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.

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.

Book Review: Underbug

Termites exist at the intersection of biology, chemistry, ecology, engineering, and perhaps even philosophy. In Underbug: An Obsessive Tale of Termites and Technology, author Lisa Margonelli masterfully weaves all of these elements together, and then some. She manages to remain in that sweet spot between total participation in the story, and complete detachment, never overtaking the spotlight of her subjects, both insectian and human, but still revealing the personal impacts of where her investigations took her. She maintains empathy with the reader while taking them on a globe-trotting journey.

Underbug has more to say about humanity than you would expect in a book ostensibly about insects, let alone insects we consider economic pests. This is about where curiosity and imagination can take you. It ventures from the microscopic world of termite gut fauna to the megascopic, landscape-writing engineering of millions of diminutive members of a termite colony. How are they so successful? How can we harness their power to digest cellulose and use it to manufacture “grassoline?” What lessons exist for how to reclaim an abandoned mine and turn it back to its native grandeur?

It may be cliché to say that a book has something for everyone, but this one truly does, provided you are prone to a fascination with science, or relish contemplating the planet and our own place on it.

The book is divided into six parts, each one set off by a black-and-white illustration that gives the impression, appropriately, of a woodcut print (they are linoleum block prints by Thomas Shahan). The dust jacket has intentional holes in it, as if the book has already been “digested” by its very subject. How perfect. Margonelli manages to have a reverence for both termites and science, but never comes off as preaching or dogmatic. There is humor here and there, and the prose are descriptive enough to put you right in the center of things.

As a failed academic myself, I felt overwhelmed occasionally by the mathematics, genetics, and technological aspects of the stories (there are several), but remained captivated by the human characters and, of course, the mysteries of the insects.

Margonelli ultimately questions the accepted scientific course of the abstraction of natural processes, whether it has its limits, or if it is even a potential failing of our own species. Are we too attached to the idea that every other species, every habitat, serve us first, to justify its existence?

Without giving too much away, the conclusions reached are, as one might expect, inconclusive; for termites exist at the intersection of the known, the unknown, and the unknowable. Sometimes the biggest question for a researcher or engineer is when to give up.

Underbug was published in 2018, by Scientific American / Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York. It is 303 pages, including notes and index. This is as much an adventure book as it is a revealing glimpse into what defines science in the twenty-first century. Highly recommended.

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.

Getting the Messages Out There

The greatest challenge for an author may come after the book is published, when you have to take an active part in marketing the finished product. Modesty must be set aside, and nervousness overcome, in making media appearances. This is when imposter syndrome attempts to assert itself, but then you remember all the research you did, and that science is changing all the time. Any anxiety is a small price to pay for the opportunity to broadcast positive messages about the natural world, and inspire the changes we need to make for enhanced biodiversity.

I was recently invited to be a guest on a major media platform, and a wonderful science podcast. Both were rewarding and humbling experiences.

AccuWeather, Inc. is a familiar media company that furnishes weather forecasting services globally, including watches and warnings for severe weather. They supplement this information with other scientific topics, and I was asked to talk about the relationship between insects and humanity, for about seven minutes:

Click here for the video

I’d like to thank host Adam Del Rosso for making me feel comfortable and explaining everything that would happen before, during, and after we made the recording. I would also like to compliment the AccuWeather graphics department for inserting some lovely video footage to complement our conversation.

Earlier in the month I interviewed with Michael Hawk, host of Nature’s Archive podcast, for episode #44.

Michael recognizes the complex landscape of environmental issues, and how they are intertwined, so our conversation covered many seemingly disparate topics. If any part of the episode strayed into “stream of consciousness” territory or went off the rails, that was no fault of Michael’s.

I have received much positive feedback for these two appearances, but please be assured I am not simply “saying all the right things” or being politically correct in asserting that the field of entomology needs to be more inclusive and diverse. Talking is easy, action is not. I am doing my best to actively promote the work of scientists and science communicators who are not from conventional demographic categories. I’ll have more to say about that as my behind-the-scenes activities on projects eventually reach the public.

Thank you for your continued investment in this blog, please know you are appreciated.

