Bug o’the Week – the Dragonflies

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

EASTERN PONDHAWK WITH MITES: When the BugLady first saw this dragonfly, she thought that for some reason his abdomen had gotten muddy, but a peek through the camera lens revealed that he was carrying a huge load of water mites.  Adult water mites are (mostly) free swimming carnivores, but they go through a tick-like nymphal stage in which they attach to and feed on other aquatic invertebrates (see their story at https://uwm.edu/field-station/water-mite-redux/). 

EXUVIA ON POTAMOGETON: The leaves and flower stalks of aquatic plants in the genus Potamogeton are dragon and damselfly magnets.  Here, a female Violet/Variable Dancer damselfly stands on a leaf as she oviposits in an underwater stem.  The empty damselfly skins (exuvia) that decorate the flower stalk show that it has been a busy place.   

EASTERN FORKTAIL: A female Eastern Forktail damselfly oviposits directly into the flower stalk.  The stalk will sink, and when her eggs hatch, her young will swim out into the water.

COMMON WHITETAIL: A recently-emerged female Common Whitetail dragonfly crawled out of the water, climbed 15” up the river bank, and then trekked another two feet across mown grass to find the perfect spot to stop and gather strength for her life in the air.  Dragonflies may take a few days to achieve their mature coloration – here’s what she’ll look like when the spots on her wings intensify https://bugguide.net/node/view/7160, and here’s the male https://bugguide.net/node/view/27710

RACKET-TAILED EMERALD: These very inquisitive dragonflies fly back and forth above the trail as you walk along.  When the sun is at your back, the glowing eyes of an approaching emerald are a religious experience! 

Slender Bluet
Marsh Bluet

SLENDER BLUET DAMSELFLY:  Bluets can be a confusing bunch of damselflies.  Some species are very distinct – one is neon blue at one end and yellow at the other, one is rainbow-colored, one is orange, and a few Eastern species are red.  But for many of the blue and black species, scrutinizing the male’s rear appendages is the best way to identify them (the Marsh Bluet terminates in a tiny pipe wrench).  You can narrow the field by eyeballing the comparative amounts of blue and black on the abdomen and putting them into the “blue-type,” “black-type,” or “intermediate-type” category.  This young male, who is in what BugFan Bob calls “that embarrassing purple stage,” will be a spectacular black-type bluet when he matures https://bugguide.net/node/view/1613844/bgimage.  And one of these days, the Slender Bluet will get a BOTW of its own.

DOT TAILED WHITEFACE: Not long out of the water, this Dot-tailed Whiteface clings to its shed skin (which clings to an Equisetum stalk) as it pumps up its wings.

DRAGONFLY DOW (dead on the water): Whether it was chased by a predator or just miscalculated, this dragonfly got too close to the water and adhered to its sticky surface film.  Beautiful even in death, its body is returning nutrients to the pond that nurtured it.

COMMON GREEN DARNER: Common Green Darners, one of our biggest dragonflies, are with us from May through September.  Wisconsin has two populations – migratory and resident.  Migratory darners like these, photographed in early May, arrive from the southeastern part of the US, mate, and put their eggs into the water, and their naiads develop during the summer.  About the time these early birds are wearing out (mid-June), the resident population begins to emerge, and they fill the skies until the end of summer.  The migrants emerge as adults at the end of August, and fly south, leaving no eggs in the ponds, but the eggs of the resident population overwinter under the ice.  A dragonfly do-si-do.

AMERICAN RUBYSPOT: Dragonflies and damselflies are fascinating, and they do some amazing things.  They can be a challenge to photograph and to identify, and some are just plain beautiful! 

RIVER JEWELWING: River Jewelwings are much less common where the BugLady lives than are the spectacular Ebony Jewelwings (https://bugguide.net/node/view/1840629/bgimage), so she was thrilled to get a picture of one.  Jewelwings and Rubyspots are members of the Broad-winged damselfly family Calopterygidae (which means “beautiful wing”), and they’re sometimes called river damsels because of their preferred haunts. 

SKIMMING BLUETS: The BugLady aimed her camera at an odd-looking configuration on a water lily leaf and saw one-and-a-half damselflies.  Apparently, a male and female were flying in tandem when a hungry bird came along and bit off the female’s abdomen.  When the pair landed, two Mesovelid bugs (aggressive scavengers and predators), sensed “blood in the water” and zipped in to sip her bodily fluids (hemolymph).  Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water….

Go outside – look for dragonflies!

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Early Summer Scenes

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

STILT BUG ON FERN: This started out as a fern fiddlehead picture – the BugLady did not see the stilt bug when she took the picture, it was one of those happy surprises that photographers get when they put an image up on the monitor.  Most stilt bugs/thread bugs are plant-eaters that supplement their diet of plant juices with the odd, small invertebrate.  Some are more “meat-oriented,” and one species is used to control Tobacco hornworms.

CRAB SPIDER: A friend of the BugLady’s recently asked where all of the beautiful, plump crab spiders are.  They’re here, but they have some growing to do.

KATYDID NYMPH: And another friend, from Southern climes, asked if the BugLady was seeing katydids yet.  Same answer.

TIGER BEETLE: The BugLady loves seeing the flashy, green Six-spotted tiger beetles.  Usually they perch on a bare path, wait until you get too close, fly ahead of you about a foot above the ground, land, and repeat the process when you get too close again.  Until this year, the BugLady had never seen one off the ground, but she’s photographed three in the past month.  Get to know Wisconsin’s tiger beetles at https://wisconsinbutterflies.org/tigerbeetle.

MILLIPEDE ON RUST: Millipedes are decomposers/detritivores, feeding on dung, plant juices, and pieces of dead plant materials like decaying leaves, breaking them down for organisms even smaller than they are.  Some like fungi. 

If you’ve seen the invasive shrubs Glossy and Common buckthorn, you’ve probably seen stems and petioles with a bright orange blob on it.  The blob is a rust – a fungus – called Crown rust (Puccinia coronata).  Buckthorn is one of its hosts, and the alternate hosts are a variety of grasses, including agricultural crops like oats and rye.  If you see grass leaves with thin orange streaks on them, you’re probably seeing a variety of crown rust.  Crown rust has a complicated life cycle (http://www.minnesotaseasons.com/Fungi/Crown_Rust.html ), but the bottom line here is that the rust on buckthorn releases its spores in a soupy, sweet liquid that attracts insects, and the insects carry the spores to rust patches on other buckthorns and fertilize them.  The rust probably doesn’t get much bang for its buck when its spores are eaten by a short-legged pedestrian like a millipede.

