Pollinator Drones Can Buzz Off

It has just been revealed to the media that Walmart filed an application on March 8 for a patent on miniature drones designed to pollinate crops grown by the retail giant for sale in its grocery stores. The company cited evidence of declines in bee populations and the need to supplement the pollination services provided by insects. It is the opinion of this writer and entomologist that this high tech response to a very serious organic and complex ecosystem problem is inappropriate, and troubling in many ways.

© Dave Simonds and Economist.comDrones are not alive

The idea of using tiny drones to accomplish the pollination of flowers, at least in agricultural systems, is nothing new. The Japanese built drones specifically for the cross-pollination of lilies. The videos of the machines in action only served to expose how clumsy and blundering they are compared to the direct and delicate maneuvers of bees. It seemed miraculous that the flower parts were not seriously damaged by the bulky and bouncy, propeller-driven craft.

Why are we so eager to replace complex living organisms with feeble facsimiles manufactured in robotics labs? Have we decided that it is acceptable to consider this as a viable “solution” to a much larger problem? I do not recall casting a vote for this myself. How long will we tolerate businesses and corporations to dictate the level of biodiversity we can do without? This is why science is getting an increasingly bad rap. Scientists are fast becoming beholden to investors, shareholders, and other private interests, and less accountable to the public. Independent, transparent, and government-sponsored research may soon be a thing of the past, if it is not so already.

The implied definition of “bee” in this particular instance is the Western Honey Bee, Apis mellifera. If that is not the case, then Walmart needs to speak up; but in the course of clarification, Walmart may expose a willingness to consider all solitary and native bee species as expendable, as long as we are able to pollinate the crops that feed us. Wildflowers and trees and shrubs are a non-issue in this scenario. They are not viewed as anything necessary to human civilization or financial prosperity. Emphasis on prosperity, as the business world tends to equate civilization with exponential fiscal growth.

Drones are not cute and fuzzy

Might it be cheaper to employ drones instead of honey bees? Maybe. Apiculture is itself an industry, with attendant expenses that are passed on to the customer. Many large-scale beekeeping enterprises involve the transcontinental movement of hives to fields and orchards where they are needed to effect pollination of almonds and other crops. This is not a cheap endeavor, and for all I know, some accountant has crunched the numbers for Walmart and declared that bees are inferior to drones from a simple cost-benefit analysis.

Replacing bees with machines cheapens our humanity in many other ways, though. There is no substitute for interactions with other living organisms, though we seem hell-bent on trying to make it so. We erect all manner of filters between ourselves and other humans, even. I am beginning to feel the need to apologize that you are reading this message from a static screen instead of hearing it from my lips, in person, with all the nuances of annunciation and emphasis, all the facial expressions that amplify my concern.

Drones are not specialized like this squash bee to pollinate specific kinds of flowers

Sam Walton’s heirs may literally prosper with every effort to simplify their business, and the lives of their customers, but I prosper most in the chaos that is wild nature. My psyche requires that if I am to be civil to my fellow man. A vast field of corn, uninterrupted by hedgerows, windbreaks of trees, or other hints of what used to be there, is a vast wasteland to my mind and soul. Indeed, farming practices that enhance biodiversity can be cost-saving, too. The more wild, unmanaged pollinators, the more predatory and parasitic insects, the more birds, the more wildflowers (you may call them “weeds”), the less need for fertilizers, herbicides, pesticides, and other chemical dependencies. The better state of mind of the farmer, too, the more adventures their children can have exploring the acres.

I could drone on, but you get the point. We can continue to impoverish our lives by distancing ourselves from nature, or we can choose to embrace it, despite its unpredictability. The future is in the latter approach. The former has no future.

Book Review: Never Out of Season

Rob Dunn grabs your attention right out of the gate in his book Never Out of Season (Little, Brown and Company, 2017, 323 pp). Our monotonous diet, and utter lack of crop diversity is not just stunning, it is frightening. The book's subtitle, How Having the Food We Want When We Want It Threatens Our Food Supply and Our Future, is a bit misleading. First, that applies mostly to Western cultures which are affluent enough to import fruits and vegetables from other parts of the world, continually. To his credit, Dunn addresses global agriculture and food security, going out of his way not to ignore Third World nations, poverty, war, and other factors that influence the ability of countries to feed themselves, let alone the rest of the world.

Indeed, Dunn's historical accounts demonstrate how time and time again human populations has been on the brink of starvation, yet are bailed out by individuals and organizations on the far side of the globe. It has been Russians and others who have had the foresight to save seeds in banks and vaults, preserving crop diversity even at their own personal peril. Meanwhile, governments and industries have blissfully ignored the lessons furnished by famines and crop failures.

Never Out of Season is in many ways a real-life thriller, but the reader is largely left to draw their own conclusions as to who the villains are. There are plenty of victims and heroes, but aside from a small group of henchmen who sabotaged a cocoa tree plantation by deliberately infecting trees with a fungal disease known as witches'- broom, few criminals. At least, they do not have overtly hostile intentions. The problem is, overwhelmingly, neglect, plus failure to learn from history and failure to properly invest in efforts necessary to avert future calamities.