Talking Feral With Paul Boyce

Earlier this month I had the occasion to record an episode of the podcast Talking Feral. The host, Paul Boyce, is a doctoral candidate in Canada, but is originally from New Zealand, so his accent alone is worth the listen, but he asks insightful questions that ignite the minds of his guests and audience. Our conversation touches on a number of topics related to science and academia, so strays into arenas I usually reserve for my Sense of Misplaced blog. It was refreshing to talk about the bigger picture, and how different scientific disciplines, social constructs, and economic interests are interconnected, both personally and at large.

Please do not stop at my episode. I will not be offended if you skip it entirely, in fact, but do lend and ear to other installments of the show. Podcasts, I am happy to report, are free of the formality and constraints of traditional media, and allow us to confront issues and topics at a more visceral level. No sound bites here, but far better connections with those who tune in.

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.

What the Insects Have Taught Me

A scientific education teaches you not to be anthropomorphic: Do not assign human emotions and sentiments and purposefulness to non-human animals. Be dispassionate in your observations, take phenomena at face value. This is a tactic for eliminating bias, and is useful in proper documentation, but it can rob you of a more fulfilling experience of the natural world. Thankfully, there is room for both a distant and intimate approach, perhaps no better exemplified than by the work of The Bug Chicks. I can certainly appreciate the lessons the world of insects, spiders, and other arthropods have already taught me.

A female dance fly, Rhamphomyia longicauda, from Wisconsin

Beauty has infinite definitions. An organism that is “ugly” to one person is a magnificent example of adaptation to another human. Whether you believe in evolution or creationism, you should have reverence and respect for all of nature. Sure, there are animals I do not particularly like, but I recognize the importance of their roles. Most of my biases have been created by the media anyway, which is not the animal’s fault.

A female Eastern Dobsonfly, Corydalus cornutus, guarding her eggs in Kansas

Indeed, diversity is the very essence of life, the soul of the planet. It is the very foundation of ecosystems and biospheres. If you begin to undermine that, believe that our species can successfully “manage” nature without all the requisite parts, then you are on a slippery slope guaranteed to end in cataclysmic tragedy at some tipping point you did not see coming.

We are more rigid in our human ideologies than invertebrates are inflexible in their instincts.

Metamorphosis can be a metaphor, but a lot can go wrong. It can take longer than expected. It may require a period of diapause, emphasis on “pause.” Our personal evolution comes only through learning, expansion of our comfort zones, shedding of destructive habits, agreeing to the assumption of risk, and recognizing our personal responsibilities. Unlike insects, which undergo a segregated set of life stages, we frequently revert to old behaviors that we should have outgrown, or we fail to advance at all. We have to forgive ourselves, and each other, in those events. There is no arrival, no final destination that defines individual human success.

A tattered male Four-spotted Skimmer, Libellula quadrimaculata, in Wisconsin

Handicaps are not the same as limitations. A grasshopper’s missing leg barely slows it down. Tattered wings do not ground a butterfly. Resilience, persistence, and an indefatigable relentlessness is the character of most insects. We can learn a great deal from such examples, use them as inspiration for our own recovery from physical or emotional trauma.

Perhaps the most revealing and disappointing conclusion I have reached is this: We are more rigid in our human ideologies than invertebrates are inflexible in their instincts. There is no such thing as a dumb insect. Their ability to solve novel problems and bend their innate programming never ceases to amaze me. They make up for any perceived intellectual deficits through sharper use of their senses and reflexes. Meanwhile, we cling to outdated, self-limiting, negative, hateful, and oppressive social constructs that prevent positive growth in our societies and civilizations. In many ways, we are more “primitive” than those animals without backbones.

The small can triumph over the bully.

We have only to change our minds to accommodate challenges and overcome obstacles. Other animals cannot adapt as quickly because they are designed for specific niches and habitats, confined to certain foods, and/or otherwise limited by their physical bodies. Yes, evolution happens, but at a slower rate than our brains (should) work. This is why protecting biodiversity is so critical. Rapid change is something Homo sapiens can adapt to, but not every other species.

