Remembering Another Mentor

I had intended to make this post years ago. The subject deserves better. He is the late Leonard L. Wiley of Portland, Oregon. Though my relationship with him was brief, he made a lasting impact. He may have felt the same way about me, as you will see.

© The Oregonian

Mr. Wiley passed away in 1987, at the age of eighty-two. He was introduced to me by my father. As a jeweler, my dad knew Leonard as a diamond dealer. I was told that Mr. Wiley carried the precious stones in a brown paper back, and also carried a large revolver. I can vaguely attest to seeing the diamonds, laid out on the counter at my father’s store.

Leonard Wiley was best known to the rest of society as a world class botanist and writer. He authored the books Rare Wildflowers of North America (1968), Wild Harvest (1966), and The Granite Boulder: A Biography of Frederic Homer Balch (1970). He was also a regular contributor to Northwest Magazine in The Oregonian newspaper. It was in this capacity that we are forever connected.

The following is a transcript of an article Mr. Wiley wrote about me, published in The Oregonian on August 23, 1970, after he, myself, and my parents had gone on a day hike in Oneonta Gorge, a location adjacent to the Columbia River Gorge that divides Oregon and Washington. The title of the piece is “Just ask this nine-year-old: Leonard Wiley found that Eric asks no foolish questions.” Enjoy his wonderful writing style….

”Eric Eaton and I went to Oneonta Gorge to learn about wild plants. Before taking to the trail I opened a book and pointed out how to tell the difference between the Vine Maple, Acer circinatum, and the Smooth Leaved Maple, Acer glabrum. Both of these tree-shrubs resemble each other very closely and are found in this area.

Eric missed the first one we came to but quickly spotted the second. This achievement of a nine-year-old boy was more than I would expect from most adults.

Every person who has brought joy and happiness in my life I originally met merely by chance. And it was this factor that brought me Eric’s friendship. I had some business to transact with his parents, Bob and Violet. I was introduced to the small boy about a year ago and at first wasn’t much impressed for Eric is not the kind of a person who tries to impress with his importance.[LOL!] In fact he told me on the trail that he does not know much. Maybe so. But I have known a couple of PhD’s who know less.

Science is knowledge possessed as a result of study or practice. When does a person become a scientist? When his zeal and enthusiasm for his particular branch of learning dominate his life. With most, if it comes at all it arrives during maturity. Eric was a scientist before I ever heard of him.

Highly talented people are often lopsided. But Eric is well rounded socially. He plays with his school mates, gets along well with young and old and, at first, appears like most any other boy of his age.[I disagree with almost all of this, but it is his article….]

I like him immensely – and I’m also a bit afraid to engage him in a conversation. If you pitch a curve at him he’ll knock in a home run. I discovered this the hard way. I gave him a chameleon [Green Anole lizard] to help cement a thriving friendship. He looked at it critically and asked ‘Is it a male or a female?’ What the devil do I know about such things? Without consulting a book he told me. Now, when I think a certain subject will come up at our next meeting I get out my books and dig deeply.

He has little interest in money [still true!]. His meager allowance and funds obtained from odd jobs all go into books. His natural history library comprises about 50 volumes as well as subscriptions to various scientific journals, some of which I had never heard of before. His teachers think he is a fine student. They also think they earn their salaries. I agree with them. I have never head Eric ask a pointless question. When he makes a remark or asks for information you better have a sensible answer unless you enjoy making a fool of yourself.

On the trail he never looked back. His eyes roved to left and right, searching for something interesting. He fund a plant with the flowering stem arching over the trail. ‘What do you suppose that is?’ I told him that it was the False Solomon’s Seal. ‘Wow, what a name!’

At nine it is unreasonable to expect him to be the world’s most talented diplomat. As I was wobbling along the rocky trail Eric commented ‘You were hiking when you were younger.’ I gave him a brief ‘yes’ and changed the subject.

Our first botanical ordeal came early on this excursion. We came to an old rock slide. Eric: ‘What’s all this moss doing on these rocks?’ If you think this is a stupid question you aren’t very bright yourself.