The progress of the Green Revolution creates the narrative arc, from its beginnings around World War II through present day. Humanity quickly became dependent on pesticides, fertilizers, and other chemicals to increase crop yields and exploit marginal soils. From there, agriculture scaled up, and today it is largely the province of multinational corporations with a primary agenda of profit and patent protection over feeding people. Consumers are left with increasingly processed foods in the supermarket, the illusion of choice, poorer nutrition, and a widening disconnect with farmers. Dunn is less simple and direct in his presentation of the state of agriculture, and how we got here, but is captivating, entertaining, and educational in his language. His research is exhaustive and beyond reproach. The end notes take up forty-six (46) pages.

Readers looking for an unequivocal indictment of industrialized agriculture will have to search elsewhere. Never Out of Season presents a series of cautionary tales that inform, enlighten, and serve as examples of the kinds of catastrophes we are in for if we continue to devalue genetic diversity in our food crops. Genetically Modified Organisms (GMOs) are not painted as evil here, but powerful tools that can help advance agriculture provided we do not become as addicted to them as we did to pesticides, herbicides, fungicides, and phosphate fertilizers.

Dunn also offers hope at the end of the book, successfully energizing and empowering the reader to plant their own yards with vegetables and fruit trees, join in citizen science projects to enhance our collective understanding of agricultural ecology, and to purchase from local farmers those foods they cannot grow. The variety of approaches to agriculture is beginning to diversify, which is a positive trend, but it remains to be seen whether agri-business will respond favorably, or seek to bury smaller entities under patent-infringement lawsuits and other legal strategies.

Paul Ehrlich, in his own endorsement, states that "Everyone who eats should read Never Out of Season. This reviewer could not agree more. Even fans of fiction would be hard-pressed to find a more compelling page-turner replete with colorful and heroic characters, and an ending that only we, the reader, can finish by holding our leaders accountable for funding priorities, environmental regulation, making conservation of heritage seeds an overriding concern, and bolstering consumer protections. We can also shop smarter and grow our own.

Grasshopper or Locust?

A person on a Facebook insect identification group recently asked a very good question about the difference between a grasshopper and a locust. You would think it is pretty straightforward, but not so fast.

The American Bird Grasshopper, Schistocerca americana, is related to some grasshopper species in Europe and Africa that can become locusts; and it sometimes migrates beyond its usual geographic range in the U.S.

Most of us think of locusts in the context of Biblical plagues in Africa and parts of Europe, in ancient times. Such plagues still happen, and they are almost apocalyptic in their destructiveness. They even occur in North America on occasion, as well as other parts of the world, so there must be more than one species of locust, right? Yes, and no.

Two-striped Grasshopper, Melanoplus bivittatus, has been overwhelmingly abundant in recent years along the Colorado Front Range

Locusts are not a species of grasshopper, they are the result of overcrowding in the nymph stage of many kinds of grasshoppers. Under favorable conditions, there is an extraordinary survival rate of young grasshoppers, which are called nymphs. When they are literally so abundant and concentrated that they are rubbing elbows (well, "knees" is probably a more appropriate term), this friction causes them to detour from their normal route of metamorphosis.

Instead of maturing into the usual grasshopper, the adult stage features longer wings and other body modifications that permit them to fly greater distances, remain airborne for longer periods, and to undertake these migrations from one food source to the next over long distances. They also may be aided by winds ahead of storm fronts.

The Clear-winged Grasshopper, Camnula pellucida, is prone to population outbreaks in the American West

This is something of a simplification of the physiology of locusts versus normal grasshoppers, but a surprising number of species have the potential to morph into locusts when conditions are right. Then they overwhelm the landscape, defoliating every plant in their path.

Locust swarms will devour plants they would not normally eat. I recall a presentation about a locust epidemic in Oregon where the scientist showed slides of juniper trees (yes, juniper trees) that had been reduced to skeletons by grasshopper swarms. The locusts have even been known to eat garments on clotheslines. Grasshoppers are also omnivores, and will not hesitate to eat dead members of their own species, or gnaw on injured or even healthy ones. It is late in grasshopper season here now in Colorado, and I regularly see grasshoppers with wings reduced to stubs thanks to hungry comrades.

A victim of the grasshopper-killing fungus Entomophaga grylli

Fortunately, for us at least, grasshoppers face many mortality factors. While it has been a banner year for grasshoppers this year along the Colorado Front Range, huge numbers have succumbed to the entomopathic fungus Entomophaga grylli. The insidious fungus grows inside the insect, eventually commandeering its brain and forcing it to behave abnormally. The grasshopper, through no will of its own, climbs to the top of a tall weed, assumes a death grip embracing the stem, and dies. The fungal spores then erupt and rain down on healthy grasshoppers below to begin the cycle again. The spores may even decapitate the dead grasshopper as they exit.

