Category Archives: Nature Photos

Don’t try this at home

In mid June as I busied myself with morning duties at the family farm, my uncle called my attention to something quite large meandering about in verdant grass near a pasture gate.  It didn’t take long to find the critter given its size—over 2.5 inches/50 mm in length, not including antennae or legs.

Despite the lack of light (the sun had not yet risen), I snapped some photos of the beetle while it crawled along.

A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) crawling in dew-covered grass (20120615_00340)

Crawling, that is, right toward my foot.

A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) crawling through grass toward my foot (20120615_00343)

Then onto my shoe.

A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) crawling up my shoe (20120615_00345)

And up my sock.

A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) crawling up my sock (20120615_00346)

Onto my leg.

A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) crawling on my leg (20120615_00347)
A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) crawling on my leg (20120615_00348)
A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) crawling on my leg (20120615_00349)

Eventually coming to rest just above my ankle.

A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) perched on my sock (20120615_00353)

It amazed me the strength I felt where each foot gripped my skin.  Given its size, this critter was understandably strong.

But—as always—the time came to stop dallying and get on with the morning’s work.  So I plucked the beetle from its perch and held it long enough for one final shot.

A hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus) held in my fingers (20120615_00331)

Which shows precisely why this is an arthropod who can do harm: just check out those jaws!  The mandibles on this insect are massive.  And given the strength of something this size, trust me when I say they can grab a good deal of skin in those chompers.  (I tested that theory with a fingertip, usually the toughest bit of skin on a human body.  The beetle totally caught my attention when it grabbed me.)

So it’s best to leave them be, let them go on their way, and not challenge fate by putting yourself in a position to feel this beetle’s best defense—biting.

— — — — — — — — — —

This is the third entry in my intermittent series of posts focused on arthropods that can be dangerous if mishandled.  The first entry—about wheel bugs—is here, and the second entry—about black widow spiders—is here.

Photos are of a hardwood stump borer (Mallodon dasystomus).  I suspect it’s a male but can’t say that with certainty.

And my apologies for the lack of quality in these photos.  As I mentioned, I took these just before sunrise, so there was little light with which to work.  Since I’m loath to use flash—trust me, I tried a few times in this case only to remember why I hate it—these were the best I could capture.

Hands off!

Some arthropods are dangerous simply because their defenses are automatic, like venomous caterpillars.  Some arthropods are dangerous because they will defend themselves if pushed, like assassin bugs.  And some arthropods are dangerous because they have stings or bites that can deliver venom, like spiders.

One such spider, the southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans), lives ubiquitously around our family farm in East Texas.

A female southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) hanging inside her web (IMG_1297)

The southern black widow is the most common of the three North American species of widow spiders, with its telltale black carapace and red hourglass mark on the underside of the abdomen.  Well, perhaps I should say with her telltale markings, since males look altogether different, not just in size but in color and markings.

The first black widow I found, seen above, hunkered in an old tree trunk, her web a messy menagerie of this way and that way, up and down, a jumbled mess covering her little hole in the world.  That was back in April 2012 (yes, here in the South they get started early, going all year if winter is mild enough or if they have someplace to protect them from the elements).  The only photo I took was while I approached her, shot using a telephoto lens, because she quickly vanished into her lair when I leaned in close for a macro image.

A male southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) meandering across a patio chair (IMG_2953)

And when I say males look altogether different, I mean it.  This one I found in May 2012 as he wandered across an outside chair.  From the looks of his pedipalps (the boxing gloves he holds out in front of him), he’s ready to mate.  You see, male spiders deliver sperm via their pedipalps.

Though when seen dorsally he doesn’t look at all like a widow…

Underside of a male southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) (IMG_2955)

…from below he most certainly bears the mark of the beast—the red hourglass design on his abdomen.

(Yes, I flipped him over, which seems to go against my general rule for nature photography: in situ only and don’t interfere.  Ah, but I had to get him off the chair since someone wanted to sit in it, so I most definitely was going to interfere with his life.  Therefore, giving him a quick flip didn’t seem too problematic for me as I was about to give him the boot—metaphorically, I mean, as in booted off the chair and on his way.)

I’ve read in a few places that people think the males are harmless.  That’s untrue as they can inject the same venom the female uses, although, being smaller with smaller teeth, males inject less venom.

In addition, juveniles of either sex can look just like adult males.  So messing with a spider that looks like him could well lead to a young female giving you a good dose of venom.  Hence, don’t mess with either gender.

A female southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) tucked in a corner with a dessicated green June beetle (Cotinis nitida) nearby (IMG_1883)

When they bite with their 1mm/0.04in teeth (chelicera), the female black widow delivers no more than 0.03 milligrams of venom.  That’s 3/100ths of a milligram, I should point out, which equates to a miniscule fraction of a single raindrop.  Yet widows have some of the most potent venom in the spider world, and female black widows have unusually large venom glands.  So you do the math.

