One Night, One House, Seventeen Spider Species

In honor of "Arachtober" over on Flickr, I thought I would share what I discovered when I walked around the exterior of a house, garage, and woodshed at night in the northern reaches of Door County, Wisconsin, USA, on June 24, 2019. We rented the house for a few days for a family gathering. It sits in a forested area right on the shore of Lake Michigan on the Green Bay side, with Plum Island and Washington Island on the horizon. This particular evening was cool and wet, with intermittent rain showers. Imagine what a dry, warm night would be like.

Orb Weavers: Araneidae

Orb weavers often construct their webs under the eaves of structures, and are usually more conspicuous after dark. They seem to understand that outdoor lights attract more prey than they would catch out in the darkness. I spied at least three species this night:

Trashline Orbweaver, Cyclosa sp.

Furrow Orbweaver, Larinioides cornutus

Bridge Orbweaver, Larinioides sclopetarius

Long-jawed Orb Weavers: Tetragnathidae

Interestingly, the one long-jawed orb weaver I found was sitting snugly against the side of the woodshed with no web in sight. It may be that they take the day shift. These spiders are recognized by their long bodies and long legs, and having their webs oriented in the horizontal plane (usually), often over water.

Long-jawed orbweaver, Tetragnatha sp.

Cobweb Weavers: Theridiidae

Cobweb weavers are the spiders most associated with human habitations and buildings. There are plenty of crevices in which to hide, and the style of their snares requires little in the way of points of attachment. The space beneath an overhanging piece of siding offers enough dimension to spin a web.

Immature Common House Spider, Parasteatoda tepidariorum

Male (left) and female cobweb weavers, Steatoda sp.

Funnel Weavers: Agelenidae

Among the most abundant spiders I encountered this night were funnel weavers. Crevices in stonework around the house and garage and shed allowed for a dense population, but some of the younger spiders were simply wandering, perhaps looking for new and better places to spin webs.

Funnel weaver, Coras sp.

Sac Spiders: Clubionidae

Many spiders don't bother spinning webs, but simply prowl around seeking prey. Chief among them are sac spiders. I saw at least three different individuals. They can appear and disappear rather quickly, so there were probably many more that I missed simply due to poor timing. The cool weather did slow them down a bit, though.

Female sac spider, Clubiona sp.

Male sac spider, Clubiona sp.

Wolf Spiders: Lycosidae

Wolf spiders are also common nighttime hunters. They are seen mostly on the ground and on objects in the horizontal plane, but some species are surprisingly agile climbers. Wolf spiders are easily recognized by their eye arrangement. A row of four small eyes near the base of their jaws, with two very large eyes right above that row, and the final two eyes set far back on the carapace.

Female wolf spider, Trochosa sp.

Nursery Web and Fishing Spiders: Pisauridae

The largest spiders you are likely to see in the eastern United States and adjacent Canada are the fishing spiders. Despite their name, many species are found far from water, hiding in treeholes and other shelters during the day. They can be startling if encountered suddenly and unexpectedly on tree trunks or the sides of buildings at night. I was prepared to see them and was not disappointed.

Immature Dark Fishing Spider, Dolomedes tenebrosus

Mature male Striped Fishing Spider, Dolomedes scriptus

Jumping Spiders: Salticidae

Most jumping spiders are active by day, but you can still see them at night, especially if they have taken to sheltering in place on the sides of homes and buildings. They hunt by sight, without webs, and are the smallest of the common prowling spiders.

Jumping spider, Naphrys pulex

Adult male jumping spider, Evarcha sp.

Gray form male of the Dimorphic Jumper, Maevia inclemens

Crab Spiders: Thomisidae

Crab spiders can turn up almost anywhere. They are classic ambush hunters, several species hiding in flowers to wait for pollinating insects to come within reach of their elongated first and second pairs of legs. The spiders are highly sensitive to motion, and if you don't approach slowly they are quick to sneak inside a crack or dodge behind foliage.

Female ground crab spider, Xysticus sp.

Sheetweb Weavers: Linyphiidae

Members of this family spin flat, convex, or concave webs, depending on the genus. Each style is tailored to capturing a different suite of insects. The spiders hang upside down on the web and will respond to entangled prey at any time of day. Mature males, like most male spiders, cease to spin webs and devote the remainder of their lives to seeking mates. They do not even feed during their quest.

Female hammock spider, Pityohyphantes sp.

