Insect Picture of the Day

(This October, InsectPOD is celebrating with a special “creepy story”, the Hopper Case Files, told in installments. New readers should start with the first case file, The Missing Mayfly.)

The first thing they tell you in gumshoe school is to start at the beginning. This story smelled wrong from top to bottom, and my first instinct was to follow my nose. But following your nose doesn’t mean anything. Here, you try it. Stand up and take a few steps. See, it’s right out there in front. You’re following your nose. It doesn’t mean anything. Which brings me to the second thing they teach you in gumshoe school: you never learn anything at the beginning….

Theridion’s doorman didn’t look so big. I figured I could take him easy if I couldn’t talk my way around him.

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I walked towards the gate, and then I walked some more. And then I walked some more. That’s when I realized that the doorman hadn’t been small, he had been very far away.

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After a minute’s walk, I finally reached him. The sound of him eating was surprisingly loud. He saw me approach, and gave me a menacing look that was somehow casual. The meaning was clear: I won’t even break a sweat squishing you.

“Is this the Theridion place?” I called up.

“G’way,” he replied, tearing off another huge mouthful of leaf. “Nobody gets in.”

“Now look, pal, it’s vitally important I speak with your bosses.”

“G’way,” he said again. “They dun’ wan’ see yeh.” Somehow he managed to chew while speaking.

“And how do you know they don’t want to see me in particular?”

The thug chewed for a long time, then swallowed. “S’their wedding night. Think they want to come out here, talk to a cop?” He tore off another hunk of leaf and stuffed it into his mouth. “Besides,” he chewed, “the lady of the house said in partic’lar that she don’t want to be disturbed. Now you got until I finish this branch to beat it, or I come down there and beat you.”

He flexed his muscles from head to foot. This took some time. It afforded me a clear view of his poisonous spines. He finished the leaf he was on and started on the next.

“All right,” I said. “Looks like I’ve got a few minutes at least. Make that a minute. Okay, make that a few more seconds anyway. There was a bug here last night, a sapsucker. Name of Karen Stalk. Seen her?”

“Nope,” he said, biting off another chunk.

“Come on. Her husband says they came here together, but she left without him. This is the only way in. You have to have seen her.”

“Was over a hunnerd bugs here last night, buddy. Yeah, probably I seen her. Remember her? No way.” He resumed chewing.

“You’d have remembered her husband,” I said. “Can’t stop talking about the peerage.”

“Ha! You mean the mouth! Yeah, okay, I seen her.” Chew, chew.

“Did you see her leave?”

“Nope,” he swallowed. “And you know, just because we’re chattin’ here like old friends don’t mean I’m not comin’ down there when I’m done up here.” He started chewing on the last leaf on the branch.

“You’re certain you didn’t see her leave?”

“Buddy, somebody hands me a ten-spot and tells me I didn’t see anything, then I didn’t see anything. That’s how certain I am.”

“Look, if you know something, you need to tell me. Her life could be in danger.”

He said nothing but kept chewing the rapidly diminishing leaf. Finally I handed him a few bills.

He chuckled. “Somebody pays me to be blind, I stay blind. But I’ll tell you this much. I don’t think you’re working the right angle, flatfoot. Go read the wedding announcements in the paper.”

“The newspaper? She’s in danger, and you’re telling me to read the paper?”

“Oh, look,” he said as he tore off one last gigantic piece.

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“All done,” he said as he swallowed. I was already hoofing it.

That’s the second thing you learn in gumshoe school. You never learn anything at the beginning, except where to go next. So you follow your nose, even though that doesn’t mean anything.

Oh, and if you’re wondering, that’s really three different caterpillars. I know, I know, they all look the same to you.

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Okay, so this is the same bug from yesterday. It amazes me that sweet and pretty lacewings come from such a scary-looking larvae.

It was barely 3mm long; I couldn’t even see the jaws until I blew up the photos. Over at bugguide, they mentioned that lacewing larvae are voracious predators. I’m not sure what they eat, but it looks like they wouldn’t have any trouble bringing prey down.

