City Nature Challenge 2026 Recap: Insects

My anticipation for the annual City Nature Challenge usually begins with great anxiety around the weather, and ends with nice surprises and unexpected species. This year was no different. I have the luxury of time, and knowledge, to make the most of the event regardless.

A male fire-colored beetle, Neopyrochroa femoralis, at our backyard blacklight, Leavenworth, Kansas.

A week prior, the forecast was looking like a nearly complete washout, with high chances of rain, if not storms. It turned out that the few inclement periods happened mostly in the overnight hours. It was still windy, or at least gusty, most of the time, with some hide-and-seek sun, too.

Eastern Tailed-blue butterfly in Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

More angst surrounded the changes we experienced at some of the parks we frequent. Our local “wild” park, Havens Park in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA, is installing a frisbee golf course, and has cleared patches of forest in the process. Meanwhile, in Wyandotte County Lake Park to the southwest, we noticed substantially clearing of vegetation around one of our favorite sites, a backwater pond. If they were going after invasive honeysuckle, great, but it appeared that it was that particular plant that was rebounding after the cutting and scraping.

The male Orange Spur Fly, Teuchocnemis bacuntius, waving hello. Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

Despite the setbacks, I managed to find some interesting insects. Chief among them was a unique syrphid fly, the Orange Spur Fly, Teuchocnemis bacuntius, that I spied at the edge of the forest near the front of Havens Park. This is a fairly large fly, named for the spur on the hind tibia of the male. Little is known about its life history, and mine is the only Kansas record for both iNaturalist and Bugguide, online.

A male Goatweed Leafwing, defending territory in Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

A male Harvester on the lookout for passing females. Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

We have had a warm, early spring, and many species had come and gone by the time the City Nature Challenge began. It was difficult to find some butterflies, for example, that peaked earlier in April. I still managed to spot two that I was hoping for: The Goatweed Leafwing, and the Harvester.

Hayhurst's Scallopwing skipper, Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

Duskywing skippers were so faded and tattered that identification was nearly impossible, but I was delighted to see a perfect specimen of a Hayhurst’s Scallopwing.

A male Common Baskettail dragonfly, Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

A male Springtime Darner dragonfly, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

A male Blue Corporal dragonfly, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Other charismatic “bugs” included dragonflies, and I was fortunate to see a few of them perch. Common Baskettail is typical for this time period, as is the Springtime Darner, and Blue Corporal. Variegated Meadowhawk can be seen almost year round.

Six-spotted Tiger Beetle on a trail in Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Beetles were out both day and night. Six-spotted Tiger Beetle is always a delight, and hard to miss with its bright green color. We even found a pair of mating Spring Treetop Flasher fireflies, over at Weston Bend State Park in Missouri.

Spring Treetop Flasher fireflies at Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

Also at Weston Bend, I noticed what I thought at first was a bumble bee or carpenter bee, but it was flying a little slower, and silently. It was an American Carrion Beetle! I managed to knock it down, and brought it home for a photo shoot, before releasing it in our yard (I had one in our yard a couple years ago).

Studio portrait of American Carrion Beetle from Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

Among the new species we recorded for our home property was a checkered beetle on the side of our house: Madoniella dislocata. It preys on small wood-boring beetles, so maybe it flew over from the logs and brush pile in the back yard.

Checkered beetle, Madoniella dislocata, at our Leavenworth, Kansas home.

I did blacklighting twice. The first night in the front yard, where we have a big old Pin Oak tree, was probably too cold and clear, and barely anything flew in.

This Isabella Tiger Moth, adult of the familiar "woollybear" caterpillar, was one of the few insects to come to our front yard blacklight on April 24, in Leavenworth, Kansas.

The next night, in the back yard, was the much more successful, the weather being warmer.

Faint-spotted Palthis moth, Palthis asopialis, at the backyard blacklight, Leavenworth, Kansas.

A Two-spotted Diaperis beetle, Diaperis maculata, at the backyard blacklight, Leavenworth, Kansas.

The nocturnal insect crowd included many kinds of beetles, flies, true bugs, moths, and wasps. The diversity was greater than the quantity of any one taxon. That will change soon, as caddisflies and rove beetles assert their dominance later, often overwhelming the sheet.

A stink bug, genus Banasa, at the backyard blacklight, Leavenworth, Kansas.

The largest moth visitor we had at the backyard blacklight was this American Dagger, Acronicta americana.

