A post about posts...trippy

October was a busy month for BugsIRL! Four posts, hundreds of visitors (averaging about 60/week), and new visitor-countries added to my map-app (which I'm inexplicably nuts-o about and hope to have some version of this visible to the public at some future time).

The bug-finding season is winding down here in the mid-Atlantic. There will almost definitely be some hold-outs in basements, potted plants and around poorly insulated spots on siding or doors, among other places (a valuable skill that most bugs would put on their tiny resumes: surviving).

As my own larva gestates and continues crowding out my wife's organs and digestive gutty-works, I plan to spend more time prepping for his arrival (and subsequent pupal stage...or would he be more of a pupa right now?) and having less time to write the long (Mother Jones magazine called them "Epic!") posts you've gotten used to. Although I'll continue updating the site with some regularity, the frequency will likely decrease below weekly and the posts will likely become shorter - or perhaps the posting frequency has already fallen below weekly (I've got a month to play through Halo 4 (which is beautiful, BTW), then it's dipe's & wipes, drool & stool, meconium & pandemonium). In addition, I hope to spend some time cleaning up the blog's non-bug bugs (e.g., pictures spilling outside the reading area, links that aren't, buttons that don't always work).

Also, I need to do something about my photo gallery. I've run out of space and am not sure I want to upgrade to the paid-version of Flickr...Does anyone have a suggestion for another place to place these? Anyone have thoughts on Pintrest (did I even spell that right?)? I have pictures of enough bugs to last through some time next summer, assuming weekly posts.

So since this is not a very bug-ful post, here are some teasers for future posts: a literary collaboration between the Black Widow and Steve Harvey, the mediocre music and flight skills of John Denver and Cicadas, the Leaf Hopper that auditioned to be on Flava-Flav's "Flava of Love", and (breaking from the site's usual taxonomic focus) the acrobatic affairs and trapeze trysts of Leopard Slugs. I also have ID requests to post on a big, country spider and a fancily adorned assassin bug.

Thanks for reading and keep visiting for more buggy action!

The Bold Jumping Spider

Happy Halloween, from all of us at BugsIRL, including Phidippus audax - the Bold Jumping Spider!

My wife and I went out with friends last Saturday night for Halloween revelry. My wife was a Honey Bee (Apis mellifera) and I was a bee-keeper (Homo sapiens). Our costumes were great (if I do say so, myself), especially my wife's! But the best costume was a friend we went out with who dressed up as the character Mugatu, from the movie Zoolander. The bar awarded him both funniest and best over-all costume - he even beat the sexy nurse, the sexy zombie nurse, the sexy zombie soccer player, the sexy Betty Page (probably non-zombie), the sexy Snow White, sexy Sriracha bottles, sexy Freddy Krueger, and the sexy Jesus! Quite a win!

A good time was had by almost all (maybe the world just isn't ready for a sexy Jesus) and Disney's Gaston (as in: no one's quick as, no one's slick as, no one's neck's as incredibly thick as...), from Beauty & the Beast, even taught some of us how to Dougie. But there were also scary costumes: the drunk girl with the messed up makeup (in hindsight, this may not have been a costume), the guy in a black Morphsuit (for not apparent reason), the sexy Elmo, and the werewolf (I won't lie, sexy Jesus was also a little bit scary looking). But you know who would NOT have been scared of all those creepers? Phidippus audax: the Bold Jumping Spider - that's who!

I met the lovely lady pictured at the top of this post a few weeks ago in my garden, admiring my eggplants (no, really). If you check out the pics in my Flickr photogallery, you'll notice that she has orange spots on her abdomen - these will turn white once she's all grown. But despite her age, she was as brave as can be. I particularly like the picture at the top though, because it's one of the few I took where she was actually looking into the lens of my digital microscope. In almost all the other pictures, she's looking off to the side, making eye contact with me instead of the lens (making eye contact is typical of jumping spiders, especially Bold Jumpers)! After I took this picture, I actually left it maximized on my computer screen so that my wife would happen upon it. She did, and despite her initial shock, she later conceded that the spider was "actually sort of cute."

Campaign Poster #1 - Take a bold leap forward. Elect
Phidippus audax.

So I mentioned that the Bold Jumping Spider's scientific name is Phidippus audax. Audax is, of course the Latin word for "bold" that also gives us (that is, English speakers - suck it, Uzbekistan!) words like audacious, audacity, and other words that one might use to describe someone who took a half-step forward and kept talking after the Queen had clearly taken a half-step back (and this is why we never got invited back to the palace, Dad!). But according to my Latin-English dictionary, audax can also be used to mean things like "rash" and "foolhardy". Come to think of it, (because it's election season), "rash" and "foolhardy" might be words that you're currently using to describe the guy you're not voting for. Instead, you're probably smart enough to cast your ballot for the guy boldly putting forth bold plans for bold action...or whatever. If only there was a legitimate third party choice! Hmmm, maybe there's some other
candidate who might grace us with an election bid...

Campaign Poster #2 - Upwards & Onwards. Achieve the
future with P. audax's bold vision for a brighter tomorrow!

You can probably tell from these totally legit campaign posters at right that P. audax is a serious candidate for voting. BTW, if you start seeing campaign ads that say "P. audax", followed by "Chris Christie" in a smaller, Jokerman font, you'll know that the Bold Jumper has chosen her running mate.

