Monthly Archives: July 2010

Moulting walkingstick

walkingstick with shed exoskeleton

Regular readers will have likely noted that my posts have been a little bit sparse recently. This is not for any lack of possible content or interest in my part – I have quite an assortment of photos sitting on my hard drive that I’ve taken over the last few weeks and would have made for good posts. Mostly it’s just been that time has been short. I expect it to become shorter still, as we come up on the manuscript deadline for the field guide to moths and my co-author Dave and I work diligently to make sure we’ve got all the pieces pulled together. I’ve been thinking for a while that I may need to put the blog on a semi-hiatus for the final month. I won’t shut down altogether, but I will probably only be posting once a week. Once the material has been submitted, at the beginning of September, I should be able to resume my normal posting schedule. So I hope you’ll all bear with me till then. (Incidentally, although we submit the material in about a month, the book itself will be another year and a half before it hits shelves – this is because of the time required for editing and layout and proofing and everything else that goes into producing a book, which, it turns out, is all rather more time-consuming than I’d realized.)

Today’s photos were taken at our Blue Lakes MAPS station this past week. It’s a Northern Walkingstick, Diapheromera femorata, which just recently emerged from and is still clinging to its freshly-moulted exoskeleton. Dan actually found it hanging from a shrub beside the path; he finds a lot of my most interesting critters. Walkingsticks don’t have distinct larval and adult stages; instead, they hatch from the egg resembling a miniature adult, and just grow larger with each successive moult. This individual is a male, I think, as determined by its “twigginess” (females are stockier in build). I posted about walkingsticks a couple of autumns ago when I had one arrive at my moth trap one night. You can read the original post here.

walkingstick with shed exoskeleton

Biothon moths

Hunting for insects

A self-portrait (posed, of course) of me in "action" for the biothon, equipped with my sweep net and my favourite field guide.

Last weekend was the first annual Frontenac Biothon, a bio-blitz fundraiser event for Frontenac Bird Studies, which Dan runs. We had a team of five people – Dan and myself, and three friends of ours from the Toronto area – out to Frontenac Provincial Park for our 24-hour count. We booked a couple of campsites at the north end of the park, which were canoe-access only, and operated as our “home-base” for the biothon. While we fell just short of our target of 500 species (our final tally was 441), I think everyone had a great weekend (I sure did), and we learned lots that will help make future editions even more successful. If you’re interested in reading a bit more about the biothon as a whole you should check out the summary Dan did at the Frontenac Birds blog.

Examining a blacklit moth sheet

Me checking out the blacklit sheet (photo by Julia Marko Dunn, one of our biothoners)

As the member of the team with the most experience with invertebrates, I was heading up the six-legged component of the bio-blitz. I spent the afternoons trying to wrangle up a good selection of bugs, and while I could probably have done a bit better if I’d been in more open/meadow habitat than in the forest area where I was, I still got a reasonably decent list. My biggest contribution, however, was through my moth light. I brought my blacklight and sheet, and we lugged in one of those self-contained emergency batteries to power it for a few hours (no mean feat as those things weigh several pounds). We got about 60 species of moths, give or take a few, which I was fairly satisfied with considering we only ran the light for a couple of hours and just had the low-wattage blacklight, not my mercury-vapour.

Since we didn’t have a cooler to place them in I didn’t bother saving anything till the morning. The shots aren’t great, as a result, but they were just for sharing here anyway.

Imperial Moth

Imperial Moth. This was the largest moth species that we had come to the sheet, and the only silkmoth species. I think by the time we shut the light off there were three or four of them. Quite impressive, but they kept fluttering up and down the sheet and disturbing the other stuff that’d settled there. The bug beside this one is a caddisfly.

Harris's Three-spot

Harris’s Three-spot. This was my favourite of the evening, and its eye-catching pattern meant it also appealed to the other non-moth’ers in our group. I’ve only caught this species there at the park – besides at the biothon, I got a couple of individuals at our lake house our first summer there.

Brown Scoopwing

Brown Scoopwing. These guys are always neat to see come in, they have such a unique shape. There’s also a Gray Scoopwing in our area, but I believe those are the only two species. Hard to mistake it for anything else.

7906 - Datana contracta - Contracted Datana

There were two species of Datana that came in, at least that I could identify as separate species: Contracted Datana, above, and Walnut Caterpillar Moth, below. We have six species of Datana included in our field guide to moths, and they all look very similar to each other. Another caddisfly joining the moth in the photo below.

7907 - Datana integerrima - Walnut Caterpillar Moth

Monarchs

monarchs mating

A couple of days ago I’d stepped out into the front yard to hang out a few items to dry, and as I was standing there I was passed by a large, fluttering shape. It took me a few moments to register what it was. It fluttered rather like a butterfly, but the creature seemed to be carrying something. When it came round and passed by me again I realized that it was, in fact, a butterfly, and it was indeed carrying something. It was a pair of Monarchs, locked in copulation. The male was fluttering about while the female dangled below him, her wings folded as he flew so as not to interfere. I watched them for a bit, and after a couple of loops around the yard they finally settled low on the spruce tree, and I dashed for my camera.

