Bugwatching Book Launch

My new book, Bugwatching: The Art, Joy, and Importance of Observing Insects, had its first event last Saturday at the Linda Hall Library in Kansas City, Missouri, USA. It was well attended both in person and via a livestream, with over 600 individuals registered.

Linda Hall Library is a science library with many historically important holdings. They also create professional quality in-house exhibits, and host speakers on a variety of topics. With any luck I will be invited back to present again. The staff is friendly, and a true joy to work with.

This past Wednesday I was one of the panelists for a Grow Native! webinar, titled “Dispelling Myths of Native Gardening.” Grow Native! is the native plant marketing, and educational arm, of Missouri Prairie Foundation, another excellent organization. I think I gained as much from the other panelists as I gave in my own expertise and experience.

Please consider booking me for your own event, as I have few scheduled thus far. I do have one high profile engagement on Thursday, January 8, 2026, but I am not at liberty to disclose additional information at this time. Watch this space and I will update as I am able.

I apologize for not keeping up with the comments over the last month. I was on vacation, and then had these two programs to prepare for. I am currently caught up, and intend to stay that way. I typically review comments every Tuesday, at the least.

I have been trying to remember to use my phone to take photos, like this one tonight of an immature female Round-tipped Conehead katydid in our yard.

My photos are also severely backlogged. I have become frightened by the potential of losing them in the uploading process (I frequently cannot safely eject the SD card from my laptop, for example). Consequently, I have not uploaded cards in their entirety since mid-September, 2022. I take far too many photos, and that makes the process daunting as well. I wish I was better organized, but this is the current situation. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

My dear friend Alexandra Rose (an oceanographer), and her mom, Pam, have always been supportive of my work.

As we continue to face collective challenges such as the effects of climate change, the rise of authoritarian regimes at home and abroad, and the uncertainties of labor and the marketplace, I wish all of you the best. Please keep up your own ”good trouble,” your art, your science communication, or whatever gives you joy, hope, peace, and confidence.

Accidental Achievement

When we lived in Colorado Springs, I would walk our neighborhood regularly, if not daily, unless the weather was severe. Little did I know that one such constitutional would yield something globally significant.

My photo of the male moth.

On the afternoon of November 5, 2020, passing a vacant lot up the street that I had passed by almost daily, I noticed small moths flying around. Many moth species fly late into autumn, so that alone did not intrigue me. Many moths fly during daylight hours, so that was not unusual, either. Curious me wanted to document the thing anyway, but that was easier said than done. The moths were wary, and quickly disappeared into weeds when they landed, camouflaged.

Finally, one of them landed on the sidewalk, and as I recall a bit of a breeze kept it from taking flight again immediately. Not the best of photos, but I put it on iNaturalist anyway. I wasn’t even completely sure of the family, but I figured something so common would be recognized by an expert eventually.

My iNaturalist entry.

Fast forward to November of 2024, and I receive an email from Andrew Warren informing me that not only was this moth a species new to science, but that it also qualified to be in a new genus. I was shocked. How could something that abundant be completely overlooked until now?

It turns out I had the correct family (Crambidae), but obviously could not have put a more specific name to it. It didn’t have one! The paper describing the moth is now published, and anyone can view it here. I was not at liberty to share this story until after the publication, as a common courtesy to the authors.

Better image of a male, photo © Andrew Warren.

Allow me to briefly summarize, if you do not want the long story in the journal article. The moth has so far been collected between October 20 and November 22. Mine is so far the only record for El Paso County, but it is suspected to occur all along the Front Range, possibly into Wyoming in the north and New Mexico in the south. This is based on the host plant for the caterpillar, which is a grass known as Sand Dropseed, Sporobolus cryptandrus.

The larvae probably feed on the roots of the plant, because the moths have only been found in situations where the dropseed was either mowed or trampled. Seriously. Where the plants are upright, no moths. Sure enough, the vacant lot where I found mine was mowed regularly, much to my dismay until I learned this story.

The female moth, photo © Christian Nunes.

The females of the moth, which now bears the name Coloradactria frigida, are flightless, with heavy bodies and short wings. No wonder I never saw those. They certainly must emit a pheromone to attract the males.

Other known localities for the moth are in Douglas County around Castle Rock, and in Weld County, all in Colorado. Late autumn searching elsewhere should certainly turn up new records.

A mating pair of the moths, photo © Christian Nunes.

The lesson I have learned from this is that you can, and should, never assume anything when it comes to entomology. You do not even have to know what you are doing to make an earth-shattering discovery. We collectively know very little. It is your curiosity that counts. That, and your willingness to share what you find with others. Do the documenting with photographs, videos, and sound recordings, and put them out there. Please.

Source: Warren, Andrew D., Clifford D. Ferris, Bernard Landry, Jeremy Authier, Theo Leger, Julia Bilat, and Christian A. Nunes. 2025. “A New Genus and Species of Crambinae (Pyraloidea: Crambidae) With Brachypterous Females From Colorado, U.S.A.,” Journal of the Lepidopterists’ Society 79 (2): 73-84.

You Made Bugwatching Number One!

I learned recently that my new book, Bugwatching: The Art, Joy, and Importance of Observing Insects, is, or was, number one in the "Outdoor and Nature Reference" category of new releases for Amazon books. This would not have happened without your loyalty, preorders, and promotion among your friends and neighbors. Thank you!

I do not habitually pay attention to rankings like these, but maybe I should. Someone on social media tagged me in a post by fellow author Rebecca Lexa, who has a new book of her own, The Everyday Naturalist. She held number one until my book "dethroned" hers. Obviously, we are both on "team nature," so I hope you will consider purchasing her book, too. We have already agreed to trade books between us, and I can't wait to read hers.

People frequently ask me which avenue of purchase benefits me the most, and my answer that there is no great difference from one outlet to another. Personally, I like supporting local, independent booksellers, and BookShop. Electronic versions of the book do not benefit authors much, but if you prefer that format, please buy that. I cannot sign it for you, though.

Attention to my book is not all about a revenue stream. I may not live to see much in the way of royalties, as it takes awhile to break even with the initial advances an author receives ahead of the book's release. My entire goal is to get more people excited about the natural world around them, and insects are a perfect vehicle for that.