So speaking of politics and Halloween (poliween?): while I was out cheering for my friend at the costume contest, something reminded me that I live in a swing state. No, it wasn't the girl dressed up as a sexy "binder full of women" - it was that, all night long, the TVs at the bar showed Hurricane Sandy coverage punctuated by political ads...at a bar!...on Halloween!

So even though she made a campaign stop at my house, I probably won't be writing in Phidippus audax on my ballot this week. I have made up my mind, but I have to say that I'm a little miffed. Apparently, neither presidential candidate is that interested in my vote. As a registered-Independent voter in a critical swing state, I haven't received a single piece of targeted mail (no, Candidate Robamney, "Current Resident" will not be reading your non-specific postcard) and I haven't received a single phone call (except for people wanting my wife to take a survey...Sweetheart, please don't give President Obama my cell phone number again).

During our time together, I found this Bold Jumping Spider to be very friendly (I think...how do you tell if a spider is being friendly?). I've read that Bold Jumpers will tolerate some handling and can even make good pets - not exactly a talking parrot, but probably more engaging than a sea urchin. I don't need any more pets (and I don't think P would tolerate a new social dynamic): I found her in the wilds of my garden, so that's where I returned her. As for handling her, I did seriously consider this (I wouldn't normally consider this because I'm neither an arachnologist nor a psychopath). In fact, most of the pictures of her were taken without the lid on the container. My reasons for ultimately not handling her though, fell somewhere between uncertainty that I could do so without hurting her and a level of boldness that fell short of hers. Besides, the Secret Service doesn't like people pawing the future POTUS.


All I need is a beat that's super bumpin' and for you, you, you to back it up and dump it. Put your arms out front, lean side-to-side. They gon' be on you when they see you hit dat Dougie, right?
 - Cali Swag District, 2010

The Crane Fly

Way back in the day, Shakespeare said that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. You probably recognize this as a quote from a play about two infatuated rich kids who make a suicide pact because their parents don't get along (for some reason, their respective servants also don't like each other). Hey teenagers: want to get Ro-Ro & J-WoW banned from your school? Tell an administrator that Tybalt and Mercutio were BULLYING each other! I have a hard time with the idea that Shakey (or the woman who wrote all his plays - whoa!) was oblivious enough to the power of suggestion to really believe that anyone would make a bouquet out of "rotty fart-nettles" or "dookie-stink flowers" if the word "rose" had instead been passed over. Some other flowers you don't often see on the florist's delivery list: monkey-faced pansies (in flower-language, these say it's not you, it's me...in that I don't find you attractive), black-eyed susans (sorry about our last fight), bleeding hearts (everyone is entitled to their opinions and you are apparently entitled to the wrong ones), naked ladies (let's not make this relationship into more than it is), and cock's combs (the pharmacy sells a shampoo that'll clear that right up). However, I do think that a 13 year old rich girl with feud-prone (and dowry-hungry?) parents in an environment where gangs of other well-heeled teenagers walk around with swords and kill each other (sometimes for pretty minor slights) might be misguidedly idealistic enough to believe this.

I have many nicknames, but I prefer to be called Crane Fly. You
know, like the bird? You might notice that I'm one leg short of a
six-pack. This is the result of a defensive strategy called autotomy,
where limbs are easily detatched. I assure you that the
photographer had nothing to do with this, though.

Like flowers, names also affect how people view bugs (is it a Roly-Poly or a Woodlouse?). In my opinion, one of the most interesting instances of bug name-confusion is that of the "Daddy Long-Legs." Due to the magic of time, geography, and linguistic evolution in general, the term "Daddy Long-Legs" is used to identify 3 very different bugs (perhaps more?).

I grew up using "Daddy Long Legs" to refer to Harvestmen. If you're not familiar with these creatures, here are some quick facts. Their chelicerae (the stumpy face-arms that spiders' fangs are mounted on) typically bear tiny crabby-claws instead of fangs. Taxonomically, they're Opiliones - they're typically considered to be more closely related to mites and scorpions than spiders. Relative to their body length, they have some of the longest penises in the animal kingdom - like a bunch of little Ron Jeremys. And since you won't stop asking me about Harvestman penises, the (inherently incomplete) fossil record has Harvestmen as the first land animals to dress to the left or right.

 

So, obviously, I didn't take this lovely photo of a

Harvestman. I realize that it's kind of lame to use a

ShutterStock photo here and I think my laziness may

have offended some Harvestmen who don't deserve

the injustice of my neglect. It's worth noting though,

that the returns from searching ShutterStock for

"Harvestman" include a picture of a Crane Fly and a

picture of a Cellar Spider at the bottom of the first page

and searching for "Daddy Long Legs" returns this

pic followed by three pics of Crane Flies.



We Cellar Spiders don't have as many nicknames as
Crane Flies. But we do have other things going for
us - for example, haunting your nightmares!
Picture, if you will, you're a 10 year old you, holding
hands with your elementary school crush...something
catches your eye...when you look back over, you're
now holding hands with a giant ME! But your legs
aren't working and I'm about to go CRAZY!
Sweet dreams!

But as it turns out, not everyone who says "Daddy Long Legs" is referring to Harvestmen. This term can also refer to Cellar Spiders (Pholcids, such as the female Pholcus phalangioides shown at right) and Crane Flies. This over-use of a silly name has had the obvious result: confusion.

