The Bigger Picture

It occurs to me that my vision for this blog, and audience expectations, may be somewhat divergent, and neither as easy to meet and execute as I would like. The world is changing rapidly, and, if anything, I feel myself slowing down. Allow me to posit some ideas for how to solve all of this.

Entomology in context: a firefly on a farm in western Massachusetts

Most days, it is a struggle to do much of anything, least of all writing. I find a “what’s the use?” mentality creep in. There is no question, in my mind, that insect abundance and diversity has markedly declined in the last decade. In the field I have to work harder just to find species that were once common. Consequently, I do not have photos of many species I would like to write blog posts about. Even supposedly common household pests like spider beetles, Cigarette Beetle, and Drugstore Beetle, I have yet to see. I have encountered a grand total of one (1) Blacklegged (deer) Tick, and got horrible photos.

:My only respectable photo of a Blacklegged Tick

My first ask is whether those of you who are photographers would be willing to share your images with me to build stories around. Not only is it a matter of simply depicting a given species, but also illustrating its behavior. Looking at posts on social media, many of my friends and followers have captured some truly unique species and various aspects of their life histories. Do not be shy. Please contact me (see below) if you want to share your work through this blog.

Courtship of Cyrtopogon robber flies captured by my wife, Heidi

My e-mail often receives unsolicited offers to “guest post” on my blog, and I always turn those away. On occasion I have asked colleagues for permission to re-post something they have written in social media, a publication, or their own blog. My standards are pretty high, and this blog is a promotional device for no one. I am now re-thinking this a little.

Entomology has historically been inextricably entangled with colonialism, sexism, and racism. What we know of tropical species has been a product of white explorers, missionaries, and others who exploited indigenous peoples without giving fair credit and compensation. The specimens collected were deposited almost exclusively in museums in Europe, and later in the U.S. and Canada. Meanwhile, female entomologists, and non-Caucasian entomologists, have suffered for proper recognition, funding, and academic promotions.

This blog can be a vehicle for changing some of this. I hereby extend an invitation to women, indigenous persons, and all other non-white persons in entomology, to propose one or more guest posts for the Bug Eric blog. You need not be employed as an entomologist. You can be an enthusiastic amateur, a general naturalist, or someone who simply witnessed or recorded some arthropod-related experience that stuck with you. Maybe it is your child who is crazy about “bugs.” Let me hear about it. I still reserve the right of refusal, but I assure you I am serious about broadcasting voices previously muted by establishment authority figures. Op-ed pieces are also welcome.

Myself with one of my first mentors, Jim Anderson, circa 1971

Lastly, this blog is in dire need of solution-oriented content. How do we avert an “insect apocalypse?” How do we overcome the inertia of the lawnscape to craft a quilted landscape of native or near-native habitat on our own properties? What approaches are working already? Why are they working (in the political or economic sense)? Also, why does it seem that every positive suggestion eventually meets with stiff resistance or is undermined in some way? Bee condos, bee blocks, and insect hotels are suddenly a no-no, for example. How does this happen? How do we separate true experts from corporate hacks and trolls?

Bee condos are supplemental housing or disease-and-parasite-riddled death traps depending on who you ask

It is hard for me to believe that this blog began in over a decade ago. I simply and selfishly wanted to share my experiences and knowledge with no purpose other than entertainment and validation. Now it is a true community of “followers” who deserve something more, including a voice in the future direction of Bug Eric. Entomology encompasses so much, from science to art, that there is no shortage of material. Indeed, the greatest challenge may be that of focus, like seeing a single mayfly in the swarm.

Contact: bugeric247ATgmailDOTcom.

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.

One Night, One House, Seventeen Spider Species

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

Orb Weavers: Araneidae

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

Trashline Orbweaver, Cyclosa sp.

Furrow Orbweaver, Larinioides cornutus

Bridge Orbweaver, Larinioides sclopetarius

Long-jawed Orb Weavers: Tetragnathidae

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

Long-jawed orbweaver, Tetragnatha sp.

Cobweb Weavers: Theridiidae

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

Immature Common House Spider, Parasteatoda tepidariorum

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

Funnel Weavers: Agelenidae

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

Funnel weaver, Coras sp.

