All Grown Up

I have no idea whether she is the same individual that I introduced in ”The University Roach” back in November, but on Monday, December 14, I finally spotted an adult female brown-banded roach on the floor in my lab. Since the first sighting I have learned a little more about the species, too.

Ok, maybe what I really learned is just how much we collectively don’t know, like exactly where this species came from in the first place. My initial research concluded that Supella longipalpa is probably native to Africa. According to the second edition of How to Know the Grasshoppers, Cockroaches and Their Allies, by Jacques R. Helfer (Wm. C. Brown Company Publishers, Dubuque, Iowa, 1972), the brown-banded cockroach was known only from Florida from 1903 until at least 1917. The text further states that the species was introduced to Arizona in 1933. An asterisk footnote recognizes that “Supella longipalpa (F.) has been very successful in extending its range and has now turned up in every state.”

The homeland of this species is disputed in Stephen A. Marshall’s tome, Insects: Their Natural History and Diversity (Firefly Books, Richmond Hill, Ontario, 2006). The author states that this species is native to India, and that it is becoming increasingly common in households throughout North America.

David George Gordon, in his highly-readable book The Compleat Cockroach (Ten Speed Press, Berkeley, California, 1996), agrees with the African origin of the species, adding that it wasn’t until troops returned from World War II that brown-bandeds really made inroads in the U.S., and that “By 1967, brownbandeds were reported in forty-seven of the forty-eight contiguous states.”

The Cockroach Combat Manual, by Dr. Austin M. Frishman and Arthur P. Schwartz (William Morrow and Company, Inc., New York, New York, 1980) gives a more detailed description of the African scenario, indicating that this species got to Florida via Cuba (1892), arriving in Key West and Miami in 1903. No word on whether it fled Cuba due to political instability. This book also names Vermont as the sole state to be free of this pest as of 1967.

All authorities do seem to agree that this roach is most likely to be found inside furniture and electrical appliances. They have a fondness for starchy materials, too, and will munch on the paste used in bookbinding, and also on wallpaper paste. Body fluids from molting and deceased specimens can sometimes cause short circuits in televisions and other electronic equipment. Maybe there really is a bug in your computer….

Farewell, UMass

Today was my last day at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Actually, last Friday was my “official” last day, but I wanted to tidy up before I left (and make up for the long lunches I took on the few nice days we had over the summer). I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the many people who made life on campus so pleasant during my stay.

The bureaucracy associated with new employment can be a bit overwhelming, but the ladies in the department office made things go very smoothly. Thank you to Linda, Roxanne, Lori, and Carolyn for expediting everything from my very own mailbox to the installation of a phone in the lab, and rectifying a discrepancy in my wage. You are all so friendly, too.

Ironically, I only met the Chief Investigative Officer for my lab, and the co-originator of the project I worked on, once, when I first arrived. Still, I am deeply indebted to Kevin McGarigal for providing me this employment opportunity when I needed it most. Thank you, Kevin.

Scott Jackson, co-founder of the project and my primary administrative contact, went out of his way to be a good friend as well as colleague. Given his position and responsibilities, he never appears stressed out in the least. Thanks, Scott, for setting such a great example.

The last thing Scott did was to take myself and a few others to lunch as a thank you for the work we did in the field and in the lab. Among those so honored were Charley Eiseman, who I introduced in “The Art of Insect Tracking,” and Kasey Rolih, who has been an amazing field leader for several years. She was exceedingly patient with me when she visited the lab, too. Thanks for helping me conquer the formula for converting 95% ethanol to 70%. Kasey’s husband, Brad Compton, is the guru behind the computer modeling and data evaluation for this project, since its inception. He was always willing to help solve my own computer issues, or just pause to chat about fly fishing or tell an amusing story. You never failed to make my day, Brad.

The people I owe the most to are the three women pictured here. From left to right: Jennifer Connolly, Shelley Raymond, and Theresa Portante.

Theresa, a Graduate Research Assistant, was my first and most constant contact. She hired me, helped me to find housing, and put up with me through the “growing pains” that go with any new job. Her organizational and people-management skills are amazing. She never asks anyone to do anything she wouldn’t do herself, and meets every challenge with enthusiasm and a smile. You are going to go far, Theresa, and I am honored to call you a friend and colleague.

Jennifer Connolly was exceptionally busy in the field, but her visits to the lab were always welcome. I wish I had gotten to know you better, Jennifer, but it was always a joy to see you.

