The Bigger Picture

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

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

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

:My only respectable photo of a Blacklegged Tick

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

Courtship of Cyrtopogon robber flies captured by my wife, Heidi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Contact: bugeric247ATgmailDOTcom.

The Entomologist on the Internet

Interviewing with Alie Ward on her wildly popular Ologies podcast got me thinking about the internet from the perspective of entomologists, both professional and aspiring amateur. You simply cannot take anything too seriously. You must laugh at yourself when you do. Here are some broad categories of fun and frustration for your entertainment.

Memes

One enduring complaint of professional entomologists is memes. They are nearly always an oversimplification, if not outright misinformation, intended to be the last word on the subject. Memes are sometimes insulting, insinuating that anyone holding a different view is illiterate or worthy only of ridicule. Mostly, memes reveal more about their creator or re-tweeter than they do about the audience, let alone the subject. Those memes that are obviously humorous are the ones I like best. I have even created a few of my own.

(Object) for Scale

One of my favorite scenarios is when someone who wants a particularly large insect or arachnid identified places some object next to it “for scale.” The object is frequently monetary currency, a coin for smaller creatures, and some paper denomination for larger organisms. I cannot resist retorts like “This just in, spiders begging for money, film at eleven,” or “Please do not give them money, they will only use it to buy pheromones.”

Other objects include pocket knives, car keys or fobs, disposable cigarette lighters….Terrific. The insect isn’t scary enough, we have to give it a weapon, too? “That one looks like it is going to kill you with fire!” “What you have there is a nymph, it’s not old enough to drive!” I try to provide legitimate identifications for people making those requests, but I enjoy having a little fun, too.

Fishfly, © WhatsThatBug.com

At least this giant water bug got some lip balm out of the deal (© WhatsThatBug.com)

Wasted Appreciation?

A truly agonizing situation is when some random individual posts images of an insect or arachnid I have been dying to see myself and never found. Why? Why?! (grimaces skyward, shakes fists in air). In fairness, the person posting had to have some degree of curiosity to bother photographing the thing, but too often I still convince myself that true appreciation of the animal has been wasted on this dude at his barbecue.Someday I’ll see a living Rainbow Scarab beetle, or a California Horntail wasp. Right?

My only glimpse so far of a Cottonwood Borer, Plectrodera scalator, in Salina, Kansas

Spheksology

© Alie Ward

Last Tuesday evening I had the privilege of recording an episode of the popular podcast Ologies with Alie Ward. All about the study of wasps (spheksology), it should drop this Tuesday, June 15.

I have no idea whether it is pronounced SVEEKS-ol-o-gee or SFEX-ol-o-gee, or whether it matters, but I thought we might be coining a new word. Spheksophobia is the fear of wasps, but I could find no reference to “spheksology.” Alie managed to, so there you go.

Me, pointing to the paper wasp nest I mention in the Ologies interview.

Alie received close to four hundred (400) questions from her ardent followers on Patreon, and I think we might have answered about six. If you listen to the episode, and still have a question, please feel free to drop it in the comments for this post. I will attempt to answer in a timely fashion, but I do have various engagements on the near horizon that demand I properly prepare for them.

Solitary wasp, Trypoxylon sp., Leavenworth, Kansas, USA

It is my hope that we will spark a movement away from spheksophobia, and towards spheksophilia (love of wasps) among the audience for this interview. At the least, please consider following Ologies from now on. It is highly entertaining and educational. Thank you, followers of this blog, for your continued support.

Our (New) House

My wife, Heidi, and I moved into our new home in Leavenworth, Kansas on May 17. Our house is a very, very, very modest house, with a front yard and a back yard, and a detached garage. It will take some getting used to, as our former townhouse in Colorado Springs had little outdoor space we could truly call our own, and it was maintained by a homeowners’ association (HOA). We have not yet met our human neighbors, but have become acquainted with the wildlife.