Sac Spiders: Clubionidae

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

Female sac spider, Clubiona sp.

Male sac spider, Clubiona sp.

Wolf Spiders: Lycosidae

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

Female wolf spider, Trochosa sp.

Nursery Web and Fishing Spiders: Pisauridae

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

Immature Dark Fishing Spider, Dolomedes tenebrosus

Mature male Striped Fishing Spider, Dolomedes scriptus

Jumping Spiders: Salticidae

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

Jumping spider, Naphrys pulex

Adult male jumping spider, Evarcha sp.

Gray form male of the Dimorphic Jumper, Maevia inclemens

Crab Spiders: Thomisidae

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

Female ground crab spider, Xysticus sp.

Sheetweb Weavers: Linyphiidae

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

Female hammock spider, Pityohyphantes sp.

Unidentified male sheetweb weaver

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

A Beautiful Place to "Bee"

If the word "bee" was a verb, Colorado would be a very good place to "bee." The diversity of native bee species is high, with at least 946 species of bees in the state. This past month alone I have personally observed many interesting bees.

Male cactus bee, Diadasia enavata, approaching milkweed flowers   Slowly, more people who are not scientists are learning that there are bees other than the Honey Bee and bumble bees. The overwhelming majority of our native North American bees are solitary, each female constructing her own nest as a burrow in the ground, a hollowed-out pithy twig, or a pre-existing cavity in wood, rock or masonry. A few mason bees make free-standing mud nests. Some of the ground-nesting sweat bees express some degree of sociality, with daughters helping their mother raise a second generation of offspring.

Male leafcutter bee, Hoplitis hypocrita   Male bees often congregate in the neighborhood of places where females are nesting, creating the impression that they are social and "swarming." Male bees lack stingers, but to those unaware of that fact an active aggregation of flying males can be intimidating.

My wife organized a group of naturalists to visit "Emerald Valley" on the back side of Cheyenne Mountain, beyond the reach of The Broadmoor resort camp, on June 29. A break from the mostly overcast and rainy weather we've been having allowed us to observe several species of bees. Even the trail itself provides bare earth that burrowing bees like to nest in.

Male yellow-faced bee, Hylaeus basalis   Most bees are difficult to identify from images alone, but I am fortunate to have colleagues like Hartmut Wisch, a naturalist in southern California, and John Ascher at the American Museum of Natural History, who are so familiar with native bees that they can make many species-specific identifications from images of live bees. Hartmut helped me identify the surprisingly large male Hylaeus basalis from Emerald Valley; and John shocked me by identifying the bigger, hairy males on the trail as "plasterer bees" (aka "cellophane bees") in the genus Colletes. Females of both Colletes and Hylaeus coat the cells of their underground nests with glandular secretions that are organic polymers (plastic!). This keeps the pollen and nectar from spoiling as the larval bee eats it.

Male plasterer bee, Colletes sp.   Other higher-elevation species include leafcutter bees like the genus Hoplitis, some of which are metallic green or blue. Males drive each other off, and flirt with females, around logs with beetle borings where the females make nests.

Sometimes, you are what attracts bees. I had the pleasure of entertaining a female "sweat bee," genus Halictus, as she sipped my perspiration during the Emerald Valley trip.

Female sweat bee, Halictus sp.   A trip to Lovell Gulch in Woodland Park, Colorado (Teller County, elevation over 8,000 ft.) on July 13 gave Heidi and I a treat in the form of a female Megachile melanophaea pausing with her burden of a piece of leaf she had just cut. Thanks to John Ascher and Étienne Normandin for making the identification. Leafcutter bees shear oval pieces from soft leaves or flower petals to fashion barrel-shaped cells they stack along the length of a pre-existing tunnel in wood, or a burrow in the soil. Perfectly round leaf pieces cap a finished barrel, which will contain a pollen-and-nectar ball and an egg.

Female leafcutter bee, Megachile melanophaea   Back down here on the plains, additional bees can be found. The sandy soil is a perfect substrate for ground-nesting bees like Calliopsis zebrata in the family Andrenidae. I was surprised by the size of the males of this species. Most Calliopsis are very small. Males fly relentlessly over places where females nest, landing ever so briefly now and then.