Bees were not as abundant as I was expecting, but several species had mostly come and gone already, especially cellophane bees (aka “polyester bees,” genus Colletes). The early mason bees, genus Osmia, were mostly finished, too.

A mason bee, genus Osmia, investigates some damp soil as potential material for her nest. Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

Kleptoparasitic bees, namely Nomada and Sphecodes, were still evident. They make their living in the larval stage feeding in the nests of other solitary bees.

A "blood bee," genus Sphecodes, from Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

Wasp diversity was quite high, too. I saw a couple of mating pairs of mason wasps, and there were at least four genera that I observed.

Mating mason wasps, Euodynerus foraminatus, male on top, in Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

One of the most interesting wasps found me. I noticed it on the sleeve of my shirt, took a picture, and then captured it for a controlled photoshoot at home. I thought it was a large eupelmid (family Eupelmidae), but in seeking further help with identification via a Facebook group, I learned it was something else entirely.

The Cleonymus magnificus wasp, maybe five millimeters, from Sportsfield Park in Leavenworth, Kansas.

Meet Cleonymus magnificus. Until recently, it was placed in the family Pteromalidae. It is now in its own family, the Cleonymidae. I will eventually write a blog post about this insect specifically, so stay tuned.

Please see my other blog, Sense of Misplaced, for a companion post that treats the birds, mammals, and other non-insect wildlife that I was fortunate enough to see during the City Nature Challenge. I promise there are some cuties in there.

A small but attractive longhorned beetle, genus Callidium, that I captured in Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

All of my observations for the 2026 City Nature Challenge can be found at this iNaturalist link. Feel free to share a link to your own observations in the comments. I would love to see what you discovered!

Thank You, Donors!

A wonderful thing happened recently. A friend gave me a camera that they haven’t been using, after I posted on social media that my current camera, which I have had for at least four years, is becoming glitchy, and I don’t know how much longer it will perform adequately. I did not expect a response to be so tangible, but it reminded me of how indebted I am to donors for the continued existence and success of this blog.

A new camera thanks to Lloyd D! Recurring $$ from Rich S!

After much deliberation, I have decided that at my advancing age, and because I have a deep and useful archive of posts here on Blogger, that I will not be changing platforms.

Another friend from LinkedIn flat out told me that “nobody makes money from blogs anymore.” Writers in general have an exceptionally difficult time making money anywhere, but we have to try. I would like to think that our time, knowledge, and unique experiences and perspectives are still in demand, and worthy of a little compensation.

This brings me to something else terrific. Yet another friend, whom I know personally, sent me a small monetary donation through PayPal. The next month, it happened again. It turns out it is a recurring donation. I had no idea that PayPal even offered that option.

What I would like to do is start a conversation in the comments for this post, about what kinds of rewards I could offer to followers who contribute regular donations. I also need to know what payment systems people prefer, so that I can investigate them and create accounts accordingly. My partner has Venmo, so she could probably help me set that up….

Rewards that come immediately to mind include a free, signed copy of one of my books after, say, three or four months of a repeating ten-dollar donation. I could agree to a virtual conversation over Zoom for an hour or so. Donors could earn the right to a guest post here, or I could write a profile about their own work and how it can be supported. Aside from my books, I do not have any “merch” at present, but I am willing to entertain suggestions. My partner does do stickers of insects and birds, though.

Please remember that I also have the blog Sense of Misplaced, where I write about things other than insects and arachnids. Sometimes it is about other types of wildlife, sometimes matters of social concern, (archival) poetry, “politics,” philosophical commentary, or other subjects and styles.

Between the two blogs, I am hoping to earn enough to at least cover the increasing expense of health insurance. Contrary to popular assumption, U.S. Medicare is not free healthcare. Mine is a little over $200 per month, whereas I was paying only a fraction of that prior to turning sixty-five. I have elected not to enroll in a “medigap” plan that covers a few things Medicare does not. That would double my monthly healthcare expense. I am delaying the receipt of Social Security payments for at least another year.

The bottom line is that I would like to remain reasonably stable financially, and resume my own donations to organizations and causes that are important to me, such as Doctors Without Borders, The Trevor Project, Southern Poverty Law Center, and Missouri Prairie Foundation. I also have my own recurring donation to the Patreon account for the Ologies podcast with Alie Ward.

As followers and donors, you have every right to assert accountability when it comes to frequency and content of posts here. I want to serve you better, and more often, for as long as I am able. Thank you for your continued support. Please see the “Donors” tab at the top of the page, to see the friends you could be joining.

