Book Festivals, Royalties, and Other Author Things

Here at the end of September, I am gearing up for the Heartland Book Festival in Kansas City, Missouri, on Saturday, October 11. With your help, we can recruit a legion of new bugwatchers, and change how we relate to other species, and each other. Allow me to let you in on upcoming events, and some secrets of the author profession that might surprise you.

Got my poster, courtesy of Poor Richard's here in Leavenworth, Kansas.

I cannot tell you how excited and honored I am to be participating as a vendor in the Heartland Book Festival. I will be one of only twenty-five authors selected from over two hundred applicants. This is perhaps the first time I have truly felt like a professional writer and author. I am hoping that this is only the beginning. Please recommend to me, in the comments, other book festivals that you have enjoyed, where nonfiction authors are celebrated alongside the novelists.

Speaking engagements are another way for authors to get traction in the marketplace. I will be presenting a talk on spiders for Topeka Audubon the evening of October 7, then another bugwatching presentation for Gardeners Connect on November 11 in Kansas City, Missouri.

There are already dates taken up on my 2026 calendar, too. On January 8, I will be presenting a webinar for Smithsonian Associates. I will announce when tickets go on sale. February 10, 2026, you will find me at the Plan it Native Landscapes Conference in Kansas City, Missouri, where I will present “Beyond Bees and Butterflies: Embracing and Conserving Local Insects.” After that program, I am open to invitations for any other events you may want to suggest.

There is a persistent myth that authors earn much of their living from royalties on sales of their books. This may be true for Stephen King, but certainly not for those of us in niche markets like natural history. What usually happens is that the publisher pays an author a cash advance to begin the book, maybe another once the manuscript is completed, and perhaps another once the book goes on the market. Ideally, brisk sales quickly make up for the advances and the book breaks even. Only after that point do royalties start producing positive numbers. None of my books, to this point, have produced royalties. That is not uncommon, but there is no reason we can’t buck that trend. How do we do that?

Much as I loathe Amazon, the retail giant, posting positive reader reviews there can boost sales considerably. The same can be said for Goodreads, and other such platforms. Book reviews in magazines, newspapers, blogs, podcasts, and social media are also helpful. Thank you for considering.

Invitations to do book signings, or present at conferences and meetings, are always welcome. Obviously, remote, virtual appearances are easiest at this time, when airline travel is undependable at best, Covid is making a resurgence, and clubs and organizations are facing financial hardship due to cuts in federal grants and other sources of funding. That said, if I can string together more than a couple of engagements in any given city, or small region, I will certainly entertain in-person events.

Thank you for all of your moral support, book purchases, in-kind donations, and other help to this point. I hope that I am doing right by you, and that I get the chance to express my appreciation in person at some point.

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.

The Yucca Insect Community

I am trying something new for this blog post. The last few weeks I have been paying close attention to yucca plants, especially the flowers, and taking many photos of the various insects (and spiders). We have a trio of plants in our front yard in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA, but I also examined plants in Okawville, Illinois, and one wild plant in eastern Missouri.

A tumbling flower beetle (top), and false flower beetle, nibble on pollen inside a yucca flower.

I created an album in my Flickr account here, with captions explaining most interactions and behaviors that I observed and documented. I am hereby directing you there to peruse the photos. I plan to keep adding photos to it, as I have many from last year that I have not yet uploaded even to my computer. Plus, there are a few more from Colorado. I thought I wrote an extensive blog post about yucca moths several years ago, but I can't find it if so.

Please let me know if this redirect is acceptable to you. There are other such communities of insects that might be easier to document this way, but if I receive negative feedback I won't repeat this experiment. Enjoy your summer!

That's Not an Ant?!

It is always best to avoid making assumptions about insects in the field. I was reminded of that on three seperate occasions this month, all of them involving mimicry of ants by small longhorned beetles in the family Cerambycidae. Early spring is apparently the season for these wood-boring insects, at least here in Kansas. Their resemblance to ants is uncanny, and highly convincing.