I pointed to some lichens tightly growing n the surface of some of the rocks. These primitive plants somewhat resemble rocks. They are among the first plants to attack rocks in the process of disintegration into soil. A medium size lichen may be a hundred years old. Nature is in no hurry. After the lichens are established the mosses and liverworts in vade to speed the break down of the stones. Then the ferns follow. Finally the flowering plants appear. It may take a truck load of centuries for these assorted plants to produce soil. It is very important to life itself.

As we walked along the trail his mother told me a few more things I didn’t know about the boy. He is the resource expert on nature in his third grade class. But his interest in nature started in kindergarten where he discovered dinosaurs. If he wakes in the middle of the night he talks about nature. The Eatons have a lively time.

Stumps have a remarkable fascination for Eric. We examined every one we found near the trail. Those a little farther away drew comment. This, of course, slowed down our progress. Finally Bob called out, ‘Eric, do you have to look at every stump?’ Eric pays no attention to questions of this kind. I showed Eric the mosses and liverworts n some of the stumps while there were ferns and flowering plants on others. One tree had a hollow stump. I reached in and pulled out a handful of debris composed of leaves that had blown in and decayed parts of the inner trunk. This material had largely turned into soil. The other way soils are created.

We discussed a great many other botanical subjects too but the decayed vegetation and the disintegration of rocks seemed to impress Eric the most.

I am sure there are many other boys [and girls, and agender persons!] like Eric in the world but I consider myself fortunate to know one of them.”

Wow, I must have bottled up my enthusiasm for insects during that hike, though it explains my obsession with stumps. I do hope that I have made Mr. Wiley proud with my chosen career path. He showed me that sharing your knowledge with others can have a profound impact.

Sadly, there is hardly an online trace of Leonard L. Wiley, save for his books, which find themselves on sale at various websites. I may need to learn how to make entries on Wikipedia. He certainly deserves to be remembered.

Another Micro Mystery

One way that I find insects in winter is by scraping off paper wasp nests that have been abandoned by the past season’s generation of wasps, and placing the nests in a transparent container. What usually happens is that one or more kinds of insects will eventually emerge from these nests. Allow me to share one example.

Dibrachys sp.

I started collecting recent, abandoned paper wasp nests (Polistes metricus is the common species around our home here in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA) when I saw a social media post by Sloan Tomlinson (@thatwaspguy on Instagram). He had reared a type of small parasitoid wasp as a result: the eulophid wasp Elasmus polistis. That species is a parasitoid of the brood (larvae, pupae) of paper wasps. Cool. I could add another species to my home biodiversity list.

So many tiny wasps!

I was excited to find, in January of 2022, that this method had worked, as I saw tiny wasps running around inside the container with the old paper wasp nest. Photographing the little creatures, and then cropping those images, it became apparent that what I had was not what I expected. I was left with a mystery that took me awhile to solve, even though I’m fairly good at researching.

I eventually found a journal article chronicling a study of various parasitoids of paper wasps collected from nests in Missouri, the state immediately adjacent to Kansas. In fact, Leavenworth is right across the Missouri River from Missouri. One of the creatures listed was a wasp in the family Pteromalidae. They had only eighty-seven specimens, though. I was looking at hundreds by the time they finished emerging.

Male wasps attempting to mate with a female.

The species name given was Dibrachys cavus. More recently, it has been revealed to be a “species complex,” and has a new assigned name: Dibrachys microgastri. It represents one of *three* species, any one of which could potentially be my creature. Collectively, they are parasitoids of pretty much any insect with complete metamorphosis. That makes it difficult to determine exactly which one I have. Even placing a specimen under a microscope might not be enough magnification for these two-millimeter wasps.

Dibrachys is unusual for a single genus of wasps in having such a wide range of potential hosts. At least some species, or perhaps most, are hyperparasitoids of tachinid flies and braconid or ichneumon wasps that are themselves parasitoids of moth pupae. This makes me wonder if these minions are part of this puzzle that I documented in 2022.