The above female, with her dessicated green June beetle (Cotinis nitida) meal nearby, hid beneath the loading ramp we use with the feed barn.  Tucked in a corner where she disappeared into the shadows after the first picture, she remained on the ramp for many months.  Trust me—I checked regularly.

A female southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) finishing hew new egg sac (20120627_00674)

Found in June 2012 as she put the finishing touches on her first egg sac, this female showed no interest in me as I moved around her snapping shots from a respectable distance.  But when I leaned over her and moved in for some closer pictures?

A female southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) protecting her new egg sac (20120627_00707)

She responded.  She moved quickly to intercept me—to protect her offspring—and she made it clear that closer was not acceptable.

Mom has also encountered an aggressive female black widow who would challenge her if she came too close.  Usually reclusive and reluctant to engage, black widows—especially females, and most especially females protecting egg sacs—can be quite aggressive when in the mood.  Most often they run, but sometimes they challenge instead.  You won’t know which to expect until they act.

Close-up of a female southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) hanging on her web (20120627_00734)

Needless to say I respected her personal space, capturing images with good distance between us, all the while with her following my every move, keeping herself between me and the egg sac—and keeping her business side (biting side) aimed toward me.  Oh yes, I heard her loud and clear.

And don’t let her missing leg fool you.  With only seven legs to move on, she moved just fine, with rapidity and precision I might add.

A female southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) perched on a steel grate (20121012_04632)

Then in October 2012 I decided to invade the personal space of a female who had spent the whole year beneath a porch mat.  I knew she was there—I even warned my family she was there so they’d be careful.

Because being careful in black widow territory is important.  Something Mom learned with a near-miss of a bite.

A female southern black widow (Latrodectus mactans) perched on a steel grate (20121012_04638)

Near the back porch is an overturned flower pot.  It hasn’t been used in quite some time, so it’s been resting there waiting for someone to use it.  For some reason, my mother decided to flip it over and look in it—without thinking, because she pushed her finger through the drainage hole in the bottom, flipped it over and glanced inside.

Only to be greeted by a female black widow with a few eggs sacs who had obviously lived under the pot for some time.  Um…  Oops!

Around here, the general rule is to look under and around things outside before lifting, moving or otherwise manipulating them.  That’s because black widows like secluded spots, making them easy to find under things, like vehicles, floor mats, buckets and barrels, and anything else that gives them shade and cover and protection from the world at large.

Time of year is irrelevant, I’ll add, for as I noted earlier they can be found for most of the year given southern mild temperatures.  More importantly, if they have cover that keeps them from dying, they can live right through harsh conditions.

Dad found this out just a few weeks ago when he flipped over a storage barrel, making it ready for use, only to find two female black widows alive and well and protecting seven egg sacs (though the eggs had hatched long ago and the sacs had discolored).  Regardless of that, two adult females hiding out in late January under protective cover shows just how careful you have to be in this neck of the woods.

Otherwise you might just get an extremely potent neurotoxin bite with effects lasting sometimes for months afterward (though the first week will be so bad that residual issues later will seem glorious by comparison).

— — — — — — — — — —

This is the second entry in my intermittent series of posts focused on arthropods that can be dangerous if mishandled.  The first entry—about wheel bugs—is here.

Friendly fire

It’s not like they meant to kill her.  But sometimes good guys are killed by good guys through nothing more complicated than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  That’s how friendly fire works.

Driving home one Saturday night last November, my parents wended their way along the narrow county road that links the two-lane state highway to the private road leading to our farm.  This small thoroughfare cuts through East Texas woods for miles, close-in woods making it a tunnel more than anything else.

With so much nature to either side, seeing wildlife on the road isn’t too surprising.  Bobcats, deer, opossums, skunks, birds galore …  Even the occasional cougar if you’re lucky.  Yes, this little bumpy ribbon of civilization affords drivers the opportunity to play obstacle course with whatever critters don’t move fast enough—though most get out of the way quickly because these are the wilds where wildlife don’t wait around very long to see if you’re friend or foe.

So as Mom and Dad drove through the woods heading for home, something swooped out of the darkness and hit the front of the truck.  Nothing big, not like a wild boar or a deer, but instead something on wings, something swooping through the headlights’ illumination, something quick and fleeting and … and impacted.

Mom feared what it might be, suspected, worried.  But until they arrived home, there was nothing she could do, no way to check.

So they drove on, kept moving, made it home safely.  What didn’t make it home safely, though, was found caught in the truck’s grill.

The next morning Mom asked me to identify it for her.

A dead female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis) lying on a board (20121103_04856)

A female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis).  Given the time of year, the tragedy is amplified by my suspicion that she was pregnant.