When you are curious, you go to the effort to learn more, and the more you learn the more curious you become. Your passion swells, and with that comes a commitment to protecting other species and the ecosystems they inhabit. You also share your personal discoveries with others on platforms like iNaturalist, Project Noah, Bugguide, and others. Maybe you write a book, or decide to keep a nature journal.

Thank you again for your unwavering support for what I do. Please let me know how else I can advance your own endeavors.

Stay tuned, in the next week or so I will have a remarkable personal story to share with you.

2025 City Nature Challenge Recap for Kansas City Metro

The City Nature Challenge is an annual event that I always look forward to, when I have no conflicting engagements. I tend to plan around it, in fact. This year’s edition was held from Friday, April 27, through Monday, April 30.

Pearl Crescent butterfly from Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Some background is in order for those unfamiliar with this urban bioblitz. What began in 2016 as a friendly challenge between the California cities of San Francisco and Los Angeles has blossomed into a global project. The intent is to generate public interest in native urban flora and fauna, document as many species as possible during the event period, and build a database useful for assessing environmental trends both locally and globally.

Dance fly, Rhamphomyia nasoni, on our back yard fence.

Here in Kansas City, I am fortunate that the official map area includes counties a fair distance from the city. It is mostly rural in Leavenworth County, Kansas, where we live, but the town itself is at least suburban. Heidi and I usually travel to other areas, too, like Wyandotte County, Kansas, and Platte County, Missouri.

Spring Tree-top Flasher firefly, Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

The weather this year was less than optimal, overcast virtually the entire time, cool temperatures in the low sixties (Fahrenheit), and occasional rain. Perhaps that is why public engagement was low. The stats are still coming in to iNaturalist, the web platform that hosts the observations for the event, but we had less than 300 people who contributed sightings. As a percentage of the human population, that is pretty dismal.

This unidentified web-spinning sawfly was one of my favorite finds in Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

Still, there is a current total of 3,744 observatios of 1,084 species (however iNaturalist defines that term, and it probably varies by taxon). Help in identifying observations has come from 349 individuals, from all over the globe. The border of Kansas and Missouri represents the eastern fringe of the Great Plains meeting the western edge of the eastern deciduous forest, so we have some diverse and interesting habitats.

Ultra-tiny ribbed cocoon-making moths, Bucculatrix sp, are abundant in our yard right now.

Personally, given the inclement weather, I looked at plants more heavily than I usually do. It helped that I now have an iPhone that takes photos which are comparable in quality to those produced by my Canon PowerShot SX70 camera. I think it performs better than the camera in some instances.

I can't believe I found this beautiful pair of Oak Stag Beetles, Platycerus quercus, under a chunk of dead branch in a front yard flower bed (male top, female below).

When Heidi and I went out together, we focused on birds. This was especially true at Wyandotte County Lake Park in Kansas, and at Weston Bend State Park in Missouri. Both parks are heavily forested, with a large reservoir at one, and small streams running through the other.

This Blue Corporal dragonfly was one of three species of Odonata I found during the CNC.

I don’t like that the City Nature Challenge brings out my competitive nature, but I feel compelled to demonstrate to other local citizens that insects and spiders are worth looking at. Consequently, I had the most observations for the Greater Kansas City Metro Area, and the second highest species tally. You can find the results for everyone at this link.

American Idia Moth near the blacklight sheet.

I did get in a blacklighting session in the front yard one night, but there was precious little flying in the cool temperatures.

This female ichneumon wasp, Xorides peniculus, was a new species for our home, at the front yard blacklight sheet.

It is a good thing that the nature challenge was not a week later. I went back to Havens Park here in Leavenworth yesterday, May 5, to find that a new gravel road had been laid, right through a small, ephemeral wetland, and over glade habitat at the top of the park. I am devastated and angry. Rumor has it that it will eventually be another paved trail for cyclists, dog walkers, and others. I am all for accessibility, when it does not compromise ecosystems. I don’t know that I will go back to the park now, but there is nothing similar within walking distance of our home (I don’t ride a bike, nor drive any longer, and we only have one car anyway). Pretty much everything else here is lawns.

Baby Fork-tailed Bush Katydid at Havens Park.

One thing that appears sorely lacking for the City Nature Challenge is widespread publicity. There is a wonderful team of individuals at the Los Angeles County Museum of Natural History that organizes the event each year, but they can only do so much. They have to register cities, for example, which is a demanding chore all by itself. It is up to the individual metropolitan areas to do their own marketing.

Nursery web spider, Pisaurina dubia, Wyandotte County Lake Park.

Did you participate this year? Have you done so in years past? Please feel free to share your experiences in the comments. Oh, and check out my "non-bug" finds over on my Sense of Misplaced blog.

Stealing Minds and Destroying Morale: LibGen, Meta, and AI

Last week I learned that all four of the books for which I am sole author, or co-author, were illegally pirated by Library Genesis (LibGen). The LibGen database was in turn scraped illegally by Meta, the parent company of Facebook, Instagram, and Threads, for the purpose of training the company’s AI (Artificial Intelligence) program in use of the English language. How many literary works were compromised? What recourse do authors have? Why is this a problem? Go make the popcorn and brace yourself.

I am not alone in having my works taken illegally, without notification, without my consent, and certainly without compensation. An estimated 7.5 million books, articles, and scientific papers are on the LibGen website. Nearly all of my writer and science friends, and even their parents, are victims of this intellectual property theft. If you have ever had anything published, you need to search LibGen.

Thankfully, The Atlantic magazine provides a search tool, for free, in the top left corner of the page in this hyperlink. Use it. Search for the names of people you know, and notify them if their works appear.

If you are not already a member of the Authors Guild, I strongly recommend becoming one. This particular case is high profile, but only the tip of the iceberg. There are many other piracy platforms that provide free access to literature without compensating the author or the publisher. Authors Guild has a strong legal team that fights for the rights of authors against copyright violations, against book bans, against publishing scams aimed at newbie authors, and many other issues including slow payment and non-payment by publishers.

You may hear from various sources that LibGen is actually the “good guy,” and it is only Meta that is at fault in this case. Publishing is a complicated industry, its landscape changing almost daily. One argument I saw praising LibGen involves the fact it “archives” ebooks, which became even more important after February 26, 2025. On that date, Amazon made it impossible to download ebooks from Kindle to your computer, or any device over which you have control of the files. The fact that you can fetch them from LibGen does not let that pirating company off the hook, it simply punishes Amazon and the authors of those ebooks.

