Cochise County Bugs

On the way to visit Pat Sullivan and Lisa Lee in Sierra Vista (see “Bug Rooms”), Margarethe Brummermann and I stopped to explore a mesquite grassland habitat just off of Arizona State Route 83, about two miles south of its intersection with Interstate 10. The weather this day, March 7, was rather cool and blustery, albeit mostly sunny. The wind made finding insects and other arthropods something of a challenge.

The flora alone is quite spectacular, however. Take this yucca for example

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The mesquites themselves were looking a bit gnarly, having suffered through a population explosion of “twig girdlers,” Oncideres rhodosticta. These are longhorned beetles in the family Cerambycidae. A female cuts a notch around the entire circumference of a twig, effectively killing the wood beyond the girdle. She then lays an egg in that doomed twig, and the larva that hatches bores inside. In this image, one can see both a girdle, and the broken end of the limb that resulted from a second girdle.

Many fishhook barrel cacti like this one were scattered among the mesquites. Careful inspection (VERY careful inspection) revealed that many of the folds in the succulent plant were occupied by leaf-footed bugs in the family Coreidae. Members of the genus Narnia were too quick and easily evaded my camera. Adult Chelinidea vittiger, or “opuntia bugs” were more cooperative.

The soil that supports this plant community is very rocky, and turning over some of the larger stones revealed a handful of hidden arthropods. The most spectacular was this centipede, Scolopendra polymorpha. At only about three inches long, it was far from a full-grown adult specimen. They are certainly formidable, agile predators at any size. The cool temperature was the only reason this image did not turn out as a motion blur.

I recommend visiting this unique habitat to any naturalist interested in exploring the many faces of the Sonoran Desert. It holds many secrets at any time of the year.

Bug Rooms

There seems to be a new trend in the world of entomologists: “bug rooms.” A bug room is where an entomologist keeps his private collection, with space for curatorial work, bookshelves for keys and other references, and room left over for entertaining guests.

The weekend of March 7 and 8, Margarethe Brummermann and myself were privileged to be welcomed to the bug room of Pat Sullivan in Sierra Vista, Arizona. Here he is with Margarethe in just a portion of his spacious museum.

Besides a meticulously curated pinned collection of mostly scarab beetles, Pat has a number of live reptiles in terraria. Those snakes are a testament to the fact that he gives a great deal of care to living organisms, too. It was a real delight to share Pat’s enthusiasm for nature in general, and to relax outside of my own apartment (almost all of which, save the kitchen and bath, qualifies as a “bug room” by now). Thanks also go to Pat’s wife, Lisa Lee, who provided additional hospitality. Pat let me put some names on some of his beautifully prepared wasp and bee specimens, which was the least I could do in exchange for the wonderful accommodations. Thanks again Pat and Lisa.

Signs of Spring in Tucson

It is hard to believe that here in Tucson, Arizona spring has already gotten off to a fast start. Still, the signs are all around me, even if I look only at the insect life beginning to stir. Here are some of the creatures I photographed on March 5 and 6, on strangely overcast days while walking through the residential neighborhood between my apartment and office. Thanks to my friend Cheryl Malone for letting me borrow her Canon PowerShot SD1000 (Elph).

Harvester ants, genus Pogonomyrmex are literally doing spring cleaning, taking soil particles out of the nest and depositing them on the periphery. Soon there will be the familiar mounds sprouting like little volcanoes in lawns and vacant lots. We are nothing if not integrated here, and the black "Pogos" co-exist near colonies of the local red species.

Meanwhile, a parade of fungus-growing ants in the genus Acromyrmex were taking tiny bits of leaves back to the colony. Deep inside their subterranean nest they will turn the vegetation to mulch and grow a type of fungus that will serve as the main food for the ants. This fungus grows nowhere else, and the ants must maintain just the right humidity for it to prosper.

Spring is nesting season in general, and even these paper wasps, Polistes aurifer, have begun to set up housekeeping. Sh-h-h-h, don't tell anyone! This embryonic nest is on the ceiling of the alcove where the mailboxes are at my workplace. I'm hoping that no one but I will notice, so that I can follow their activities as the nest grows throughout the spring and summer months.

Once the sun goes down, the night shift takes over. Visitors to my apartment porch light on March 5 included this owlet moth, likely in the genus Euxoa.

Green lacewings in the family Chrysopidae are among the earliest insects to appear at lights at night here in mid-town Tucson. Some are indeed a lovely green color, while others tend to be darker and duller. Their delicate beauty is an added bonus: as larvae they are voracious predators of aphids and other pest insects.

I'm looking forward to seeing more insects awaken here; and I send my best wishes for spring's swift arrival in your part of the northern hemisphere. May my Australian and New Zealand friends enjoy a delightful fall!

How Did You Get Interested in "Bugs?"

People often ask me that question in a tone that suggests they cannot conceive how anyone could possibly find insects worthy of even fleeting concern. Trying to recognize the person has contempt for insects and notnecessarily the people who study them, I summon an answer. I used to rely on my mother’s memories of my childhood experiences, but I have discovered that my affinity for the six- and eight-legged runs deeper than simple appreciation of their diversity and beauty. I honestly empathize with the predicament of living in a world that bullies, belittles, and ignores living beings that are different, small, and misunderstood.

The agreed-upon account of my love affair with insects begins in kindergarten. I vividly remember the portrait of a trapdoor spider outlined on the chalkboard by the teacher. She called it a “torpedo spider,” and considering its habit of speeding to the mouth of its burrow to ambush prey, the name was entirely appropriate. Our class also studied dinosaurs, birds, reptiles, the whole spectrum of the animal kingdom. It was all fascinating, and stimulated my curiosity and sense of wonder like nothing else.

What truly stands out, however, is what specific animals I most closely identified with. Sharks (before they were cool), bats, birds of prey, and snakes were among my favorites. They also shared something in common with insects and spiders: most people feared, hated, or were repulsed by those critters. These organisms were outcasts of human sentimentality, and that is also how I felt.

Throughout grade school, as my parents engaged in constant verbal combat, and my peers were ignoring me, teasing me, or terrorizing me, I felt unable to stand up for myself, assert my right to a conflict-free environment, and gain self-confidence. Instead, I transferred my feelings to insects. I could champion arthropods as examples of durability in the face of continual challenges.

I am not a physically large person, either, so I can also relate to being small and easily overlooked and intimidated. I almost envied the insect, snug in its crack or crevice, the torpedo spider insulated in its tube. Most of the big, powerful, aggressive, mean and nasty animals walk by without even seeing them.

On the positive side, my enthusiasm for the small world did lead me to many adults who have served as mentors and positive role models. I was even invited to join a mostly professional society of entomologists when I was only eleven or twelve years of age. This experience finally gave me, an only child, a sense of belonging, and helped turn the hobby of insect collecting into the career of entomology.

Would I trade it all just to be “normal?” I suspect that my passion for “bugs” is as much a part of me as my arms and legs. Some folks say they never chose their passion or vocation, but say that it chose them instead. I tend to agree. There’s no turning back now.