Deer fly, Chrysops sp. biting me in Wisconsin

We are exceptional at creating non-existent enemies we call “pests.” With the possible exception of lice and bed bugs, there is no such thing as a pest. It is a term we assign to any other species we perceive as a competitor for “our” resources. We must start recognizing resources as entities that are shared with other species, and alter our approach to their extraction, growth, use, and/or disposal. Nature always pairs scale with complexity. Vast habitats are complex. Monocultural agriculture is not. Tree farms are not the same as forests.

The most heartening lesson insects can teach us is that the small can triumph over the bully. You need only look at all of our failed efforts to eradicate mosquitoes, locusts, and other insects for inspiration in your own fight for justice, equality, and human rights. Our so-called minority populations, the underprivileged, the underserved, underemployed, and undervalued sectors of humanity will get their due. The sooner that happens, the better for all of us. The economy is just another ecosystem, built on diversity, that functions only when currency flows like energy to all its living parts.

Can "Enting" Be a Thing?

The short answer is "yes." The more appropriate answer is "it has to be." There is precedence in other scientific disciplines for actively engaging the public, and training people in proper techniques for observation, identification, and documentation. Entomology is lagging behind at a time when we are desperate for more information. Insects are more than a little challenging compared to vertebrate animals, and present unique problems, but let's recognize and address those shortcomings now instead of waiting until it is too late.

Birding and Herping and Enting, Oh, My!

Birding, the scientific and recreational observation of avian organisms, has been around for decades, if not a century or more, and is experiencing a renaissance of sorts thanks to the likes of Jeffrey Gordon, Kenn and Kimberly Kaufman, and a host of other ornithologists and experts who make a point of recruiting new "birders" to the ranks.

.... if birds are everywhere, insects are "everywhere-er-er."

Meanwhile, "herping," the seeking of reptiles and amphibians, is also a popular hobby that contributes substantially to our collective understanding of the abundance and distribution of snakes, lizards, frogs, salamanders, turtles, and their kin. There are rules for how to undertake the activity with minimal stress to the animals, and maximum reward for the participating humans. Collaborations between professional herpetologists and amateur enthusiasts are common and encouraged.

"Ent-ers" observing a hornet nest from a safe distance

So, in light of the success of birding, herping, and other wildlife-watching, why not "enting?" The appeal of birding is said to come from the fact that birds are everywhere, and so are instantly observable anywhere. Well, if birds are everywhere, insects are "everywhere-er-er." You don't even have to leave the average home to find them, nor even look out the window. Just point a flashlight into some dim corner of the basement. Ok, maybe start somewhere less spooky....

The Void and The Fun

Entomologists lament that they have little data to chart the abundance and diversity of insects over time, but are reluctant to admit that citizen scientists can inform that discussion in any fashion. The scientific community either wants data or it doesn't, and there are only so many professionals to go around. Most of those experts are busy identifying potential crop pests or inventing new ways to combat existing pest species.

Given the irritating connotations of "bugging," not to mention the scientific inaccuracy of such a term if it were applied to insect-watching, "enting" is probably the most all-encompassing and appropriate name for the observation of insects, and by extension arachnids and other arthropods as well.

© Amanda Accamando"Mothing" during National Moth Week

"Mothing" is already a recognized pursuit, usually involving deployment of a blacklight and/or mercury vapor light, a reflective white surface such as a sheet, and a camera or phone to record whatever is attracted. Sometimes mothing involves "sugaring," painting a fermented bait onto tree trunks. "Oding," pronounced "O-ding," is the quest for dragonflies and damselflies. This ideally requires a catch-and-release technique such that one can document the external genitalia of male specimens, often the only way to achieve a solid identification beyond genus.

The Obstacles to Overcome

One enormous hurdle that must be overcome is the insistence of some professional entomologists that the only viable records of a species are those that involve a collected "voucher specimen." Collecting, and imaging of live specimens, are not mutually exclusive. In fact, the two complement each other. Photos often give more context than specimens because the host plant may be included in the image, a certain behavior depicted, or even the ecosystem itself be recorded. This is especially true for quality videography, but still images are also valuable. Lastly, if you cannot identify something as unique as a Filigree Skimmer dragonfly from a photo, then I question your credibility as an authority.