Most publishers of scientific journals truly are evil, though. First, the author pays exorbitant page fees to have their work published. Then, the publisher puts those papers behind a paywall that essentially shuts off access to the general public. I confess that without the “services” provided by the kin of LibGen, I would have extraordinary difficulty conducting research for my own books. I simply do not have the time to contact the author of a given paper, provided they are still alive, with a public email address, and ask them if they can provide me with a PDF of the paper I am seeking. God forbid that capitalism could keep its dirty fingers out of the pie of collective knowledge we should all be able to access, and that authors should not have to pay to publish.

Back to the current issue for a moment. What can authors do? Class action lawsuits against Meta are in the works, and I will likely let Authors Guild and the law firms do the heavy lifting on the behalf of us authors. AG also has a ”What Authors Need to Know” page listing additional courses of action, including a template for a letter you can send to Z-man, the CEO of Meta, to express your outrage, and/or concern. If your life can function without Facebook, Instagram, and Threads, you may want to consider alternative social media like Bluesky.

Why is all of this a problem? Authors and writers are already compensated precious little for what we produce. Many of us never see royalties, and “advances” ahead of publishing are becoming more of a rarity all the time. This devaluation of our skill set, imagination, and creativity is something we already suffer, without the added attacks of piracy and plagiarism, and the indignity of being replaced by AI tools.

I came across a YouTube video above, by Del Stone, Jr., that captures perfectly my own sentiments. The view that intellectual property is not worthy of respect, but instead something to be “harvested” and used against creative people in the future is demoralizing AF, as the kids these days would say. What these corporations are doing is robbing people like me of the desire to continue creating content, and stimulating critical thinking by our readers.

You wonder why I rail against capitalism over on my Sense of Misplaced blog? Now you have some idea. I can no longer promise new posts here, or there. What is the point? Why should I continue to provide free fodder for AI machines? I’m open to persuasion, but for now I may stick to putting out a book every so often, and doing the odd article for the few editors I treasure. Thank you, and good luck.

Spooders and Noodles

Recently, I asked my friends on a social media platform to express their opinions on the trend of anthropomorphism as applied to traditionally uncharismatic fauna such as spiders (“spooders”) and snakes (“noodles”). The topic received over one hundred comments, with few people commenting more than once. The responses were all over the map, including some uncharted places in my own mind when I decided to ask the question. Here is my loose appraisal of the landscape.

"Spooder," more properly known as the jumping spider Phidippus putnami

Overall, one’s personal stance on anthropomorphism and use of “cutesy names” fell into three broad camps:

• Acceptable, if not totally embraceable.
• At least tolerable, with qualifications.
• Utterly contemptible.

Those who held a view that anthropomorphism is acceptable seemed to be people who connect to animals in an emotional way, pet owners, and empathetic individuals who may have only a casual interest in wildlife.

The view that anthropomorphism is at least tolerable, but with defined caveats, was most frequently evident in people whom I know to be science communicators. Sci-comm professionals (and amateurs for that matter) deal with both the scientific community and the general public, serving as a diplomatic bridge between the two.

The individuals who responded negatively to the idea of anthropomorphism were overwhelmingly professional scientists, though it is even more telling that few of my scientist friends bothered responding at all.

A colorful "noodle" (milksnake)

Many comments in the thread sparked by my post were highly specific, and we would do well to visit these viewpoints to illuminate the future direction of sci-comm, and improve relations between the scientific community and the general public.