BALTIMORE CHECKERSPOT CATERPILLER: The astonishing Baltimore Checkerspot https://bugguide.net/node/view/1771510/bgimage and https://bugguide.net/node/view/1636206/bgimage, and its caterpillar, is one of the BugLady’s favorites.  This caterpillar hatched last summer and munched on its host plant (historically white turtlehead, but in the past 50 years, they’ve adopted Lance-leaved/English plantain, and those are the only two plants a female will oviposit on).  It overwintered as a caterpillar, woke up hungry this spring, and looked around, – no turtlehead in sight yet – so it’s been eating a variety of plants, especially white ash.  Both turtlehead and plantain leaves contain poisonous glycosides (turtlehead has more), allowing the caterpillar and butterfly to get away with their gaudy colors.  And remember – the butterfly (and the oriole) get their names not because they were discovered in that city, but because 17th century English nobleman Lord Baltimore, a familiar figure to the colonists, dressed his servants in orange and black livery. Get to know Wisconsin’s butterflies at https://wisconsinbutterflies.org/butterfly.

MONARCHS: Most of the Monarchs that return to Wisconsin are probably Gen 2 – the second generation north of their wintering ground in Mexico.  There ensues two short-lived generations – Gen 3 and 4 – whose only job is to increase the population, and these two clearly got the memo.  Gen 5, produced in August, is the generation that is signaled by both waning day length and the lowering angle of the sun to migrate instead of reproducing (though there always seem to be a few that didn’t get that memo). 

BEE ON LEATHERWOOD: At a quick glance, you might think that this is a bumble bee, but bumble bees have hairy butts.  The BugLady thought this was a carpenter bee (which have shiny butts), but now she thinks it’s one of the larger mining bees in the genus Andrena.  Leatherwood is a spring-blooming shrub in woodlands – those fuzzy bud scales protect the bud from chilly spring nights.  It gets its name from the fact that its branches can’t be torn off the shrub, and from its strong bark fibers, which were woven into baskets, bowstrings, ropes, and the cords that lashed together canoe frames.  Settlers used its branches when they took their children to the woodshed.  All human use of it is problematic, because its caustic bark raises some serious blisters.

ROBBER FLY: Another bumble bee look-alike.  Bumble bees eat nectar and collect pollen to feed their larvae; robber flies are carnivores.  Laphria thoracia (no common name) can be found on woodland edges from the Mason-Dixon Line north into the Maritime Provinces and west through the Western Great Lakes.  Adult Laphria thoracia eat bees and adult beetles (this one has a clover weevil, but the BugLady recently photographed one with an assassin bug), and their larvae feed on beetle larvae in decaying wood.  Get to know Wisconsin’s robber flies at https://wisconsinbutterflies.org/robberfly  

GOLD-BACKED SNIPE FLY: June is the only month to enjoy these dramatically-colored flies that perch low in the vegetation in moist areas. 

SWAMP MILKWEED BEETLE: The BugLady loves finding these “ladybugs-on-steroids.”  They’re often tucked down into the axils of the milkweed leaves, and when they see company coming, they either duck down deeper into the crevice or they default to the typical escape behavior of an alarmed leaf beetle – they tuck in their legs and fall off the plant.  Their bright (aposematic/warning) colors tell potential predators that they are toxic, due to the milkweed sap they ingest, but damsel bugs, stink bugs, and flower/hover/syrphid fly larvae prey on them nonetheless.  For the full (and fascinating) Swamp milkweed leaf beetle story, see https://uwm.edu/field-station/swamp-milkweed-leaf-beetle/.  

ICHNEUMON WASP: Every year, large and colorful Therion (probably) Ichneumon wasps drift through the vegetation in perpetual motion, legs dangling, taunting the BugLady https://bugguide.net/node/view/739675/bgimage.  They often occur in wetlands, and the BugLady swats mosquitoes and deer flies as she waits for them to show their faces.  Which this one did.

Experienced BugFans are saying, “But, but, but – where are the dragonflies?”  Tune in next week.

Go outside – look for bugs.

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Fishfly – Again

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

With apologies to the possum that holes up behind the bird food barrels each winter, the fishfly is the favorite of all the critters that visit the BugLady’s front porch (Mom really does like you best). 

The first thing you notice when you Google “Fishfly” is that there are lots of hits for mayflies.  Mayflies (aka “lake flies”) (order Ephemerata) are a different beast altogether, one that gets our attention when they emerge (any day now) in uncountable numbers for a brief but dramatic flight period/orgy, causing river and lake-side communities to mobilize municipal snowplows to clear the streets and bridges of dead and dying mayflies.  Both the aquatic naiads and the aerial adult mayflies are wholesome fish food; fish grab them in the water column as they float to the surface and from below as they rest on the surface after emerging (a fact that has not escaped the notice of fly-tiers). 

The star of today’s BOTW is the other fishfly. 

Fishflies were formerly placed in a suborder of the order Neuroptera (nerve wing) along with a bunch of truly odd-looking insects, but fishflies, alderflies and Dobsonflies are now elevated to their own order, Megaloptera (“large/great wing”).  Whatever they’re called, they are a primitive bunch, having appeared on the scene more than 259 million years ago.  Fishflies are in the family Corydalidae.  The BugLady thinks her pictures are mostly of spring fishflies (Chauliodes rastricornis).  Chauliodes means “remarkable tooth,” a reference to the larva’s mouthparts, and rasticornus means “rake-horned.” 

Fishflies can be found throughout much of eastern North America.  Adults are generally found near the water that their aquatic larvae require (which is why the landlocked BugLady is always surprised to find them on her porch).  Various species of Fishflies may live in streams and rivers or in still ponds; some, reported from ephemeral ponds or streams, can survive a short dry spell if well-buried in wet mud.  They have also (uncommonly) been found in tree holes and in the pitchers of Purple pitcher plants.

Megalopterans tend to be awkward, soft-bodied, nocturnal fliers.  They might possibly be mistaken for a dragonfly in flight, but never at rest.  Male Fishflies lack the impressive, pincer-like mandibles of their fierce-looking, five-inch-long Dobsonfly cousins https://bugguide.net/node/view/1802299/bgimage, although at two inches in length, Fishflies are no slouch.  Male Fishflies have feathery (pectinate) antennae (females of some species signal their whereabouts with pheromones for him to sense and follow), and the females’ serrate antennae have short, comb-like teeth along one side. 

male
female

The larvae of both dobsonflies and fishflies are called hellgrammites, and are, famously, sold to fisher-people as bait (the BugLady always pictures the hellgrammite swimming over and grabbing the fish in its “teeth”).  Fishflies practice Complete Metamorphosis, hatching from eggs, living as larvae, resting and changing as pupae, and emerging as adults.  Like many of the insects that develop this way, their appearance, habitat and diet changes radically in their different life stages. 

Eggs (up to 3,000 of them) are laid nocturnally above or near the water – glued together in damp spots like semi-submerged rocks or on twigs and on the undersides of leaves directly above a pond or stream.  When the young hatch (nocturnally) they drop/crawl into the water.  Fishfly larvae are creatures of the “benthos,” the bottom debris of a pond or river; there they live in the muck or under logs, etc. 

