Category Archives: Photos

Not a good idea

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Mom shouted from one of the storage sheds.  Her voice came strident and immediate.  So I rushed to her side, interested both in what she’d discovered and—more importantly—about her safety.  For her to be so adamant about getting my attention, I knew she was facing something she’d rather not face alone.

In the unlit equipment shed, early afternoon sunlight not penetrating the dark, she stood some distance from a rather large creature moving casually from one wall to another.  It was a creature I’d never seen before, and its size gave me pause because the play of shadow upon shadow made it look like a very large spider.

Oh, you know, with a body about 1.5 in/25 mm in length, its long legs making it twice that size.

Not that I’m scared of spiders, but if I don’t know what it is, I’m no fool.

But after I gave it a quick taste of light from the camera’s flash, the flavor of the beast became obvious.  Well, obvious only insofar as I could tell it wasn’t a spider, but not obvious insofar as I didn’t have a clue what it was other than looking like a giant brown katydid.

So I snapped a natural-light picture when it paused mid stride—after the flash, of course, which lit up the shed like fireworks.

A male southern protean shieldback (Atlanticus pachymerus) walking across sandy ground (IMG_2793)

Having never seen this kind of insect before, imagine my surprise when I found several more throughout the same day.  That was in May 2012.

And for months afterward?  Let’s just say they represented a regular part of the natural world, found around the house and around the farm.

A female southern protean shieldback (Atlanticus pachymerus) walking across sandy ground (IMG_0019)

Some, like the female above, were at least 2.5 in/45 mm from ovipositor to mandibles—not including legs.  As far as katydids go, these represented some of the largest and most robust I’d ever seen

A female southern protean shieldback (Atlanticus pachymerus) standing on metal roofing (IMG_0054)

With their abundance and size and general appearance, I came to understand Mom’s initial trepidation.  She’s a go-getter when it comes to wildlife—except when it comes to crickets.

Consider this story: Whilst lying in bed one night watching a scorpion crawl along the ceiling above her, she casually asked of my father, “Honey, is that what I think it is?”

She handles arthropods with the skill of an entomologist.  And with the requisite aplomb.

But this?  In the dark?  And considering it looked like a giant cricket?  (Like every human who has ever lived, my mother has her Achilles heel: crickets.  They are her kryptonite.  Thus a giant cricket wandering about in the dark with her would certainly push her buttons.)

Close-up of a female southern protean shieldback (Atlanticus pachymerus) on metal roofing (IMG_0087)

But these weren’t crickets.  They weren’t even scorpions.  So why be worried?

Well, her initial apprehension aside, research quickly identified these as southern protean shieldbacks (Atlanticus pachymerus).  Shieldbacks have every reason to give you pause.  You see, they’re omnivorous.  More importantly, they’re predators of other insects.

But lacking a poisonous bite or a venomous sting, why be worried?

Close-up of a female southern protean shieldback (Atlanticus pachymerus) (IMG_0106)

Like the hardwood stump borer I mentioned previously, shieldbacks are large and powerful.  Even lacking toxic weapons, they nevertheless have power on their side.

Here’s the clue: BugGuide specifically states that shieldbacks are said “to be strong biters.”

After our first encounter in the equipment shed, I tested that theory—after having identified the critters.

Close-up of a female southern protean shieldback (Atlanticus pachymerus) in sunshine (IMG_0105)

Trust me when I say this: They hunt other insects, not to mention feeding on anything they find appealing, like plants and detritus and whatever.

But—Yo!—they eat other insects no matter if those insects are dead or alive.  And how do they do that?

By chomping down on whatever looks tasty.

And given their general size, when a shieldback chomps down on something, it’s a potent bite indeed.

Again, trust me on this.  I tested that theory.  The little bugger taught me never to test it again.

— — — — — — — — — —

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

Don’t try this at home

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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!

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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

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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

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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.

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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.