• Several responses indicated that endearing or comical names for creatures that most of the population considers scary or repulsive were fine, provided that those epithets painted the animal in a positive light. For instance, “noodle” is fine for a snake, but “danger noodle” or “nope rope” was not ok. Those names suggest that the organism warrants disrespect, if not lethal dispatching.
• Some respondents on the phobia end of the spectrum have found that assigning a name to an individual spider or other creature inhabiting their home, yard, or garden, made the creature less frightening. It is harder to kill, or even hate, “Fred” or “Bertha” than a nameless arachnid.
• At least one respondent indicated that cutesy names were for plush toys, not the real, living creature. This is interesting, if only because “Lucas the Spider,” an animated plush character created by Joshua Slice, became incredibly popular for a time, between 2017 and 2021. There was a total of thirty-two episodes on YouTube, in fact. Lucas remains a great ambassador for jumping spiders, at least.
• Several people expressed reservations about the unintended consequences of anthropomorphism, such as turning some species into villains (“nope rope” again), or drawing too much focus to one species while neglecting others (the “Panda Effect?”).
• A number of people strayed slightly off topic and expressed dismay at the use of the term “bug” for all insects. This included may well-educated non-entomologists who appear to have adopted a stricter scientific view.
• Turning the “stranger” into the “familiar” seems to be at the heart of many anthropomorphic tendencies.
• Names that spread disinformation were resoundingly condemned. “Skeeter eater” for harmless crane flies that do not eat anything, let alone mosquitoes, was one example. Using “babies” to indicate small (or “smol”) adult insects is another deal-breaker for those who know otherwise.
• The most objectionable result of anthropomorphism occurs when emotional attachment or assignment results in irresponsible behavior. An example might be taking an animal out of the wild because it appears to be abandoned by its parent, herd, or flock. You truly can love an animal to death.
• Giving a pet name to an individual animal, or to a species or category risks devaluing other life forms. This even carries over into human social interaction in the workplace and other settings.
• On the other hand, assigning a pet name can translate to improved care of, and reverence for, that individual or species.
• Extra-cute names like “spooder” inappropriately infantilize organisms. It reinforces existing tendencies to find the most human-like faces in baby animals as the most deserving of positive sentiment, leaving all others out in the proverbial cold.
• The use of novel names may not be the same thing as anthropomorphism. It represents the evolution of language, especially in the digital age. Introverts, the neurodivergent, and others who lacked the anonymous outlet of the internet in previous generations, are now able to contribute a new perspective. That should not be threatening to those of us who grew up with “rules” of grammar and spelling. Accepting these changes is the healthier path for both human society and the other species we share the planet with.
• Ideally, acceptance and appreciation of other species should not hinge on the introduction of an endearing moniker, but if it helps change attitudes, then what is the harm? There has been, and continues to be, too much of a kill-it-now, ask-questions-later attitude among the general public.
• Taking a hard line against affectionate expressions risks alienating entire generations of currently young people who could otherwise be the most effective influencers for positive behaviors and views related to the rest of the animal kingdom. You appear elitist, sitting in your academic ivory tower, trying to preserve your privilege and power, demanding that everyone relate to other species on your (scientific) terms, literally and figuratively.
• ”Anthropomorphism is generally more helpful than Anthropocentrism. I think it’s better to project our understanding of our own existence onto creatures than to treat them like they’re inanimate objects. Our perspectives will always be biased and imperfect through our own eyes, even through a scientific lens.”
• Use of cute names and anthropomorphism should be done judiciously by science communicators and scientists. Much depends on the audience and the setting. Students in a classroom are expected to be taught, and to learn, proper terminology. With a casual audience, it might be more helpful to achieve connection through the language those people are using, instead of immediately imposing scientific convention. The intent should always be to advance appreciation and understanding.
• ”I didn’t chastise/degrade/make fun of my coworker who named her yard-Argiope “Big Booty Bertha.” I loved it! She went from a wreck-the-vehicle kinda person (over spiders) to nicknaming one in her yard. I’ll take it as a huge win….I fully believe your audience may need some anthropomorphism to begin the journey of gaining helpful knowledge.”
• ”From a conservation….perspective, it gets people ‘in the door,’ so to speak….In regards to jumping spiders, it’s amazing how many people have gone from ‘kill it with fire’ to ‘Aww, jumpy boi!’ just in the last few years. Even if this generation doesn’t become entomologists or arachnologists, their children will be more inclined to due to the change in perceptions.”
• ”I also make the animals relatable (ex: describing a wolf spider with young on her back as a hard-working momma who has several hundred mouths to feed). Treading lightly, you can connect with audiences on even the most hated creatures.”
• ”I am in support of using them playfully, but prefer that it’s kept to banter and meme pages and to raise awareness and create a good image.”
• ”Danger noodle” can be an opportunity for a teachable moment, especially if someone in the audience uses the term.
• ”As the reptile and invertebrate [pet] hobby becomes more mainstream, this [trend in novel names and anthropomorphism] will also become more mainstream.”
• ”We fear what we don’t understand. If giving an animal a name that appropriately promotes curiosity or endearment happens, great. Then we’re a step closer to being able to educate about the animal’s behavior, benefits, perspective. If that name promotes more fear, revulsion, or misunderstandings, then we’re doing it all wrong.”
• "I guess in the end, for me, it’s a matter of adapting my filter to my intended audience. As others have also mentioned here, I see the intent, and value, in using ‘cute’ names when attempting, for example, to help a friend reconcile their distaste for certain critters. I also, in these circumstances, offer educational and fun/trivial facts to blend the informal with the formal….And if calling a spider a ‘spood’ helps initially disarm them, which in turn results in their being a more receptive audience for additional information, that’s a win.”
• ”I refer to the colony of great golden digger wasps [in my yard] as the ‘Golden Girls.’…Anything to make them less scary to people.”
• ”In my educational communication I like to mix some of the newer cutesy vernacular with descriptive terms, common names, and scientific names – often all in the same piece. My goal….is to provide a point of connection for a diverse audience, sure, but also to enhance storytelling.”
• I think our fear of anthropomorphizing creatures stems from our anthropocentrism….We are such a strange species in our great interest in setting ourselves apart from (and above) other species, and I think we do our planet a disservice each time we do so.”
• ”Anthropomorphism has been a part of Indigenous cultures for centuries and builds respect and understanding for all living things, establishing animals as family members or revered elders.”

Hard-working wolf spider momma

The one thing that does strike me, that was not overtly acknowledged, is the impact of novel language and anthropomorphism on interactions between people. One respondent used the term “pedestrian audience.” I know what they meant, but my first thought was that this was condescending and not helpful. We are never going to get anywhere in advancing scientific literacy if we invalidate the standing of others, reduce them to an amorphous, dismissible group, or ignore their personal experiences.

Shoot, we have to be honest with ourselves, and where we are at, where we are coming from. It might not be pretty, and that is ok. My own affinity for “unlovable” animals definitely stemmed initially from feelings of disconnection from my peers as an elementary school student. Our first priority as scientific communicators, maybe communicators in general, should probably be to listen to people who are not like us, to assert that our conversations are in a safe space, and that their experiential reality is valid.

Your comments are welcome here. Whether I reply to them or not often depends on the temperament of my browser in allowing me to do so. That said, understand that I try to approve comments in a timely manner, rarely censor any but spam advertising and profanity, and recognize and appreciate your importance in advancing the dialogue.

The Changing Conversation Around Invasive Species

Recently, the debate about invasive species has become more polarized than ever, with a degree of defensiveness and anger not seen previously. The reasons for this are many, some difficult to admit to.

Chinese Clematis may be invasive, but it deserves a less bigoted name.

I attended a webinar a few weeks ago in which the presenter asserted that “invasive species” is a “militarized term.” My instinctive reaction was that this was accusatory, bordering on defamation of science, when there is clear evidence that the introduction of a species to a new ecosystem can have devastating consequences.

Spongy Moth is still a bonafide forest pest, but now has a more appropriate moniker.

Pondering his comment further, it occurred to me that most of the animals, and plants, we label as invasive have some sort of obvious and negative economic impact. We have, as a consumer culture, become conditioned to frame everything in terms of business and monetary interests rather than ecological concerns. This has become more complicated by angst over climate change, and the resulting vulnerability of humanity to emerging threats, be they viruses or “murder hornets.”

© Yasunori Koide and Wikimedia Commons. Asian Giant Hornet only "murders" in the beehive, but is a serious threat to apiculture because of that proclivity.

The sudden, and/or overwhelming appearance of a novel organism is going to cause alarm, and the public seldom has comprehensive, appropriate knowledge for interpretation of potential impacts. We are at the mercy of what news outlets tell us. Because traditional print, radio, and television media now compete with social media, sensationalism is the order of the day. “Click bait” banners prevail over more accurate but less provocative headlines.

© Kim Fleming and Bugguide.net. Joro Spider, Trichonephila clavata, is not currently considered invasive.