Shelley Raymond spent the wet, soggy summer in the field, but I guarantee you she never complained. She spent the bulk of the fall in the lab and I felt very fortunate to have her company there. Shelley is one of the hardest workers I’ve ever met, and toiled away at some very dirty, redundant, and, well, “fragrant” tasks processing samples taken over the summer. She never has a gripe, is always friendly, and has a great wit and sense of humor. She’ll be leaving soon for new digs in Boston and I wish her the very best. Anybody in Boston would be nuts to pass up the chance to hire this woman. If she, Jennifer, and Theresa are examples of young people today, the collective future of our society looks very bright.

I know there are people I’m leaving out. People like Dr. Paige Warren and her grad students Suzanna and Rachel and Noah Charney….and Meagan down the hall who introduced me to her own circle of friends. I could not have asked for a better situation here. Thank you to all, you are friends for life.

It's Raining Opportunities

The good news is that I am not at a loss for continued work, now and after the University of Massachusetts job ends its six-month run in two weeks. The bad news is that none of the new projects by themselves will keep me afloat financially. Still, I am very grateful because they are taking me in directions I have wanted to go for a long time.

Naturally, the project I am most excited about is the one I am basically sworn to secrecy about. Suffice that it involves technology. The caliber of the other individuals involved is first-rate, and I have been warmly received. I will say more when I am able, I assure you.

The other project I just learned about today. Suffice that this one involves commercial television, but is so embryonic that the producer himself cannot guarantee anything. I have been graciously welcomed there, also, and look forward to the possibilities.

Still, I am open to receiving invitations for complementary projects and/or steady work, ideally with healthcare benefits kicking in before allergy season does. Allegra is really expensive!

Best wishes to all of you for continued good health, employment, travel, laughter, and all the other things that make life truly worth living.

Work, Work, Work

I do not like to make excuses for why there are long gaps between blog entries, but right now I am up to my ears in work, and my six month stint here at the University of Massachusetts is winding down.

My current priorities are to finish my tasks in the lab, complete a private project identifying bee specimens, and start packing up to move back to Arizona. Blogging is going to have to be put on the back burner for now, so please bear with me while posts are more infrequent.

Once I return to Tucson, I also aim to drive more traffic to my Sense of Misplaced blog, where I can be more creative, philosophical, and opinionated.

I See Dead Spiders

I have been almost literally wading through vials of dead spiders in my lab at the University of Massachusetts (Amherst) the last few weeks. My supervisors had tried to come to terms with a real arachnologist in Canada to identify the pitfall trap specimens from last year’s samples, but apparently international relations were too complicated and it fell to me to try and make heads and tails (cephalothoraxes and spinnerets?) of the many members of the order Araneae that were trapped last summer.

The chemicals and processes used in collecting, cleaning, and preserving the specimens often leaves them in less than optimal condition for identifying them later on, and the biggest challenge I’ve had has been finding intact specimens, or at least assembling all the parts scattered throughout a given vial. Legless specimens abound, as do those without abdomens.

Another problem one encounters is finding mature adult specimens. Many specimens can be determined to the family level of classification as immatures, or even spiderlings, but genera and species can be impossible to conclude without having the external genitalia to examine. The majority of specimens I find to be juveniles or “penultimate adults,” the term for spiders one molt removed from adulthood. Arg!

Still, I am learning a great deal about spider anatomy and am able to execute identifications to a respectable degree despite the obstacles. I have at my disposal several fine literature references as well as excellent online resources. Ultimately, I must rely on patiently putting the specimens through “keys,” documents in the form of couplets that direct you to other couplets and eventually take you to the name of a genus or species. When it works, it is a joyous occasion. More often than I’d like, though, the result is one of sheer frustration.

The diversity of the spider fauna that I’m finding is truly amazing. Among the more dominant families are the Linyphiidae, which includes the tiny “dwarf spiders,” subfamily Erigoninae. There seems to be no end to the number of different species, and some of them sport bizarre formations on the cephalothorax . Males of Oedothorax trilobatus sport tumor-like swellings that give the species its name. Meanwhile, some males of Walckenaeria communis can have a horn-like extension of the cephalothorax. The spiders themselves measure only about two millimeters in total body length.

At the other end of the spectrum are relative monsters like Wadotes hybridus, a member of the hacklemesh weaver family Amaurobiidae that can reach 14 millimeters at maturity. These are powerful, brutish arachnids with heavy legs and enormous chelicerae (jaws).

You can see some of the other strange and wonderful species I’m identifying and imaging by following my string of images at Bugguide.net, which start with the most recent uploads. Live vicariously in arachnid land.

Antifreeze and Rancid Snails

I should probably issue an advisory with this entry. I thought about including images, but they would be too graphic even for mature audiences. Suffice it to say that science is often (maybe even usually) a dirty, toxic business. I learned that in a convincing fashion over the last two weeks or so while I was processing raw pitfall trap samples.