Cyrtophorus verrucosus

While exploring our yards and looking for insects on April 2, I noticed what I thought was a carpenter ant climbing on the exterior of our detached garage. I was about to dismiss it, but decided to document it anyway, as it would be new for the year. Imagine my surprise and delight to discover it was instead an adult Cyrtophorus verrucosus. This species has no common name, which is unfortunate given its uniqueness.

The beetle averages only 9 millimeters in body length. Larvae bore in a variety of host trees, including maple, hickory, oak, elm, birch, chestnut, dogwood, Eastern Redbud, American Beech, and even pine. The adult beetles are active from March to July, but are most abundant in early spring. Cyrtophorus verrucosus ranges over most of the eastern U.S., and Canada as far west as Alberta. This was a new species for our property.

I was invited to present the keynote address for a joint meeting of the Kansas Academy of Science, and Central States Entomological Society, in Wichita, Kansas on April 5, and Heidi and I stayed over to go exploring on Sunday, April 6. I reached out to a Facebook and iNaturalist friend, Ryan Philbrick, and we met at the Kansas Wildlife Exhibit in Central Riverside Park. From there we went to Keeper of the Plains, and walked the nice concrete trail along the Arkansas River. At one point, Ryan turned over a small, broken tree limb on the ground. He noticed millipedes and a small "ant" crawling over the bark.

Euderces pini

I trained my camera on the ant and discovered it was another species of longhorned beetle, Euderces pini. At only 7-8 millimeters, and slender, it is even more ant-like than other species. The larval host trees include Flowering Dogwood, Pecan, Winged Elm, and American Beech, but there are several other hardwoods on the menu.

The adult beetles are frequently found on flowers, feeding on pollen and nectar. Even dandelions will suffice until native trees start blooming. Euderces pini occurs in the southern half of the eastern United States, and appears as an adult from March to June.

Currant-tip Borer

Back home, yesterday, April 13, I happened to notice a small ant-like insect on the central air-conditioning unit in the back yard. It was even smaller than the other beetles, but at least it had a common name: the Currant-tip Borer, Psenocerus supernotatus.

Despite its name, this 4-millimeter beetle has been reared from plants other than currant: Green Hawthorn, Tulip Tree (aka Tulip Poplar, Yellow Poplar), and Black Willow. This beetle is widespread in North America, east of the Rocky Mountains, and the adults are found from April to June.

None of these three beetles are considered pests, maybe because they do not affect crops or orchard trees. Their earthtone colors make them rather cryptic, but they are quite active, running rapidly, and flying well.

An actual ant

It is interesting to note the convergence in body shape and coloration between the different genera. They each have white streaks or bars designed to suggest body segmenation where there is none. Ants show marked constrictions between the head, thorax, and abdomen. In these beetles, the thorax may be mistaken for the enlarged head of an ant, and the elytra (wing covers), "divided" into thorax and abdomen by those white markings. The true head of the beetle is relatively small, and in the case of the Currant-tip Borer, directed downward and nearly hidden by the thorax.

There are even more ant-mimicking longhorned beetle species. Give that "ant" a second glance, especially if you see it in isolation, with no other ants nearby. It may turn out to be a beetle instead.

Sources: Lingafelter, Steven W. 2007. Illustrated Key to the Longhorned Woodboring Beetles of the Eastern United States North Potomac, Maryland: Coleopterists Society, Special Publication No. 3. 206 pp.
Yanega, Douglas. 1996. Field Guide to Northeastern Longhorned Beetles (Coleoptera: Cerambycidae). Champaign, Illinois: Illinois Natural History Survey, Manual 6. 174 pp.

Grand Finale

Versute Sharpshooter (leafhopper), Graphocephala versuta

Every bugwatcher knows it’s coming in the late fall, and both delights in it, and mourns for the lost spring and summer, quickly fading from memory. That encore of insect abundance, from heavy, arthritic grasshoppers lumbering up wooden fences, to sun-seeking lady beetles, eager to find snug crevices to pack themselves into for the approaching winter.

Differential Grasshopper, Melanoplus differentialis, male.

Multicolored Asian Lady Beetles, Harmonia axyridis, nestle in bark furrows on a tree.