Initial forecasts can also be premature. The jury is still out on whether some recently-introduced species will become problematic. They may not. The Joro Spider is a case in point. It is locally abundant in some parts of the southeast U.S., but whether this translates to a displacement of native spiders remains an unanswered question.

We collectively have a fascination with heroes and villains, too, and there are no more menacing villains than alien-looking insects, spiders, and other arthropods. Fantasy melds with reality and it becomes difficult to separate the two if you are not scientifically literate, or have a business model that demands public hatred of a particular creature.

© USDA ARS, public domain. Spotted Lanternfly, Lycorma delicatula, adult and nymphs. This species is a potential agricultural pest of serious magnitude.

In opposition to nativism is the idea that there is no such thing as invasive species. After all, man is part of nature, and therefore our actions are natural processes. The outcomes of those activities are circumstances to which we, and other species, will adapt.

It may be no coincidence that a backlash against the idea of invasive species is more evident now that we are recognizing, and attempting to mitigate, a history of colonialism. A convincing argument could be made that White settlers are the original invasive species. Here, in North America, we annihilated and displaced Indigenous members of our own species. We enslaved others. To this day we continue missionary work and other forms of colonialism. Therefore, the idea of invasive species becomes one of self-loathing, certainly an eventual threat to White supremacy and privilege. White people do not want to see themselves as villains.

Meanwhile, we demonize human immigrants and refugees as criminals and threats to domestic labor pools. We clamor for the closure of borders to our fellow humans, but allow our boundaries to be permeated by everything else. Not that human-imposed boundaries reflect natural ones.

The Cross Orbweaver, Araneus diadematus, is an example of a naturalized arachnid in North America.

Scientists have an uphill battle in resolving these opposing perspectives and initiating constructive dialogue. Looking to the past we see how some species from foreign lands have become “naturalized” over time, becoming innocuous additions to our flora and fauna. The average citizen may be shocked to learn that dandelions are not native to the U.S. They have become a fixture in our lawnscapes, even if we are instructed to use weed-killers against them.

Myrtle Spurge, aka "Donkeytail," Euphorbia myrsinites, is classified as a noxious weed in some jurisdictions, but not everywhere.

What is lost in all of this is attribution of the modern problem of invasive species to global consumer culture. Historically, human colonists brought other species with them as a guarantee of food and other necessary resources when venturing into unknown territory. Soon after, those species and their products became valuable in trade, a way to establish meaningful and positive relationships with Indigenous peoples, or other settlers. The pace of travel was slow, and the scale of enterprise miniscule compared to twenty-first century business.

Today, we mostly covet plants and animals of far-off lands. Plants, especially, can harbor potential insect pests. The containers used to transport international commerce are frequently occupied by insects, rodents, and other organisms. We seldom make that connection between our consumer habits and the state of ecosystems around the world.

Captive Reticulated Python. Release of unwanted Burmese Pythons into the Everglades by irresponsible pet owners has been....problematic.

We cannot turn the clock back, but we should make more informed and conscientious individual choices in the marketplace. We should promote the welfare of Indigenous peoples, and actively seek their counsel and leadership in crafting a world better able to withstand climate change. A permanent end to colonialism would not be a bad thing, either.

Why I am Reviewing The Trayvon Generation in a “Bug Blog”

I have been accused of being “political” even in some of the entomology posts in this blog, but there is nothing political about human rights. It is my opinion that there will be no abatement of the “insect apocalypse,” no permanent success in the conservation of endangered species of any kind, until we save our own species from racism and other forms of bigotry afflicting people of color, women, agender persons, the LGBTQ population, the disabled, the neurodivergent…..

The list of persecuted Homo sapiens continues to grow thanks to colonialism, patriarchy, white supremacy, religious extremism, extreme capitalism, ableism, and the inertia of assumptions. Because of this, what is inappropriate is to exclude discussions on these urgent matters from any forum, no matter how “off topic” it might appear at first glance. It is relevant to every facet of our lives, every profession, and every pursuit.

Elizabeth Alexander is a critically-acclaimed author, poet, educator, and scholar. Her book, The Trayvon Generation (Grand Central Publishing, 2022), is a must read. It is short, at only 130 pages, so there is no excuse for even the slowest reader like me to not get through it in a timely manner. It is not a rehashing of the Black history that whites already think they know. It is deeply personal, and highly illuminating.

Alexander draws on the works of other Black scholars, writers, and artists to literally and figuratively illustrate her points throughout the three-part text. The images of these creators, and the images created by Alexander’s eloquent prose, are moving, haunting, and indelible.

One chapter is entitled “whether the negro sheds tears.” The question, asked of the Black scholar W.E.B. Du Bois in 1905 by a (presumably white) researcher, parallels another query I addressed here previously: “Do Insects Feel Pain?” The implication of the question is similar to what Alexander concludes about questions of Black emotional expression:

”Are Black people human? Do Black people do what people do. Are Black people people. If Black people are not people and do not cry, then they do not experience pain, or grief, or trauma, or shock, or sorrow. If Black people do not experience pain, or grief, or trauma, or shock , or sorrow, are they human? And if they are not human, can their continued violation be justified?”

The artifice of race cannot stand, but Alexander allows for you to come to that conclusion. She demonstrates how even she herself once experienced the “shock of delayed comprehension” at the normality of white supremacy and expectation of Black servitude in the form of a painting of Elihu Yale with this Servant, hung prominently in the Corporation Room at that Ivy League university where she worked. She had failed to previously notice the servant in the painting, or mentally censored the offensive nature of the portrait.

Many such examples abound in our daily lives but we have been conditioned to accept them as normal, as acceptable. Recognition of artworks depicting white supremacy, hostile government and business policies, mass incarceration, wage gaps, and other obscene transgressions against people of color is what is met with anger and outrage by people who stand to lose power.

I care not one whit if I lose “followers” as a result of urging you to pick up The Trayvon Generation and begin a journey toward true humanity that embraces all beings, and takes action to make it so. Imagine the heights to which our species could climb were we to extend white privilege to all ends of the human spectrum.

Save A Spider (Every) Day

Every day should be “Save A Spider Day,” considering all that these arachnids do for us as people, and ecosystems around the globe. Alas, March 14 is the only day officially designated for their respect, admiration and, at the least, tolerance. The timing this year is pretty good, though, given hysteria surrounding some sensational journalism, and a forthcoming field guide to spiders in North America.