Grasshoppers are the chief grazers of the prairie, even more impactful than livestock, deer, pronghorn, elk, and bison. Natural rangeland can usually withstand their feeding, but ranchers obviously see them as competition and exercise chemical controls when necessary. Since grasshoppers are mostly generalist feeders (a few specialize on only certain broadleaved plants), they pose a threat to agricultural crops, too.

A specimen of the extinct Rocky Mountain Locust
© Bugguide.net

Ironically, the Rocky Mountain Locust, Melanoplus spretus, once the most abundant and devastaging insect pests ever to occur in North America, is now extinct. The book Locust, by Jeffrey A. Lockwood, chronicles the rise and dramatic fall of the species, which ultimately vanished from the U.S. landscape by the early 1900s. I will not spoil the solving of the mystery, as Lockwood's account is far more riveting than anything I could craft if I was even prone to writing historical fiction. Let us just say it is a cautionary tale.

Historical range of the Rocky Mountain Locust

We can certainly be grateful that we seldom experience such traumatic explosions of grasshoppers here on American soil, but we should be empathetic to other nations that do. Entire economies can be on the verge of collapse in the wake of such devastation.

Source: Lockwood, Jeffrey A. 2004. Locust. New York: Basic Books (A member of the Perseus Books Group). 294 pp.

Jeers for Cheerios? Not so Fast

I am not sure whether it is a good thing or a bad thing that politics and consumerism are infiltrating the world of entomology, but in the case of General Mills versus....science, controversy could be a good thing if it informs the cereal-buying public. The well-intentioned corporate advertising campaign aimed at benefiting pollinators has hit a few snags, and the ramifications for future like-minded endeavors are complex. Partnerships with conservation organizations are, however, an excellent outcome.

© Creativity-online.com

When the Honey Nut Cheerios® mascot "Buzz the Bee" disappeared from the cereal box to call attention to the plight of honey bees (and ostensibly the decline of all pollinators), it seemed like a genius marketing gimmick. Add the promise of receiving a packet of "wildflower" seeds to sow in your garden if you simply request them, and you have a win-win-win love affair at first blush. Who could object to stimulating environmentally-friendly action on behalf of imperiled insects like the Rusty-patched Bumble Bee, just added to the Endangered Species List? Well, it turns out that knowledgeable botanists and entomologists can object, and do so strenuously and effectively.

The major problem stems from the seed packets that General Mills is dispensing, in partnership with Veseys Seeds. They are a "one size fits all" solution to a complex problem, and therefore no solution at all according to many scientists weighing in. There have been charges that certain flowers in the seed mix are not only not native to North America, but invasive species in some areas. Homeowners are certainly better off purchasing native cultivars at their local nursery, if only because native plants are better suited to local soils and regional climate.

Another frequent complaint directed at virtually all pro-bee propaganda is that the sole intended beneficiary is the honey bee. Apiculture, it could be argued convincingly, is an industry, complete with large scale marketing, lobbyists, and other attendant business arms. The honey bee is not native, having been brought to the settlement of Jamestown in 1621 or 1622. Today, migrant beekeepers truck their hives across the country to pollinate various orchard crops, especially almonds. While Honey Nut Cheerios™ contains no nuts, it does contain "natural almond flavor." Interesting.

This is not to say that General Mills is without good deeds for pollinators in...general. Check this out, from personal correspondence with my friend Matthew Shepherd, Communications director for the Xerces Society, a non-profit organization devoted to invertebrate conservation:

"GM [General Mills] is partnering with the NRCS [Natural Resources Conservation Service in the U.S. Department of Agriculture] to support a half-dozen new staff biologists, who will be employed by Xerces and based in NRCS offices. GM and the NRCS have each committed to providing $2 million—a total of $4 million—over a 5-year period. You’ll find more information about what the staff will do and where they’ll be based at here. For an overview of the partnership, and the press release, [click on the links].

"We’ve [Xerces] got other partnerships with various GM brands (Muir Glen, Cascadian Farm, Annie’s), but any dollars from those, often tied to sales of a product, will be part of the $2 million above.

"Xerces also has a contract with GM to work with their suppliers to create habitat on farms. We’ve already done some of this in California, planting hedgerows along tomato fields and hedgerows and meadows in almond orchards, and in Washington around blueberries, but this will be spreading across the country to farms supplying all manner of products. This is another multi-year agreement. I’m afraid that I don’t know what the total dollar amount will be over the years. Hundreds of thousands for sure...."

I happen to like General Mills and Cascadian Farms products, so I am happy to be benefiting the Xerces Society when I make those purchases. I am also glad that I learned what is going on behind the headlines, which were far from flattering initially. Meanwhile, my next post will revisit a workshop I attended back in March that speaks to the future of pollinator conservation at the homeowner-level. Stay tuned.

The Big Bug Hunt and How You Can Help

Last year in early October, I was approached by Jeremy Dore, founder of the company Growing Interactive, based in the United Kingdom. He was interested in having me collaborate in one of the company's major citizen science projects, "The Big Bug Hunt." He made a convincing enough argument that I signed on last month as one of the U.S. liaisons. What follows is a description of this ingenious endeavor; and how you can help, and benefit from, participating.