This year, here in Leavenworth, Kansas, the Indigenous Summer has been long, hot, and hopelessly dry. It seems to matter little to most of the insects, but birds stopped visiting our feeders. We saw dozens of gulls passing over for a couple of days, though, bright white against an azure sky, the wind speeding them along.

Juvenile Tuftlegged Orbweaver, Mangora placida

The air is thick with the exuberance of the minute, now that the larger butterflies are scarce, no longer competing for our attention. Dreamcatcher spider orbs snag the micro-confetti of aphids, leafhoppers, and gnats that are on the wing, or that get torn from their perches by the stiff, incessant wind.

Cloudless Sulphur, Phoebis sennae, female.

Falling leaves jerk my eyes in their direction, on the off chance that they are butterflies after all, like Eastern Comma or Question Mark, or the less common Goatweed Leafwings. Leaves that rocket from the ground skyward are grasshoppers sporting autumn yellow, orange, or black hind wings. The largest ones, with clear wings, that land in trees, are bird grasshoppers.

American Bird Grasshopper, Schistocerca americana.

Political campaign signs in our front yard are sometimes briefly occupied by insects or spiders. The spiders try to balloon off, or seek shelter in the little tunnels of the corrugated plastic. I like to think that they are all signaling their approval, but they are actually endorsing the more natural state of our property, our decision to not use chemical treatments of any kind, and otherwise steward the place through benign neglect.

Microleafhopper, Erythroneura calycula

Microleafhopper, Hymetta anthisma

Microleafhopper, Erythridula sp.

Microleafhopper, Balclutha sp.

Microleafhopper, Erythroneura elegans

Leafhopper, Pediopsoides distinctus

Walking the fence line in our back yard, I stir a myriad of tiny leafhoppers that alight briefly on the weathered, algae-stained boards. Despite their size, they are riotously colorful, with streaks and bands across their slender wings. Fireworks come in both bright and muted colors that echo the changing foliage.

A male Fork-tailed Bush Katydid, Scudderia furcata.

Earlier in the season, katydids and lacewings were vivid green. Now, they are dull brown, maybe reddish, with bursts of purple or pink. Little orange skipper butterflies pop as I stroll by the tiny lavender asters that grow low enough to dodge the mower blade, along the very edge of the curb by the busy four-lane. Yellows in the form of Cloudless Sulphurs, on a partly cloudy day, flitting from one cryptic flower to another in someone’s front yard.

A little worn, a Fiery Skipper sips nectar from an aster.

Flowers, too, bloom again. The goldenrod, and taller white asters reboot themselves for one more round of Can I Get a Pollinator?. They do, in flies and bees mostly. Wild Carrot never gave up to begin with, still looking fresh as a daisy, courting potential pollinators. They succeed, in the form of two metallic flies. The flies depart when a lone ant appears to steal nectar.

A flower fly, Helophilus fasciatus, and a Spotted Cucumber Beetle, Diabrotica undecimpunctata, enjoy goldenrod nectar.

Another October surprise….no, wait, today is November the second already….is an immature Carolina Mantis, sitting stock still among our backyard goldenrod. It is probably one molt away from adulthood, but I can’t decide if it is male or female. I wonder if there are any larger insects left to feed it, get it over the hump, or if it will die young, perishing as the teenage equivalent of its kind.

Immature Carolina Mantis, Stagmomantis carolina

There has finally been rain lately, including today, so perhaps there will be yet another burst of activity in its wake. There will still be ground beetles crossing the sidewalks, and grasshoppers basking on the pavement on warm days, to be sure. Fall Cankerworm has yet to even take the stage, but they don’t always, not every year, and I might not see them if the timing isn’t right.

Leaf-footed bug, Leptoglossus oppositus.

There is no metaphor here. This is just how nature works. It varies, it adapts, takes chances, weighing risks at a molecular level. Emerge now, or snooze another calendar year. We are slower to act, built to react instead of evolving to be proactive, and to accept whatever weather befalls us. The warm, sunny days seem to encourage our lazy nature, while nature bustles around us, unnoticed by most.

Aphid, Drepanaphis sp.