Lucas the spider, © Joshua Slice, furnished by Sayles & Winnikoff Communications

I was prompted to write this post by Kelly Cleary of Sayles and Winnikoff Communications, the marketing company promoting a new Cartoon Network series starring “Lucas,” the fluffy, adorable animated jumping spider that took the internet by storm a few years ago. This is a wonderful, positive milestone for arachnid appreciation, and I am honored to be asked to be a messenger for something innovative and excellent.

There is the fictional, lovable Lucas, and then there is the Joro Spider, a real species that is getting the polar opposite treatment in the press. Eight years ago, a large orb weaver was discovered in the state of Georgia, USA, and determined to be Trichonephila clavata, a species native to most of Asia. This was considered something of a novelty at the time, but soon more individual specimens were turning up in nearby locations. Since then, the Joro Spider has expanded its range to include most of northern Georgia, and parts of northwest South Carolina and adjacent North Carolina. Single specimens have turned up in Alabama, and even Oklahoma, likely a result of someone unwittingly moving them on an object or vehicle.

Adult female Joro Spider © Kim Fleming via Bugguide.net

Recently, scientists have extrapolated the potential expansion to eventually include most of the Atlantic coast of the U.S., plus Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, Indiana, and other states. This is based on latitudes where the spider is found in its native Asia, plus the warmer maritime influence along the coast. This is what scientists are supposed to do when confronted with an alien species in a new territory: make predictions and then inform the public accordingly.

Unfortunately, journalists are prone to sensationalize this kind of information and, in this instance everything is, literally, being blown out of proportion. When they are young and small, spiders disperse themselves by “ballooning,” climbing to the top of tall objects, standing on tiptoe, and issuing long strands of silk to catch the wind. Someone forgot to properly explain this to reporters, so now we have the expectation of very large spiders raining down on us come springtime. Relax, it is not going to happen.

© Wikimedia Commons

Whether the Joro Spider is going to have a negative impact on native spiders, temporarily or permanently, will not be determined for some time. Any effort to control, or eradicate the Joro Spider is likely to have more dire ecological consequences than the spider itself. Do report your sightings with at least clear photos, if you cannot present an entomologist or arachnologist with the specimen itself. Otherwise, there is no need for overreaction.

Need help identifying the Joro, or any other spider? I have good news. My friend and scholar Sarah Rose has written Spiders of North America, in the Princeton Field Guide series. I will have a review here eventually, but suffice that I have intimate knowledge of the scope of this reference, its design and presentation, and can speak highly of the expertise and communication skills of the author. You will want to put in your pre-order soon.

Not everyone is a fan of spiders, likely not even everyone reading this post, but we can at least learn about their place in the natural order of things, and welcome them in our yards and gardens as free pest control, and architects of marvelous silken webs. Meanwhile, until journalism is more responsible, please help us spread correct information via social media and our in-person interactions with others. To paraphrase Smoky the Bear, “only you can save spiders.”

Black in Entomology Week This Week!

This blogger apologizes for being late in promoting Black in Entomology Week, February 22-26. The event is most heavily publicized on Twitter under various hashtags, with the goals of fostering community for Black entomologists, creating funding opportunities, and simply sharing passion for the subject and inspiration for each other. This is a long overdue celebration, and I intend to continue highlighting Black entomologists throughout the year via guest posts, and spotlighting historical figures in the field.

Black in Entomology is not confined to the professional scientific community, by the way. According to the Black in Ento website, students of entomology, amateurs, and hobbyists are also invited to answer the #rollcall of #BlackInEnto.

Much of the focus this week is on changing institutional structure that has failed to adequately recruit, mentor, train, and retain Black students and researchers in entomology. This includes #intersectionality that recognizes additional identities such as non-binary individuals, members of the LGBTQ+ community, and the disabled. There should be a place for all, and all should be equally welcomed and accommodated fully.

Panel discussions are being held, and archived in some cases, to address issues specific to the Black experience in entomology, and STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math) in general.

There is also a need to promote Black entomologists to positions of leadership. Universities, corporations, foundations, and other formal entities need to participate in this endeavor. Inclusiveness does not mean merely inviting traditionally disenfranchised demographic groups to “the table,” but to elect or appoint them to roles where they direct and guide the course of the organization.

Black in Entomology Week is sponsored in part by the Entomological Society of America, Societas Entomologica Canadensis, BASF, and Corteva. Various individuals and organizations have also stepped forward to offer prizes and scholarships, with donations accrued via GoFundMe.

It is highly encouraging to finally see a commitment to redeeming the colonial, discriminatory history of entomology and begin to embrace a future with equality, justice, and diversity as overriding priorities. This is going to take more than one week of recognition, of course. Please give generously of your time, experience, and finances to keep the momentum going. Thank you.

The Mayfly Analogy

Metamorphosis is a wonderful thing. It is physiologically compulsory for insects, many other invertebrates, amphibians, and some fish. It is a conscious choice in humans from the perspective of emotional, social, and intellectual maturity. Some people choose to remain forever neotenous, never advancing their ability to empathize with others, or accept that diversity and equality enhance our species rather than impede our collective evolution.

Small minnow mayfly, Callibaetis sp., Mueller State Park, Colorado, USA

Mayflies, aquatic insects in the order Ephemeroptera, are best known for their ephemeral adult lifespans, often only a day or two, several days maximum, and as short as one hour. As underwater naiads, their youth may last three months to three years, depending on the species.

Mayflies are the only insects that molt after reaching adulthood. The naiad emerges from the water, splits its exoskeleton down the middle of the thorax, and a winged insect slowly draws itself out. This is the subimago, or “dun” in the parlance of anglers who model their imitation flies after certain mayflies.

The dun flies to another perch, such as foliage overhanging the water, or a bridge abutment, or similar platform. There, it repeats the molting process, becoming a fully-fledged, sexually mature imago that fly fishermen call a “spinner.” These adults lack functional mouthparts, as there is no time for feeding. There is only mating and, in the case of females, laying eggs. At least one species, Cloeon dipterum of the British Isles, births live naiads, having incubated the eggs within her body.

Common burrower mayfly, Hexagenia sp., along the Missouri River in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA

The evolutionary origin of mayflies dates back to the middle of the Carboniferous Period in the Paleozoic Era, about 325 million years ago. This places them near the most basal root of the phylogenetic tree of all winged insects.