The writers who describe them as “worm-like” must live on a very different landscape than the BugLady does.  Hellgrammites https://bugguide.net/node/view/49772/bgimage are thick and somewhat flattened, dark brown and shiny, with an impressive head at one end, six legs in the middle, and seven or eight finger-like filaments along each side of the abdomen.  The filaments are gills, one of the Fishflies’ breathing strategies. 

On land (on their post-hatching trek to water or their pre-pupal hike away from it), they breathe through spiracles (little holes), like terrestrial insects (of course, they don’t open their spiracles underwater).  When submerged, they can absorb, through their soft skin, oxygen that is present in the water, but they also breathe through those external gill filaments when oxygen is low.  In addition, species that live in still waters have two, long, contractile respiratory tubes at their nether end; with the tips of the tubes poked up above the water surface, they can take in oxygen from our atmosphere.  Fishfly larvae don’t move fast, but their bite can be memorable.

Hellgrammites are primarily carnivores, using their chewing mouthparts on minnows, tadpoles, and soft-bodied aquatic insects like mayflies, caddisflies and fly larvae.  Some sources list them as scavengers, omnivores and detritivores (animals that feed on detritus – decomposing plant and animal matter). 

The New York (State) Entomologist’s “Report of the State Entomologist on Injurious and Other Insects of the State of New York, Vol. 8” (1893) cites observations of the larvae by a Mr. Weed, “Their ordinary mode of locomotion is by crawling along weeds and the debris of various kinds that gathers at the bottoms of ponds, but when alarmed they can swim rapidly by suddenly doubling the body up, bringing the head in contact with the abdomen, by which they are propelled some distance through the water………When handled, the Chaiuloides larvae occasionally eject from the mouth a considerable quantity of a blackish fluid, reminding one of a similar habit of certain locusts (Acrididae).  These larvae have also a peculiar habit of walking on the surface of the water, body downward. They can move along in this manner quite rapidly.”  Despite their inclusion in that worthy publication, they are not considered pests. 

When, after one to three years (larvae in warmer climes mature more quickly), the hellgrammites are ready to pupate, they do it in synchrony with others in their age class.  Within a few days, the whole cohort abandons the water, in a sometimes-dramatic migration, to pupate on land.  They pupate underground or in rotting wood in spaces/cells that they excavate.  Fishfly pupae https://bugguide.net/node/view/192335/bgimage resemble the adults they will become (here’s a nice series of life stages https://bugguide.net/node/view/51193/bgimage), and for pupae, can be pretty active, moving around when disturbed.  In his excellent A Guide to Common Freshwater Invertebrates of North America, J. Reese Voshell, Jr. notes that vibrations caused by thunder storms may stimulate the exodus of mature hellgrammites that are ready to pupate! 

The short-lived adults gather rosebuds while they may.  Accounts say that adults are around for a week or so and do not feed; or that males do not feed, or that they sometimes come in to sugar bait in moth traps.  Or, apparently, to the oranges the BugLady puts out for birds. 

BugFans who are practicing for the next big spelling bee should remember that in entomological usage, if you are spelling a true fly (horse, deer, flower, cluster, blue-bottle, etc.), the words are separate – robber fly, hover fly.  The other “flies” –butter, dragon, damsel, May, scorpion, fire, caddis, stone, saw, etc. – are spelled as one word. 

So – for the next four weeks, BOTW will be “Closed for June,” but the BugLady will send a timely and tasteful rerun or news item.

Go outside – look for Bugs! 

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Striped Cucumber Beetle

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

The Striped cucumber beetle (Acalymma vittatum) (vittatum means “banded” or “striped”) is on Wanted Posters of a whole slew of North American agricultural agencies east of the Rockies (it’s replaced in the Far West by Acalymma trivittatum).  In fact, the Striped cucumber beetle is so notorious that the bugguide.net entry didn’t even pop up until page 5 of the internet hits.  It’s in the huge leaf beetle family Chrysomelidae (one of the largest beetle families – 35,000-ish species total, 1,900 of them in North America).  With 390,000 species worldwide, Coleoptera (the beetle order) is the largest single order in the entire animal kingdom.  

It’s not a huge beetle, maybe ¼ inch long, https://bugguide.net/node/view/1534443/bgimage with a black (sometimes brown) head, a black undercarriage, an orangey thorax, https://bugguide.net/node/view/521541/bgimage, and black and yellow striped elytra (hard wing covers) covering the membranous wings that are used for flying https://bugguide.net/node/view/1697314/bgimage.   

There can be several generations per year, depending on your latitude.  The final generation of unmated adult StCBs overwinters in leaf litter or just under the soil surface, and when spring comes, a young beetle’s fancy turns first, to food, and then to love https://bugguide.net/node/view/1181556/bgimage.  Newly awakened adults feed on pollen, petals, and leaves of willow, aspen, hawthorn (they especially like members of the Rose family), and other plants around the edges of fields while they’re waiting for farmers and gardeners to deliver the squash plants. 

When the squash seedlings are waving their tender cotyledons in the air, the beetles climb on board (en masse – more about that in a sec) and mate.  They can feed on alternate plants, but they only mate and oviposit on members of the squash family.  Females lay small clusters of bright orange eggs (up to 1,500 during her lifetime) in cracks in the dirt on or near the stem of the host plant, and newly-hatched larvae dig down and feed on the roots before pupating in the soil. 

Which brings us to those Wanted Posters.  Both the adults and the larvae love all things squash, from butternuts and cucumbers to pattypans and watermelons.  Larvae feed low, on the roots and stems of the squash plant, and adults eat flowers and leaves (and may defoliate a plant), but they especially enjoy feeding on the underside of the fruits.

Seedlings can be killed outright by their grazing; chewing on flowers makes pollination difficult; fruit scarred by the adults is less marketable; and sometimes the fruit develops rot after being punctured.  The one-two punch occurs when a beetle transmits to the plant a virus called squash mosaic virus, a fungus that causes black rot, and/or a bacteria that causes wilt.  The bacteria can survive the winter in a beetle’s gut, and plants become infected when frass (bug poop) lands on an open spot on the plant stem where the beetle has been nibbling.  The bacteria multiply and eventually block the plant’s xylem tissue (plumbing).  Larval feeding on root tissue hinders root development and can spread a Fusarium fungus.

Squashes protect themselves from herbivores by manufacturing bitter protective chemicals called cucurbitacins.  While these chemicals effectively repel (and even kill) many grazers, they don’t hinder the beetle for a second – in fact, they actually make the plants even more desirable to StCBs and other squash-specialists.  StCBs that are feeding on squashes produce an aggregation pheromone that calls more StCBs to the table https://bugguide.net/node/view/1546167/bgimage, and to add insult to injury, researchers suspect that the cucurbitacins may be sequestered by the beetles in their elytra in order to deter predators.  