Mom was quite upset given her fondness for and fascination by bats, not to mention her proclivity towards environmentalism and protection of wildlife.  Less specifically, she knows bats provide a needful service—consumption of insects in large volumes—so even a single unnecessary death makes a difference.

Close-up of the wing of a female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis) (20121103_04875)

So delicate a thing, this flying mammal, with her wings as thin as paper and seemingly fragile.

A dead female eastern red bat (Lasiurus borealis) held in my hand (20121103_04867)

And so light a creature, so small, barely felt when held.

Though we see bats regularly, even throughout winter if the weather is mild, holding this dead female made them more real somehow, as though the shadowy secrets of the night had been revealed at last, albeit only via the hand of death.

Yes, friendly fire sucks, and some secrets the night should be allowed to keep.

— — — — — — — — — —

Though the frosting on her fur might make some think of white nose syndrome, that is in fact her normal hair color.  Males of the species lack the white tips.

And speaking of white nose syndrome, I see there are suspected cases as far west as Oklahoma and confirmed cases as far south as Alabama.  This disease has decimated bat populations from southeastern Canada through the northeastern US, and its anguishing spread south and west continues unabated.  It hasn’t reached Texas yet—the operative word being yet—but no one should be shocked when and if it finally makes its way to the Lone Star State.

For those who enjoy spelunking or cave exploration or any other activity that might bring you into contact with roosting bats, you should read up on this terrible epidemic and do everything you can to ensure you don’t help it spread.  The National Speleological Society maintains a dedicated page to guide you through what’s necessary to make sure you don’t help the disease more to new territory.  Trust me: Bats are worth the attention and effort.

Handle with care

Last year on a warm June morning, my cousin dashed inside to tell me she’d discovered a “large bug” and wondered if I’d seen it.  She’d already become supportive of my nature photography, although she remained aloof when it focused on insects.  (Admittedly, she progressed a good deal while hanging around me, even going so far as to handle a few moths, something she wouldn’t have considered before she came to visit.  There’s more work to do, yes, but progress is progress.)

When asked what the insect looked like, all she could provide was that—again—it was big.  All things are relative, so to a young lass such as herself an imposing critter might appear large whilst being miniscule.  Still, I hadn’t seen anything overly impressive during my morning rounds, hence I figured she’d found something new for the day.  I grabbed my camera and followed her outside.

A wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) (20120625_00415)

She led me to a real treat.  Still covered with the powder-like residue of sloughed exoskeleton, this 1.5 inch/38mm newly-emerged adult wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) had left behind childish appearances and taken on the unmistakable shape of North America’s largest assassin bug.

Close-up of a wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) showing the distinctive cog-like armor on its back (20120625_00441)

As I snapped photos of the sluggish, not-quite-dry insect, I thanked my cousin for bringing it to my attention.  I also told her a little about this true bug, which included a warning that she not try to handle them (something that, she reminded me, she wouldn’t dare try—moths were progress enough for the time being).

Dorsal view of an adult wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) as it dries (20120625_00457)

Though not prone to bite unless handled roughly or startled into defending itself, wheel bugs nevertheless can inflict a memorably painful bite if provoked.  And in the worst case, the wound can take months to heal and can even leave behind a permanent scar.

My cousin took careful note of my warnings even as she sheepishly reiterated that she had already come a long way, thank you very much, and had no intention of delving further into the insect handling arena.  At least not yet.

I finished her introduction to this species by telling her they are beneficial insects because they hunt other arthropods, including caterpillars, beetles, flies, and anything else they can catch and kill.

A wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) climbing the outside of a storage shed (20121012_04627)

In mid October I found another wheel bug climbing the outside of a storage shed.  About the same size as the one from earlier in the year, this one had the advantage of being warm and hardened, so it made for a more challenging photographic subject.

An adult wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) (20121012_04667)

The telltale cog-like armor is unique to adult wheel bugs, thus it makes identifying the species quite simple.  Other assassin bugs, also capable of biting, don’t possess this feature.  Neither does any other species of insect, I should add.

Close-up of a wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) showing its head and proboscis (20121012_04647)

Speaking of biting, this close-up shows the proboscis, the long, tube-like mouthpart below the insect’s head.  They swing this mouthpart out and plunge it into their prey—or the unlucky person who provokes them.  Paralytic and digestive enzymes are then injected, after which the wheel bug simply drinks its food—the insides of whatever is caught.

A wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) trying to climb onto the camera lens (20121012_04663)

An always funny thing about putting the camera lens so close to some wildlife is that the wildlife take it as an invitation to climb aboard the camera.  Here its front legs are searching for a grip on the front lens element.  Not the first or last creature to try this, it always gives me a chuckle even as I pull back to keep them from hitching a free ride.

Close-up of a wheel bug (Arilus cristatus) (20121012_04664)

Even as the wheel bug tried to climb on, it held still long enough for one final portrait.