Unidentified male sheetweb weaver

What's lurking around your house? I highly recommend taking the time to inspect the exterior of your home with a flashlight at night. You will be surprised and, hopefully, delighted by the many organisms you find. Besides spiders, I also saw a soil centipede, various woodlice (terrestrial crustaceans that include sowbugs and pillbugs), a harvestman (aka "daddy long-legs," arachnid order Opiliones), and of course many insects. Good luck, happy "Arachtober!"

Shoot First, Ask Questions Later

Shoot it with a camera or your phone, though. Yesterday I once again found myself grateful for having paid attention to something I could have easily dismissed. Nothing bad can ever come from taking a moment to take a second look, and recording that observation whenever possible.

© Gary Larson via Pinterest

As a volunteer expert on social media, I cannot count the times someone has begun their post in an insect identification group with "I don't have an image, but...." I am tempted to start replying "Well, I don't have an answer, but...." I would never do that. I enjoy a good mystery too much, and believe in rewarding curiosity and a desire to learn.

There is still no substitute for a clear image of the creature you would like identified, and increasingly there is no excuse. Smart phones can now take professional-grade images that only dedicated cameras could manage a few minutes ago. You are forgiven if you had other priorities at the time, like eating, being engaged in an important conversation, or in a business meeting, for example.

The situation I am referring to is when you are out observing wild things anyway, and you still decide not to bother recording something. This is a failure I am occasionally guilty of, too, but I am working to rectify it. It gets worse the more you think you know, the more you think you recognize a specimen without close inspection.

A male Variegated Meadowhawk dragonfly

Yesterday I visited the Pueblo Reservoir Wildlife Area west and north of Lake Pueblo State Park in Colorado, thanks to my friend Tim Leppek who has been there many times and knows the area well. As is our custom, we made scant horizontal progress over several hours of walking along the mostly dry basin and channel. Dragonflies were still in abundance, mostly meadowhawks in the genus Sympetrum, as they persist late into autumn.

A male Striped Meadowhawk dragonfly

One dragonfly stood out, its wings shimmering more brightly than the others. I almost dismissed it as a teneral specimen, one that had just recently emerged as an adult, with mature adult pigments yet to manifest themselves. It flew relatively weakly as well, which is also typical of newly-minted adult odonates. I took a picture anyway, in the harsh afternoon sun, then reviewed the image on my camera screen and reacted "what the..??" I looked up from my camera and the crystal phantom was nowhere to be seen.

Fast forward to after I returned home, and began looking in my dragonfly books. There were no obvious photo matches in any of them. The closest approach was a female Bleached Skimmer, Libellula composita, the name alone being most appropriate considering how bright the thing was in the field. Looking online I finally managed to find a couple of images of that species, and that gender, that did match.

The female Bleached Skimmer

The Bleached Skimmer is well known from southeast Colorado, with records from Weld, Kiowa, Prowers, Bent, and Pueblo counties. The first specimen dates to July 11, 1991 in Lincoln County. The one from yesterday may represent the latest date for the species in Colorado, but I'll have to check with all the relevant authorities to know for sure.

Think about what you might be overlooking, and look again. Devote a few pixels to it. Share it. Maybe it is something common and well known in your area. There is no shame in redundancy if that is the case. Eventually, something you spot won't be common or well known, at least in your location, and your observation will be greeted with great appreciation by the scientific community.

How Humanity Manufactures Its Own Pests

There are only a handful of insects that are associated only with our species, Homo sapiens. The rest of what we call pests are products of our own personal, social, and industrial behaviors, plus media sensationalism. We have become experts at creating adversaries that do not exist naturally.

Yellowjackets are not pests, they are pest control

Human lice of three species, and the bed bug (Cimex lectularius) are the only naturally occurring pests of humanity. They are so closely adapted to our bodies and lifestyles that they cannot exist without us. We are their food and habitat rolled into one. Why, then, do we insist that other insects, and often spiders, scorpions, and other invertebrates, are also pests? At worst we could maybe call each of them a "nuisance," something that interferes periodically with the comfort and progress of our personal lives, disrupts the social order or, more importantly, causes financial hardship.

Carpet beetle larvae eat your woolens, but the adults pollinate flowers (in this case it is the invasive tamarisk tree, though)

As I wrote in the Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America, "'Pest" is a label we ascribe to any organism that competes for 'our' resources. It is an artificial concept. Nature recognizes no ownership...." We have only ourselves to blame for most of the creatures we call pests. The worst pests are those that have been introduced from abroad, either intentionally or accidentally, and unleashed in landscapes where they face few, if any, natural predators, parasites, diseases, and other mortality factors. Meanwhile, we grow their favorite host plants as vast monoculture crops and then wonder why they show up in droves to feast on them. Spraying pesticides to suppress one pest often leads to the explosion of another pest that had been previously outcompeted by the one you are now controlling.