The Big Bug Hunt wants your Japanese Beetle sightings!

The aim of The Big Bug Hunt is to build a database that will be used to create a computer application which predicts with great accuracy the emergence of various pest insects in very localized areas. For example, if you have a vegetable garden in Raleigh, North Carolina, you will be able to receive a "reverse 9-1-1" alerting you to the possibility that squash bugs may be descending on your plot within days or weeks. You can then take preventative action now, and avoid using chemical controls later.

The technology that synthesizes this data and turns it into a predictive model is a facet of the discipline called machine learning systems. It means that computers are able to find patterns that humans cannot see. From what I understand, this technology is already applied to large scale agriculture. The goal of Growing Interactive and its subordinate projects like Grow Veg, is to provide the same kind of software tools to individual citizens and community garden personnel to insure their own success in meeting the collective mission of local food security.

The Big Bug Hunt can already predict some aphid emergences with precision

Growing Interactive is a family enterprise for Jeremy, his wife, and their friends; and they take great pride in serving the greater good. Jeremy decided to apply his background in app programming to farming more than ten years ago after his job as a network manager for a group of schools ended. What he has created since then is astonishing in its success. Growing Interactive enjoys the respect and collaboration of academic institutions like the University of York (England), for example.

The Big Bug Hunt is global in scope, but it has gotten off to its best start in the U.S.A. and the U.K. More data is needed, however, to facilitate better accuracy in predicting when common pests like the Japanese Beetle are likely to appear at a given locality. This is where you come in. Simply going to the website, or even clicking on the "Report a Pest" button at the top of my sidebar, will allow you to quickly report any insect, other arthropod, or even a slug or snail that you see in your yard or garden. It is that simple, no registration necessary. Reputational analysis will eventually weigh data according to accuracy, so no observation goes to waste.

Squash bugs are on the "hit list," too

With our ever-changing climate and landscape, a dynamic reporting and recording system like this is vital to every level of agricultural productivity, be it corporate or your own backyard vegetable garden. It will not work, however, without your willingness to contribute. Please consider adding your "two bugs worth," and I promise to keep you abreast of the latest developments here on my blog. Thanks!

"Product" is NOT the Answer to Every "Problem"

While I prefer to continue winning people over with compelling, fascinating stories of insect life and diversity, I would be remiss if I did not periodically issue posts aimed directly at changing human behavior in ways that will benefit them personally and other organisms as well. Thank you for indulging me in this exercise today.

Through my volunteer efforts and associations with AllExperts.com, Facebook groups, and even this blog, I am frequently asked questions that begin with "How do I get rid of...?" The automatic assumption is that an insect or spider in the house, workplace, yard, or garden must have an inherently bad disposition, or negative effect on people, pets, or property. This is the mindset that needs changing.

Let me give these individuals some credit for asking at least. The people who never ask at all, who literally spray first and ask questions later, are the ones we should really worry about. First of all, they will never know what kind of creature they are dealing with, and whether the product they are using will even have the desired outcome. Secondly, they inevitably do not follow the application instructions and risk poisoning themselves, another member of the family, a pet, and/or unintended targets in the form of beneficial invertebrates; they could even blow their house to splinters and bricks. They don't call them bug bombs for nothing. Never mind that failure to adhere to application instructions is a violation of federal and/or state law.

The real crime, however, is that we are incessantly conditioned that "product" is the answer to every problem (even when there is NO problem), and we are paying for it in so many ways, not the least of which are the side effects of chemical dependency in the agricultural and gardening sense.

Here is what no one is going to tell you. The nursery and landscaping industries have sold us on the idea that we can plant whatever trees, shrubs, and flowers we like, wherever we live, with no negative consequences. This is proven to be not only false, but an enormous ecological catastrophe when you understand the effects of exotic botanicals run amok (invasive species), and the chemical dependency required to prop them up in inappropriate soils, climatic zones, and exposure to local animal life. Further, imported plants invariably bring with them exotic insect and other invertebrate pests that themselves wreak havoc on native plants and ecosystems. So begins the "pesticide treadmill" first articulated by entomologist Dr. Robert van den Bosch in the 1970s.

Without fertilizers, herbicides, insecticides, and other treatments, most ornamental plants cannot survive outside their native lands. Native plants do not need this kind of intensive care, are vastly better at supporting beneficial insects, birds, and other wildlife we actually like to see, and their use in landscaping helps mend the holes in fragmented habitat that comes with suburban sprawl. Even in dense, urban areas, native vegetation can draw a shocking diversity of insect life normally relegated to what we would consider "wilderness."

We also greatly underestimate the ability of native plants to withstand nearly complete defoliation and bounce back just fine the next year. This is especially true of trees. A defoliated tree or shrub is not by definition "dead." The resiliency of flora in the face of natural agents of destruction is amazing. Meanwhile, the chemicals we dump on plants to "help" them? Not so good.