Male mining bee, Calliopsis zebrata   Flowers are, naturally, where you see most bees as they sip flower nectar and, if they are females, collect pollen. We are having an exceptionally wet year (wettest May on record for El Paso County), and while wildflowers have prospered, there appears to be a dearth of pollinators in terms of abundance, at least.

Bees do have their enemies, and sometimes those enemies are other bees. I was stumped by one particularly large, solitary bee I encountered on May 28 in Cheyenne Mountain State Park. The insect landed on the trail and stayed there, allowing me to approach close enough to take pictures. Doug Yanega of the University of California, Riverside, another top-notch bee expert, kindly provided the identification of Melecta pacifica fulvida. It turns out this species is a cleptoparasite of the digger bee Anthophora pacifica. The female Melecta enters the burrow of its host and lays an egg there. The larva that hatches then eats (steals) the pollen and nectar intended for the host's offspring.

Female cuckoo bee, Melecta pacifica   I do hope that if you don't live in Colorado, you will be able to visit and take in the rich diversity of flora and fauna here. I would be happy to go afield with you and introduce you to our "bee"-autiful flora and fauna.

Source: Scott, Virginia, John S. Ascher, Terry Griswold, and César R. Nufio. 2011. The Bees of Colorado. Natural History Inventory of Colorado No. 23. 112 pp. (PDF version)..

Wasp Wednesday: Wasp City

Wasp-watching is better around some places than it is others. Yesterday, June 12, I happened upon a lone, blooming Saltcedar tree in the middle of a huge vacant plot of land here in Colorado Springs. In a few hours I saw a greater diversity of wasps than I had seen up until then in all the time I’ve spent here.

Unfortunately, Saltcedar, also known as Tamarisk (Tamarix sp.) is an invasive plant. It is native to Eurasia and Africa and was brought to North America as an ornamental tree sometime in the early 1800s. It can grow in a variety of habitats but seems to favor disturbed situations, riparian corridors, and moist pastures. It has deep taproots that can reach low water tables, interfering with natural aquatic systems. It is also tolerant of high salinity. Efforts have been made to eradicate it, but with little success. One tactic has been the introduction of a leaf beetle, Diorhabda elongate, and a mealybug (Trabutina mannipara), to eat the plant into submission.

Say what you will about the negative impacts of this tree, but it certainly attracts a variety of butterflies, bees, wasps, flies, and beetles that seek nectar at its profuse pale pink blossoms. Yesterday I spotted Painted Lady, American Lady, Variegated Fritillary, Checkered White, Orange Sulphur, Dainty Sulphur, and Gray Hairstreak butterflies. There were also a variety of tachinid flies, thick-headed flies, syrphid flies, and flesh flies. Robber flies hung around to prey on the pollinators. Sweat bees, leafcutter bees, resin bees, digger bees, honeybees, bumble bees, and cuckoo bees were there, too.

The above list is just the tip of the iceberg. The wasps were even more amazing in their diversity:

• Argidae: Argid sawflies
• Braconidae: Braconid wasps
• Chrysididae: Cuckoo wasps
• Vespidae: (Vespid Wasps)
• Polistes dominula (European Paper Wasp)
• Euodynerus spp. (mason wasps)
  
  
• Stenodynerus? sp. (mason wasp)
• Pompilidae (Spider Wasps):
• Hemipepsis ustulata (tarantula hawk)
• Cryptocheilus sp.
• Sphecidae (Sphecid Wasps):
• Sceliphron caementarium (Black & Yellow Mud Dauber)
• Sphex lucae
• Podalonia spp. (cutworm hunters)
• Ammophila spp.
  
  
• Crabronidae (Crabronid Wasps):
• Sphecius grandis (Western Cicada Killer)
  
  
• Tachytes spp. (sand-loving wasps)
• Bembix sp. (sand wasp)
• Clypeadon sp. (harvester ant hunter)
• Philanthus spp. (“beewolves,” at least four species)
• Cerceris spp. (weevil wasps)

The tarantula hawk and cicada killer were somewhat surprising. I’m going back right now to see what else I can find, and try and get better images. Take a look around your own yard, garden, neighborhood, and parks, and see what flowers you can find that draw the most wasps, bees, and other pollinators. Share your findings here if you will.