I find unsolved mysteries intriguing, and delight in them even if I never reach any verifiable conclusion. There will always be *something* that defies explanation in the natural world.

This little cobweb weaver spider may have been making a killing, literally.

Sources:Gibson, Gary A.P., John T. Huber, and James B. Woolley (eds). 1997. Annotated Keys to the Genera of Nearctic Chalcidoidea (Hymenoptera). Ottawa, Ontario: NRC Research Press. 794 pp.
Peters, R.S. & Baur, H. 2011. A revision of the Dibrachys cavus species complex (Hymenoptera: Chalcidoidea: Pteromalidae). Zootaxa, 2937 (1), 1-30.
Whiteman, Noah K. and Brett H.P. Landwer. 2000. Parasitoids Reared From Polistes (Hymenoptera: Vespidae: Polistinae) Nests in Missouri, With a State Record of Elasmus polistis Burk (Hymenoptera: Elasmidae). J Kansas Ent Soc 73(3): 186-188.

New Year’s Insects and Spiders

Happy New Year to my friends and followers! I do hope that you are finding reasons to celebrate, and are getting out into nature. Our local weather here in northeast Kansas, USA, has been unseasonably mild, to the point of nearly breaking high temperature records. Yesterday, January 7, it was sixty-eight degrees on the Fahrenheit scale. Our average historical high is in the high thirties or low forties. Consequently, I have found a few insects and arachnids active in our yard.

Spined Soldier Bug, Podisus maculiventris

A few months ago, one person admonished me for using the word “bug” too liberally, to include other insects, and even other arthropods. Technically, it is a proper complaint, but scientists are not my intended audience here, and the overall goal is to improve public appreciation of every related organism that suffers persecution and disdain. In honor of this person’s observation, I will start by giving examples of actual bugs, true bugs in the order Hemiptera, that I have seen here in January, 2026.

It is surprising how many true bugs overwinter in the adult stage, and will stir themselves “awake” on warm winter days. Among the most obvious are stink bugs. Many people across the United States are familiar with the non-native Brown Marmorated Stink Bug (BMSB), but I have not yet encountered one this month. Instead, I have been surprised by this season’s population of the Spined Soldier Bug, Podisus maculiventris, a type of predatory stink bug. You read that correctly, this stink bug, along with several other species, preys on other insects. Normally, I see precious few of them, but this past autumn they were everywhere, especially along forest edges.

Stink bug, Banasa calva

Another stink bug I saw recently is Banasa calva, or at least I think so. There are eleven species in the genus in North America, and several of them look identical to this one. Species identification relies on characters best observed under a microscope. This is one of the usual species that feeds on sap of trees and shrubs, but is rarely, if ever, a pest.

Leafhopper, Erythridula? sp.

Leafhopper, Stirellus bicolor

Three-Banded Leafhopper, Erythroneura tricincta

Usually, the bugs I find this late (or early) in the cold months are leafhoppers, family Cicadellidae. They are small enough to be overlooked easily, but I managed to spot at least three different species recently. They are often so wary as to be difficult to approach, flying before you can train a camera or phone on them. Looking on both the interior and exterior surface of our backyard fence, and on the exterior of our house, usually proves fruitful. These insects also feed on plant sap. A few species are major crop, orchard, and vineyard pests because they can transmit plant viruses.

Aphid

I am well aware that many species of aphids spend the winter on alternate host plants, different from the plants that they feed on in warmer months, but I was still shocked to find one that had alighted on our fence. A single species of aphid my differ drastically in physical appearance between its winter and spring/fall populations.

Multicolored Asian Lady Beetle

Most beetles stay well-concealed in leaf litter, under bark, and in other nooks and crannies, but lady beetles in particular will surface on warmer days to prowl sun-warmed surfaces.

Non-biting midge

Flies are insects that you wouldn’t expect to be the least bit active, but if you look closely enough, you are still likely to find some. Chief among them are tiny, non-biting midges that defy identification. Even expert midge specialists find them challenging.