Filigree Skimmer dragonfly, male

While some scientists must be convinced of the capacity of the public to aid them in truly scientific investigations, the public has to be convinced they can be brought up to speed in ways that can make them the most effective contributors to the cause. One impediment to embracing insects as wildlife is the lack of "common names," the English labels assigned to some species, but completely absent for most invertebrate species. Species are assigned standardized Latin or Greek (or combination thereof) names by the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature. They abide by strict rules governing such things as name "gender," and engage in exhaustive research for historical synonyms and other matters that affect the naming of species. Tasking the commission with the creation of English names is simply asking too much.

A Plea For a Common Names Initiative

It may be worthwhile to create a complementary body that does precisely that: generate standardized English names for insects, arachnids, and other arthropods. It would be no small feat, involving at minimum the translation of the Latin and Greek. While the Entomological Society of America has a Common Names Committee, we need something bigger. This could help the public understand just how descriptive and appropriate (and sometimes whimsical) scientific names can be, while making the study of the organisms more user-friendly. Further, it would enhance the appeal for conservation measures if the insect had a more easily-pronounceable name for media relations. In some cases, common naming rights could be auctioned as a conservation fundraiser, probably with fewer objections than the same mechanism for generating scientific names for newly-discovered species.

The Future is Now

What can we agree on, then? Surely we see the value in encouraging and rewarding public curiosity about arthropods, and the potential viability of public contributions to scientific knowledge. Between Master Naturalist curricula, and advanced naturalist workshops, we can coach the ardent entomophile in the art of insect and spider identification, equipping them with the tools necessary to achieve meaningful, reproducible results. Do scientists really need to be convinced that these are worthwhile exercises?

Bugwatching can be a social pursuit, too.

It is highly encouraging to see the influence of social media, spearheaded by the most youthful generation of scholars, in sparking public interest in insects and related invertebrates. Facebook groups are full of stories of how once-fearful entomophobes have been converted to insect- and spider-lovers and advocates. Time to take the next step and turn these friends into scientific allies. Let the "enting" begin.

Results of the Red Rock Canyon Open Space Bioblitz

View of Pikes Peak from eastern edge of Red Rock Canyon Open Space

Last Friday through Sunday, July 19-21, scientists and citizen scientists descended on one of the most popular recreation sites in Colorado Springs, Colorado: Red Rock Canyon Open Space. The goal was to find as many species of living things as possible in that short time period, and I dare say that we exceeded expectations.

Melissa Blue butterfly

Red Rock Canyon was the first Open Space to be dedicated in Colorado Springs, purchased by the city back in 2003. It took ten years to complete the master plan for the 1,474 acre area. It includes an abandoned quarry, a couple of small reservoirs, and several habitats, from dense coniferous forests in its upper reaches to shortgrass prairie and meadows on the lower slopes and plateaus. It is perhaps better known for its extinct animal life, preserved as fossils in the stone outcrops and uplifts, than it is for what lives there now.

Mule Deer drinking in the evening

Hiking, trail running, horseback riding, rock climbing, and limited mountain biking are all favorite activities for humans who frequent the park. This heavy activity usually presents conflicts with those trying to observe wildlife, but animals in the park are now so adapted to people traffic that the deer all but say "excuse me" as they hustle past you to get a drink at one of the reservoirs.

© Heidi EatonA male Blue-eyed Darner dragonfly over one of the reservoirs

When I first proposed the idea of doing a single bioblitz to then-TOPS (Trails, Open Spaces and Parks Program) Manager Chris Leiber back in 2016, he envisioned the event at Red Rock Canyon. That proposal morphed into four bioblitzes at other Open Spaces in celebration of the twentieth anniversary of TOPS in 2017. Finally, we come full circle.

Red-tailed Hawk circling over a meadow

Colorado Springs has endured an unusually wet, cool spring and early summer, making for lush vegetation, but a relative dearth of insect life. Wildflower blooms this year have been short, sporadic, and far-flung, the distances between clumps of flowers greater than normal. The cool weather turned immediately into a heat wave of 90-plus degrees, punctuated with near daily afternoon thunderstorms, and that is what we faced for the bioblitz.