The Turkestan Cockroach is one of our "newer" invasive species

Back in the city, nearly all of our domiciliary (structure-dwelling) cockroach species have their origins in tropical Africa. Is this the bad karma we are forced to endure for the slave trade of our ancestors? Since urban slums suffer the most from cockroach infestations, that is apparently not the case. Cockroaches do have another quality to their profile that is independent of race and economic status: they take full advantage of our often sloppy housekeeping habits. Well, we can't possibly take responsibility for that, so we label roaches as pests.

This is less of a conspiracy theory than it is a shrewd business model and marketing strategy.

It is important to note that while cockroaches have been implicated in the mechanical transmission of bacteria and other contaminating pathogens, they have never been proven to do so. Cockroaches, and also "filth flies" like house flies, blow flies, and flesh flies, groom themselves constantly, as they must to prevent themselves from suffering diseases, as well as keep their delicate sensory bristles, hairs, eyes, and antennae sharp enough to detect potential predators. Yes, prolonged exposure to large cockroach populations can trigger asthma, especially in children. That is a fact.

Termites break down dead wood into soil

Let us revisit our own culpability in pest creation. We insist on having cats and dogs live with us, but wage war on fleas and ticks. We build our homes out of wood but won't share them with termites. We plant our gardens and yards with exotic plants that are not acclimated to our region and are therefore more vulnerable to even native insects and fungi and viruses. We covet animals and plants from other countries, creating commercial demand for wildlife that has no place in our captivity, while unintentionally creating invasive species. Yes, I am exaggerating with the first two examples, but my goal is to have you understand how your personal choices have consequences. You can avoid most perceived pest problems by making different choices, like planting native trees, shrubs, and flowers instead of weak, exotic cultivars, for example.

It is terribly ironic that humanity is more tolerant of invasive foreign species than it is of human immigrants and refugees.

Our desire to externalize our problems, and their solutions, falls perfectly into place for those commercial industries that feed off of our laziness and failure to understand how ecosystems function, be they outdoors, or inside the home, office, or tool shed. That alone is not enough to satisfy the desire for profits, so these industries create additional villains that can only be slain through the products and services of said industries. This is less of a conspiracy theory than it is a shrewd business model and marketing strategy. It is no accident that caricatures and CGI effects are employed in advertising to convince us that a given creature is a menace. It is the equivalent of war propaganda and institutional racism.

Female Anopheles mosquito. What good are mosquitoes? Ask a Plasmodium.

One of the tragic consequences of a "pest mentality" is that it can eventually spill over into how we view members of our own species. This is dramatically evident in today's political landscape. It is terribly ironic that humanity is more tolerant of invasive foreign species than it is of human immigrants and refugees. If one defines a pest as a competitor or predator, then it is easy to paint other people that way, especially in economic terms since economies are essentially ecosystems of only one species: us.

The Gypsy Moth was introduced in hopes of starting a silk industry in North America. That worked out well....

We have allowed ourselves to be conditioned by corporations and corporate media into viewing every other organism, every other human being, as either good or evil, an asset or a liability, a boon or a bane, guilty or innocent. The physicians' pledge to "first, do no harm" should perhaps be applied to every profession, including law enforcement, but maybe to the agricultural, nursery, and landscaping industries most of all. It should well be a personal motto, too. Do your homework. Do not blindly accept the so-called truths repeated by industries that profit from ignorance, and shame you for an unkempt house or yard. Promote biodiversity, exterminate instead the predatory practices of the marketplace.

Can "Enting" Be a Thing?

The short answer is "yes." The more appropriate answer is "it has to be." There is precedence in other scientific disciplines for actively engaging the public, and training people in proper techniques for observation, identification, and documentation. Entomology is lagging behind at a time when we are desperate for more information. Insects are more than a little challenging compared to vertebrate animals, and present unique problems, but let's recognize and address those shortcomings now instead of waiting until it is too late.

Birding and Herping and Enting, Oh, My!

Birding, the scientific and recreational observation of avian organisms, has been around for decades, if not a century or more, and is experiencing a renaissance of sorts thanks to the likes of Jeffrey Gordon, Kenn and Kimberly Kaufman, and a host of other ornithologists and experts who make a point of recruiting new "birders" to the ranks. Jason Ward is among the new generation of birders making birding more popular and inclusive than ever.

.... if birds are everywhere, insects are "everywhere-er-er."