This attraction to a deterrent chemical that acts like a feeding stimulant for StCBs is cited as an example of co-evolution.  It’s also (and the BugLady is getting into some deep water here, chemically) an example of kairomones or kairomonal feeding.  Mark Klowden, in Physiological Systems in Insects, explains it this way, “Kairomones (Greek: kairos, opportunistic) benefit the receiver rather than the emitter. They have been described as pheromones and allomones that have evolutionarily backfired……. Kairomones may be hormones, pheromones, or allomones that are normally used by one organism but exploited by an illegitimate receiver. They may be normal products of metabolism of one species that are now used by another to locate its host.”  Producing cucurbitacins is supposed to benefit squash by discouraging the beetles, but, for their trouble, the squash end up attracting the beetles instead, at the plant’s expense (so, the question is – do squash plants get another benefit from producing cucurbitacins?).

Happy gardening, and be sure to plant some extra dill for the Black Swallowtail caterpillars https://bugguide.net/node/view/1685740/bgimage.

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Painted Skimmer Dragonflies

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

Painted Skimmers are in the Skimmer family Libellulidae, which contains many of our more common and more colorful dragonflies, and they’re in the genus Libellula – large, sturdy, showy dragonflies, often with dramatically-patterned wings, that are often referred to as the King skimmers.  King skimmers have appeared in these pages before https://uwm.edu/field-station/closed-for-june-spectacular-summer-dragonflies/https://uwm.edu/field-station/four-spotted-skimmer/, and https://uwm.edu/field-station/slaty-skimmer-dragonfly/ (Chalk-fronted Corporals are sometimes included in the group, too https://uwm.edu/field-station/chalk-fronted-corporal-dragonfly/).

They look like a dragonfly that was put together by a committee.  Their wing spots are similar to, but fainter than, those of a Halloween Pennant (all the Painted Skimmer write-ups say “see also: Halloween Pennant” https://bugguide.net/node/view/1996897/bgimage), and their abdomen looks a lot like that of a Four-spotted Skimmer, an early-flying dragonfly whose wing spots are much smaller https://bugguide.net/node/view/1220037/bgimage.  Female Painted Skimmers https://bugguide.net/node/view/1664464/bgimage are duller in color, with wider abdomens than males https://bugguide.net/node/view/1665876/bgimage.  They often look golden in flight.  There are many wonderful photos of Painted Skimmers online, but not much in the way of biographies.

Painted Skimmers (Libellula semifasciata) occur only rarely in Wisconsin (they’re a “Most Wanted” species here).  They’re on dragonfly checklists from Texas to Florida to Maine to Ontario, becoming rarer as you travel farther north, and they’re at the edge of their range here in Wisconsin.  They’re one of the fifteen-or-so species of North American Odonates that migrate (out of our 450-ish species), moving both north and south along the Atlantic Coast as well as inland.   They arrive in the north early (one source said that many of the first arrivals are mature males); they often stay just long enough to get people excited (birders will sympathize); and they’re more numerous some years than others.  According to the Wisconsin Odonata Survey database https://wiatri.net/inventory/odonata/, they’ve been recorded in only seven of the years since 2000, and 2022 is the only year that they’ve been seen in multiple locations (five so far).  When the Bug Lady was looking into that, she found this handy list http://texasento.net/migration.htm

One source described them as widespread and relatively common but not often seen, due to their early flight period (they usually show up in June and July, so the influx of Painted Skimmers in 2022 is early) and to their habitat preferences.  They frequent shallow, plant-filled, marshy, woodland ponds, pools, seasonal puddles, and sometimes bogs and slow-moving streams, but they may hunt for food far from water.  Like all dragonflies, their aquatic young (naiads) (“nymphs,” if you must, but never “larvae”) eat the small invertebrates that they find next to them below the water’s surface, and the adults feed on flying insects.  Painted Skimmer dragonflies perch on twigs and fly out to “hawk” small insects. 

The Dragonflies of Northern Virginia website calls them both less aggressive and more wary than other King skimmers.  

Males patrol territories and watch for females from perches on twigs or grass tips three to six feet above the water.  They mate (briefly) in mid-air, he releases her, and Paulson, in Dragonflies and Damselflies of the East, tells us that “Females oviposit in low flight by vigorous and well-spaced tapping and moving some distance between groups of a few taps.”  Males often patrol as she oviposits in order to protect her (and his genetic material) from being nabbed by rival males.

In her search for information, the BugLady turned up the comment on the Northern Virginia Dragonfly website (on two different pages) that “Some dragonflies have partially translucent abdomens (Painted Skimmers) and many others have dark wing patches at the base of their wings (saddlebags and pennants) – both may be anatomical adaptations to absorbing sunlight and channeling that heat to their organs and wing muscles.”  She suspects that means that the dragonfly’s cuticle allows some light to pass through, and not that you can hold up a Painted Skimmer and see daylight through it.  She couldn’t find any other sources to back that up.

Go outside – keep your eyes peeled.  Things are popping!

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug of the Week – Gray Comma Butterfly – the Other Comma

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

These are butterflies with somewhat northern proclivities; they’re found across Canada and the northern part of North America but are mostly missing from our southern tier of states https://www.butterfliesandmoths.org/species/Polygonia-progne.  In Butterflies of the Great Lakes Region, Douglas and Douglas speculate that their original (pre-settlement) habitat was probably sunny areas that opened up within dense woodlands when trees fell over and left a hole in the canopy.  Today they’re found in clearings in deciduous and mixed woodlands, along stream edges, and along dirt roads, and also in gardens and yards.  Mead, in Butterflies of the North Woods, says that they are “maybe the most widespread of all the anglewings.”  The (fabulous) Butterflies of Massachusetts website suggests that Gray Commas “may be vulnerable to range contraction as climate warms.

Because of the outlines of their wings, Question Marks and commas (genus Polygonia) are called anglewings.  There are five anglewings in Wisconsin – Gray Commas, Eastern Commas and Question Marks are found throughout the state, and Green Commas and Satyr Commas live “Up North.”

They’re called anglewings because of the cut of their jib, and “comma” because of the silvery punctuation marks on the undersides of their wings.  The Gray Comma’s comma resembles a Nike swoosh https://bugguide.net/node/view/197220/bgimage compared to the Eastern Comma’s thickened and hooked mark https://bugguide.net/node/view/1567724/bgimage, and the Question Mark’s question mark https://bugguide.net/node/view/1583855/bgimage.  

According to the Missouri Department of Conservation’s online Field Guide, “Congratulations if you can tell the difference between a gray comma and eastern comma! This shows you’ve definitely progressed beyond a “beginner” level in butterfly identification.”  By that yardstick, the BugLady hasn’t quite arrived yet, but she’s getting closer.  She likes taking their pictures and putting their images up on the monitor, pulling out a field guide, and worrying them a little bit. 