One of the most widely known bug myths is that Harvestmen ("Daddy Long Legs") are actually the most poisonous types of spiders, but their fangs are too small to bite people. This is wrong for at least two reasons - which would normally make it right, especially if you're discussing current events with someone who gets all their news from a source that seeks to merely validate the existing opinions of its target audience. The first reason is that Harvestmen aren't spiders, don't have fangs, and aren't poisonous - this myth actually is about Cellar Spiders, but it's been applied to Harvestmen. A version of this myth has also been applied to Crane Flies, but to a much lesser extent. The second reason is that, even if you're talking about Cellar Spiders, it's incorrect. In the early 20th Century, it was reasoned, rather than researched, that because Cellar Spiders commonly eat other spiders, they must be the most venomous (the venomousest?). As it turns out, their venom works well enough to get the job done on spiders and other basement bugs, but is fairly innocuous to people. Further, an adult's fangs are able to bite and deliver that venom to a human. 


When it comes to biting, Crane Flies are also often misunderstood. Many people reason that since they look like giant mosquitoes, they must be capable of giving you a giant mosquito-bite. Luckily, if you're bite-prone like me, this is very incorrect. Crane Flies do not have biting, piercing or siphoning mouth parts (they also don't have French-kissing mouth parts, but don't ask my how I know this...). Most Crane Flies do not eat at all as adults. The relative few that do eat as adults prefer flower nectar to blood.

But back on the naming thing - when it comes to strange nicknames, Crane Flies should win some sort of award. The most common pseudonyms I've come accross for Crane Flies include "Mosquito Hawk," "Skeeter Eater" and similar variations. "Skeeter Eater" is just misleading since, if they eat anything at all, it isn't mosquitos. I kind of like "Mosquito Hawk," but this name can also be misleading. A less common name is "Gallinipper." I'm not sure if this name is supposed to imply that Crane Flies bite chickens or just that they're bird-sized mosquitoids, but it's a funny one. Another name, which I suspect evolved from "Gallinipper," is "Gollywhopper." Gee-willikers - I think maybe Dennis the Menace froze a "Gollywhopper" into an ice cube to plant in Mr. Wilson's lemonade! This, of course, would have landed him straight in juvie. There are many species of large Crane Flies, like the one photographed here. But there are also many species of small, more mosquito-sized Crane Flies. Because of many of these small species' flight patterns and habit of dancing around like a little kid who has to pee, once they land, they're sometimes known as "Bobbing Gnats." Their subterranean, often semi-aquatic, larvae also go by a unique name: Leatherjackets. If you do a Google search for "leatherjacket," big-G will insist that surely you would prefer to see "leather jacket." But a few pics of these lovely little goons will still pop up among candid shots of Georgina Sparks and Nicole Richie.

This Crane Fly is definitely from the genus Tipula, but it's definitely not T. oleracea or T. paludosa - which are two common pest species imported from Europe. The larvae of these species (which look like leathery grubs) feed on the roots of grasses and cereals. By cereals, I mean things like barley and wheat - not so much Cookie Crisp. Speaking of which, did you ever actually try to eat the "balanced breakfast" that General Mills would flash at you? Most kids simply can't eat that much food (needed to offset the bowl full of cookies that jr. just ate for breakfast) because most kids simply shouldn't be eating Cookie Crisp (cue: childhood obesity). And since we're talking about our various Cookie Crisp grievances, the Cookie Crook (maybe his dog Chip, too) needs to get a life coach or something, because nothing about his M.O. makes sense (why are you always trying to steal cookies from a police officer?!). Identifying Crane Flies to the species level can be difficult because there are so very many of them (500-1000 North American species). Some of them are more easily identifiable by unique markings or bright colors, but that's not the case for this one. He's a pretty good match for a male Tipula paterifera (wing venation, number & color of antenna segments, body coloration & markings, thoracic architecture, layout of facial features, etc.), but he could be a better match for something else and I'm not going to attempt a more definitive classification.

The halteres act as vibrational gyroscopes. During flight, the Crane
Fly flaps them vigorously, causing them to vibrate. Like a spinning
gyroscope's angular momentum causes it to resist off-axis
movement, vibrational waves carry a sort of angular momentum,
as well. They typically vibrate their halteres so that each one's axis
of vibration is perpendicular to the other and the length of the fly.
Think of looking into the fly's face - from this view, each haltere
will vibrate along the shape of a backslash or forward-slash...Now
that you're all asleep, I'll be quietly robbing you...and apparently
making a public, internet confession! Dang-it! Total Cookie Crook
move!

One cool thing you might notice in some of these pictures are the little doo-dads poking out where the Crane Fly's hind wings are supposed to be. These are called halteres. They're common to all flies and their kin, and are believed to be evolved from the hind wings of some ancestral bug. Crane Flies have exaggeratedly long halteres to match their other exaggerated proportions. Crane Flies are not considered to be good fliers (especially compared to some of their future-tech-packed relatives, such as House Flies), but they do better than one would otherwise expect. This is because the halteres aid greatly in flight stabilization  especially in controlling pitch and yaw (for you aviation enthusiasts).

So now that you're no longer afraid of Crane Flies or Harvestment ("fear, itself!" Am I right, FDR? Up top!) you can now go out and appreciate these more. The one I caught is a bit drab, but the close-up view is pretty interesting. You can check out more pics of this Crane Fly, including some even closer up, in my Flickr photogallery. Unfortunately, you might also be more afraid than you were before of Cellar Spiders. Despite their not-very-vemomousness, this probably isn't a bad thing because they're creepers. When I imagine what kinds of things they would say, it's usually some superposition of The White Cobra (who threatened to always be lurking just out of sight, on a season 23 SNL skit) and The Gravemind (the malevolent "monument to all your sins" who spoke only in rhyme, in the Halo videogames). I'll eventually get around to doing a full post on them.