A male Ten-lined June Beetle, Polyphylla decemlineata, one of the first arrivals at the blacklight

Thankfully, we had a dry, hot night Friday night (July 19) on which to do blacklighting for moths and other insects, and it was epic.

© Heidi EatonBlacklighting before it got intense

We had three stations, two featuring bright mercury vapor lights to draw insects from farther distances, and one that was outfitted "only" with an ultraviolet (UV) light. All three stations were humming with activity and no two people saw the same insects and arachnids.

A female Spotted Pine Sawyer, Monochamus clamator at the blacklight

During the day, participants fanned out from "base camp" under a pavilion near the reservoirs to explore the surrounding landscape. One of our entomologists, Rose Ludwig, made an exceptional discovery when she took photos of a small, male clearwing moth on Saturday. She revisited the same location on Sunday and got images of the female.

© Rose LudwigMale Carmenta wildishorum clearwing moth

All our images and observations were recorded in an iNaturalist project, and there was immediate interest in Rose's find. It turns out to be a Colorado state record for Carmenta wildishorum, a species described only two years ago from specimens taken in New Mexico.

©Rose LudwigFemale Carmenta wildishorum clearwing moth

Tim Leppek, Aaron Driscoll, Kaya Woodall, Debbie Barnes-Shankster, Bill Shankster, Heidi Eaton, and myself added even more observations of various arthropods to complement the work of botanists, mammologists, birders, and mycologists.

Three-banded Grasshopper, Haddrotettix trifasciatus, a surprising find

With the results of mammal and fungi experts still pending, we have already amassed a stunning 481 taxa (classifications ranging from family-level to species-level) for less than three full days of exploration. Many family designations include more than one genus or species, so numbers are likely to increase as more specific identifications are made. Still, not every genus or species can be identified from images alone. The mushroom experts will be doing detailed DNA work to arrive at their conclusions, for example.

Male sand wasp, Steniolia elegans

The Red Rock Canyon Open Space bioblitz concluded appropriately when the volunteer organizer, Sharon Milito, was presented with a Spirit of the Springs Celebration Award by Mayor John Suthers. Sharon has become a great friend and mentor over the last three years, and without her we would not have bioblitzes and I would not have gotten to visit Jimmy Camp Creek Park and Corral Bluffs Open Space, parcels that are not yet open to the public. I cannot think of anyone more deserving of this honor.

An owlet moth, Xestia bolteri, from the blacklight

Please do check out the iNaturalist project page, hyperlinked a couple paragraphs back, to see the full results of this undertaking. I wish to thank Bell Mead, and Renee McDougal for facilitating involvement of the Mile High Bug Club in all the bioblitzes, and managing our club's booth at base camp.

Tree Swallow fledgling waiting to be fed

The Sticky Truths About Claims of Disappearing Insects

What evidence is there of an "insect apocalypse" or "insect armageddon," as the press has dubbed this phenomenon since it first made headlines in late 2017? The consensus from scientific circles appears to be that concrete data is needed to complement what most are calling anecdotal observations of plunging insect abundance. There is also the recognition that quantitative studies will be difficult to produce. Meanwhile, we should be rightly concerned in light of well-known factors leading to localized insect population decreases.

Are insects leaving for good?Bicyrtes sp. sand wasp, Colorado

Science in general is suffering from a lack of public faith due to at least two major problems. The first is perceived inconsistency. One day you hear that coffee is bad for you, the next you learn you should be drinking two cups per day. The other issue is one of guilt by association with government or industry. Scientific research is typically funded by either the federal government or the R & D (research and development) departments of private corporations. Cynical citizens will claim that both government and industry have agendas and they get the research results that they pay for.

The media tends to amplify both of these concerns, and if you don't read beyond headlines you are likely to throw up your hands and conclude that you cannot trust science about anything, from dietary recommendations to vaccinations to climate change. Science will tell you not to trust the media, but go straight to the source, which is usually a scientific paper or journal article that will be borderline incomprehensible to the average person.