— — — — — — — — — —

This begins an intermittent series of posts focused on arthropods that can be dangerous if mishandled.  I stress “can be” since many critters can be dangerous if pestered enough, while some can be dangerous simply because they have bad attitudes (e.g., water snakes) and others can be dangerous simply as an automatic act of defense (e.g., venomous caterpillars).  As I’ve always said, wildlife shouldn’t be handled unless you know what you’re doing and are aware of the risks, if any.

Surface tension

A maple leaf floating on water (20080921_12654)

So we have pierced the surface tension of a new year and plunged headlong into 2013.  This must come as quite a surprise to the doomsayers who ignorantly presumed the end of the Mayan calendar was a prophecy about the end of the world.

(It was, in point of fact, nothing of the sort.  It was not a prediction but it was the end of a calendar, just like December 31 is the end of the Gregorian calendar and happens once a year.  These same blind believers never think December 31 is the end of the world simply because the calendar ends; instead, they buy a new calendar.  Yet somehow, looking at the Mayan long-count calendar, they saw doomsday prophecies instead of the need for a new calendar.  And though the Mayans somehow missed predicting the end of their own civilization—they never saw that coming—they were nevertheless endowed with the unquestionable prescience to know when the world would end.  Never mind the fact that real Mayan prophecies include events well past December 21, 2012, another inconvenient truth easily ignored by the great unwashed.  But I parenthetically digress…)

Though I don’t make New Year’s resolutions—they symbolize weakness because anyone who needs a new year in order to better themselves is (a) lacking in willpower and (b) destined to fail for the same reasons they didn’t try to better themselves before the new year began—I do have plans for 2013.

First, I hope to publish two novels.  This of course depends greatly on when the first one finally hits print.  Early enough in the year and the second can easily fit within the next twelve months; later in the year, however, and the second will likely be pushed into 2014.  My sincere intent is to have both published in 2013.  They will be the first and second installments of a series.

Next, I want to keep this blog going.  Since February will mark the tenth anniversary of xenogere (and jasonhogle.com, it’s predecessor and now sister site), I feel the endeavor and subsequent accomplishment are well worth my time.  And as I get my novels published and get my (more) public writing career started, xenogere could grow into more than it is.  Then again, it could also stay the same.  Only time will tell.

Third, I intend to publish my first nature photography book, coffee-table size.  I have talked about this goal for some time, yet I’ve never made it happen.  I want to change that trend.  Coupled with writing—some of it gleaned from this blog and some of it original—the book will provide eye candy as well as mind and heart candy.

Fourth, I will buy a RV.  Just sayin’.

In addition, I will either purchase an additional vehicle—a SUV—or I will trade in my IS 300 on said SUV (preferably the former, but I’ll accept the latter).

Sixth, I might launch an author page on Facebook and I will launch one on Goodreads.  I don’t consider social networking to be that important in my life.  I can take it or leave it, especially Facebook, hence that idea is a might do and Goodreads is a will do.

Seventh, I plan to return to Dallas to visit friends and family, and likewise I will travel to Idaho to visit my sister and her family, and similarly I will travel to New York to visit family, and additionally I will travel to where ever to visit other friends and family.  Assuming I plan and execute some book signings, I’ll travel elsewhere, and perhaps I’ll consolidate a few of these trips.

Also, I want to continue expanding my photography work (camera upgrades included).  Here in Jefferson I’ve had the chance to delve into other areas of that hobby, and I’ve been asked to continue branching out by way of specific projects and requests.  Making it a paying gig will be nice.

Ninth, I will keep writing.

Tenth, I aim to continue being as much help to my parents as possible.

Eleventh, I’d like to get involved with local newspapers and magazines (believe me, they need the help).  In what capacity I don’t know, at least not yet, but it’s something I’d like to do.

And finally, I mean to inject myself into the area in which I now live.  By that I mean meeting more people and making new friends, delving into whatever social and cultural offerings can be found here in the Piney Woods (and surrounding area), and otherwise becoming an active member of this dispersed, bucolic-cum-townish, diverse environment.

This is by no means an exhaustive representation of my to-do list, but it’s a good representation of the plans I have heading into 2013.  After all, we’ve pierced the surface tension of a new year.  Now it’s time to swim in the temporal river of possibility.

A paper wasp (Polistes annularis) standing on shallow water to drink (2009_03_08_012965)

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

  1. Maple leaf floating on water: unless something lands on the leaf or the leaf degrades enough to take on water, it will not break through the lake’s surface tension and sink like many of its brethren.
  2. Paper wasp (Polistes annularis) standing on water to drink: as long as it lands lightly with its legs spread, a wasp is light enough to stand on water’s surface tension, though in this case the wasp has pierced the surface with one of its legs.