I cannot take credit for articulating all of this. Professor Doug Tallamy, in his landmark book Bringing Nature Home, outlines this dilemma eloquently. He also has the scientific studies and statistics to back up his claims. Besides the book, he also speaks to this idea wherever and whenever he is asked. Please check out this Youtube video for an example.

Making responsible choices in the marketplace and adjusting the attitudes within one's own mind are the keys to turning the planet's health around.

The same applies indoors. We panic and reach for the can of insecticide before we ask whether this one individual "bug" represents an actual pest problem or is merely an incidental, accidental visitor. We fail to repair the worn weatherstripping around doors, mend the holes in the windowscreen, inspect incoming objects from outdoors, and otherwise take simple preventative measures to exclude insects and arachnids in the first place.

If there is ever one post on this blog that I would ask you to share, it is this one. Please help spread the word that people can save money, time, and anxiety by simply being more curious, tolerant, willing to learn, and having faith in the way nature works without intervention. I will end with the remark that I have seen minds change, so I know it is possible. Stay tuned for those stories.

Wasp Wednesday: Purslane Sawflies

Not all wasps sting, and not all feed on other insects in their youth. The larvae of sawflies are vegetarians, and many are mistaken for caterpillars. You need not venture far to find sawflies, either. I found the adult female specimen below in my own backyard on the evening of September 18. Through a little detective work I discovered she is a Purslane Sawfly, Schizocerella pilicornis, in the family Argidae.

This species is unique among all argids (worldwide) in that its larvae feed internally on the host plant, mining inside the leaves of purslane. Until recently, it was thought that some larvae of S. pilicornis feed externally. Analysis of mitochondrial DNA has demonstrated that those leaf-nibbling larvae belong to a separate species, S. lineata (Hartsough, et al., 2007).

Adult females can be distinguished by the amount of black markings on the top of the otherwise red (or orange) thorax. Females of S. pilicornis have a solid, or nearly solid, black stripe down the center of the thorax, constricted in the middle. Females of S. lineate have very reduced black markings along the midline of the thorax. S. lineate is also slightly larger, females averaging about 7 millimeters to the 5-6 millimeter length of female S. pilicornis.

Both species are widespread in the New World, ranging from southern Canada to at least Central America. S. pilicornis occurs at least as far south as Argentina. U.S. records for S. pilicornis include Arizona, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Washington, DC, Florida, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Maine, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Ohio, Oregon, Texas, Virginia, and Washington. The species may actually be adventives here, and native to South America. At least, it was not described from North America until 1900.

Life history information may be open to debate since it comes prior to the realization that two species are involved (Gorske, et al., 1977). Females lay one egg per leaf, inserting the ovum into the foliage with the saw-like ovipositor that gives sawflies their common name. Larvae feed for roughly six days, going through five instars (an instar is the interval between molts). Mature larvae tunnel into the soil to a depth of about 3.5 centimeters where they pupate. Adults emerge a week later (during the summer generations; otherwise they overwinter as pupae). Their lifespan as adults is apparently very short, only 24 hours according to one source (Gorske & Hopen, 1976).

There can be up to six or seven generations annually, at least in Illinois, where these insects exert a small degree of biological control against purslane.

Males in this genus are easily identified by the last antennal segment, which is forked. It looks like the insect has four antennae instead of the two it should have.

I have found numerous males, and this one female, “sleeping” out in the open on grasses and other vegetation at sunset. Many wasps (and solitary bees) can be found by looking in fields and meadows for sleeping individuals at dusk, in the early morning, or during inclement weather.

Sources: Gorske, S.F. and H.J. Hopen. 1976. “Purslane sawfly (Schizocerella pilicornis) as a biological control agent of Common Purslane (Portulaca oleracea L.),” a paper presented at the 73rd annual meeting of the American Society for Horticultural Science, August, 1976.
Gorske, S.F., H.J. Hopen, and R. Randell. 1977. “Bionomics of the Purslane Sawfly Schizocerella pilicornis,” Ann. Entomol. Soc. Am. 70(1): 104-106.
Hartsough, Chester D.B., Edward F. Connor, David R. Smith, and Greg S. Spicer. 2007. “Systematics of Two Feeding Morphs of Schizocerella pilicornis (Hymenoptera: Argidae) and Recognition of Two Species,” Ann. Entomol. Soc. Am. 100(3): 375-380.

Wasp Wednesday: Wasp vs. Bug

Back when I wrote about the Brown Marmorated Stink Bug, Halyomorpha halys, it was an introduced species from Eurasia that was no more than an indoor nuisance pest in the U.S. in the fall and winter. It has since ballooned into a certifiable agricultural pest in apple and peach orchards, and also vineyards. So panic-stricken are government officials that congress is attempting to pass a $831,000 “farm bill” to find ways of combating the bug. Enter a native wasp, Bicyrtes quadrifasciatus, pictured below.