Here’s why you have to look twice when you’re identifying anglewings:

Gray Comma – https://bugguide.net/node/view/1214968/bgimage

Eastern Comma – https://bugguide.net/node/view/1620700/bgimage,

Question Mark – https://bugguide.net/node/view/1774878/bgimage.  There are some handy tips for distinguishing them at https://wisconsinbutterflies.org/butterfly/subfamily/17-true-brushfoots

With a wingspread of about 2 inches, these are nice-sized butterflies, and seeing one with its wings open in the sunlight is a real treat!  When they’re sitting on a tree trunk with their wings closed, https://bugguide.net/node/view/1937383/bgimage, they can be remarkably-well camouflaged. 

Like other anglewings, there are two generations of Gray Commas each year.  The second generation emerges in mid-fall, but instead of mating, they overwinter as adults, tucked away in a sheltered spot called a hibernaculum (they may fly briefly during a winter thaw).  They emerge in April and May and go about the business of producing the summer generation.  Like other anglewings, Gray Commas are “seasonally dimorphic” – the summer brood has darker hind wings, https://bugguide.net/node/view/197221/bgimage than the winter brood https://bugguide.net/node/view/742721/bgimage.  

Gray Commas are jumpy and nervous, and they have lots of attitude.  Males scout for receptive females from a perch at the edge of a clearing; they are territorial and will engage with anything that crosses their turf.  Females lay eggs singly on the leaves of host plants – gooseberries (genus Ribes), plus the odd currant (also in the genus Ribes), plus azalea and elm. 

Early spring butterflies (and other insects) must have a way to get warm and stay warm (to this end, they are often hairier than later-season species); Gray Commas often warm up by basking in the sun (they have favorite perches), and they can also generate heat by shivering the muscles in their thorax (muscular thermogenesis).

It’s not often, when the BugLady researches insects, that the dramatic plot twist concerns the insect’s diet.  The Gray Comma’s menu looks pretty straightforward on the face of it, but there’s a backstory that the BugLady heard a very long time ago and then forgot.  Like other butterflies that emerge early, commas rarely visit flowers, preferring to sip the juices of rotting fruits, carrion, and dung, to visit sap drips, and to glean minerals from damp soil.  Caterpillars https://bugguide.net/node/view/937966/bgimage feed on the undersides of gooseberry leaves, and the butterflies readily adopted European gooseberries that were introduced by the Settlers (the caterpillars were considered pests of cultivated gooseberries in some places).  Food was plentiful.  Life was good. 

The Butterflies of Massachusetts website tells us what happened next: “Then, around 1910, an American nurseryman imported thousands of white pine seedlings which were infected with European white pine blister rust, for which Ribes plant species are the alternate hosts. Our native white pine, Pinus strobus was not resistant, and this commercially important species was threatened. To protect the lumber industry, importing or cultivating all currants and gooseberries was banned in most New England states. In the 1920’s and 1930s both native and cultivated Ribes plants were ripped up all across New England and the Great Lakes areas, as well as further west. By 1966 the ban was lifted in many areas, but is still in place in Massachusetts (Cullina 2002: 221-2). The host plants for Gray Comma therefore declined dramatically, as did the butterfly.”  (Since that was written, limited quantities of Ribes may be planted in Massachusetts, by permit only.  All clear in Wisconsin since 1966.)

Fun Fact about Gray Commas: their caterpillars rest below the leaf in a U-shape, hanging on with only their middle set of prolegs (the fleshy, “false” legs behind the three pairs of true legs on the thorax https://bugguide.net/node/view/1578095/bgimage).  When they’re alarmed, they wave their spiny front and rear ends around, which apparently makes a predator think again.

May is American Wetlands Month!  Wetlands support vast numbers of insects as temporary nurseries (for dragonflies and damselflies and more), as permanent homes, and as hunting grounds. 

Go outside – appreciate a wetland!

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Water Mite Redux

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

First-time observers of the underwater world are startled to see tiny, bright-red dots wallowing around underwater.  These critters are water mites, wee spider relatives in the Phylum Arthropoda, the Class Arachnida (spiders), the Order Trombidiformes, and in a quasi-taxonomic group called Hydrachnidia/Hydarachnidae.  There are some 1500 species of fresh-water-dwelling mites in North America (5,000 globally, but probably more, because they’re seriously under-studied), many of which tend to be habitat specialists. 

Water mites are common – abundant – denizens of shallow, quiet ponds, and a few species have adapted to life in rivers and streams.  They’re everywhere except Antarctica, in tree holes, deep lakes, bogs, hot springs, rivers, swamps, and marshes.  The word “ubiquitous” applies.

Superficially, they look like spiders, but spiders have two body parts, a cephalothorax (combined head and thorax) and an abdomen, and the spherical water mites have a fused thorax and abdomen and a tiny head (mostly mouth). 

Other physical characteristics include two double eyes (some species have an additional third eye in between, and a Vietnamese, cave-dwelling water mite has no eyes at all) and eight, short legs (most of the time). Many are startlingly red (bright red is an uncommon color in aquatic invertebrates), but species found in streams tend to be drab, and the BugLady has seen teal blue water mites.  Water mites that live in quiet waters are adorned with hairs on their legs – a light-weight way to increase the surface area for swimming; mites that live in running water have strong claws instead, so they can grab the substrate and resist the pull of the current.  Water mites can also be seen “walking” along on the pond floor and on submerged plants.  If they stop swimming, they sink.

Water mites can get all the air they need from the water they live in, absorbing dissolved oxygen through their skin, and they can live in waters that are very low in oxygen.  They’re usually found in the shallow water, but some live as deep as 100 meters and others call ephemeral/vernal ponds home, burrowing into the mud when the water dries up.  They are found in open water under the ice in winter.  Prime water mite habitat may contain as many as 2,000 mites per square meter.

The ranks of the water mites list a few scavengers, some parasitic water mites, a few species that eat plants and detritus, and a few cannibals, but, like true spiders, most adults are carnivores that grab their prey (zooplankton, worms, crustaceans, and tiny immature insects), pierce it with their fangs, suck the juices from its body (the waters seem thick with body-juice-suckers these days), and then discard the skin and roughage.  They are, in some reference books, enthusiastically consumed by fish, aquatic insects and hydras (the BugLady is confident that you recall your high school encounters with these tiny, transparent, somersaulting tree-guys).  Other sources report that water mites taste bad and that predators learn to avoid them, and that that’s why they’re red in the first place.

[N.B. – when the BugLady first wrote this, she misspoke and said that water mites develop within their host’s bodies. She misread a sentence and extrapolated the fact that some species may be internal parasites to mean that all were.  Repent at leisure.  Water mites are (mostly) meat eaters, but their feeding methods are different in different life stages. The larvae are external parasites (ectoparasites) on adult insects, and both the nymphs and the adults are predators on whatever is swimming around with them that they can tackle.] 