You may recall that when I first began work here at the University of Massachusetts I was sorting pitfall trap samples from the 2008 field season. This year’s traps were even greater in number since the students sampled two watersheds instead of one. Last year’s samples had already been placed in alcohol, and were about as “clean” as one could expect. My task over the past couple weeks was to render this year’s specimens workable.

Scientists using pitfall traps face several challenges. First, you need to be able to kill the trapped animals quickly, before they can maul each other. Second, you need a fluid that will not readily evaporate over the trapping period. The trapping interval in this case was one week. The solution, in a literal sense, was propylene glycol.

Propylene glycol is the major ingredient in antifreeze. One of the problems with it is that it is a sweet substance that is attractive to vertebrates like raccoons and other wildlife. While antifreeze was once dyed green, it is now often dyed pink so as to help discourage its consumption. Another problem with this compound is that it has a really corrosive effect on some invertebrates. Beetles trapped in the pitfalls often begin to disarticulate. Snails and slugs quite literally melt. You can only imagine the putrification factor. Actually, you can’t imagine that.

My supervisor is a graduate student who is simply amazing. She has a great deal of responsibility, but never asks anyone to do something she wouldn’t do. So, she cleaned the samples from one watershed, and I cleaned the samples from the other. Neither of us ever ended up passed out, or throwing up all over everything. Quite a feat, especially considering that ventilation in the lab leaves something to be desired, and the odd salamander or frog that was accidentally trapped only amplified the odor. The worst was a long-tailed (or “masked”) shrew, Sorex cinereus, that just about brought me to tears and seriously threatened to initiate my gag reflex.

Still, the slug slime was probably the most aggravating, not as much for the smell, but for the fact that it blocked the screen of the sieves we were using to filter the specimens from the antifreeze solution. Pouring out a sample with slugs meant you had debris everywhere, not concentrated in the center of the sieve where you wanted it.

The protocol was to check to make sure the label inside the container (urine specimen containers, how appropriate) matched the label on the outside. Then you wash the label over the sieve and set it aside. You pour the contents of the container into the sieve, and then rinse it gently with water from a squeeze bottle. Next, you invert the sieve, give it a sharp tap to dislodge as many specimens as possible into a bowl, and rinse the rest off with 70% ethanol (ethyl alcohol). Lastly, you pour the contents of the bowl back into the container (after rinsing the container). Did I mention that small quantities of detergent are also used to break the surface tension of the liquid agent in pitfalls? Some samples contained enough suds to do a load of laundry.

Ah, but that is all behind us now, and I can hardly wait to get a better look at the actual specimens. The pitfall traps were done a week later than last year’s traps, and the difference was quite dramatic. All the spiders in this year’s samples were much, much larger than those in last year’s! More beetles, too, it would seem. Now, if I can just get all my food to stop smelling like rancid snails….

Grape is Blooming

Wild grape is blooming along the edge of the Campus Pond here at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. That is cause for excitement for me because the blossoms are a magnet for a variety of wasps and bees. While occupied with nectar-sipping, they are fairly easily approached, though they are still constantly on the move and wary of my camera.

I have seen at least three species of yellowjackets alone, including the “aerial yellowjacket,” Dolichovespula arenaria, also known as the “Sandhills hornet.” They build their paper nests aboveground, often under the eaves of houses.

Another species of yellowjacket commonly seen right now is Vespula vidua. They nest underground, in abandoned rodent burrows and other natural cavities. Like the aerial yellowjacket, they are strictly predatory on other insects, especially flies, which they chew up and feed to the larvae back in the nest. They do not scavenge at picnics and barbecues like more abundant urban yellowjackets.

Paper wasps are also social insects like the yellowjackets, but their colonies are much smaller in number of individual wasps, and the nests are uncovered paper combs. Here, the most abundant species is the introduced “European paper wasp,” Polistes dominula. They have been immensely successful at exploiting their new homeland, maybe due to their aggressiveness. This worker repelled all other wasps from its perch on these blossoms. Why it was guarding that particular bundle of flowers is beyond my understanding of the species.

Solitary wasps also flock to grape flowers. This grass-carrier wasp, Isodontia mexicana, is a case in point. They are fairly easy wasps to recognize because they usually alight with their wings splayed out away from their bodies, exposing the thin “wasp waist,” a petiole that links the abdomen to the thorax.

Much larger than the grass-carrier, but in the same family (Sphecidae) is the “great black wasp,” Sphex pensylvanicus. They tend to flatten their wings over their backs while probing the blossoms with their tongue-like mouthparts. The brilliant blue reflections of the membranes make them a truly spectacular insect to observe.