I have noticed several Monarchs already this summer, though this is the first mating pair I’ve seen. I’ve been delighted by their abundance. Our fields here around the house are stuffed with milkweed, the greatest density of the plant that I’ve seen anywhere. On a warm summer evening, with a light breeze blowing through the flowers, the deliciously sweet scent is almost heady. Last summer, when we’d first moved in, I’d regarded those fields with great anticipation of the abundance of Monarch butterflies that we would have, and, especially, Monarch caterpillars, which I had never seen. If I was exceptionally lucky, perhaps we’d even find a chrysalis. But all last summer I saw only two or three individuals. I found only a single caterpillar.

Common Milkweed, Asclepias syriaca

The fact that I’ve seen better numbers this year is encouraging to me, especially since reports out of the south after this winter suggested that the Monarch population really took a hit this year due to severe weather and threats from deforestation, and might even be at the lowest levels in over three decades, with the overwintering masses filling only a quarter of their usual acreage. And as if that weren’t enough of a challenge, increases in recent years in the use of herbicides in agriculture here in North America, eliminating milkweed from fields and reducing the amount of hostplant available to monarchs, might also have an effect on populations.

I am sure that over the long history that Monarchs have been wintering in these restricted areas of Mexico this isn’t the first year that they’ve been affected by storms and other weather phenomena that have hammered populations. The difference is that ordinarily they could bounce quickly back because that was the only challenge that faced them. Now they’ve got habitat loss through development and herbicides with which to contend, and whether they recover or not is as much up to us as it is to nature herself.

They have a safe haven here, at least, a veritable milkweed paradise.

Deerflies

deerfly, Chrysops sp

I bet you thought that if you’ve seen one deerfly, you’ve seen them all, right? Would it surprise you, then, to learn that there are some 100 species of deerfly in North America alone? Of course, when they’re swirling about your head it’s hard to tell one from another, and you’re probably not looking too closely at them after you’ve squished them, either. You can buy “deer fly patches” in outdoor-recreation supply stores, found in the same aisle as the bug spray, and these are great tools for examining deerflies more closely. They function like double-sided duct-tape, with one side affixed to the back of your cap where the deerflies like to land, and the exposed side flesh-coloured to attract the bugs (who naturally target the back of the head, where it’s harder for animals to smack them). Of course, they’re designed primarily with bug-relief in mind, but that doesn’t mean you can’t apply your entomological curiosity to the catch, too.

deerfly, Chrysops sp

I first noticed that not all of the deerflies landing on my deerfly patches looked the same while out doing MAPS last summer. Some days, when the bugs were really bad, we’d get upwards of 30 or 40 trapped on the patch over a morning. Dan topped out with around 85 crammed onto the thing at once, one particularly buggy day. With that many side-by-side you can really begin to notice the subtle differences. For instance, the top photo is of a very yellow individual with a yellow-and-black thorax and distinct black markings on the abdomen. The second photo, meanwhile, shows an individual with a grayish thorax and thick black markings on the abdomen. Some deerflies have iridescent-red eyes, while others have iridescent-green. Even size varies a little, with some individuals noticeably larger or smaller than others. Nearly all of them are contained in the genus Chrysops, and have the black bands on the wings, and a yellow abdomen with black markings.

deerfly, Chrysops cincticornis

Last week at our Maplewood Bog MAPS site I discovered this very distinct deerfly stuck to Dan’s hat. I’d never seen one so dark before, so it caught my eye. Looking closer, I noticed it had fuzzy orange shoulders and bright red eyes. I stole Dan’s hat (temporarily) so I could get a few photos of it; it was too bad I only had my wide-angle lens with me, so I couldn’t get a crisp macro shot of it.

deerfly, Chrysops cincticornis

I looked it up when I got home. It was easy to find in BugGuide’s list of deerfly species, as it was the only one that was dark with orange shoulders. This is Chrysops cincticornis. BugGuide has ten photos of the species in their database, all of which are from Ontario and New England, and all of them taken in June. The page offers no information on the life history of the species, and I could find little else (at least in a quick search) on the web. The two pages with actual information indicated that they lay their eggs on certain species of rushes, sedges and grasses in groups of (on average) 215 eggs, and their main flight season in Maine is from the third week of June through the second week of July.

Sunday Snapshot – Snorkeling

snorkler in Frontenac Provincial Park

Seen while out doing our bioblitz at Frontenac Provincial Park this weekend. He had the canoe tied to his waist with a rope and was paddling along with flippers and a snorkel. Never once saw him take his face out of the water. Seems like a great way to spend a hot afternoon.