The Ephemeroptera are the “E” in EPT, a biological index that informs water quality in environmental health assessments. Together with stoneflies (Plecoptera) and caddisflies (Trichoptera), mayfly naiads vary in their sensitivity to pollutants, overly turbid, and warmer-than-normal streams, rivers, and lakes. Generally, the more species diversity in these insect orders in a given watershed, the healthier the aquatic ecosystem is.

Our own children thrive best in environments devoid of toxic ideologies, and well-oxygenated with empathy, equality, justice, and peace instead of turbidity. The more diverse our neighborhoods, schools, and institutions are, the better.

True, the naiads of prongill mayflies, in the family Leptophlebiidae, ensconce themselves in crevices and shun the light, and burrowing mayflies in the family Ephemeridae tunnel into the silt or sand of streambeds and lake bottoms. That does not mean we should bury our own heads in the sand, stubbornly clinging to outdated social strategies that further divide us.

Small square-gilled mayfly, Caenis sp., Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA

Adult mayflies often emerge synchronously, in overwhelmingly abundant “hatches” that anglers attempt to time appropriately with their feather-and-thread imposters. Major rivers are often the site of these eruptions, and the Great Lakes are beginning to see a resurgence in numbers that have been at a historic ebb for decades thanks to pollution. Bulldozers are often necessary to sweep the dead insects from roadways lest they become a slick, greasy hazard.

Homo sapiens has been on this planet for barely the geological equivalent of one day, so perhaps we are all subimagos, having not yet graduated to full adulthood in appreciation of our own diversity. I like to think that I have entered that stage, aware, yet still awkward in my attempts to help others out of their own prejudicial entanglements, their ecdysis mired and twisted by privilege and entitlement.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I am a cicada, and thirteen or seventeen years hence I will realize I knew nothing. Still, the idea that just when you thought you were done, you are only a dun, resonates more. We may never arrive, never become spinners, but we are certainly farther away than we think we are.

A "slate drake" mayfly, Isonychia sp., from Leavenworth, Kansas, USA

Sources: Fauceglia, Ted. 2005. Mayflies: Major Eastern and Midwestern Hatches. Mechanicsburg: Stackpole Books. 196 pp.
Grimaldi, David, and Michael S. Engel. 2005. Evolution of the Insects. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 755 pp.
McGavin, George C. 1998. The Pocket Guide to Insects of the Northern Hemisphere. London: Parkgate Books, Ltd. 208 pp.

Struggling

Having just completed one book manuscript, with another one due at the end of this year, I don’t have time for the angst and depression that grips me currently. The global pandemic has impacted all of us in a myriad of ways, only to be compounded by personal challenges that each of us face. What does this have to do with entomology? Nothing. Everything.

Yeah, I'm in there somewhere....

While I am not cavalier in my approach to covid-19, the virus has not, by itself, caused me panic nor worry. It is not the reason I stay indoors. More on that later. I am in a very privileged place compared to many people and can weather at least a degree of economic upheaval. I am relatively healthy physically, though that does not necessarily mean I would have a mild case if I contracted the virus. Many patients that “recover” still have chronic, debilitating illnesses that may last the rest of their lives. The press has not emphasized this.

What is most stressful is the selfish reaction of so many to a catastrophe that impacts everyone regardless of race, sex, economic status, religion, or politics. The best analogy I can make for my own experience is the movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I feel like I walk today among pod people who have no understanding of science, no empathy for anyone else, and who devote all their energy to shaming those who do possess those qualities. I have decreasing patience daily.

Also in the current social pot is simmering racism, and the complementary intolerance of that continued bigotry. The cauldron reached the boiling point in May with the murder of George Floyd by police officers. Much like our collective reactions to coronavirus, the Black Lives Matter protests have revealed a schizophrenic socio-political divide where monuments to confederate figures are held more sacred than the lives of contemporary humans suffering from systemic, institutionalized oppression, if not outright violence.

Let me make this clear, at the least: white privilege deserves to be challenged, to be eroded, to be leveled. As events unfold, I ask myself consistently whether this is a sacrifice I am willing to make. So far, the answer has been an unequivocal “yes.” I can live without the statues, even if they are works of art. I would rather have a celebration of indigenous peoples than recognize Columbus Day. I love football, but the Redskins must change their name. I am willing to be educated about the racist flaws of all historical “heroes.”

Until last month, I would make a daily walk through my neighborhood. Some days I would go to the top of the hill, a vast former landfill that had metamorphosed into a degraded semblance of shortgrass prairie, and look for insects, birds, and other wildlife. I lost the fight to preserve it, and now bulldozers have rendered it a denuded plot for a housing development. I have not been on a walk since I first encountered the machines. It is too painful.

I am left without a refuge now, and given that my spouse can no longer carpool to work, I also have no way to escape to another nature spot. Even if I did, I would encounter far more people than I did up the hill. It matters less and less to me as I feel resigned to the continued burning of the world. I just don’t want to watch it any more. My daily walk is now limited to getting the mail.

Were it not for my wife, and my current obligations to publishers, I’m not sure I’d be making the feeble efforts at survival and routine that I somehow manage. My short-term memory is fading, to the point that today I could not recall, in the space of even twenty seconds, whether I had taken my allergy medication. Why can’t that phenomenon apply to memories and situations I want to forget? Why must any of us be tortured that way?

Friends recommend taking a break from social media as one way to limit negative input, but then you also limit positive stimuli. Ignoring reality is not a healthy way to navigate your life, either, but the human race in general has never been even adequate at coping skills. My message to myself is to accept that you are going to have slumps in productivity, fall into bad habits, and otherwise be a wreck periodically. It won’t last forever.

The Problem With "Murder"....Anything

It is a source of personal frustration that this blog must constantly address sensationalized mainstream press accounts of various insects and arachnids billed as the next great menace. That is putting things politely, actually. Humans excel at one terrible thing: creating enemies where none exist, or none would exist, were it not for people themselves.

Asian Giant Hornet, Vespa mandarinia© Allan Smith-Pardo, USDA APHIS PPQBugwood.org

It is also deeply troubling that a story about “murder hornets” is achieving more prominence than a story about the murder of a black male by a Caucasian father and son. Both hornets, and people of various demographics, are victims of unrelenting violence that they do not deserve. This is not a political issue; it is a humanity issue of staggering proportions and devastating consequences.