The Beetle and the Bee

At the end of February, I finally found a beetle I had been looking for here, for years. Perhaps I had not been scouting for it early enough, but we barely had a winter this year, and I suspect that most years it would have been evident in March. The key was finding an aggregation of its host organism.

Tricrania sanguinipennis is a blister beetle in the family Meloidae. The adult insects measure 9-15 millimeters, but are bright enough, and active enough, that they are easily seen. Their wings, hidden under their red, leathery elytra, are almost vestigial, so they are flightless. Instead they crawl, but rather rapidly, over the surface of the soil, periodically digging where they detect the possible presence of a host.

Kansas is about as far west as this beetle is found, though there are records well north into Saskatchewan, Canada. It occurs over the eastern U.S. to extreme northern Florida, and up into adjacent southern Canada.

The limiting factor is that Tricrania sanguinipennis is a parasitoid of solitary bees that nest in dense aggregations, namely cellophane bees in the genus Colletes.

We have the Unequal Cellophane Bee, Colletes inaequalis, nesting in our yard and/or the adjacent neighbor’s lawn, depending on the year, but those locations are apparently blister beetle-free. It took finding a small aggregation of the bees in a forested park to locate the beetles.

An Unequal Cellophane Bee lurks just inside the entrance to her burrow.

The bees nest in burrows, ideally in sandy soil. The vertical, subterranean tunnels branch into several individual cells, each one an “apartment” for a single bee larva. The grub feeds on a nearly liquid loaf of pollen and nectar. The walls of its room are coated in a type of natural plastic manufactured in glands in its mother’s abdomen, which essentially waterproofs the chamber, and retards mold and fungus.

Back to the beetles. What the female beetles lack in mobility, they more than make up for in fecundity. Each lady can produce hundreds of eggs, over a thousand in some documented instances. How, then, do the beetles gain entry into these tunnels? The answer is that they do not. The larvae do.

The larval stage is unusually lengthy, progressing through six instars. An instar is the interval between molts. It is also strange in that it includes hypermetamorphosis. In this case that means the larval form changes radically in both appearance and behavior from one molt to the next.

Several male Unequal Cellophane Bees waiting for females to emerge.

The first instar larva that emerges from the egg is a sleek, streamlined, highly mobile bee-seeking missile called a triungulin. At the time they are active, it is almost exclusively male Colletes bees that are active, buzzing about and frequently landing to investigate a potential site where a female could emerge. It is at these brief moments when a blister beetle triungulin scampers aboard, affixing itself to the hairs on the underside of the bee’s abdomen.

Oops! An overeager male mistakes another male for a female.

When the male bee at last is able to mate, the triungulin transfers to the female bee. In at least a few instances, the triungulin may attach directly to a female bee that it encounters on the ground. She will eventually, and unwittingly, ferry that parasite, and probably several others, to her new nest burrow. Once inside, it disembarks and infiltrates one of the subterranean nest cells.

The beetle larva usually consumes the egg of the host immediately, but not always. The bulk of its diet will be the honey and pollen left by the bee for its offspring in the cell. It may be a frequent occurrence that more than one beetle larva invades a single bee cell. In that event, cannibalism of the competition resolves the conflict.

The meal of the host egg or larva is usually enough nutrition to trigger the beetle larva’s molt to the next instar. This results in a shocking change from that sleek, active larva into the insect equivalent of a couch potato. The second instar is, shall we say….rotund, and boat-shaped. It commences feeding on the pollen and nectar stores in the cell of the now missing bee offspring. The insect retains this form for the remainder of its larval life. The first three instars shuck their old exoskeleton completely, but the fourth and fifth instars retain each molt in its entirety. Think of it as an object inside a balloon (inside another balloon by the fifth instar). Those larvae actually shrink in size to fit inside the shed “skins.” When molting into the pupa stage, the sixth molt is again broken during shedding, and compacted at the rear of the pupa, which is still inside those other exoskeleton balloons.

It takes until late summer or early fall for the life cycle to complete, the adult beetle remaining encased in its final one or two larval exuviae, where it overwinters, still inside the cell in the host’s nest burrow.

You would think that the bee species hosting this diabolical beetle would be decimated by it, but such is not the case. Each spring there are plenty of the adult bees. What is more of a threat is the potential disconnect between the bees and their nectar plants. Colletes inaequalis visits flowering trees almost exclusively, especially Eastern Redbud, and maple trees. As the phenology of the blooming cycles becomes increasingly unpredictable thanks to climate change, the appearance of the flowers may cease to always coincide with the emergence of the bees that pollinate them.