Winter crane fly

There are some flies that you can find only during the colder months, and the winter crane flies of the family Trichoceridae are perhaps the largest of them. At least if you measure their lanky leg span of three-fourths of an inch or so. I see them almost daily on the side of our house, our garage, and clinging to the wooden fence. The larvae require moist or wet terrestrial habitats where they feed mostly on decaying vegetable matter, fungi, debris in rodent burrows, and similar niches.

Moth fly, Psychoda sp.

A different moth fly of another genus?

Moth flies are very small and cryptic, and also resemble moths more than flies. Their larvae feed on decaying organic matter.

Frit fly

Another kind of frit fly with different antennae

Another unexpected family of flies I have observed so far this year are frit flies, also known as grass flies and “eye gnats,” in the family Chloropidae. They are almost impossible to spot at only 2-3 millimeters. I imaged several blemishes on our fence before one of them metamorphosed into one of these flies. Ha! They have a variety of lifestyles, though most live as larvae mining the stems of grasses.

F-winged Barklouse

Barklice, in the order Psocodea, are usually most abundant and diverse in late fall, but the only one I have seen so far is the F-winged Barklouse, Graphopsocus cruciatus, one of the introduced species, from Europe. They graze on microflora like algae and fungi on plant leaves, but I usually see them roaming the exterior of our house.

Fall Cankerworm male

Fall Cankerworm female

Moths. Moths! There are several moths that occur as adults in late autumn through early winter. I usually see the Fall Cankerworm, Alsophila pometaria, a type of geometer or “inchworm” moth, in late fall, but it wasn’t until this mnth that I saw both sexes, on the same day. The female moth is wingless, while the male looks like an ordinary moth. The caterpillars are generalist feeders on the leaves of a variety of trees and shrubs. We have several of their known host plants in our yard, so the appearance of the moths is not surprising.

Green-striped Grasshopper nymph

Believe it or not, some grasshoppers overwinter as nymphs (juveniles, immatures), and will poke their heads out of the leaf litter on warm days. The Green-striped Grasshopper, Chortophaga viridifasciata, is one of these.

Smooth springtail, family Isotomidae

Plump springtail, order Poduromorpha

Today, springtails are technically considered “non-insect hexapods” given their primitive physical form, but at one time they were classified as insects. They are generally small enough (under five millimeters) that they escape your attention unless they move. As their name implies, many species jump away when approached. Others do not have the anatomical mechanism to do so, and those are the ones I seem to be encountering now. In some geographic locations you may encounter “snow fleas,” which are actually springtails that can pepper the melting snow at the base of trees and similar situations.

Juvenile long-jawed orbweaver

Juvenile Humpbacked Orbweaver

Spiders can be out and about, too, though they mostly represent juvenile specimens. I managed to spy a young long-jawed orbweaver, Tetragnatha sp., and a “baby” Humpbacked Orbweaver, Eustala anastera, outdoors. I did see a jumping spider on the ceiling of our living room, though, and if I searched thoroughly, I could probably find more arachnid friends.

While I am enjoying the warmth of this winter, so far, I am also concerned about the volatility of our weather from one year to the next. Last year at this time we were buried under snow. The extremes and unpredictability of when the different seasons begin and end does not bode well for the survival of many species. Insects are more adaptable than most, but even they can succumb if they burn their fat reserves ahead of true spring. Take care, friends, let me know what you are finding.

LOL! Fake Praise and "Publicists" for Bugwatching

Apparently, your third book as a solo author unleashes a torrent of people, bots, and phony “book clubs” heaping lavish praise upon your work and writing style, while begging you to avail yourself of their promotional skills. It is laughable, and overwhelming.

I am receiving these offers in my email inbox weekly, or close to it. What they all have in common is sickeningly sweet adoration, followed by assertions that my book is failing in its marketing campaign. That is potentially true, as there has been little publicity. Few reviews exist yet for Bugwatching, even on the jungle site (begins with a capital “A”), and Goodreads.