It is their childhood that is mind-boggling. Eggs, as many as 400, are laid on rocks or plants or on the neighbors – mussels and aquatic insects.  Eggs hatch into six-legged larvae that attach to insects that are aquatic or whose immature stages are spent in water – stoneflies, dragonflies, true bugs (like water striders), caddisflies and flies (like crane flies and mosquitoes).  Once attached, the larvae go through a parasitic phase.  They probably use their senses of sight, touch, and “smell” to find their hosts.  They attach to dragonfly and damselfly naiads when the naiads are about ready to crawl up out of the water to emerge as adults, and they act like ticks (to whom they are remotely related), living on the bodily fluids of their host.  They drop off the naiad during that final molt and then hop aboard and reattach themselves to the new (and temporarily soft) adult skin.  Female mosquitoes may not feed or lay eggs if they have too many mites, and a big load of mites lessens reproductive success in male damselflies.

In plain English, water mites start as eggs, then are larvae, then nymphs, and finally adults.  An arachnologist might say that the larva attaches to a host, and, still attached to its host, the larva becomes a protonymph, and the protonymph turns into a deutonymph within the larval skin or nymphochrysalis.  After a free-swimming, carnivorous stage, the deutonymph becomes a tritonymph within the imagochrysalis and the BugLady promises never to talk like that again. 

Along with food, the mite may benefit if, when it matures and drops off, its host has traveled to a different pond (not go good if it drops of over dry land).  Some sources viewed the mite’s hitchhiking as phoresy, but strictly defined, phoresy is the inadvertent transport of one critter by another.  There’s no parasitism in phoresy.  

In Summary: What’s not to love about a vivid, minuscule, aquatic parasite-predator spider relative who sucks out the very essence of its prey and whose life history encompasses egg, pre-larva, larva, protonymph, deutonymph, tritonymph, and adult? 

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Leafcutter Bees – Pollinators Extraordinaire

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

Bees seem to have been designed to do the job.  There are more than 400 species of native bees in Wisconsin, and they pollinate native plants, ornamentals, and farm crops, alike.  Native bees are considered “keystone species” because of the profound effect they have on their communities, tending the plants that produce the fruits, seeds, nuts, and leaves that feed and shelter other animals.  Imagine what the landscape would look like if the pollinators disappeared! 

Leafcutter bees are in the family Megachilidae (Greek for “big lip,” because of their big, toothed mandibles), a family that includes leafcutter, mason, carder (the BugLady wants to find a carder bee because they have such a cool story to tell), and resin bees – all named for the materials they use to make nest chambers for their eggs.  There are about 4,100 species of Megachilids in the world (630 in North America), and they’re a cosmopolitan bunch – found just about everywhere. 

(Most) adult Megachilids drink nectar from a wide variety of plants, and many species are long-tongued, which allows them to harvest pollen and nectar deep within a flower.  There are a few black sheep in the family – brood parasites that reap the harvest of other species’ labor by waiting until an egg chamber has been provisioned and then inserting their own egg.  Their offspring will kill the rightful owner of the cache (if Mom didn’t, already), steal the food, and develop in the chamber.  It’s called kleptoparasitism. 

The stars of today’s show are the leafcutter bees in the genus Megachile.  Bugguide.net tells us several basic ways of telling bees from the often-similar wasps, yellowjackets, etc.  First, bees are hairy, and at least some of those hairs, especially those on the thorax, are plumose (branched); wasps have simple hairs.  Second, bees eat pollen, so they (the females, anyway) need to have a way to transport it.  Most bees have scopa, which is Latin for “broom” (plural – scopae) – dense, textured hairs that the pollen collects on.  The hairs of the scopae are electrostatic, and the bee uses its forelegs to move pollen that collects on its hairy exterior to its scopae.  Bumble bees and honey bees have pollen baskets rather than scopae, and some kinds of bees transport pollen by eating it. 

At first glance, some leafcutter bees look similar to dark-colored honey bees and sweat bees, but their head is disproportionally large (because it houses the bulky muscles that operate that “large lip” https://bugguide.net/node/view/1778942/bgimage).  Females have a pointed abdomen https://bugguide.net/node/view/2049111/bgimage, while males’ are blunt https://bugguide.net/node/view/2053907/bgimage).  And then there’s the scopa.  Many bees, like this long-horned bee https://bugguide.net/node/view/2046527/bgimage collect pollen in the dense hairs on their back legs, but leafcutter bees carry pollen on hairs on the underside of their abdomen https://bugguide.net/node/view/2060994/bgimage.  As Planet Bee’s bee-blog says, “This creates bright yellow/gold colored bee butts that are easy to spot” https://bugguide.net/node/view/1989844/bgimage.

About their courtship bugguide.net says, “Males of most species have enlarged light-colored front legs with a fringe of hairs and with odor glands. They use these features during mating. They partially cover the female’s eyes with their hairy legs and the odor glands are placed close to the female’s antennae.”  After they mate, the male dies, and, like other solitary bees, the female starts to construct a place for her eggs. 

Many solitary bees nest underground, but leafcutter bees mainly pick nest sites that are above ground.  They favor pre-existing insect tunnels in rotting wood, man-made holes (another common name is “wall bee”), wind chimes, pithy hollow stems like rose canes, and even abandoned snail shells.  Like other solitary bees, leafcutter bees cache provisions in chambers, deposit an egg, seal the chamber, and depart when the tunnel is complete.  A tunnel may be 8” long and contain a dozen chambers, each housing a single egg, and she may make several tunnels. 

For her young, she collects nectar and pollen, and she uses her saliva (which may have antibacterial and anti-fungal properties) to fashion them into a “loaf” of bee bread.  The larvae hatch and eat and grow, and sources disagree about whether they overwinter in a prepupal stage and then finish their metamorphosis in spring, or whether the mature larvae pupate and emerge as adults in fall, waiting out the winter within their cells, and chewing out in spring.

Leafcutter bees are famous for two things, and one of them is cutting leaves, which they do in order to build a more hospitable egg chamber for the next generation. 

The tunnel she fashions into a nursery for her eggs is lined with overlapping ovals of leaves (or in the case of simpler-jawed species, of petals) that form a narrow cylinder (to seal the door to each cell she cuts a circle).  Each egg chamber is separated from the others by a wall made up of chewed leaves and resin https://bugguide.net/node/view/1252173.  Scroll down to the video of a bee in action https://wisconsinpollinators.com/Bee/B_LeafcutterBee.aspx, and here are pictures of bees carrying pieces of leaves: https://bugguide.net/node/view/1851490/bgimage, and https://bugguide.net/node/view/2034354/bgimage.  During her life, a female may carve off 10,000 tiny, green discs.  White ash, Virginia creeper, lilac, and rose are favorite leaves.   