A third problem with the public trust is simply a lack of understanding of how science operates. Science learns through observation and/or experimentation. The scientist begins with a hypothesis, an assumption if you will, that is then proven or disproven through the scientific method of experimentation. Observed results must be reproduced by other scientists before the hypothesis is accepted as fact. This process may take years or even decades.

The digital age has reduced our attention spans and patience to a fraction of what is necessary to appreciate the scientific method, and so we jump to unsubstantiated conclusions with far too much regularity. Advertising masquerades as science. We surround ourselves with friends on social media who echo our beliefs and suspicions. All of those voices are magnified by our favorite conservative or liberal news outlet.

This is the state of literacy, or lack thereof, that science faces, including entomologists trying to give perspective to the dire reports of catastrophic insect collapses. The fact is that we do not have a proper historical baseline for comparing previous abundance of insects with current populations anywhere on the planet. We cannot do quantitative analyses retroactively, so the best science can do is begin that work now. By the time a conclusion is reached, it might be too late to act to avert a biodiversity and biomass disaster if one is in the offing.

What science cannot do is mandate action in the face of any of its findings, and that is equally problematic. We have known for a long while that overuse of pesticides is a problem, regardless of whether it is a factor in the decline of insect populations as a whole. We understand habitat destruction and fragmentation is the greatest threat to all species, yet our cities continue to sprawl, new roads and other physical barriers cut off migration and dispersal paths, and the scale of agriculture grows by leaps and bounds.

The conclusion I reach from this perspective is that it probably does not matter if there is a crisis in insect biodiversity and abundance because we are not acting decisively enough, or on a large enough scale, to address the other crises for which we already have agreement. It boils down to this: You can have unlimited individual and corporate wealth, or you can have a healthy planet. You can trust in the scientific method, or you can wear the blinders of ignorance and superstition.

Products are not going to be the answer to our global ecosystem problems. Scaling down the economy, agriculture, and natural resource consumption is key. Making a personal commitment to landscaping with native plants, growing a modest amount of your own food, aspiring to zero waste, and driving internal-combustion engine vehicles as little as possible will make more of a difference than you know. Seeing fewer smashed insects on your windshield? Maybe all the other cars already hit them.

Sources: Yong, Ed. 2019. "Is the Insect Apocalypse Really Upon Us?," The Atlantic
Saunders, Manu. 2019. "Insectageddon is a great story. But what are the facts?," Ecology Is Not A Dirty Word
Anonymous. 2019. "On the Fate of Insects, Most Troubling is How Much is Still Unknown," Entomological Society of America.
Anonymous. 2019. "Light Pollution a Reason For Insect Decline," Phys.org

About That New "Entomologist Barbie"

A few weeks ago, Mattel and the National Geographic Society announced that they were joining forces, with one noteworthy result: the introduction of "Entomologist Barbie." My initial reaction to this was an eye-roll, but judging by the reactions of most of my respected scientist colleagues, I have come to appreciate this a little more. That is not to say I no longer have reservations.

© Mattel

Lately I view almost every new item in the marketplace with skepticism because I have come to believe that "product" is seldom the answer to anything. Problems are often created for the purpose of invention. The problem that this new doll is addressing is a very real one, but the product does not solve it. The issue is the lack of women in positions of leadership in the sciences.

Traditionally, Barbie has reflected a very narrow range of career choices for women, narrower ethnic diversity, and a uniformly slender, arguably underweight, industry standard for fashion models. Mattel has gradually begun to recognize that they can have a greater market share in the toy industry by keeping up with progressive attitudes and values. Forgive my cynicism that they care about much else. At least I am less blunt than the writer of this article in The Guardian.

Perhaps the National Geographic Society partnership is having a more positive influence on the toy-maker? That would be wonderful. I was pleasantly surprised that in a cursory search of explorers, as associates of Nat Geo are called, there is a respectable balance of women and men, and recognition of global diversity among scientists and scholars. There are young people and elder statesmen. This spectrum of curious and dedicated folk is exactly what it should be, or closely approaches it.