Thanks for reading! Comments always appreciated!

They call me quiet girl. But I'm a riot, yeah. Maybe Jolisa - that's not my name! That's not my name!

 - The Ting Tings, 2008

The Blacktailed Red Sheetweaver

The Blacktailed Red Sheetweaver is a very small (~3mm), strange looking spider and their long name reflects this. They have a black tubercle (bump) at the end of their abdomens and their red jammies are quite striking. The crimson may look good on me (despite my wife's insistence that I should dress for my winter-spring skin palette), but it doesn't make for good camouflage in grasses and shrubbery (click the link!). Maybe their small size and the fact that they're passive hunters eliminates the need for much camouflage. The fact-checkers are telling me that this is the first spider I've written about who is a passive hunter, so let me explain this. A passive hunter is one that lies in wait for its prey, rather than going out and chasing it down. Blacktailed Red Sheetweavers have an interesting web design - no flying toasters or flashing text (When was the last time you read a book on web design, Brian? 1998!?).  Their webs are made up of randomly-strung stopping-strands above a loosely woven sheet. The stopping strands knock little bugs out of the air and onto the top of the sheet, through which, they are bitten by the upside-down hanging spider (this is OK though, as nothing done through a hole in this sheet actually counts). The Blacktailed Red Sheetweaver actually spends most of its life upside down - you'll notice this in this post's pictures, as well as the pictures in their Flickr photo-set (I didn't just rotate them weird).


For a single girl, Florinda thought she had it all: a web all her own in a trendy
part of the lawn, all the gnats and little flies that she could eat (pictured!), and
her dream job writing for a women's-interest magazine. But she was about to
find out how much more there is to life! Because a chance meeting with Mr. Right
is about to turn her whole world upside down. When an impulse wedding leads
to a high-profile photo shoot and instant internet stardom, they just might find
that their spacious web in a high rise pepper plant gets a little too small for their
egos!...Starring: Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones!


The Blacktailed Red Sheetweaver, or Florinda coccinea, is not considered to be a common spider species. Before last summer, I had never seen them in my yard or garden (yarden?). So I believe that the female I saw in my lawn in July is the same female that had shacked up in my Jamaican Hot Scotchbonnet pepper plant in August.

As spider species go, males are either about the same size as females, or the males are much smaller (those guys prefer a woman with some meat). For a female spider, it's common for a similarly sized male to make its own web adjacent to her's, or for a tiny male to live in the female's web - mostly on the periphery. But it's not common for a male and a female of similar size to share a web and truly cohabitate. By cohabitating, I mean that the male shares the web for a longer term than courting and mating requires, and it's not just her web that he's crashing in - he actually takes some responsibility for constructing, cleaning and maintaining the web (uncommon, am I right ladies!?). But this is the case for the Blacktailed Red Sheetweaver.

As I observed this pair last August, it occurred to me that, although they were living together, the female wasn't wearing a ring. This concerned me greatly because, not only were they living in sin, but they were also overpaying in income tax by not being able to take advantage of the joint-filer deduction! So, having become an ordained minister in the online Universal Life Church some years ago, I performed their marital rites (I'm pretty sure I had their permission) with the family of (already married) Mourning Doves (probably mourning their loss of independence, am I right guys!?) that live under my porch as witnesses. With that out of the way, I put them into a container so that I could observe them more and get some good pics of them (honeymoon pics?).



The female Blacktailed Red Sheetweaver pictured above wants to try out some
new coloration this season. She looks in her closet every morning and sighs over
her form-flattering, but monochromatic, wardrobe. Plus, that B* (or is she a bee?)
that she's always in competition with at the magazine she writes for just wrote an
article saying that black spots were 2000-and-late!



I've found that many web building spiders have a hard time walking on flat surfaces. But usually when I see this, it's a large female spider with a huge abdomen that she can't lift (the phrase of the week is: Yo mamma's butt is sooooo big, that when she sits down...she gets taller! I hope you liked that one because you'll probably hear this phrase again in a future post). I don't believe that this was the case for these two, but they had a hard time getting their footing. I ended up adding some natural material to their photo-booth container and giving them some time to web-up their new scaffolding. When I returned, I found them settled in and upside down in their newly-webbed  container (because they were just married...you might need to say that out loud to get it).

But I believe that these two spiders were in the middle of a little spat. Now as anyone who's lived with a significant other knows, it's not always as pleasant and agreeable as what was depicted in The Honeymooners - with their frequent, romantically-charged discussions about space travel and lunar exploration (perhaps this is not the timeliest reference...you might have to ask your parents about this joke. Better yet, ask your grandparents. If Mee-maw & Pappy aren't still with us or aren't from here, your best bet will be any white person in a retirement home - they'll know what's up). So I was doing that awkward thing where you're obviously standing right there but you're pretending not to hear the fight that's going on next to you, hoping that the bickering couple will realize how rude they're being...Anyway, the gist was that she was upset about having to move to a new place without a lot of notice and, of course, she wanted (him) to repaint it. But neither of them really knew how long they would be there for - blah, blah, blah. Eventually I just tried to tune it out. But I could tell that the Mourning Doves felt super awkward.



The male Blacktailed Red Sheetweaver pictuerd above doesn't understand why
the female wants to go and spend a bunch of money on a whole new wardrobe.
He thinks she looks great in what she has! And besides, crimson with a black
dot is the look that defines the spider he fell in love with...But when was the last
time he told her so?



