The Urban Pantheist

The last two in the project were flies pretending to be wasps. Hard for this one to pretend to be anything but what it is--the largest wasp in the northeast, or at least the longest. That thread protruding from her abdomen is her ovipositor, and it brings her length to about four inches. This is the giant ichneumon Megarhyssa macrurus. She'll stab that thing into a rotting stump right into the body of a pigeon horntail larva and deposit her egg. Her baby then feeds on the horntail baby and, as they say, the beautiful cycle of life continues.

Despite her warning coloration and her terrifying (to many people) appearance, the giant ichneumon is not at all harmful to humans.

Looking like a wasp is an adaptation assumed by many different species of flies. Looking like a really huge wasp is more rare, but this Mydas fly Mydas clavatus has it down. It has a wasplike flight and measures a full inch in length, making it one of the largest true flies around. Its larvae feed on beetle grubs in the soil, and adults visit flowers for nectar. It may look scary but its one of the most beneficial insects in the yard.

We wild-collected two Chinese mantis oothecae (egg masses--pronounced Oh oh thus see!) and kept them in a jar until they hatched.


Once they hatched we let the tiny predators out in the yard, focusing on plants damaged by grazing herbivores. This pathetic maple sapling has been reduced to mush by winter moth caterpillars and aphids. Go to work, babies!


There's something so endearing about these minuscule murderers.


Go forth little one! We'll collect your ootheca if you survive to make any.

Imagine my surprise, walking down the sidewalk in a small New England town in January, when encounter a large beetle. It was moving in a determined but unhurried manner. I recognized its strange shape--small front segments, big wide abdomen--from looking through beetle pics on bugguide. I guessed "blister beetle," and set upon handling it very carefully.


Blister beetles are named for their ability to exude a chemical that can cause chemical burns to human skin. This big one here is in the genus Meroe*, a group known as "oil beetles;" presumably the yellow hemolymph they ooze is more memorable for its alarming oily appearance then for blistering naturalists.

These beetles are noteworthy as well for their life cycle: a mobile larva hatches from the egg and makes it way up to a flower where it will hitch a ride on a non-colonial bee. Some oil beetles release a scent that attracts male bees. Then the "triangulin," as this life stage is known, gains entry to the bee's nursery. It metamorphoses into another intermediate stage, less motile and more suited to lazily consuming the fruits of the bee's labor. Eventually it becomes the glorious animal pictured here. As to why it was waltzing down Mountain Road in Suffield in the dead of winter, I blame Climate Change.

(thanks to ankhanu* Origin obscure, may come from early medical literature (the term melloes appears in the writings of Paracelsus);

There are only a handful of cockroach species that are adapted to live indoors with us. This one will only live indoors if the indoors in question contains warm humid air and moist soil with plants in it. Perhaps that explains the common name "greenhouse cockroach" Pycnoscelus surinamensis*. This species also goes by the name "Surinam cockroach," maintaining the long held tradition of naming pest roaches after places that are NOT where they came from.

Surinam roaches surely occur in Suriname (a former Dutch colony on the northeast coast of South America you goon), as they occur everywhere on earth with the conditions described above. They are thought to be native to Asia, down around Malaysia somewhere, and spread around the world with tropical plants. These roaches are burrowers, so it would be very easy for one or more to hide in the rootball of a Ficus or Lychee. And one is all that is needed to establish a colony, because these insects practice parthenogenesis--giving birth without sex. In fact, in North America, no one has yet found a male Surinam roach. A few have been found in Australia, but all female colonies appear to be the norm. The one pictured here is a wingless subadult; adult females grow tan wings over their dark brown abdomen.

*Thick-leg from Surinam

Weird growths on plants have always been fascinating to me. I was so happy when I learned that most of them are caused by animals! In this case, a very small fly--a midge called Polystepha pilulae*--laid her eggs in the flesh of this oak leaf. The tiny maggots hatched and began feeding, and the flesh of the leaf hardened around them, protecting them as they ate. Unless they were parasitized by a wasp, they will pupate in their galls and emerge as more tiny long-legged midges.


*Many crowned ball-maker

I described this moth as "trapezoidal," but I should have called its posture "soaring hawk." Many moths in this genus Eupithecia* rest this way, sometimes hiding the second pair of wings entirely behind the first. This is another moth that spent its youth as an inchworm, this one probably grazing on the amble pollen supplied by plants in the aster family. The smart money is on this being a "common Eupithecia," E. miserulata**

*Good ape. No, really.

** hoo boy I can't figure this one

These black midge-like flies were hovering all around the wet woods we were walking in northern Vermont. I swatted one out of the air with my hat--my favorite flying insect catch method, as it usually stuns but does not injure the insect. Getting a better look at the fly showed me that it wasn't a midge, but looked more like a March fly. But it was October.

March flies get that name because they suddenly appear in great numbers in early spring. The males hover in swarms over the places where the females emerge in anticipation of mating. A few species of "March flies" instead emerge in autumn, including the male fly pictured here Bibio slossonae.*



*Bibio is a Latin word that suggests an insect that is generated by wine--perhaps more fitting for Drosophila. The species name is in honor of entomologist Annie Trumbull Slosson.

The St Louis Zoo's insectarium was very impressive. Check out this climbing structure for the leafcutter ants!


Plants were provided for the ants to cut up and bring to their fungus farm.

( for the unsqueamish )

This lupine bug Megalotomus quinquespinosus* is trying to trick me by sitting on a milkweed plant, instead of any legume. Normally this bug sticks its beaklike mouth into the seeds of lupines, soybeans, and others. Thinking back on it, the only conspicuous legumes around were honey locust trees. Sources also list sumac (a non-legume) as a host plant, and there is plenty of that in the highly-disturbed, partially paved area where I found this bug.

Apparently this plant eating bug benefits from its passing resemblance to the predatory assassin bugs. I presume that the distinctive white band on its antennae signals this misapprehension.



*Best as I can tell, Megalotomus means "big section" referring to the broad head of this insect; Quinquespinosus means "5 spines."