While we are still cramped by unpacked boxes here and there, it has been the weather that has been most frustrating and depressing. Colorado Springs boasts over three hundred days of sunshine per year. Here, in a little more than two weeks, we have had two full days of sun. Otherwise, it has been overcast, dreary, often raining, and unseasonably cool. Yesterday it barely made it over 60° F. Heidi insists it is warm and humid, I say it is cool and damp. On the days when it has been dry, my allergies to grasses and spring trees have made my mood just as miserable as the cloudy and wet days.

Back yard, before mowing. The federal penitentiary is visible behind us, and brightly illuminated at night.

Despite the inclement weather, we have been exploring our property and keeping a list of the animals we find. While unloading the U-haul, Heidi tallied thirteen species of birds. I turn the porch light on at night, and on two occasions deployed a blacklight, and many insects have revealed themselves. Our accounting now numbers over 190 taxa (anything from phylum to species, depending on our familiarity with a given organism).

Tiny, adorable weevil, Lechriops oculatus, on the back fence.

So far, our home seems to be spider city and weevil central. We appear to have a resident Eastern Gray Squirrel inhabiting the huge oak tree in the front yard; and American Robin and Mourning Dove often bask on the wires over the garage and back yard. Reluctantly, we mowed what passes for our lawns, but kept the cutting level as high as we could, leaving the herbaceous vegetation along the fence line in the back as intact as possible. We have Ground Ivy, clover, dandelion, and even some violets growing among the grass and leaf litter.

A nomad cuckoo bee, Nomada sp., on a dandelion in the back yard.

Leavenworth is a rather quaint town, the residential neighborhoods being almost literally the All-American communities one thinks of in the “fly-over” states, but no one has been overly welcoming, let alone ringing the doorbell with pies and other foods in hand. I imagine that the continuing pandemic has something to do with the abortion of traditional greetings and offerings, but I also suspect a growing pall of suspicion and distrust that has always been there, but is now pervasive and….normal. Is everyone on the block talking about us on the Nextdoor app, speculating about why I am prowling around with a camera, and stretching a sheet and a UV light off the front porch?

Small, horned darkling beetle, Neomida bicornis, drawn to the front porch light at night.

Driving around in the course of picking up items for our household, and running errands to establish our residency in the civic sense, it is apparent that the cities of Leavenworth and Lansing, and the county of Leavenworth, have a good deal of untamed greenspace among the agricultural fields and commercial enterprise districts. It will be interesting to explore, provided the weather improves.

Bumble bee-mimicking robber fly, Laphria flavicollis, alond a paved trail in 10th Avenue Park, along Five Mile Creek.

I was telling a friend back in Colorado Springs, one of the few people we saw immediately before we left, that I feel cheated by the pandemic year. I had an entire twelve months where I saw almost no one outside of my spouse, and now I am being swept away without having much in the way of meaningful parting encounters.

A male White-jawed Jumping Spider, Hentzia mitrata, on our front porch railing.

Here I am now, knowing no one but my in-laws, and having met a couple of Heidi’s high school classmates briefly, two years ago. Being a sudden stranger is hard, folks. I am likely to retreat to the comfort and familiarity of the insect world where I actually recognize some old friends.

An ornate pomace fly, Chymomyza amoena, related to the "fruit flies" that hover over the bananas in your kitchen.

UPDATE: Concerning my health, my respiratory issues have almost completely resolved themselves. The cause was apparently a severe allergy I developed to our pet bird, a budgerigar (“budgie”). My wife’s parents visited us in Colorado about three weeks before we moved, and we sent the bird away with them. My symptoms of coughing, wheezing, and shortness of breath vanished almost immediately. I will sincerely miss the sweet tweeting of our “boy named Sue,” but am grateful to be sleeping soundly, in our bed instead of a chair, with no need of an inhaler.

Green Oak-slug Moth, Euclea incisa, at our porch light at night.