Then, at some point, I accidentally jostled their circular container and one of them started running along the web spun around the edge. He ran around the circle until he got close to his wife, where he stopped. But then she started running the same circuit. They did this about 10 times - each one successively running around the same track while the other waited in place. They looked like a Newton's Cradle pendulum or like they were practicing for a relay race (but there was no batton - far out!). They may have just been disagreeing on who had to sleep on the couch, but continually running away and avoiding each other is a tiresome way to not resolve a fight.

All that running was really making it hard for me to take good pictures. So I eventually butted in and told them their business.

Enter: Brian, Bug Therapist

So we all sat down and I played marriage counselor. At first, they both said the standard stuff: she thought marriage would be different and he thinks she's changed, he thinks she spends too much money but she feels like he doesn't treat her like a partner financially, you know. So we ended up having one of those long Venus & Mars, Love & Respect, 5 Love Languages discussions. By the time I let them go, I think they were finally ready to stop holding each other accountable for their own baggage, they were able to articulate their expectations to one another (guys - nothing helps a woman understand what's important to you like saying nothing; ladies - nothing helps a man appreciate your expectations like griping to your girlfriends), and rather than treating each other how they would want to be treated, they finally started treating each other how the other wanted to be treated (I am so Steve Carell!...Why isn't anyone laughing? Oh, I guess no one saw Hope Springs. I mean, I didn't. But I heard that Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones were adorable together).

All I want for my birthday is a big-booty ho
 - Tauheed Epps (AKA: 2 Chainz, formerly Tity Boy)

The Salt-Marsh Caterpillar

Turning away for a picture is so hipster-emo. The only
way you could have squeezed more emo juice out of that
hipster rutabaga (a very indie & authentic root vegetable,
indeed) is if you had taken the pic yourself!

Despite the title, this week's post is not about a caterpillar - it's about a moth...a moth with a sort of Failure To Launch dilemma. If you didn't see Failure To Launch (and I'm sure many of you didn't), the gist is this. An aging Matthew McConaughey (still riding high from his critically acclaimed success, Tiptoes) is a 35 year old who lives in his parents' basement. Greatly chagrined, his parents (how long did it take them to notice that their son was 35?) hire a sort-of life-lessons educator/con-woman to give him some confidence and get him out of their house. This strategy gets Matt's dad (played by Terry Bradshaw, who is theatrically out of his element when he's not doing Shakespeare) off the hook for actually having to talk to his son. The film's educatrix is played by an unfortunately Sarah-Jessica-Parker-like Sarah Jessica Parker. SJP's teaching style (which I presume that she drew from her experience delivering thermodynamics lectures on 3-2-1 Contact!) is basically to trick the mark into thinking that they're dating. Also, Bradley Cooper stepped out of his comfort-zone to play a DB...but the details aren't that important. Basically, Failure To Launch is about a grown-up who hasn't grown up - he still identifies and lives more or less like an adolescent. I know I'm breaking with tradition here, by referencing a lousy film that I haven't seen. But if I had to guess (and I am informed that I, in fact, do have to guess), I'd posit that Failure ends with some personal growth and Matt & Sarah working things out...probably in a fairly unrealistic way (a cursory look at the film's Wikipedia entry seems to confirm this). I'd also bet that the personal growth didn't even require Gary Oldman to scootch around on his knees while trying to make his arms look shorter - because there are apparently no actual little people who are interested in acting (I know it's tough to make a Tiptoes reference when no one - at all - has seen Tiptoes, but I think I got the point across).

You may recall from my September 2012 post on the Hickory Horned Devil (NYT called it "compelling") that some caterpillars are so unique that they get their own name, separate from the moth or butterfly that they pupate into. But most caterpillars, like the Tiger Swallowtail caterpillar, just go by the name of their butterfly or moth - even if they are very interesting, themselves. The Salt-Marsh Caterpillar's situation is obviously different and a bit perplexing. While it's not unfair to call the Salt-Marsh Caterpillar caterpillar less than remarkable, the Salt-Marsh Caterpillar moth is actually very nice looking and, in my opinion, has some potential (you know, moth-potential...obviously). The Salt-Marsh Caterpillar moth doesn't see it that way, though. It's not terribly unusual, especially with the recession, that the Salt-Marsh Caterpillar would have some trouble getting its feet on the ground. But the issue here goes further. Estigmene acrea is a moth who feels that its better days are behind it. So, despite it's obviously inconsistent life situation, it continues to define itself as a high school football champion, or a frat-guy who still visits campus when the frosh are pledging, or a more subtle but similarly self-deluded female archetype (for example, referring to her manager's manager at work as her grand-big...does this ever happen?).

Salt-Marsh Caterpillar moths don't know when to say
when! I took this pic of one nursing a hangover after the
2012 Gathering of the Juggalos. Days after the event, she
was still all made up.

I plan to confront the Salt-Marsh Caterpillar about these issues shortly (hopefully it will go much more Oprah-Barak than Phil-Deena). But first, I'd like to come clean about my own past and tell a story about my own history in the care of bugs.