I think those are eyes at the base of the jaws? Creeeeepy.

As this one patrolled, it held its head up high and its jaws spread wide. I think the little hairs along the jaws are triggers. This bug’s entire mode of operation is to walk along, bump into something, and eat it.

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GYAAHH!

You’ve seen Star Trek II, right? Right? That bug they put in Chekhov’s ear? It was a lacewing larva!

GYAAHH!

So I ate lunch with my wife in the park on Friday and this little bug starts crawling around her lunchbox and she’s all “lookit this bug it’s so cuuuuute!”

GYAAHH!

And she’s all like “get the camera it’s so tiny and cuuuute!”

GYAAHH!

And so I got the camera and took the pictures and would you look at the freakin’ jaws on that thing? That thing was on the lunchbox!

GYAAHH!

No seriously, you’ve seen Star Trek II, right? Right?

GYAAHH!

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Scott “The Ecodestroyer” Roche sends in a signed confession along with photographic proof of his crime: willfully destroying the habitat of these ants. From this photo we can clearly see Scott’s terrible actions displacing dozens, if not hundreds, of ant children, pupae and eggs.

Scott was unrepentant. In sworn testimony, he said “if you want to make a bunch of really tiny ant omelettes, you have to break a bunch of really tiny ant eggs.”

Okay, Scott didn’t say exactly that. I may be taking a bit of artistic license here. By which I mean “I am telling an outright lie.” But let’s not quibble about definitions. Scott’s the criminal here.

Here are Scott’s actual words:

We were working in the backyard and started to pick up our kids play parachute that had been crumpled up beside our trampoline when we noticed a swarm of these black ants the size of poppy seeds. Everyone shouted “Get the camera!” and so we did. They were so small that getting a good shot of them turned out to be pretty hard. This is the only one that turned out non-blurry and it’s got a great shot of the eggs. They were clearing out in a hurry, sensing I suppose that their nest was going bye-bye.

Hope you can use it!

Oh yes, Mr. The Destroyer. We can use it. In fact, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court.

A court of awesome, perhaps. Great photo, Scott!

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Sing it with me! The ladybug larvae on the bus go… um… they go… um…

What do the ladybug larvae on the bus do?

Reader Michelle from the UK sent this picture in right after ladybug vs. aphid week, and I wish I’d gotten it up at the time, because Ladybugs were totally taking the “we’re cute!” title and the aphids would have LOVED to enter this photo in the “but your babies are ohmygoodness ugly” category.

The ladybugs would have simply smiled. That might be a bug only a mother could love, but guess what? Ladybug larvae eat aphids, too. RAWR! (Admittedy, it’s a very tiny RAWR.)

THAT’S what the ladybug larvae on the bus do!

The ladybug larvae on the bus make the tiniest RAWR!, the tiniest RAWR!, the tiniest RAWR!

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Steve Allen makes his debut here with a caterpillar. He took this photo in Seattle, and says it’s about 2.5cm long.

Any takers on an ID?

Thanks, Steve!

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There comes a time in a man’s life when he realizes that he has posted too many pictures of woolly bear caterpillars.

I’ll let you know if that ever happens to me.

This is “Waldo” from last Monday’s photograph. He actually moves around, though not often and not with any alacrity. It was 6°C outside when I took this photo. This was the highest temp of the day (and week, it snowed again the next day).

I can not get over the fact that these bugs are alive and active during the winter! Tim Eisele sent me a research paper documenting winter-active spiders, and about half a dozen of the species mentioned are found out here. Most of them are only active down to about -2°C but some were active all the way down to -5°C! Those bugs have a fascinating problem: they’ve got really good antifreeze in their blood, but if they eat a bug that has a lower concentration of antifreeze, the digested food can actually freeze in their stomach! How freaking crazy is that? All the way crazy, that’s how crazy!

So! It looks like I’ll be bundling up warm and heading out with my camera to photograph these bugs that are too crazy to come in out of the cold. For now, here’s Waldo. Who’s a cute widdle fuzzy-wuzzy den?