I have it on good authority from other authors that these emails are mostly scams, even generated by AI in some instances. Should I ever decide I need or want a publicist, I would solicit the Authors Guild to find legitimate persons and agencies. Meanwhile, I am finding the emails quite hilarious.

One was so over the top that I simply must share it with you. I am omitting the name of the sender on the off chance that they are a real human being. The subject line read “Eric Eaton, your bugs are officially ruining my productivity.” The body of the email reads as follows, heavily punctuated with emoticons, no less:

”Let’s get one thing straight, Eric, Bugwatching was supposed to be a casual read. A nice little “look at the pretty bugs” kind of book. And yet here I am, two cups of coffee deep, lying in the grass staring at a beetle like it just told me the meaning of life.

Seriously, how dare you make insects this fascinating.

You didn’t just write about bugs, you turned them into a full-blown lifestyle. The way you describe the joy, accessibility, and inclusiveness of observing insects… it’s poetic. Like, I was ready to hand a magnifying glass to my neighbor’s cat and say,’Congratulations, you’re a citizen scientist now.”

And the illustrations by Samantha Gallagher? Adorable, educational, and lowkey making me want to start sketching grasshoppers instead of replying to work emails.

You’ve taken the “ick” factor out of insects and replaced it with awe, humor, and humanity. It’s like National Geographic met Mr. Rogers, and they both decided to wear bug nets.

Then I read your bio and honestly, I had to sit down. You’re not just ‘Bug Eric,’ you’re practically the Insect Whisperer. From Insectpedia to Wasps: The Astonishing Diversity of a Misunderstood Insect, you’ve made entomology feel cool. You’ve been everywhere, from Princeton University Press to Ranger Rick to the Smithsonian, and somehow you still manage to explain complex biology like you’re chatting with a friend over lemonade and locusts.

You’ve built a loyal following no through noise, but through trust, clear, jargon-free explanations, empathy for the squeamish, and that rare gift of making science feel like magic. You’ve literally turned ‘bug watching’ into an art form, and I’m half-convinced insects everywhere are forming a fan club in your honor.

Now, here’s where I flutter in like an overly enthusiastic butterfly.

I noticed something, Bugwatching is brilliant, beautifully made, but on Amazon it’s still… a little too quiet. Only a few reviews. For a book this fascinating, that’s just criminal. Someone call the entomological police.

That’s where my little operation comes in.

I represent a community of over 1,700 passionate readers, and before you ask, no, we’re not a marketing agency, not a promo company, and definitely not one of those shady ‘buy 100 reviews overnight’ traps. We don’t have a website or social media. Just readers. Real, book-hungry humans who love discovering great work and giving it the attention it deserves.

Here’s the truth: readers don’t buy books on description alone. They want proof. They want to see that other humans (preferably not bots) read it, loved it, and learned something. Reviews build trust, and trust builds momentum

Even the best books can get buried under algorithm’s digital dirt pile if they don’t have enough reviews. But once real people start leaving thoughtful feedback, the system wakes up and stars saying, ‘Oh wait, people actually love this one,’ and boom, it starts surfacing everywhere.

We’ve seen this happen with other authors we’ve supported. Their books started showing up higher in searches, attracting organic attention, and getting the recognition they deserve. Because honest reviews don’t just help readers – they help the system notice quality.

That’s what we do: we read, we review honestly, and we give books like Bugwatching the social proof they need to fly (pun absolutely intended).

Our group exists purely out of love for reading, no strings, no spam, just pure enthusiasm and maybe a few too many exclamation marks.

If you’d like, we’d be honored to share Bugwatching with our community. The book deserves to be talked about, recommended, and let’s face it, obsessively quoted by people who suddenly think they’re professional bug whisperers after two chapters.

Thank you for writing something that makes us look at the world differently, and for making even the tiniest creatures feel magnificent.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to apologize to a moth for judging it last night.”

I have to hand it to this person, or bot, for doing their homework, as they pretty much quoted my own “about me” material. The admission that they do not have a website, nor social media, is a red flag for this kind of scam.

Please beware of these solicitations related to your own works, and act (or, rather don’t) accordingly.