The wasp is a type of “sand wasp” that preys on true bugs in the order Hemiptera, suborder Heteroptera. Each female wasp digs a burrow in sand, and stocks the cell at the end of the tunnel with paralyzed true bugs that will serve as food for a single larval offspring. Turns out that the Brown Marmorated Stink Bug has become a favorite target of the wasp, which hunts the immature stages of the pest (see figure below).

Alex Surcică has noticed this trend, and wants to document the efficiency of the wasps in controlling the bug. To that end he recently posted this message on his Facebook page:

"Seeking collaborators interested in collecting data on the nest provisioning of the sand wasp, Bicyrtes quadrifasciatus. This solitary (read non-aggressive) wasp occurs throughout North America, east of the Rocky Mountains, and it nests only in sand, along water ways or in sand volleyball courts and kids sandboxes. For making observations, one needs a garden trowel, pen, and notebook. The results of this citizen-science project will be used to assess the role the sand wasp plays in controlling the Brown Marmorated Stink Bug, a multi-million dollar pest. If interested, reply and I will send you more info. Please take an extra moment and share this with your FB friends. Thank you!"

Alex also posted a series of images on his “Bees, Wasps, and Other Beneficials” Facebook page that details how he painstaking excavates Bicyrtes nests to census the number of each prey species taken by the wasp:

“When I'm collecting data on the nest provisioning of the sand wasp, I'm waiting to see a female with her paralyzed prey entering her nest. While she's inside (sometimes can take minutes), I use a twig to mark the nest. I always position the twig three inches to the left of the nest entrance, and at a slight angle that will indicate later on where tunnel was leading to. Once the nest is marked, I search for other nests. Female sand wasps tend to initiate many nests but do not always end up using them. Therefore, I always mark only the nests that had females with prey entering them.”

I heartily applaud Alex for attempting this endeavor; and I encourage my readers to become part of his effort. Bicyrtes quadrifasciatus is common over most of its range, and several females may nest in the same general vicinity. So, once you find one nest, you are likely to find others.

Meanwhile, the U.S. Department of Agriculture is considering importing a parasitic wasp from the geographical area overseas where the stink bug is native. Introductions of parasites as “biocontrols” have not always ended well. There is the risk that the “new” parasite from abroad will find our native, non-pest stink bugs as acceptable a host as the Brown Marmorated Stink Bug. Maybe the native bugs would be even more attractive to the parasite. That kind of scenario has happened before.

I thank Alex Surcică for allowing the use of his images in this post as well. Do check out his “Bees, Wasps, and Other Beneficials” Facebook page for more stunning photos.

Bee Optimistic

I almost never entertain a guest blog, but I found the following post to the Entomo-l listserv (an international e-mail group of mostly professional entomologists) to be more than worthy of space here.

Dave Green is a beekeeper in rural South Carolina who is equally interested in native bees and other pollinating insects. He has been at this a long time (he goes by ”Old Drone”) and I value his observations and opinions. Here he paints a very hopeful picture of the immediate future of honeybee-dependent agriculture.

”This year's swarm season began early with a humungous swarm in mid-February - six weeks ahead of the norm. Investigation shows that none of my hives could have thrown that swarm. So it must have come from a feral hive.

It was a bushel of bees - just like the old swarms we used to see before three parasites and new diseases created hives that could only seem to build to about half the strength of the old timey hives.

My own hives are roaring strong, as well as several hundred commercial hives I looked at before they left for California's almonds last month. They are beautiful bees! It's thrilling to open a hive in late winter to see wall-to-wall bees, even spilling over the edges of the hives.

Colony Collapse Disorder? No sign of this!

We've been seeing continuous hype about the honey bees dying off; and I've been saying, "Hold off. Our beekeeping industry is dealing with this. While the possibility is scarey, it isn't happening yet.

My own observations are confirmed by reports from California, where the almond industry is now engaged in the largest managed annual pollination event in the world - where a million hives from all over the USA come to that state to ensure one of the country's most nutrition-packed and valuable crops.

An article in the Los Angeles Times tells about Paramount, the world's biggest almond grower, with 47,000 acres under cultivation.

’Almonds are our primary crop and the most critical because they bloom for a short period; it's early in the season and we must have bees to pollinate,’ said Paramount President Joe Macilvaine.

‘Lots of things can reduce almond yield — weather conditions, drought, insect infestations,’ Macilvaine said. ‘But if you don't have the bees, you never get to begin.’

Paramont uses managed bees, both Blue Orchard (solitary) bees and honey bees. ‘This season, Paramount contracted with 26 beekeepers to bring in 92,000 hives from as far as Maine, Louisiana, Florida and the Carolinas. The rental expense represents 15% of the company's total almond production cost.’

And the honey bees are looking very good this year!

‘We're looking at the best bees we've seen in five years,’ Paramount staff entomologist Gordon Wardell said. ‘The bees are better because the beekeepers are getting better at managing them.’

In the past, a mild winter could often be a problem. With more winter bloom, bees put in more flight time, eating up honey reserves. Winter flowers are pollen-rich and nectar-poor.