When I was a larva myself (around 6 years old), I was greatly dismayed at the state of health of the bugs I was finding on my porch (it was often Carpenter Bees on the Pooorch). This is why I founded the Bug Acupuncture and Rehabilitation Facility (BARF) (although much of the acupuncture would have been deemed trans-visceral and post-mortem). I ended up having to shut down the acupuncture operation after the IRS decided that the shadow boxes I was using provided me too much personal benefit to be claimed as a business expense (cops: come and try to snatch my crops...also my mounted insect collection. Luckily though, they left my old Cypress Hill CDs alone). What do you expect? Kindergarten was rough for me; I had fallen in with the wrong crowd (you know, nose-picking & temper-tantrums). Tax fraud was my third strike - bit I did my time (the judge gave me 10 minutes in the corner and I had to go to bed early).

So the bug hospital (BARF) didn't last...but, considering that most of the procedures we performed on live bugs involved little bits of Scotch tape "borrowed" from my mom (she ended up not wanting them back), I'm not sure that the net value of medical services available to the insect community diminished all that much following the bankruptcy proceedings and subsequent sell-off. Also, most of the bugs who weren't already locked in to Kaiser had lousy HMOs - how is a 6-year-old (who's parents still won't get him a fax machine) supposed to deal with all those cheap-o, denial-first plans?

The other inmates at my white-collar time-out facility told me that I probably would have been better off going into bug health insurance - but I wasn't in it for the money (I can't stand Jessie J, BTW. Also, have you seen her dance? If I may speak to her directly for a moment: You're an attractive lady JJ - work with that, not against it...well, why wouldn't I assume that she reads BugsIRL?).

Anyway, despite my (inauspicious) start in bug-medicine, I've lately been having more success in bug-counseling (see Hickory Horned Devil). So, as counseling is more and more becoming a cash-only business (I won't have to deal with non-competitive -  too often, criminally so -  health insurance companies!) with a much lower barrier to entry than some other health professions, it seems that all I need to do is hang up my e-certificate (click for degrees - I am a Phoenix!) and put a sign on my front door that says "Bug Therapy" (Whoa! Nice King's Speech ref, Brian! But I wonder what sorts of callers would come a'callin' if I actually put that sign up...probably my HOA, mostly).

So here goes - intervention time!

Listen Salt-Marsh Caterpillar (ugh, I can't even say that to her face! It's like addressing a 40-year-old who still goes by Timmy - or worse, T-Money!). We've known each other for a while and we've been through some stuff, but it's time for you to get yourself together! I don't know why your parents let you live in their basement for so long, or why your managers are always so mean to you, but it's grown-up time and you're late to the party.

Living somewhere that's more "chill" is not a
career path, in and of itself (even in Boulder).

Let's start off by talking about job stuff. I know that you've spent a lot of time pursuing some apparent dead ends. It's important to find some satisfaction in your work, but I think your problem is generally that you've been looking in the wrong places - or perhaps that you've been looking, with a skewed sense of your own talents, for something that strikes you as easy. I think maybe this pattern has continued a little too long in part because your false-starts were too easy to explain away. For example: seminary isn't for everyone (as I recall, your feelings changed dramatically when you realized that pastors don't just work one day a week), who knew that barber-college would be so expensive (were the other stylists underwhelmed by your bowl & clippers technique?), you spent a whole evening on that business plan but maybe it just wasn't clear how having your band there full time would benefit Pizza Hut, also...well I don't know how you flunked out of those free improv classes you signed up for...I could go on, but do you see that these are getting harder to explain away? It's become obvious to everyone around you that the real problem is something inside you - not fast-food management trainees that lack vision and not Yoga schools that frown on creativity.

But we've also got to have a conversation about your family - Arctiidae, the Tiger Moths (please don't Teresa me and screech profanities because I brought up your family). I don't want to blame them - your artistic, educational, and career path false starts are not their fault. But they are enablers. They make it alright for you and too many of your kin to just not grow up! I know that most of you eat grasses and low crops that someone else grew (we don't need to have a "47%" conversation here), but even those of you who feed on trees just go for the low-hanging fruit (such as apples)! Take your sister, for example: the Banded Woolybear (Isia isabella). Calling her a "woolybear" was cute when she was a larva, but she's a moth now. Further, who uses their name to advertise their band? BTW, have any of you told her that the influences on rap music are far too tenuous for a rag-time/hip-hop band to make any sense to people (let alone, sound anything less than...confused)?

Do you want another example? How about your cousin - Apantesis virgo, the Virgin Tiger Moth. He always was kind of a weenie. But his more recent boycott of anything that reminds him of Steve Carrell is just pathetic. Or how about your other cousin - Hyphantria cunea, the Fall Web Worm? I know you were always impressed with him, but living in a pup-tent in his parents' back yard neither makes him independent, nor a trailblazing outdoorsman.

This is the only life you're going to get, Salt-Marsh (yeah, yeah - I remember when you were a Buddhist...for like, a week! So don't even!)! By this point, you're probably never going to make it as a professional musician or entertainer - I think you'll be much happier with other aspects of your life once you can come to terms with that. That doesn't mean that those things can't be a fun hobby! But as long as you're focused on that stuff, you'll keep missing out on the important things. You still have time to make something of yourself, but life is short (especially yours: 6 weeks is normal in the mid-Atlantic) and the days are getting colder. I believe in your potential, Salt-Marsh. But it's time to apply that potential - preferably to something productive. But failing that: to something that allows you to support yourself, at a minimum.

Just one thing though...Whatever it is that you end up accomplishing: please don't let it involve laying 1200 eggs on my potatoes!

A girl who is warm and humanly during the day. A classy girl who know how to enjoy the freedom of a cup of coffee...Your older brother is Gangnam Style.
 - Psy, 2012

Excuses, excuses...

