrast to other prairie cicadas (genus Tibicen), which overwinter as eggs in the above-ground portion of grasses and, thus, are negatively impacted by fall and spring burns.

A number of websites are dedicated to these charismatic insects; however, Cicada by Andy Hamilton at the Canadian National Collection of Insects, Arachnids and Nematodes is the most informative and comprehensive that I’ve found.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae

Add to FacebookAdd to NewsvineAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Furl