I Am Not a Scientist

It’s cute when someone mistakes me for a scientist, presumably because I have written books about insects, made public presentations, and am active on social media. There are occasions, though, where the confusion wastes the other party’s time, and for that I am truly apologetic. I am still a reliable source of factual information, but please allow me to set the record straight.

This post is prompted by an email exchange I had recently with a dear friend and colleague who truly is a scientist, seeking my help with a project.

Them: “I have a favor to ask….

For the past [few] years I have been conducting a long-term….survey at different nature preserves….in the hopes of trying to get a better idea of conservatisms of these insects….Ultimately I want to be able to look at a species list of insects found within a natural community or natural area and determine….which sites provide high quality critical habitat for plant community specialist insects, separate from the plant C values ranks.

The problem is few people are familiar with a wide diversity of insects. Most experts just know a particular family of insects….I have ranked all 371 taxa based on my field expertise. I'm teaming up with a dragonfly specialist for the statistical analysis. [They have] some experience with developing conservatism ranks for dragonflies and is trying to apply this to my data.

Would you be willing to take a look at the list and provide numerical ranking for the species you readily recognize? I know [specific region] isn't your main stomping ground, but you do know many of the more common species, and your ranks would be most helpful.

If you are interested in getting involved and reviewing our work for a future publication, and possibly coauthoring with us, we are open to that….My goal is to bring attention to the insects here in [specified state].

Let me know if you have any questions.

Thanks so much.”

Me: “I am flattered by the request, and would be willing to help....if I understood the assignment. I have no idea what a "C value" is. I could potentially rank them in terms of the frequency with which I see that particular genus or species on a particular plant. That can still vary significantly from one year to the next. This year, in our area, insect numbers are down significantly. I am not seeing many insects….

If there is a concrete definition of C values, then please provide it. I may or may not be able to assist. Math is my greatest weakness, and I never took statistics (not that it would even be useful given that I was in college in the early 1980s).

I am a writer and sci-comm professional, all else comes in no particular order after that.”

Them: “Yeah, don't ask me to explain statistics either. That's why I team up with the survey biologists.

As far as I know the concept of the C value (or coefficient of conservatism) came about in 1979 to reduce subjectivity in the evaluation of plant communities by placing the subjectivity up front. All plant (or other taxa) are assigned a numeric value that [provides] assessment natural quality repeatability.

In basic terms, ‘how likely is this taxa found in a high quality community?’….It's not just how common it is, though that is a factor as high quality (conservative) species are typically found only in rare habitats and thus are less likely to be encountered. The numbering is from 0-10. Almost all state-listed species are assigned a value of 10….A goldenrod soldier beetle (Chauliognathus pensylvanicus) might be a 1 or 2 as they are common [pretty much everywhere].

We also ask that you rate your confidence level 1 - 3 (3 being very confident in your rank and 1 being much less familiar with the species).

Does that help?”

Me: “Yes, that does help. I am not qualified to undertake that, being unfamiliar with [those] ecosystems at *that level*….I'm sorry, but I would potentially be doing more harm than good if I took a stab at this.

Sorry!”

Them: “….

The point is to ask. I realize it's specialized. If others are unable, then that's part of our argument - we get the best data we can. I don't know if any of this is possible but I'm going to keep at it. The more I do the more I learn.

Thanks”

Me: “My comment wasn't an indictment, apologies if it sounded that way.

You are vastly more capable than I am, and have much more experience in that kind of habitat. Maybe someone at [non-profit organization] can help?

Maybe I do not make it clear enough to anyone that I am not as much an entomologist as an ‘insect identifier.’"

Them: “I didn't take it that way. No worries.”

There is another aspect of my personality at play here. I am inherently lazy. Community science is hard work, with demanding and specific requirements for projects aimed at collecting data. That is not what interests me. I am all about recruiting potential community scientists by sharing fascinating facts and personal experiences. Heck, if I can get someone to put down the fly swatter in favor of a magnifying glass, mission accomplished.