You want a flesh-and-blood role model for your girls? Ok, I can offer some, like Dr. May Berenbaum of the National Academy of Sciences. How about Kristie Reddick and Jessica Honaker, the "Bug Chicks?" There's "Bug Gwen" who writes for Wired. Dr. Stephanie Dole is the "Beetle Lady" who makes her living doing presentations to children in California. Oh, I cannot forget Joanie Mars and Nancy Miorelli from Ask an Entomologist. I could go on and on with only the esteemed women scientists I know personally. Most of them are shockingly accessible to you, the public, online and in person.

All of these real-life women have had to struggle to earn the same respect granted their male counterparts. Science is still very sexist, though steadily improving, we would hope. Unfortunately, Barbie has no power to further that cause, putting more women scientists into positions of power and authority, influencing policy that is long overdue for redirection so as to be more humane, more responsive to the issues of our time.

Meanwhile, National Geographic might entertain more substantive partners from this point forward. Maybe team up with BioQuip Products so aspiring young entomologists, girls or boys, can get their very own magnifiers, insect nets, and other equipment that their professional scientist heroes use. Here is a wild idea: Idea Wild is a non-profit that puts badly-needed equipment in the hands of scientists in third world nations so that they can conduct necessary research to conserve and protect the wildlife of their homelands. They are in their twenty-fifth year of service to our conservationists abroad. They could use a higher profile and more funding.

So, before you spring for the beautiful, blonde, bug-collecting Barbie, consider whether you might make more of an impact in advancing the careers of young female scientists, including entomologists, in other ways. More plastic playthings are not going to do that. Dolls are unfortunately disposable, our youth are not. Oh, and as a colleague recently pointed out in an online whisper, Entomologist Barbie doesn't even have the right kind of microscope.

Book Review: Bugged Delivers a Mixed Bag

Well over a year ago, someone at St. Martin's Press contacted me by e-mail asking me to review David MacNeal's latest effort, Bugged: The Insects Who Rule the World and the People Obsessed with Them (2017, St. Martin's Press, 297 pp). They would hardly take no for an answer, sent me an advance uncorrected page proof, and so finally, here is my assessment, colored by the circumstances of my receipt of the book, my lack of familiarity with MacNeal's previous works, and my personal biases, which I will reveal honestly.

First, my sincerest compliments to the author for his most thorough research, his diligent reading of numerous books and scientific papers, and in-person visits with the human subjects highlighted in Bugged. Whatever shortcomings the book may have, the foundation it was built on is as solid as they come. Additionally, I can say that in my opinion the book gets markedly better the farther the reader gets into it. Unfortunately, I found the first one-third to two-thirds of the book to be an exercise in the author's ego, perhaps due to my own peculiar style that I prefer to write in, and the approach to the subject that I would rather read.

The chapters reflect an overall theme that I am personally averse to: that in order to validate their existence, all non-human organisms must prove they have an economic value to humanity.

MacNeal may simply be trying too hard in the first chapters to convince the reader that he is edgy, funny, irreverent, intellectual, and jet-setting. It comes off as self-centered in my opinion, and aimed more toward those who value shock-and-awe prose. I prefer that an author remove themselves as much as possible from non-fiction, save for memoirs and autobiographies. I personally try to get out of the way of the story when I am writing myself, unless my direct experience is the story. I see no need for profanity ever, not because I am opposed to it, but because I think it can be a distraction if not a detraction from the rest of the words used. I do not try and paint myself as intellectually superior by throwing around words and phrases from foreign languages.

The choice of categories that define the chapters was predictable: Insect specimens as novel merchandise, social insects as a parallel to human societies, insect and spider sex lives, insects as disease-carriers, the pest control industry, insects in forensic science, insects and other arthropods as the source of inventions and advancement of technology, insects as live entertainment in Asia, entomophagy (intentional human consumption of insects as food), and honey bees as perhaps the most important of all insects (to mankind).

The chapters reflect an overall theme that I am personally averse to: that in order to validate their existence, all non-human organisms must prove they have an economic value to humanity. Maybe MacNeal recognizes this and is planning a sequel that will visit topics like endangered insects and the people working to save them, the economic impact of "ecological services" provided by insects and related invertebrates, and the myriad of citizen science projects available for his readers to participate in and become active contributors to science instead of passively entertained by his books. MacNeal does give a nod to ecological services, as almost literally a footnote (another aspect of books that I find distracting and mildly irritating); and he lists a few conservation organizations in the acknowledgements at the end of the book.