The other thing they’re famous for is pollination: https://bugguide.net/node/view/2060993/bgimage   https://bugguide.net/node/view/1985225/bgimage.  Leafcutter bees scramble all over the flowers they land on; the pollen they carry under their abdomen is loosely held, and it dusts each blossom, sharing the wealth (a honey bee wets the pollen so that it sticks to her legs better; the pollen she spreads is that which is caught on the hairs of her body).  Because leafcutter bees are homebodies, probably living their whole lives within 100 yards of their nest tunnels, the flowers they pollinate are neighborhood flowers. 

According to the US Agricultural Research Service, the efforts of one alfalfa leafcutter bee are equal to that of 20 honeybees, and in greenhouses, 150 leaf cutter bees = 3,000 honey bees.  They are important pollinators of crops from alfalfa to blueberries to sunflowers, and like honeybees, they are used commercially.  Farmers provide bee boards for the bees to nest in, shelter them during winter, and put them out for the next growing season.  

How can we help these very helpful, but unsung, creatures?  By not disturbing their nests (the BugLady doesn’t take in her wind chimes in winter, because so many things are nesting in it) and by hanging Bee Hotels, bundles of tubes, in your yard (here’s a bee using one https://bugguide.net/node/view/1879948/bgimage).  There are many designs available online for DIY folks, or you can buy them in garden stores.  Solitary bees are not aggressive, only stinging if you decide to handle one, and a leafcutter bee is more likely to bite than sting.  One source said that watching bee houses is as entertaining as watching bird houses! 

Awesome pictures at – https://www.flawildflowers.org/know-your-native-pollinators-leafcutter-bees/

Go outside – thank a pollinator!

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Bugs without Bios XVIII

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

IPSILON DART MOTH   

There’s actually plenty of information out there about the Ipsilon dart because its caterpillar loves to eat a variety of agricultural crops, but (except for one little twist) its biography is pretty straightforward.  It’s one of those species whose adult and larval stages have different names – caterpillars are called Floodplain/Black/Greasy cutworms (one source described the larvae as greasy-looking), and another name for the adults is Dark Sword Grass Moth.  It’s an Owlet moth (family Noctuidae) in the Cutworm/Dart moth subfamily Noctuinae, and its name comes from the roughly “Y’-shaped” markings on the wings and from a misspelling of the Greek letter upsilon, which corresponds with the letter “Y.”  

The Ipsilon dart (Agrostis ipsilon) is a native moth that’s found across the continent into southern Canada and that has traveled around the world (except for very hot or very cold locales).  It’s unwelcome wherever it goes because the caterpillar’s diet includes clover, corn, lettuce, potatoes, tobacco, alfalfa, strawberries, sorghum, sugar beets, cotton, and a variety of grains and grasses.  If the eggs hatch before the crops sprout, the larvae sustain themselves on non-native roadside weeds like pigweed and curly dock and then move into the fields when they’ve finished the “weeds.”  Adults feed on nectar.  Here’s the life cycle https://bugguide.net/node/view/1225712/bgimage

Although eggs are laid on low leaves, the caterpillars do their damage below the soil.  There are multiple generations per year in the South; one or two in the North; and the last brood overwinters as pupae.  And here’s the twist – in the northern half of its range, winters are too cold for the pupa to survive.  Adults from the final generation in the north head south to escape the cold (southbound moths don’t reproduce), and in spring, moths migrate north to escape the heat.  According to “Featured Creatures,” a great newsletter of the Entomology and Nematology Department of the University of Florida, “moths collected in the central region of USA in March and April are principally dispersing individuals that are past their peak egg production period. Nonetheless, they inoculate the area and allow production of additional generations, including moths that disperse north into Canada.”

ICHNEUMON ANNULATORIUS

There are so many Ichneumon wasps out there – according to bugguide.net, an estimated 60,000 species worldwide with possibly 40,000 more to discover and describe – so many species that even among those that are named, their life stories are incomplete.  They come in all sizes, shapes and colors; their larvae make a living by parasitizing other insects and even some spiders (and they tend to be very specific about their targets); and they (mostly) don’t sting. 

The BugLady was trying, unsuccessfully, to identify this handsome wasp; she finally asked for help (thanks, PJ), and it turned out to be an Ichneumon wasp.  The BugLady is disappointed that the shiny new wasp book she bought doesn’t cover the Ichneumons, but if it did, she probably couldn’t lift it. 

Ichneumon annulatorius (no common name) can be found in the northeastern quadrant of North America, from Newfoundland to Virginia to Iowa.  Not a lot is known about it, but some of its life history has been inferred from observations of its close relatives.   

In a 1971 article in the Ohio Journal of Science called “Hibernating Ichneumonidae of Ohio.”  Clement Dasch points out that in spite of the fact that ants, bumble bees, and some paper wasps overwinter as adults, hibernation is a relatively uncommon habit in the Hymenoptera (ants, bees, and wasps).  Yet, while looking for hibernating wasps in Ohio, 39 species of Ichneumonids were collected. 

Insects pick their hibernacula carefully, aiming for high humidity and minimal fluctuation in temperature (sunny spots are out).  Ichneumons most frequently chose places under the loose bark of fallen trees on north-facing (shaded) slopes, close to the ground, or in deep ravines.  Other sites included the soft, rotten wood of an old stump or dead wood that was heavily tunneled by other insects.  Some species – including Ichneumon annulatorius – liked thick growths of moss on rocks or trees.  Favorable sites often housed multiple wasps.  

Of the 5,275 wasps he collected, Dasch found only a single male – these species produce a single generation per year, and males died after mating in fall.  Pregnant females entered hibernation by late October and emerged in early April when the air temperatures stayed above freezing, and when they emerged they immediately looked for a host to lay eggs on/in.

GRACEFUL SEDGE GRASSHOPPER

The BugLady was in the Bog on a fine fall day in 2015 when she spotted this jumpy grasshopper on the boardwalk.  It allowed two pictures and then departed.  The BugLady searched unsuccessfully for a grasshopper with the combination of striped head and thorax, glorious red on the femur, and white band on the tibia, and she finally sent it out to a grasshopper expert (thanks Chuck!). 

The Graceful sedge grasshopper (Stethophyma gracile/gracilis), aka the Northern sedge grasshopper/locust (in the short-horned grasshopper family Acrididae) occurs across southern Canada and the northern US, as far south as New Jersey and Nebraska.  It was probably more common 100 years ago, and bugguide.net speculates that it “seems to have disappeared from much of its southern range.”  It’s considered widespread but local, favoring sedge meadows, brushy swamps, stream edges, and other sunny, wet areas, and in the West, it prefers cool uplands.  The grasshoppers live in and eat sedges.