Toward the end of winter, the bees have often used up all the stored honey, and are living on day-to-day nectar. A spell of cold or wet weather can cause mass starvation. Sadly, it's the most powerful hives that have been vulnerable to this. In just a few days of starvation, a strong hive can become weak or even dead.

Beekeepers have become much better guardians against starvation - and indeed are much more aware of all the nutrional needs of the bees. The commercial bees I looked at have been well fed with both carbohydrates and pollen/protein since mid-winter.

But there is another side to the story.

Many times in my career, I've seen bees that looked beautiful - in the spring. A mild winter's pollen-rich flowers help them clear out all the old contaminated pollens.

But then I've watched them dwindle and turn poor as the pesticide season comes into swing. When the spraying begins - the bees start taking hits. Sometimes this is noticeable, sometimes colonies are even killed. But most of the damage is seen in weak hives that are simply struggling to survive.

So, while I rejoice at the great start to the season, I'll be watching to see if this is a trend, or the same old story I've seen so many times.

We all need to be watching. When this is seen in managed bees, what is going on with wild bees that are not being observed?

Dave Green
Retired pollination contractor

Note: Images here are property of Eric R. Eaton

Winter 'pillars

Walking the dog the other day (February 26, 2012), I happened upon a small caterpillar slowly crossing the sidewalk in my Colorado Springs neighborhood. It was not a cold day, but not that warm, either. The high for the day was 46 Fahrenheit. Oh, they are out today, too (current temp 49 F at 3:50 PM). Looking more closely, I discovered there were dozens of other caterpillars, all roaming seemingly aimlessly.

The stretch of sidewalk passed along the edge of a large, open field, so that offered some clues as to what the caterpillars might be. I suspected they were “cutworms” of some kind because I knew that these owlet moths (family Noctuidae) overwinter as larvae. What surprised me was that the caterpillars were clearly not mature. They were of varying sizes, but still not big enough to be on the verge of pupating.

A little bit of internet digging (“Googling”), quickly produced the most obvious suspect: the Army Cutworm, Euxoa auxiliaries. I also recognized the adult moth as something I had seen under the eave of my apartment building last October (see image below). This common “miller” moth of the western U.S. is an overwhelmingly abundant, but its life cycle is quite unique.

Colorado Springs is very much a military town, so it seems appropriate that the “Army Cutworm” is so common here. Fortunately, the roving bands of caterpillars are not armed with anything more menacing than their tiny mandibles. Not that they cannot do widespread damage anyway. They don’t call them “cutworms” for nothing. The young caterpillars chew through the stems of young, tender plants. They can also eat slow-growing plants right down to the soil. Generalist feeders, the larvae find nearly any vegetation fair game. This species is a notorious pest of virtually every field crop from alfalfa (below) and wheat to barley, oats, potato, and sugarbeets. Cereal grasses are especially vulnerable, but damage is often spotty in a given field. They seem to prefer broad-leaved weeds otherwise, nibbling on the edges of leaves or chewing holes right through them.

Ironically, while the caterpillars surface and stroll on sunny winter days, they feed mostly at night and on overcast days in the fall and spring. When disturbed they coil into a tight “C” shape until danger passes.

Thankfully, the Army Cutworm is not without its enemies. Chief among them are parasitic wasps. Research has shown that the braconid wasps Meteorus leviventris, and Apanteles griffin are among the parasites of caterpillars in Oklahoma alfalfa fields(Soteres, et al., 1984).

Many of the adult moths, which emerge in late spring and early summer, escape the scorching midsummer heat by migrating to high elevations. There in the mountains they aestivate, gathering by the thousands under boulders in rockslides, or even inside mountain cabins. They do venture out at night to sip flower nectar. Amazingly, they are a critical portion in the diet of Grizzly Bears in parts of Montana and Wyoming, at times when other food is scarce. The insects are loaded with fat and protein and the bears merely turn over rocks and lick them off.

The moths are capable of incredible endurance; and they are not completely without defense. Laboratory experiments involving tethered moths fed with sugar water showed many individuals capable of flying more than 50 miles at a time. One flew for 23 hours at a nearly constant speed of 5.8 miles per hour, achieving the equivalent of 133 miles. They can hear approaching bats with the aid of a tympanic organ in the thorax, taking appropriate evasive action to avoid predation by these flying mammals. Resting moths, when disturbed, spray a liquid substance from the rectum that probably startles a potential predator, allowing the moth to take flight (Eisner & Eisner, 1992).

Moths that survive the bears and other predators return to the lowland plains to reproduce, females laying eggs in late summer and early autumn. Eggs are deposited on bare soil, especially in cultivated or overgrazed conditions. Hatching of the eggs is triggered by rains.

The Army Cutworm ranges from the Northwest Territories and Alberta south through Washington, Oregon, and Montana to Mexico, east to Minnesota, Nebraska, and Oklahoma. Scattered records include northern Michigan, Indiana, Missouri, Texas, and Florida. Their abundance can vary greatly from year to year depending mostly on weather (Cranshaw, 2011).