Perhaps the most regal of all the wasps at the grapevines is the aptly-named “great golden digger,” Sphex ichneumoneus. Females of this species, like those of the great black wasp, dig burrows in the soil, storing paralyzed katydids inside as food for the single larval offspring that develops in the subterranean nest.

I enthusiastically recommend wasp-watching to anyone with even a passing interest in insects. They are placid animals when foraging for the carbohydrate-rich nectar that fuels their flight. You can literally get nose-to-nose with them without arousing their aggressive streak. See how many species you can observe, and share what you find with others.

Lab Excitement

It got a little exciting in the lab today. A live, giant beetle and a dead parasite made my day much more interesting than the average Monday.

Jeff Boettner and Craig Hollingsworth showed up around lunch time with a Tuppermaid (or Rubberware, I always get those two confused) container holding a magnificent specimen of a pine sawyer. A woman brought the insect to Craig, thinking it might be a grasshopper because of the long antennae. Neither Craig nor Jeff had seen this particular species before, though it was obvious to them it was no grasshopper.

Consulting BugGuide, we eventually reached a consensus that the insect was a male “northeastern sawyer,” Monochamus notatus (Drury). Female sawyers have much shorter antennae, and shorter front legs. According to the Field Guide to Northeastern Longhorned Beetles by Douglas Yanega, this species ranges from 23-35 millimeters in body length. This one was every bit of that. Northeastern sawyers occur pretty much east of the Rocky Mountains and bore in dead and dying conifers as larvae, favoring pines. Harvested firewood can yield the beetles indoors when they emerge in stored situations. This specimen is now destined to be pinned for posterity in the University of Massachusetts insect collection. I suppose it achieves something close to immortality in this case. Hopefully more live specimens will show up, as most of my impromptu images did not turn out very well.

Another interesting find came as I was sorting leafhopper nymphs and other hemipterans preserved in alcohol from pitfall traps. One of the nymphs had some kind of dark object attached to its underside, between the first and second pairs of legs.

It turned out to be the larva of a dryinid wasp (family Dryinidae), bizarre parasites of leafhoppers and some other insects. One of the effects of ethanol on dead insects is a clearing of the pigments in some specimens, and increased magnification clearly shows the larval dryinid curled inside a capsule-like pouch.

Adult dryinids are even stranger than the larvae. Females are often wingless, and sport scissor-like front feet used for gripping the leafhopper while an egg is laid on it. The adult wasps have also been observed catching, killing, and half-consuming prey instead of using it as a host for their offspring. For more images of both larvae and adults, please see the BugGuide reference page and Alex Wild’s fantastic images of an adult female.

Hm-m-m-m, I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Another day in Entomology Land

Once I finished sorting the pitfall trap samples by order (beetles separate from flies, wasps, spiders, etc), then I set about trying to identify the Hymenoptera (ants, wasps, bees) more specifically. Mind you, I am used to dealing with insects over five millimeters long. In the world of pitfall traps, anything that big is absolutely gigantic. Most of what I’m coming across are minute parasitic wasps and a few ants. The following is a typical sort from order to family level or below in terms of classification.

I start by dumping the vial into a watchglass. The specimens usually stick to the vial, so I have to wash them out with alcohol. Some are very stubborn indeed. Then I stick the watchglass under the microscope and start sorting. A sample may contain anywhere from one to twenty or so specimens, hopefully all of them belonging to the same order (Hymenoptera in this case).

I segregate them by the most specific classification I am able. This often requires the use of scientific documents called “dichotomous keys.” A key is a series of couplets, each couplet describing one or more characters of external anatomy of the insect before you. You find the character(s) that match your specimen, then proceed to the next couplet and so on, until you arrive at a family, genus, or species name. If I am keying out an insect from Massachusetts, and I arrive at a family of insects found only in Sumatra, well, guess who made a boo-boo? This can be no fault of your own, though. I once keyed out a wasp to a genus found only in Japan because my specimen was missing one tarsal (foot) spine that had broken off. Sure enough, the other leg had the full complement of spines. Yes, it is enough to drive you crazy.

The microscope I am using is a binocular stereo “zoom” model that, near as I can tell, takes me up to fifty power (fifty times the size of the insect you are viewing). Even this is not always enough. I had to laugh when I came across one couplet in a key that was illustrated with an SEM! Sure, I’ll jut bop on over to my neighborhood scanning electron microscope, no problem. The University of Massachusetts does have one, but you can’t just barge in with your bug. It is a major exercise to render images of anything under one of those machines, including coating the specimen in a thin layer of gold.