Sources: Messinger Carril, Olivia, and Joseph S. Wilson. 2021. Common Bees of Eastern North America. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. 286 pp.
Parker, J.B. and Adam G. Boving. 1925. “The Blister Beetle Tricrania sanguinipennis - Biology, Descriptions of Different Stages, and Systematic Relationship,” Proc U.S. Nat. Mus. 64(2491): 1-40. This is a wonderfully exhaustive article, with illustrations of all larval instars.

Blacklighting Already?

Considering that we have hardly had winter at all here in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA, this year, I probably could have started blacklighting for moths and other insects near the end of February. Instead, I waited until March 14 for my first effort, in our back yard. There is a whole suite of moth species that emerge very early, and then never seen again until the following year, so it pays to put up a UV light, or even simply turn on your porch light, and see what flies in.

Unidentified knot-horn moth, family Pyralidae, subfamily Phycitinae.

The unseasonably high temperature for March 14, 2026 was sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Other insects besides moths appeared, including various flies, beetles, lacewings, barklice, and aphids and their kin. Many of these insects can overwinter as adults, but others eclose from the pupal stage early in spring.

Damsel bug, Nabis sp.

We now know that artificial lights at night do not “attract” moths, but disorient them. Insects fly with their backs to the stars and moon, so when a light appears on the horizon, or below, they flip their bodies accordingly, and end up in a spiraling flight to the source of illumination. Since the exercise of blacklighting is pretty much another version of light pollution, and because I am not doing scientific collecting or rigorous record-keeping, I do this infrequently, usually once every other week, alternating between the front yard and the back yard.

Moths

Moths are why most bugwatchers and insect collectors suspend a blacklight and/or a mercury vapor light, in front of a white sheet or other reflective surface. Moth diversity is several orders of magnitude greater than butterfly diversity, and we know relatively little about species that are not economic pests.

Roland's Sallow.

On this particular night, the most obvious moths were owlet moths in the family Noctuidae, particularly Roland’s Sallow, Psaphida rolandi. This is a widespread species from the eastern fringe of the Great Plains to the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. In the southern states in can appear as early as February, and disappears by May. The only known host plants for the caterpillars are oaks. They may feed high in the canopy, as they are seldom encountered. The species winters in the pupa stage, and can stay there for up to seven years, presumably to weather unfavorable conditions.

Speckled Green Fruitworm Moth.

Another owlet seen was a single individual of the Speckled Green Fruitworm Moth, Orthosia hibisci. This species occurs in forested areas across the entire U.S., and well into the heart of western Canada. The caterpillars are generalist feeders on mostly deciduous trees and shrubs, but even some conifers are on the menu. Like Roland’s Sallow, there is but one generation per year, with adults flying mostly in March and April, a few persisting into June in northern latitudes.

Green Cloverworm moth.

I had seen a couple Green Cloverworm moths, Hypena scabra, during daylight hours in late February and early March respectively, but one appeared at the sheet on this night, too. This is an abundant species in a variety of mostly open habitats east of the Rockies, with at least three generations per year. Food plants for the caterpillars include clover, alfalfa, ragweed, strawberries, and raspberries.

Spring Cankerworm moth, male.

Geometer moths, also known as inchworm moths, were also present. Spring Cankerworm, Paleacrita vernata, was one of them. I know the individuals I saw were all males because the females are wingless. The species ranges east of the Rockies in both the U.S. and Canada. As is the case with most wingless moth species, it is the first instar caterpillar, fresh from the egg, that is the dispersal stage. The larva issues strands of silk from its mouth that catch the wind and blow it to a host plant. Many deciduous trees and shrubs can serve as hosts. This is a winter and early spring species.

Small Phigalia moth, male.

Another such geometer is the Small Phigalia, Phigalia strigataria. It has a nearly identical life history, geographic and temporal distribution as Spring Cankerworm.

Small Engrailed.

One other “geo” almost escaped my notice because it landed off the sheet, on our wooden fence where it blended in almost seamlessly. As near as I can tell it is a Small Engrailed, Ectropis crepuscularia, an extremely variable species in terms of color and pattern (or lack thereof). It ranges east of the Great Plains, and also in the Pacific Northwest, north to the panhandle of Alaska. The flight period varies, but generally begins in March and ends in October. There are two generations each year in most places. Caterpillars feed on deciduous trees, but also some conifers.