Just like Looney Tunes and Disney characters, the jumping
spider Platycryptus undatus knows that the difference
between androgyny and femininity is long, pretty
eyelashes.

To all my loyal readers: thanks for continuing to check back.

BugsIRL is not on hiatus and has not been abandoned. I want to reassure everyone that, although it's been a couple of weeks, I have written a truly marvelous post, which the margin is too narrow to contain...

Seriously, Brian? Your best excuse is a math joke? Lame.

Well, if Fermat and his last theorem (which few mathematicians believe he actually had a satisfactory proof of) aren't your cup of grande, iced, skinny cinnamon-dolce latte, then maybe you'll prefer next week's post (was supposed to be last week's post) about a moth who needs to freaking grow up already, and my own experiences in the bug health-care system. Until then, please enjoy past posts and my gallery of lovely pictures.

aⁿ + bⁿ = cⁿ, n>2?
 - math

House Centipede

Let me start this post by saying that I do not like House Centipedes! Unlike a lot of other bugs, I have no issues about killing ones that I find in my house, rather than releasing them outdoors - luckily, this doesn't happen very often. The House Centipede that I trapped for this post actually came from outside, so when I was done with it, I felt like I should release it back outside.

So like I said, I do not like these. This is despite how extremely beneficial their presence can be for human-built structures. All the entomologists keep trying to be like What's up, Brian? Why you gotta hate on a player? But I'm always just like Whatever! They nasty! And then they're always like Well that's just how they roll. And then we usually forget about all that and go get some fro-yo at the Pinkberry (where I'm all like I'll have the Fruity Pebbles, some brownie bits, ummmm some honey, do those chocolate-covered peanut butter pellets cost extra?).

When I first captured this female Scutigera coleoptrata, I was keeping her in a container with me while I did some chores under my back porch. We exchanged the occasional verbal barb and eyed each other mistrustingly while I went about my business. But within an hour of catching her, I found myself referring to her as Scuttles.

Now I don't want you to think that I've developed a soft spot for Scuttles or her kind, so I've assembled this list of 10 specific reasons that I find House Centipedes distasteful. I considered making it into a poem like Julia Stiles did for Heath Ledger in the '90s cinematic re-imagining of "The Taming of the Shrew." But it didn't flow very well (the poem from the movie, that is - I hope Miss Stiles got a D on that assignment).

10 things I (ostensibly) hate about Scuttles
1. Their fused body segments and 15 pairs (in adults) of long, thin legs that give them great acceleration and impressive linear speed (at the cost of maneuverability) also make them the only group of centipedes that can jump! However, the best I've ever seen would be better described as a hop - that's why I always recommend that House Centipedes finish their degree and have something to fall back on. They can also climb, hang and survive some pretty serious drops.

...the better to see you with, my dear!

2. They have compound eyes that give them impressive vision, compared to other centipedes. Most (all?) other groups of centipedes only have simple eyes that don't see much, or they've lost their eyes altogether and are completely blind (Santa brought them that Red Ryder, despite the warnings of mom, teacher and his boozy doppelganger at the mall). House Centipede eyes raise an interesting question considering that, despite being active hunters, their typical environs have little light, if any, and they mostly hunt by their sense of smell (through their antennae). That question, of course, would be jeepers, creepers - where did they get them peepers? It's been suggested that this group of centipedes may have branched off from other arthropods (many trilobites and crustaceans have very complex and powerful eyes) earlier than other groups and thus, retained their ancestors' peepers.

3. Centipedes' first pair of legs has been modified to form a strong pair of venomous pincers. Taken by itself, this seems like a strange and hard to come-by modification. But considering that the first pair of "legs" in male spiders (pedipalps) has been modified to contain their reproductive systems, they're at least in good company with other arthropods. Many centipedes have big enough pincers to bite people. But in centipedes, the pincers are called forcipules and they technically deliver more of a sting than a bite - but it's a double sting! It's like Jackie Chan in Fearless Hyena on one side, and Jackie Chan in Rumble in the Bronx on the other side - you just got Double-Chan'd! Although, seeing as how centipede bites are so rare, it might actually be more like Jackie's many, many uncredited roles from the early 70s.

4. Lack of the waxy cuticle present in most other terrestrial arthropods ("land bugs" just lacks the air of pretension necessary to effectively communicate esoteric subjects) and inability to close their spiracles (not unlike many morning news anchors' problems with closing their breathin'-holes) leads to difficulty in retaining moisture. This requires them to live in moist or humid areas (such as bathrooms, basements, under logs or, in Scuttles's case, beneath a raingutter splash-pad) to prevent dehydration. House Centipede lungs are visible dorsally, at the posterior of each tergite segment (you probably wouldn't have assumed I knew what I was talking about if I had just said the light-colored whos'a-what's-it's on their backs).

The Seafood Road Show runs every other Thursday...gross!