Fortunately, my friend Jeff Boettner was able to rustle-up another key that is much more user-friendly. Got to credit Agriculture Canada for producing such fine works, eh?

Now, if it were only still in print….

It is very gratifying to find that your specimen matches the illustrations in the key, like the sculpturing on the propodeum (hindmost part of the thorax) of this cynipid gall wasp (figure "aa" on the page of the book shown here). Yes, the specimen is standing on its head in this imge.

I am truly learning as much doing this work as I am producing for the university, but then, isn’t that what life should be about? Soon I will share more images of some of the spectacular little insects I’m finding in these samples.

A Day in the life of an Entomologist

I thought I would share just how exciting it is to be in a laboratory doing critically important work as an entomologist, processing pitfall trap samples. I’m kidding, of course, when it comes to the “exciting” part, but it truly is important.

The project I am involved with is striving to develop a protocol for assessing the ecosystem health of forested watersheds, a common yet complex habitat in the northeast U.S. The University of Massachusetts has partnered with the Massachusetts State Department of Environmental Protection and the United States Environmental Protection Agency to carry out this research. Dozens of people have been working in the field and in the lab for nearly ten years already. What started as one person’s project has mushroomed into something much greater. Ok, I know what you’re thinking: How does this affect me, Al Franken?

The habitat under scrutiny here includes many streams that run for most of the year, but run dry in the heat of the short summer. Hence, pitfall traps can be set in mid- to late July in places that are under water the rest of the year. Even then, a freak storm can set the watershed running again and flood the traps, or a beaver can dam the place and do the same thing. The former event happened last year, so I am able to process only a portion of the total pitfall trap samples collected in 2008.

A pitfall trap is a container sunk into the soil (or sand, or other such substrate) such that the lip of the container is flush with the surface of the substrate. Any insects, spiders, mites, and other creatures that come strolling by then fall into the trap. A trap is typically set for a week before being collected and the contents preserved in ethyl alcohol.

The resulting sample I see is in a plastic container with a label detailing the site identification and plot number, and date the trap was set and the date it was collected. Comments indicate the type of location (such as a sphagnum moss mound) and the condition the trap was found in when it was retrieved. I pick out the insects, arachnids, and other invertebrates that I can see with my naked eye, placing each taxon into its own glass shell vial. The vial is labeled both inside and out with the plot number, site ID, and taxon name (Coleoptera – beetles in this photo). The inside label also includes the number of specimens.

I also record the same data on a sheet, counting the number of specimens as I go. Once I’m done with the “big” specimens, I then put the container under the microscope and sort out the smaller things. The effect the alcohol preservative has on the specimens can be dramatic. Spiders fall apart. Even beetles start losing legs and abdominal segments. Springtails, normally pigmented, become literal shadows of their former selves, the alcohol having “cleared” them. It is a strange sight to see a ghostly springtail float across your field of view (cue the spooky music).

The amount of debris in a given sample, and/or the number of invertebrates, can greatly extend the time it takes to process a sample. It can also be very confusing at high magnification to tell a segmented plant part from an insect larva!

Stay tuned for further episodes in the life of an entomologist. Next week, Eric goes insane while trying to identify micro-Hymenoptera to family level….

The Lab

Welcome to Holdsworth Hall on the campus of the University of Massachusetts (Amherst), my home for the next six months. The campus is largely deserted now, graduation having happened about a week ago, and my supervisor, Theresa Portante, herself a grad student, is leading her team in the field for the summer. I will be pretty much alone for the next three months.

There is not much to set my workspace apart from any other scientific technician, but I am grateful for a very nice microscope, illuminator, computer with internet, a small clock radio, and lots of ethyl alcohol. No, the alcohol is not for stress relief! It is the preservative used for the trap samples I will be sorting through.

Right now I am sorting through pitfall trap samples taken on each of last year’s study plots, all of them in wetland habitats that dry out during the heat of summer. Each sample comes in a labeled plastic cup with a locking lid. My job is to segregate the invertebrates contained therein into separate shell vials. Each “order” level of classification gets its own vial. It is not as easy as it sounds. Globular springtails and wingless barklice are easily confused, for example.

Lunch is my chance to get outdoors and breathe some fresh air after sniffing alcohol all morning. My favorite haunt thus far is the ”Campus Pond,” a surprisingly lush, well-landscaped water feature. Aside from being mobbed by ducks accustomed to being fed by everyone that lingers on the shore, I find it is a peaceful spot to enjoy a brown bag meal.

At some point I hope to include an entry in this blog that details what it is like to process a sample. Meanwhile, coming soon….let sleeping wasps lie, giant ichneumons, and other stories from the field.