Red-banded Leafroller moth.

The most confounding moths that flew in were members of the family Tortricidae, collectively known as leafroller moths for the habits of the caterpillars. Most specimens on the sheet defied identification, even to genus, save for the Red-banded Leafroller, Argyrotaenia velutinana. It is exceptionally common at our lights over much of the year, and the species ranges from the eastern Great Plains eastward. The caterpillars feed on an array of deciduous and herbaceous plants, eating both leaves and fruits. They pupate in a folded leaf on the ground, from which they emerge as adults.

Unidentified leafroller moth.

Beetles

I was mildly surprised by the variety of beetles I saw. Here is a small selection.

Seedcorn beetle, Stenolophus sp.

Marsh beetle, Contacyphon sp., I believe.

Variegated mud-loving beetle, Tropicus sp.

Likely a silken fungus beetle, Atomaria sp.

Locust Seed Beetle, Amblycerus robiniae.

Northern Plantain Flea Beetle, Dibolia borealis.

Lacewings

Lacewings spend the winter as adults, and even the green lacewings in the family Chrysopidae are mostly brown, pink, or reddish in autumn and the following spring. They are on the hunt for aphid colonies, the major food source for their voracious predatory larval offspring.

Green lacewing, Chrysoperla sp.

Brown lacewing, Micromus posticus.

Brown Pine Lacewing, Hemerobius stigma.

I was surprised to learn I had two different species of brown lacewings on this night, thanks to identification by a reliable expert on iNaturalist.

True Bugs

As luck would have it, the lacewing’s prey was also present. I had two species of aphids fly to the light. Many aphids alternate hosts between spring and fall, overwintering on the autumn host, and flying to new host plants or trees as those begin to increase their flow of phloem, the sap that aphids extract with their tubular mouthparts.

Unidentified aphid.

I think this is a woolly aphid.

Psyllids are relatives of aphids, and the hackberry psyllids, genus Pachypsylla, are especially common, having overwintered as adults in snug, concealed places. I suspect we have at least three species of these in our immediate neighborhood. They each make a type of gall on hackberry, within which the nymph stages grow and mature.

Hackberry gall psyllid, Pachypsylla sp.

One mirid plant bug came to the light briefly, as did two predatory stink bugs. You heard that correctly, I said predatory. The Spined Soldier Bug, Podisus maculiventris, has a sturdier, shorter rostrum than its plant-feeding cousins, the better to stab insect prey. They can take down insects several times their size, and walk around towing their prize as they feed. Last fall, this species was surprisingly abundant, and here they are again this spring.

Spined Soldier Bug.

Flies

Flies are ever present, some of them practically year-round. This is especially true for non-biting midges in the family Chironomidae. They are frequently mistaken for mosquitoes, but are even more abundant. The majority are aquatic in the larval stage. Though they can fly far from water, the fact that we have a prefabricated, roughly forty-gallon pond sunk into our back yard probably boosts their populations and diversity.

A typical non-biting midge, male.

Non-biting midge, Psectrotanypus sp., female.

There were a smaller number of biting midges, family Ceratopogonidae. Not to fear, the vast majority of these tiny flies bite other insects, feeding on the hemolymph of their targets.

Biting midge,

Dark-winged fungus gnats, family Sciaridae, are equally difficult to identify beyond family level, but are recognized by a “tuning fork” branch in one of the wing veins. They are quite small, but abundant. Some species are common indoors, breeding in the soil of overwatered house plants.

Dark-winged fungus gnat.

A nice surprise was a type of sun fly, genus Oecothea, family Heleomyzidae, kindly identified by Chris Angell on iNaturalist. The family is somewhat easily identified by the long, perpendicular spines on the leading edge of the wing. This feature rules out many similar-looking flies. Heleomyzids are most often seen in early spring and late fall. They breed in rotting organic matter of all origins, though some are associated with bird or mammal nests, or fungi.

Sun fly, Oecothea sp.

All fifty-two of my observations can be found on this iNaturalist page, where the status of their identification my be updated over time by specialist experts.

Ichneumon wasp, Ophion sp.

I have since done another night of blacklighting, on March 21, but I am not sure if I will get those front yard observations up any time soon. Suffice that I added at least two new species to our yard list as a result. Meanwhile, please share what you are seeing in your own yard. Include a link to your own iNaturalist account if you wish. Happy (nocturnal) bugwatching!