The fact that I can speak more intelligently about social wasps than people of color is disgraceful. I have a better education in entomology than in human cultural and ethnic diversity. Where did I fail? How did I allow myself to become an unwitting accomplice to institutionalized racism? How can I continue to advocate for “bugs” while my fellow human beings are fearing for their lives?

I know where to get factual information about insects. It comes from scholars I trust, from scientific literature that is thankfully now more accessible to the public than ever (are you reading this, journalists?), and from my own educational experiences, in class and in the field. I make an effort to learn, to understand, to act in accordance with what I know to be true. Science is by no means static; it also adapts to new discoveries. That is how we are going to get treatments and, hopefully, a vaccine for COVID-19.

The Asian Giant Hornet, Vespa mandarinia, is a large social wasp native to Asia, but adaptable to similar climates elsewhere if given the chance. That is what happened in Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada, when a nest was discovered and destroyed in September of 2019. A single deceased specimen was found in Blaine, Washington, USA, near the Canadian border, in December, 2019. Genetic analysis showed it was from a different origin than the colony from Nanaimo. End of story, to date.

Asian Giant Hornet, Vespa mandarinia© Washington State Department of AgricultureBugwood.org

Yes, Asian Giant Hornets can decimate hives of honey bees to procure food for their larvae in the form of bee larvae and pupae. The adult wasps will also eat honey to fuel their flight muscles. The marauding wasps can be kept from entering hives with the installation of queen excluder devices.

The root of the hornet problem, and indeed all invasive species issues lies with human enterprise, but that is not sexy enough for media corporations competing for clicks and re-tweets. Responsible journalism would highlight lax inspections of shipping containers at international ports. Honest and brave writers would dare to suggest that our global economy threatens to undermine some industries (apiculture in this case) and destroy native ecosystems through accidental and intentional importation of exotic species.

Likewise, our problems with race relations and other social and economic conditions exist in places we don’t want to look: inside our white privileged selves, our monochromatic neighborhoods, our segregated private schools….We must come to terms with that for the collective peace and advancement of our society.

Hornets are armed with heavy-duty jaws and, if female, a sting. They operate on instincts that, while surprisingly plastic, can be brutal in their execution. Human beings can be armed with any number of worse weapons, some capable of annihilating entire cities and more, but graced with minds that can overcome instinct. We can adapt much more easily than insects, or any other animal species, to crises and challenges simply by changing our minds.

We must admit to, and own, our biases, faults, mistaken notions in the face of facts, and work to change them. That is the only honorable and just course for our lives, alone and together. Seize the opportunity to reject conspiracy, irresponsibility, and lack of empathy. Be a hornet of a different stripe, a warrior of compassion.

Coronavirus, Entomology, and This Blog

May this latest post find you healthy, still sane, and abiding by the directives of your local, state, provincial, and national governments and health care professionals (not necessarily in that order). We are collectively stressed more than usual, and for some of you, normal stress was already almost intolerable. We were eager to greet spring by rushing outdoors, and are now told we should stay inside as much as possible. The coronavirus (covid-19, SARS-CoV-2) pandemic has impacted everyone, including entomologists, and sponsors of this blog. Never fear, we will persevere, and recover.

Ouch! Another reason to stay indoors!

The closure of all non-essential businesses and agency offices has had a profound impact on the field of entomology. Notably, nearly every university and museum entomology department is unoccupied or nearly so. There is little or no maintenance of our valuable insect and arachnid collections. Agricultural offices, pest control operators, and related agencies and enterprises are operating with skeleton crews, if not closed indefinitely. Little, if any, field work is being done. The advancement of our scientific knowledge in these disciplines is at a standstill, or proceeding at a snail’s pace compared to normal standards.

One of the more troubling scenarios is whether medical entomology will be a casualty, if only by attrition, or by the recruitment of medical entomologists into the current epidemiological crisis response. Already I am seeing posts on social media of ticks and mosquitoes that citizens are encountering as they go outside for exercise and fresh air. Should the bite of a fly or tick result in illness, who is going to treat those victims? Will those people be seen at all, and if so, how, in the interest of complying with social distancing, and the increasing pressure to devote all hospital and medical facilities to containing and treating covid-19 cases? If any of my readers know the answers, and I am all ears.

Meanwhile, many small businesses are suffering incalculable economic damage that will only get worse the longer we fail to comply with proven methods of “flattening the curve” of virus cases. We all personally know employees and proprietors who are facing agonizing layoffs, or the prospects of having to make those tough decisions. This includes the two major sponsors of this blog.

I made the decision earlier in the year to suspend payment for advertising here, from Tender Corporation (After Bite®), and BioQuip Products and BioQuip Bugs (see right sidebar for links). It had nothing to do with the impending pandemic at the time. I am in a fortunately solvent financial situation for the time being, and I also knew I would be posting here more infrequently. It is not fair to demand revenue for a product or service that is decreasing in frequency (but, hopefully, not quality).

Please consider purchasing goods from my sponsors if possible. Tender Corporation manufactures all manner of outdoor medical products that remain useful even during the pandemic, when we may be confined to our own property, but still confronted by biting insects and arachnids. BioQuip is the premiere outlet for high quality entomology equipment, from nets to pinning supplies, plus products related to botany and other scientific disciplines. They provide merchandise for every level, from hobbyist to professional. They offer one of the most complete listings of books and educational materials found anywhere. Can’t go collecting because you are restricted to your home? No problem. BioQuip Bugs sells many specimens from all over the globe, responsibly sourced.

Besides browsing the blog, including the clickable tabs at the top of the page about how to build an insect collection and how to take amazing images of insects with your phone, there are other ways to further your interest in entomology. Investigate online classes. Join social media groups centered around an interest in insects or arachnids. Look in on iNaturalist, Project Noah, and Bugguide. Go on an indoor bug hunt. Make drawings, paintings, or sculptures of your favorite insect. Read books and articles about bugs. Watch documentaries about insects, like Microcosmos. There are endless possibilities in the digital age, which may be the saving grace of the timing of this unfortunate and mournful epidemic. Please stay safe, healthy, and sane, and know that you have my empathy and appreciation.