According to an article called “The Orthoptera of North Dakota” in the Proceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia (Vol LXXXVII 1925), “it reaches maturity late in the season and is not apt to be found adult before the first of August……”though the males are active, fly vigorously and stridulate loudly, the heavier females are less easily found, then usually ready to leap down into the thickest tangle of grasses at the first alarm.”  The BugLady found an article that suggested that when male grasshoppers stridulate (make noise by rubbing one body part against another) they are more likely to be talking to other males than wooing females. 

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Bug o’the Week – Black Blow fly

Bug o’the Week

Early Summer Scenes the Dragonflies

Greetings, BugFans,

Spring was long and cool, an arrangement that the BugLady usually applauds (she savors every little step into spring, and she doesn’t like it when the phenology of six weeks is squished into one or two).  But this year bordered on the ridiculous.  Water warms slowly and steadily (those of us that live in the air often experience dramatic daily fluctuations), so a cold spring means that dragonfly and damselfly naiads, which grow up underwater, are slow to wake up and consume those final calories before emerging as adults.  All of which is a roundabout way of saying that dragonflies and damselflies have been a little late this year, but with some dedicated stalking, the BugLady found some cool things as summer neared, including many tender, young, recently-emerged odonates.

The family Calliphoridae (Blow flies) includes Carrion flies, Blow flies, Bluebottle and Greenbottle flies, Cluster flies, and the notorious Screwworm flies.  These often-metallically-colored flies are common in many habitats around the world, including urban areas, where they bask on sunny walls.  The name Blow fly (which was coined by William Shakespeare) comes from an old English term for meat that flies have laid eggs in – such meat was said to be “fly blown.” 

Most Calliphorid larvae (maggots) make their living as recyclers, which conjures up a more wholesome image than does saprophagous (feeding on decaying organic material) or sarcosaprophagous (“feeding on decaying animal material”) (to complete the set, scato/coprophagous refers to feeding on excrement and phytosaprophagous to feeding on rotting plant material.  Quadruple word scores all around).  Maggots eat dung and/or carrion, excreting proteolytic enzymes that break down its proteins, and a few species are parasites.  

Adult blow flies get carbs from nectar and are minor pollinators (they’re attracted to flowers with strong, “meaty,” odors), but they also visit carrion and dung to get protein.  The BugLady photographed one fly as it fed on sap that was leaking from the cut trunk of a small tree in early spring.   

In a blog post titled “Ten reasons why blow flies are stink’n awesome” from the Insect Ecology and Communication Lab at Ohio University, the author writes, “……All joking aside though, blow flies don’t really smell, it’s the resources they are associated with (garbage, poop, carrion, etc.) that smells. The purpose of this post is to make you fall in love with appreciate blow flies! Blow flies are considered filth flies because they are a terrible nuisance to people and are thought of as disease vectors.  Overall, blow flies have a bad reputation because of their less than socially approved eating habits (the BugLady is not going to list the ten – read the article https://bekkabrodie.com/2014/05/20/ten-reasons-why-blow-flies-are-stinkn-awesome/).  On the negative side – you know where that mouth and those feet have been.  On the plus side – they don’t bite.

Experienced BugFans can see where this is going.  The BugLady will try to tell the story as delicately as possible, but this lifestyle is just a part of the magnificent panoply that is the insect world and, well – blow flies happen.

THE BLACK BLOW FLY (Phormia regina), the only species in its genus, is a cold-loving fly that can be found across North America and around the world, especially in rural areas near water.  It’s seen more commonly during spring and fall in the northern half of its range, and in winter in the southern half.  In an article in the Martha’s Vineyard Times, Matt Pelikan (who writes nice natural history articles) says “Nobody seems to know where it originated; perhaps it had succeeded in colonizing much of the globe on its own even before human commerce began transporting wildlife from continent to continent. Or perhaps Phormia began hitching rides so early on in human history that it was already established most places by the time the first biologists turned up and began looking at flies.”

Both male and female Black blow flies need protein to fuel their mating and reproductive activities, and they get this protein from dung, which they ingest via “sponging” mouthparts.

Adults emerge from their winter shelters under tree bark and fallen leaves (sometimes putting in an appearance during a January thaw), and when the air warms consistently to about 50 degrees, the dance begins.  In the case of Black blow flies, the singles scene revolves around animal droppings, and males with larger hat sizes tend to be more successful at getting the gals.  After mating, the female “sniffs” the air, and tracks down some carrion.  Although adults get their nutrients from animal droppings, their eggs are laid on dead meat (up to 250 eggs, in various nooks and crannies).

The eggs hatch quickly in their meaty substrate; they have three instars (the eating stages between molts), and a feeding, metabolizing mass of third-stage maggots generates so much heat that the temperature within the mass can be 50 degrees F (or more) warmer than the ambient temperature.  It’s called the “maggot mass effect,” and it not only keeps everyone toasty, it gooses development and protects against predators and parasites.  The larvae survive the stress of this shot of heat by creating “heat shock proteins” (the BugLady was going to attempt a brief explanation of heat shock proteins, but she got into deep water pretty fast).  Maggots leave the nursery carcass and form pupal cases on the ground; their run from egg to pupa can be as brief as 6 days, with an additional week in the pupal case, but in cooler temperatures they may take up to 12 days longer to mature.  The faster their development is, the smaller the adults are. 

Sources disagreed about whether Black blow flies routinely come inside (most say no), but one suggested that if you see a cluster of blow flies in/around the house, they might be attracted to the odor of a gas leak.

Black blow flies are exquisitely sensitive to the smell of a recently dead animal.  They are among the first to arrive at the scene, which is why they are favorites of the CSI folks and why their chronologies have been so minutely charted. 

Another service provided by a number of blow flies, including the Black blow fly, is wound care (called biotherapy or maggot therapy).  Super-clean maggots are applied to open wounds with stubborn infections because those proteolytic enzymes break down the necrotic tissue for the maggots to eat and leave the healthy tissue alone.  Pick your blow flies carefully – some species (but not this one) sweeten the pot by adding antibiotic secretions to the wound, and other species will feed on healthy tissue.  Unwanted maggot infestations are called myiasis, and they happen to livestock (mostly), in warmer climes (mostly).  

Final Cool Fact about Blow Flies, from the Insect Ecology and Communication Lab “Blow flies are able to fly with such precision that we are never able to swat them.  This is because of the very tiny second pair of wings called halteres, which function like mini gyroscopes and help the fly to calculate in flight maneuver instantly.  Scientists use Blow flies to study flight muscles and split second flight maneuvers. They have discovered flies in mid-turn have the ability to roll on their sides 90º or more (flying upside down) just like a jet fighter.”

According to a 1922 report of the Kansas State Board of Health, “The robin and the bluebottle fly are the early harbingers of spring.”

Kate Redmond, The BugLady

Bug of the Week archives:
http://uwm.edu/field-station/category/bug-of-the-week/

Become a Member

Take advantage of all the benefits of a Riveredge membership year round!

Learn More