5. The House Centipede's front-to-back symmetry is a form of automimicry, or mimicking themselves. When they're standing still their automimicry makes it difficult to tell which end is their head and which is their tail. Automimicry is distinct from autosatire, which is when someone describes their reactions to you by reenacting their internal monologue (Oh, that's different then. Because at first I was like, "Oh my gosh, I do that constantly." But then you explained the thing that I'm constantly doing and I was like, "Oh, my bad - that's the thing that I'm constantly doing."). Just a quick FYI: automimicry is usually superior to autosatire as a means of camouflaging one's lack of self-confidence. The sense of unpredictability that automimicry gives observers of these carnivorous push-me/pull-yous is believed to be one of the underlying causes of arachnophobia. I obviously use that term loosely here...I've never heard of chilopodaphobia or scolopendraphobia - but why the hell not!? The unpredictability issue is also why some people are afraid of fluttery (buttery) moths. Also, all the long, spiny appendages (which touches on another underlying issue in arachnophobia) don't help, either. Incidentally, it's no coincidence that people tend to feel more affinity for jumping spiders than other spiders and their kin. Jumping spiders are often very fuzzy, which visually rounds out many of their sharp corners, and their two, very large anterior-medial eyes on their prominent and distinct heads give them a more recognizable (slightly mammalian) face - these impressions are further bolstered by their inquisitive nature and (slightly scary, when you think about it) intelligence. But that's a subject for another post!

6. House Centipedes are viscous predators with a ravenous appetite for other household nasties. Spiders, crickets, ants, roaches, termites, some wasps, and even bedbugs - all these things (many of which eat our houses or eat us) and many more are approved parts of the House Centipede diet. In fact, Weight Watchers gives such low point values for some of these pests that the House Centipede won't even bother to weigh them! On a side note, I ended up not having time to take pictures of Scuttles on the day I captured her - they're all from the following day. So, before setting her container in a dark spot near where I found her, I dropped a feeder bug in with her. Oh my, good lordy, sweet sassy-molassie, and a few other exclamations, let me tell you what: she must have been hungry, because that cricket didn't even land before she hopped on it. Further details of their meeting push the PG-13 rating (or T, for you gamers) that I try to maintain here, so I'll leave those to the photo gallery (lights...camera...Scuttles!). Let me just say that it got a little gruesome.

7. Scutigera coleoptrata is an invasive species in North & South America. They are originally from Mediterranean Europe and are believed to have arrived in Mexico or Central America something to the tune of 150 years ago. While researching, I came across this amusing quote from a 1902 report out of the US Department of Agriculture: ...often darting directly at inmates of the house, particularly women, evidently with a desire to conceal itself beneath their dresses, and thus creating much consternation. (Sorry to hear about the "consternation", ladies. I'm told that coffee and cigarettes can alleviate this.) Although I can't confirm this claim (my Victorian Era scullery maid's uniform having been on mothballs for quite some time), I do find this a little bit surprising because I've never known one to run towards me, rather than the other direction.

Pardon me, miss. But your gonopods are showing.

8. House Centipedes are loners (and not good dancers). The only time they ever seek out the company of other scutigerids is for a brief mating dance - it's not unlike a single do-si-do with brief antenna-to-leg contact and the exchange of meaningful glances (the whole thing is very Downton Abbey). After this, the male leaves his...let's say "business card" instead of spermatophore (PG-13!), on the ground and runs away. Another way to look at this interaction would be as frotteurism...which I suggest you look up from your highly monitored work computer <casting a class-5 absolution of liability spell!>. Unlike most of you single ladies, who probably wouldn't pick up the business card of a guy who danced awkwardly with you for all of 10 seconds, the female House Centipede lays her...let's say "items from her purse" instead of clutch of eggs, on the gentleman's business card. She delicately arranges her cell phone, lip gloss, a dried up tube of mascara from like two years ago, a depleted Metro farecard, and some hard candy that she was never going to eat anyway with her gonopods...single women have gonopods, right?

9. House Centipedes live for several years and go through several moltings, adding more legs each time, before they look like adults with all 15 pairs of legs. It takes about three years for one to reach maturity, and they've been observed to live as long as seven years total. Some predatory creatures look more or less like small adults as soon as they're born (most spiders, for example) and these creatures typically need to be able to get away from their parents quickly so that they aren't seen as a competitive threat or as food. Many other predators, especially ones with longer maturation periods or ones that live in confined spaces among their older relatives (it's not unusual for a House Centipede to live in the same house for its entire life) have a distinct appearance during childhood. This communicates to the grown folks that you're neither a threat, nor a good choice for a meal (think of kittens, puppies, cubs, kits and the grays for cats, dogs, tigers, foxes and Visitors, respectively). Young House Centipedes have big heads, few legs, and an adorable lack of coloration that make the terrifyingly swift adults coo over the plodding young of their species. The too-cute-to-eat-during-youth principle is a common one, but one notable exception exists in humans. When introduced to a baby, human females of child-bearing age are often heard threatening to just eat that baby right up, perhaps even wanting to start with their sweet little toes - ominous nom-ing sounds may then be heard (at that point, it's too late...another victim of 'nuggling).

10. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

My relationship with Scuttles went south once the rich centipede who wanted to date her sister let it slip about what all the pictures were for (I was a bet?! Just a stupid bet!...Oh wait, that was a different movie). Although I think that my hate list technically makes me the Julia Stiles in this scenario, I eventually released Scuttles into my lawn (not really the best place for her, but she'll manage). She needed to go because her dad had finally agreed to send her to Sarah Lawrence College (not really the best place for her, but she'll manage...manage a Hallmark Slightly-irregular Greeting Cards Outlet store with her expensive, private school, liberal arts BA - ba-dum, ching!).

That's all for this one, but don't forget to check out the new photo gallery for more pictures of Scuttles and bugs from previous posts!
Flickr:BugsIRL

I don't want to wait for our lives to be over, I want to know right now what it will be...
 - The 90s, featuring Paula Cole