I want to change the behavior of the average Joe or Jane who despises insects and wants them gone. Humanity as a whole, and the entire planet, for that matter, cannot survive the continued loss of biodiversity and insect abundance. More to the point, I can’t survive it. Exploring the natural world and finding insects is one of the few exercises keeping me reasonably sane, and giving me a sense of purpose. Without the “bugs,” I vanish, too.

National Moth Week 2024 Recap from Kansas City

We are in the Greater Kansas City Metro area, anyway, here in Leavenworth, Kansas. National Moth Week ran from July 20-28 this year, which was helpful because the weather was unstable and somewhat volatile, and we were traveling during the end of that time span. Our results were mixed, but they did include some new species for our property.

Chickweed Geometer Moth, Haematopis grataria, is a pretty dependable species for National Moth Week.

This part of the United States has received more rain this year than in the previous three that we have experienced. Oddly, this seems to have driven insect diversity and abundance down. Our plants are doing well. I had no idea that violets could grow that tall and that dense, for example. The goldenrod may be taller than I am by the time it blooms.

Green Cloverworm Moth, Hypena scabra, is common here most of the summer.

Black-bordered Lemon Moth, Marimatha nigrofimbria, has been a "regular" in our yard this year.

I walked our yard in the daytime on the afternoon of July 21, and flushed the above three moth species from our “lawn.”

Clemens' Grass Tubeworm Moth, Acrolophus popeanella.

That night I switched on the light for our covered side porch, which is only about five feet from the neighbor’s house, but only managed to attract a couple of grass tubeworm moths. Returning to the front entrance, I discovered what I believe to be an adult Variegated Cutworm lodged on the inside of the screen door.

Variegated Cutworm Moth, Peridroma saucia, I think.

Ironically, an unidentified tortricid moth appeared on the side porch screen door during the day on July 25.

Unidentified tortricid moth.

On July 26 I hiked over to Havens Park, one of the few forested places in town, in hopes of flushing some underwing moths, as I have had fair luck in the past. Lo and behold, I did get one, an Epione Underwing, Catocala epione, that stuck around just long enough for me to get a couple of images. Breaking through countless spider webs strung across the trail was worth it after all.

Epione Underwing, Catocala epione.

I set up our entolight blacklight twice, once in the back yard on the night of July 23, and again in the front yard on July 26. The difference in the species between the two locations is rather surprising. Frankly, given that the federal prison, lit up like Las Vegas every night, is less than two blocks away, I am mystified as to how we attract anything.

Maple Looper Moth, Parallelia bistriaris.

The back yard yielded a few moths, mostly small and common species, but also delivered a couple of lovely, larger moths. When blacklighting, it helps to remember to look on foliage, tree trunks, fence posts, and other surfaces just beyond the reach of the illumination of your lights. Many moth species are “too shy” to come directly to the sheet.

Banded tussock moth, Halysidota sp., found in the shadows just beyond the reach of the light.

The front yard, like the back yard, had few moths at the light until about eleven PM. Naturally, every time I decided I should turn out the light for the night, something new would show up. I think I eventually went to bed around one AM. Thankfully, the neighbors tolerate our “hobby.”

Spotted Peppergrass Moth, Eustixia pupula.

Among the novel finds in the front yard was one of the crocus geometer moths in the genus Xanthotype. They cannot be identified to species from photos, so we will settle for genus.

Crocus geometer moth, Xanthotype sp.

Another interesting moth was a Yellow-collared Slug Moth, Apoda y-inversum. Their helmet-shaped caterpillars apparently feed only on the leaves of hickory trees.

Yellow-collared Slug Moth, Apoda y-inversum.

All of my moth observations for the week can be found here on iNaturalist.

Packard's Wave, Cyclophora packardi, and a pygmy leafmining moth, Stigmella sp., immediately below it.

Next year I will try and schedule public events, as we did last year on Fort Leavenworth, for both a variety of habitat, and as a way to introduce others to the magic of moths. I hope all of you were able to enjoy this year’s edition of National Moth Week wherever it found you.

Zeller's Macalla, Macalla zelleri, a type of pyralid moth. Wish we had more, as their caterpillars feed on Poison Ivy.