Meanwhile, "herping," the seeking of reptiles and amphibians, is also a popular hobby that contributes substantially to our collective understanding of the abundance and distribution of snakes, lizards, frogs, salamanders, turtles, and their kin. There are rules for how to undertake the activity with minimal stress to the animals, and maximum reward for the participating humans. Collaborations between professional herpetologists and amateur enthusiasts are common and encouraged.

"Ent-ers" observing a hornet nest from a safe distance

So, in light of the success of birding, herping, and other wildlife-watching, why not "enting?" The appeal of birding is said to come from the fact that birds are everywhere, and so are instantly observable anywhere. Well, if birds are everywhere, insects are "everywhere-er-er." You don't even have to leave the average home to find them, nor even look out the window. Just point a flashlight into some dim corner of the basement. Ok, maybe start somewhere less spooky....

The Void and The Fun

Entomologists lament that they have little data to chart the abundance and diversity of insects over time, but are reluctant to admit that citizen scientists can inform that discussion in any fashion. The scientific community either wants data or it doesn't, and there are only so many professionals to go around. Most of those experts are busy identifying potential crop pests or inventing new ways to combat existing pest species.

Given the irritating connotations of "bugging," not to mention the scientific inaccuracy of such a term if it were applied to insect-watching, "enting" is probably the most all-encompassing and appropriate name for the observation of insects, and by extension arachnids and other arthropods as well.

© Amanda Accamando"Mothing" during National Moth Week

"Mothing" is already a recognized pursuit, usually involving deployment of a blacklight and/or mercury vapor light, a reflective white surface such as a sheet, and a camera or phone to record whatever is attracted. Sometimes mothing involves "sugaring," painting a fermented bait onto tree trunks. "Oding," pronounced "O-ding," is the quest for dragonflies and damselflies. This ideally requires a catch-and-release technique such that one can document the external genitalia of male specimens, often the only way to achieve a solid identification beyond genus.

The Obstacles to Overcome

One enormous hurdle that must be overcome is the insistence of some professional entomologists that the only viable records of a species are those that involve a collected "voucher specimen." Collecting, and imaging of live specimens, are not mutually exclusive. In fact, the two complement each other. Photos often give more context than specimens because the host plant may be included in the image, a certain behavior depicted, or even the ecosystem itself be recorded. This is especially true for quality videography, but still images are also valuable. Lastly, if you cannot identify something as unique as a Filigree Skimmer dragonfly from a photo, then I question your credibility as an authority.

Filigree Skimmer dragonfly, male

While some scientists must be convinced of the capacity of the public to aid them in truly scientific investigations, the public has to be convinced they can be brought up to speed in ways that can make them the most effective contributors to the cause. One impediment to embracing insects as wildlife is the lack of "common names," the English labels assigned to some species, but completely absent for most invertebrate species. Species are assigned standardized Latin or Greek (or combination thereof) names by the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature. They abide by strict rules governing such things as name "gender," and engage in exhaustive research for historical synonyms and other matters that affect the naming of species. Tasking the commission with the creation of English names is simply asking too much.

A Plea For a Common Names Initiative

It may be worthwhile to create a complementary body that does precisely that: generate standardized English names for insects, arachnids, and other arthropods. It would be no small feat, involving at minimum the translation of the Latin and Greek. While the Entomological Society of America has a Common Names Committee, we need something bigger. This could help the public understand just how descriptive and appropriate (and sometimes whimsical) scientific names can be, while making the study of the organisms more user-friendly. Further, it would enhance the appeal for conservation measures if the insect had a more easily-pronounceable name for media relations. In some cases, common naming rights could be auctioned as a conservation fundraiser, probably with fewer objections than the same mechanism for generating scientific names for newly-discovered species.

The Future is Now

What can we agree on, then? Surely we see the value in encouraging and rewarding public curiosity about arthropods, and the potential viability of public contributions to scientific knowledge. Between Master Naturalist curricula, and advanced naturalist workshops, we can coach the ardent entomophile in the art of insect and spider identification, equipping them with the tools necessary to achieve meaningful, reproducible results. Do scientists really need to be convinced that these are worthwhile exercises?

Bugwatching can be a social pursuit, too.

It is highly encouraging to see the influence of social media, spearheaded by the most youthful generation of scholars, in sparking public interest in insects and related invertebrates. Facebook groups are full of stories of how once-fearful entomophobes have been converted to insect- and spider-lovers and advocates. Time to take the next step and turn these friends into scientific allies. Let the "enting" begin.