I am looking forward to seeing whether my neighborhood crop of caterpillars will translate into a bumper year for adult moths this spring. I would like to see a diversity of species at my porch light, however.

Sources: Brewer, Michael J. 1995. “Army Cutworm,” Department of Renewable Resources, University of Wyoming, B-1013.8.
Cranshaw, Whitney. 2011. “Miller Moths,” Colorado State University Extension, no. 5.597
Eisner, Thomas and Maria. 1992. “Euxoa auxiliaries: A Moth That Sprays,” Psyche 99: 3-14.
”Army Cutworm, Euxoa auxiliaries,” Digital Diagnostics, Oklahoma State University Entomology and Plant Pathology
”Species Page - Euxoa auxiliaries,” Entomology Collection, University of Alberta E. H. Strickland Entomological Museum
Powell, Jerry A. and Paul A. Opler. 2009. Moths of Western North America. Berkeley: University of California Press. 369 pp.
Soteres, K. M., R.C. Berberet, and R. W. McNew. 1984. “Parasites of Larval Euxoa auxiliaries (Grote) and Peridroma sausia (Hubner) (Lepidoptera: Noctuidae) in Alfalfa Fields in Oklahoma,” J. Kans. Entomol. Soc. 57(1): 63-68.

Beast Into Beauty: Aphidlions

Perhaps no insects embody “beauty and the beast” better than the green lacewings of the family Chrysopidae. The average person would be hard-pressed to make the connection between the hideous larva and the delicate adult it is destined to become. Who could blame them? Gardeners might easily mistake the sickle-jawed immature stage as a villain rather than a hero.

The family name Chrysopidae translates to “gold eye,” and indeed the adults of some species of green lacewings have eyes that seem to have fallen out of a kaleidoscope. The family belongs to the insect order Neuroptera or “nerve-winged insects.” This name comes from the dendritic pattern of wing venation and is not to imply that the wings of these insects feel any kind of sensation, at least any more so than in any other insect.

There are fourteen genera and at least 85 species of green lacewings occurring in North America. No doubt more species await description by scientists. These are very abundant animals, and just about everyone, from city center to rural countryside, has had an adult green lacewing or two (or several) visit their porch light at night. What can easily escape attention, however, are the other stages in the life cycle of chrysopids.

Let’s start with the egg stage. Believe it or not, the little white balls on the ends of these hairlike stalks are lacewing eggs. One could mistake the egg clusters for the fruiting bodies of some kind of fungus, and when they appear on a leaf or stem, cause a gardener some degree of concern. The female lays her eggs on these stalks for good reason: to keep them out of reach of predators like….well, her offspring’s siblings for example. So voracious are larval lacewings that they will not hesitate to cannibalize a brother or sister right off the bat.

Larval lacewings are undeniably ugly: worm-like bodies studded in clusters of spines, with a head dominated by jaws that look like ice block tongs. As if they are aware of their own ugliness, the larvae of some species conceal themselves under a layer of debris that they stick on those clusters of spines along their backs. What goes into this “garbage pile” might include bits of lichen, dust, or even the bodies of their victims. The real reason the larvae disguise themselves is not to redeem their ugly appearance, of course, but to make them appear innocuous to their prey and hide them from their own predators.

Lacewing larvae prey mostly on aphids, which has earned them the nickname “aphidlions.” They won’t pass up the opportunity to kill a caterpillar or other insect, either. They simply approach a prey insect and grab it with their jaws. Puncturing the body of their prey, they inject fast-acting paralytic compounds and digestive enzymes that go to work immediately on the victim, essentially liquefying its internal organs and tissues. The aphidlion then draws out a fluid meal, also through its hollow jaws.

Aphidlions are themselves vulnerable to various predators, namely the ants that guard colonies of aphids. Aphids secrete a sweet, liquid waste product called honeydew, and this is highly coveted by ants. The ants therefore vigorously defend the aphids from their predators and parasites. So, those lacewing larvae hidden under a blanket of debris might more easily escape detection by ants than a naked aphidlion would.

Once it emerges from the egg, an aphidlion proceeds through only three instars (intervals between molts). A mature larva will then spin an opaque, silken cocoon before transforming into the pupal stage. The mature adult will chew its way out of the cocoon, leaving the empty vessel looking like a tin can with the lid hanging by a hinge of remaining metal.

The adult insect is delicate-looking but durable, and highly colorful. They find mates by a kind of Morse Code, drumming their abdomens in a species-specific rhythmic pattern that the opposite gender recognizes. So precise is this courtship “song” that some species can be separated only by differences in their tune. The species themselves are physically identical. The adults do feed. Some continue their predaceous lifestyle, but others feed on aphid honeydew, or nectar or pollen.

Green lacewings are best appreciated as living creatures. The color of their bodies and eyes quickly fades after death. Be on the lookout for the larvae, but be careful. There have been reports of bites from larvae that fall out of trees and onto people, with reactions to bites varying from a nuisance to extremely painful with relatively persistent effects. Mostly, lacewing larvae should be considered among your best friends when it comes to waging war on garden and crop pests.