Showing posts with label mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mother. Show all posts

Saturday, January 17, 2015

My First Mentor: Mom

My recent trip out to Oregon to look in on my mother, Violet Eaton, turned out to be my last time with her. She passed away on December 9, 2014. Going through her belongings in the aftermath reminded me that I owe her a great deal for her support of my interests in entomology, and nature in general, during my childhood.

Violet J. Eaton, 1996

Mom did not have a very good childhood herself, having gone through the foster care system, eventually coming to live with the woman I knew as "grandma" growing up. My mother also survived tuberculosis (twice, in 1949 and 1962), divorces from my father and stepfather, and raising me pretty much single-handedly. Back then there were few, if any, resources for single mothers, and returning to the workforce relatively late in life was a real challenge. She even kicked her smoking habit in the 1990s.

Mom was extraordinarily resourceful, and how she found professional mentors for me in an age without electronic resources is beyond me. I remember that a doctor friend of hers knew an allergist who specialized in allergies to insects and was a member of the Oregon Entomological Society. We eventually got introduced and Dr. Perlman took me to a number of meetings of the OES starting when I was about twelve years of age. The OES members quickly took me under their wings, even making sure to clarify various concepts and insect body parts during lectures at the meetings; and they helped me identify specimens in my collection when there were few reference books for Pacific Northwest fauna.

Mom and me, 1975

Meanwhile, back home, mom was helping me capture specimens. She was fond of telling people "If anyone would have told me I'd be standing on a stepstool looking like the Statue of Liberty while catching a spider on the ceiling, I would have told them they were crazy." Mom, I think it was a Scotophaeus blackwalli "mouse spider." She fetched silverfish off the ceiling, too.

By the time I got to high school I was being encouraged by my biology teacher, Karen Wallace, to continue pursuing my entomology hobby. I was also in the Boy Scouts, but found the troop organization reminded me too much of the military, so I quit. My sophomore year, we heard that there was an environmental science Explorer Post (ironically, still party of the Boy Scouts) forming at a nearby state park. I had finally found my people. The post was coed, too, which didn't hurt any, and included students from several Portland high schools. Our advisor, Dave Simpson, was the park naturalist, and he did a wonderful job of balancing projects like trail maintenance with field trips, invited speakers at our meetings, and other fun activities.

Dave is now retired and living in Salem, Oregon, but he made a point of driving up to visit me while I was in Portland, on New Year's Eve day, no less. We had lunch together and he related that my mom was the only parent who reached out to him to learn more about both the Explorer Post and Dave himself. I guess he passed muster because I was in the post for three years.

Mom and me, 1989

Mom made sure I got into college, too, helping me apply for scholarships. I even received one through Gaylord Broadcasting Company, her employer at the time (KYTE radio in Portland). Once I got into Oregon State University, I continued my involvement with the Oregon Entomological Society and was elected president my sophomore year. Considering most of the members were grad students or older, I was quite flattered.

I never finished my degree, which I think was something of a disappointment to my mom. I know that she was proud of me for what I did achieve, despite my lack of academic credentials, and I hope to do her proud the remainder of my life.

Mom and me, 1992

Mom is a real inspiration for her dedication to helping other people through personal relationships and events, organizations, and programs she created. She co-founded the Conchords Chorale in 1982, and they are still singing today, performing at various venues, especially around the holidays. Mom also created "Rebound," a series of free monthly classes for those age 50 or over who were unemployed or underemployed. That program ran from 1979-1982 at the Hillsdale library branch in southwest Portland. She even produced a music appreciation class for Portland Community College in 2000.

My mother was probably best known for organizing reunions and "hen parties" for her Grant High School class of 1946. Many of those who attended her celebration of life gathering on January 8 were indeed high school classmates.

Mom and me, 2004

Although she never really took to the digital age, mom always sent greeting cards for birthdays, anniversaries, and other special occasions. She clipped articles, inspirational quotes, and poems out of newspapers and magazines and sent them to friends and family all over the world. She also enjoyed long telephone conversations, and especially in-person meetings over lunch or dinner.

I imagine that Facebook and Twitter would have been very poor substitutes for her when it came to interacting with people, though she did express disappointment that she couldn't read my blog or see the images I was taking and posting to Flickr. It might pay to remember that there really is no substitute for a warm handshake and face-to-face conversation. I hope that I can carry on that tradition and balance my digital life with immersion in real life. Thanks for all the lessons and inspiration, mom. Love, Eric

Mom, 2006

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Spider Sunday: Mother Wolf Spider

Last Sunday was Mothers’ Day, but if you will forgive me I would like to pay tribute to arachnid mothers today. During my trip to South Carolina in early May, I had the occasion to momentarily observe a large female wolf spider of the genus Hogna on the afternoon of May 6, 2012. She had an egg sac and was living in a burrow on a wooded embankment adjacent to a road. I had stopped along with members of the Dragonfly Society of the Americas to look around a stream for dragonflies and damselflies. Descending the steep slope to get to the watercourse, another member of the party spotted the spider.

The arachnid was out of her burrow and standing on a network of threads just outside its entrance. The footfalls of others caused her to dash back into her refuge and I thought I’d seen the last of her.

I waited patiently next to her lair and was surprised when she returned to the lip of the burrow shortly. I was hoping she would climb back out for more photo opportunities, but instead she did something remarkable. She turned around inside her burrow and backed out to the entrance.

Why would a large wolf spider, with quite excellent vision, and perfectly capable of defending herself with her fangs, choose to present her vulnerable abdomen, and the egg cocoon attached to it, to potential lurking enemies? The only logical explanation that came to mind was that she was sunning her egg sac.

Indeed, there was filtered sunlight streaming through the forest canopy in the late afternoon: not too intense as to cook the ova within her silken package, but warm enough to help incubate the eggs. Still, had she not repeated this behavior, turning around at one point to make sure no threat was present and then backing out again, I’m not sure I would have believed what I was seeing.

It turns out this kind of behavior is not unheard of in other wolf spiders. Studies of Pardosa wolf spiders of two species revealed that at least one of them seeks open areas in which to expose the egg sacs to the sun (Buddle, 2000).

Had I been able to return to the site day in and day out, I would have eventually witnessed the mother spider cracking open her egg sac, allowing the newly-hatched spiderlings to emerge. Wolf spider babies crawl from the egg sac onto their mother’s back, completely covering her abdomen and sometimes much of her cephalothorax as well. She will transport the youngsters until their next molt, after which they disperse to live freely on their own.

Such devoted parental care is considered uncommon among spiders, but the more we learn the more the picture changes. There are even some female spiders that die immediately after their spiderlings hatch, offering their bodies as their offspring’s first meal.

A piece of long-standing advice is to “stop and smell the roses,” but it also pays to stop and observe animals, too. Science knows very little of the lives of most organisms that are not economically important, be they food sources or pests. Who knows what could come from your own casual observations of the insects, spiders, and other wildlife that share your yard, garden, and neighborhood park?

Source: Buddle, Christopher M. 2000. “Life History of Pardosa moesta and Pardosa mackenziana (Araneae, Lycosidae) in Central Alberta,” The Journal of Arachnology 28: 319-328.