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I resolved to find and take some fresh pictures for InsectPOD yesterday. No matter that there’s snow on the ground, no matter that the arthropod biosphere is all but depleted, surely there must be something out there I can photograph! Where do the bugs go in the wintertime? I shall find them, and photograph them. Who knows, maybe they’ll be shivering, all blue in the face and with their mandibles chattering.

I am thrilled (and perhaps a bit embarrassed) to say that the arthropod biosphere is flourishing. When I went outside it was about 6°C. As you can see, there is still a solid blanket of snow over much of my back yard. But all I had to do to see a live critter was look down. Did you find Waldo? Here he is:

And here’s a closeup:

Now this little guy is still mostly in hibernation. Nighttime temps hover around -8°C. But I went out this morning to check on Waldo, and he had moved! (Please note that I have no idea what the gender of this caterpillar might be. In the event that he is a she, I would like to take this opportunity to in advance to say “Whoa, I thought you were a dude. My bad. I am so glad we’re not spiders.”)

I said the biosphere was flourishing, enough to embarrass myself for thinking it was inactive. But I’ve posted pictures of hibernating woolly bear caterpillars already. What’s to be embarrassed about? Well, I found another bug in the lawn, and this one was very much not in hibernation. Wanna see the picture? Well… you’ll have to wait until Friday!

(cue spooky music!)

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Steve Jackson sends us this gorgeous photo of a Black Swallowtail Caterpillar–the same kind of caterpillar that mauled Siegfried.

Steve captured the majesty of this beautiful caterpillar perfectly, but the photo is just the beginning of the awesome: he also sent in some great details on the bug itself:

Photographed this May in Austin, Texas, on its food plant. From my notes at the time:

“25 butterfly caterpillars, all the same type - white, with black stripes and yellow-orange spots - on a single plant of Queen Anne’s lace. They ranged from spiky quarter-inchers with a pale band around the middle to smooth 1.5-inchers with no band, but there were enough intermediate sizes, with intermediate morphology and colors, for me to feel pretty sure they’re all the same kind. Yes. A bit of web research: Black Swallowtails. The little spiky, banded ones are first instar.”

I watched them for a while as they grew, and moved a few to an untenanted plant in my office’s back lot. When bothered, they inflate orange horns on their heads and drool very carrot-smelly green stuff.

Okay, first off: Steve Jackson takes notes. Second? If I hadn’t been running this site I would not have known the word “instar”, which refers to a partial metamorphosis. You can think of it as a “stage” in development. For example, house centipedes start out with four legs, then grow an additional pair of legs every time they molt into a new instar. Third, Steve moved some of them to a plant by his office where he could watch them more closely.

I don’t know how long Steve Jackson has been doing bug research, but I know for a fact that he does something different for his day job. What excites and inspires me is seeing people who aren’t professional entomologists getting out there and learning about bugs by watching bugs instead of by watching Animal Planet.

Seven kinds of awesome, Steve. Thank you!

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Tim Eisele sends in this picture of a Cecropia Caterpillar. He took this picture in August of 2006 with his “old Sony digital camera, which did not have a macro lens”. As you can see, this did not matter.

The size of the moth is determined by the size of the caterpillar, and as you can see this baby is going to be gigantic. This is because Cecropia is not actually a moth, but a species of bat. The Cecropia mothbat! With glowing red eyes and glistening fangs, these unspeakable giant bugs drop onto…

(This is where you all chorus, “BATS AREN’T BUGS!”)

Hyalaphora cecropia, while not really a bat, does actually have a bird’s name: the Robin Moth. It’s no wonder: they have wingspans up to 12cm. This beautiful moth is, unfortunately, on the decline in the United States. According to BugGuide, tachinid flies were introduced to control gypsy moths. The flies parasitize gypsy moth caterpillars by laying eggs on them, but it appears that tachinids have no problems parasitizing H. cecropia as well.

Thanks, Tim! Great photo!