The bottom line is that I am glad the book was written, but I would have preferred that someone else had written it. If you enjoy this brand of storytelling that focuses on both insects and people, you may be better off reading works by Richard Conniff or Sue Hubbell.

Does MacNeal succeed in recruiting a new generation of entomology-appreciators? Hard to say. I think it takes actual in-person engagement with scientists to achieve that, and I hope that Bugged encourages readers to take that next, crucial step toward a better understanding of invertebrates in general, and an appreciation of those people, not the eccentrics you presume them to be, who make a living in the science of entomology.

So You Know "They Exist"

Were you to ask me why I do what I do, why I constantly talk and write about insects, why I share images of them, I would have had trouble articulating an answer....until now. I just finished watching a 60 Minutes segment about the French artist JR. His shift from a youthful desire to assert "I exist" to a more altruistic mission of showing "they exist," meaning the everyday person we overlook and neglect, resonated with me immediately. It was an epiphany that brought me to tears. That is exactly why I do what I do. Just substitute "insects" for people.

The shy smile of a dragonfly

There is great power in art, especially at the scale that JR works at. His greatly enlarged images of people, even just their eyes, does more than impact the viewer. It empowers the subjects. Literally depicted larger than life, they suddenly realize they have been important all along. They may live in a slum in Rio, but circumstance, or habitat, if you will, does not diminish their identity. They are human, too, deserving of respect and even celebration.

Collectively, it is easy for us to ignore the struggle, the toil, the daily lives of others who we view as different from us, or even beneath us in some way, be it economically or politically or in lifestyle, or merely because they live on the other side of the globe (or border). Art can be the great equalizer by transcending those artificial, segregating concepts. We are united in our common anatomy, self-expression, dignity. Art in fact recognizes only those similarities, if it is done in the way it should be.

Now look at insects. What other members of the kingdom Animalia could look so radically different from us? The union of art and science can inform us here. Portraits of insects can reveal hidden personalities and expressions startlingly akin to our own, even if we interpret them only as caricatures of humanity. There is still a common thread that cannot be ignored. Videography reveals behaviors that reflect instincts and lifestyles utterly aligned with our own lives as parents, providers, and contributors to society.

Ants with treehoppers

The average person either ignores most insects, or takes notice only of the mosquito biting them, or the hornworm eating "their" tomato plant. Insects are viewed as destructive to our economy, person, or personal property, or at best a nuisance. Science knows better, and in tandem with art can convert the most entomophobic of people to at least an arm's-length appreciation of these animals.

The flip side of our schizophrenic relationship to insects is our perception of them as potentially decorative. There are now many an insect-inspired motif for interior decor, and many preserved specimens are framed and sold as wall art. The reduction of insects to "product" is not art in the truest sense, but mere commercialization capitalizing on our personal desires for something unique. We put a premium on differences that way. It is an unbecoming tendency of our species.

Such things as this checkered beetle exist!

Ironically, my attraction to insects as a child had something to do with my inability to assert my own self-worth, much as the subjects of JR's photos. Insects became a surrogate that I could tout as "cool" because I could research interesting facts about them. I did not know any interesting facts about myself that seemed relevant to social interactions with my peers. The playground was a fearful place, so I went out on the fringes and looked for "bugs." As an only child, such on-my-own pursuits felt more comfortable anyway.

Eventually, a few of my peers became sufficiently intrigued as to join me now and then. As one boy put it after we uncovered a particularly large spider from under loose bark on a tree, "I always thought looking for bugs was sissy stuff, but that spider changed my mind!" Meanwhile, one of my most masculine, hockey-playing friends showed me his butterfly collection at home, though I was sworn to secrecy in the schoolyard.

Portrait of a horse fly: Mesmer-eyes-ing

Today, I am more comfortable with my own identity and can share what I know about entomology with less personal baggage. I care less about what others think of me than what they now think of insects, hopefully enlightened by whatever I have to say or show. The artist JR has shown me what is possible if I start to think bigger still.