More buggy goings-on.

I was experimenting with setups for insect photography tonight, so I went out and "shanghaied" a couple of subjects.

Here's another of those rhododendron leafhoppers, like the "fire bug" from last week, but upside-down, under glass and in bright light. Now I can see that the bristles that seemed to be part of the body are on the back legs.

And I caught a very active harvestman, or "daddy long-legs", as we always called them.

The eyes are odd: they are close together, and stick up above the body, like periscopes. In this next photo, his mouth appendages are easily seen.

When I first dumped him into the plastic container where I photographed him, he was quite agitated. He did not calm down until he had straitened out each of his legs, using those mouth parts. Here he is working on the end of one:

When I was done, I took both my "volunteers" back outside and set them free.

And, in other news, I keep checking on my American house spider. She is guarding her eggs conscientiously.

Tomorrow: back to Serendip.

Excursion to Serendip

"So, what do we call the place we went yesterday?" Laurie asks. Well, it was part of Tsawwassen, on Boundary Bay, just south of Boundary Bay Regional Park, a few blocks north of the US border. The school in the area is called Boundary Beach. "South Boundary Bay Beach?" Not really good enough, and too long for a file name. After going over my memories of the afternoon and the photos we brought back, I've decided to file them under "Serendip".

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing; we were already in the car, going -- somewhere, anywhere -- when we decided to go to Boundary Bay Beach. But when we were almost there, I felt like driving just a bit farther, to new (for us) territory. We found a walkway to the beach in a quiet residential zone and parked.

And there the discoveries began, still on the street. And they ended, at tea-time, with a middle-of-the-road garden on a dead-end street, as we tried to find our way home.

For tonight, I'll start there, at the end.

The last flowers we saw were Astrantia major. A new flower to both of us, small and papery, in a tangle of stems and leaves, the flowers in all stages of growth and decay, and beautiful.

The 12 bracts on the outside are deeply veined, tipped either with green or pink or brown, and badly insect-bitten. The true flowers are tiny, and arranged in an umbel, like a cow parsnip or Queen Anne's lace. I loved those tiny "barrels" that some of them (not all) rest on. I read that they are often called the "pincushion flower"; I can see where the name comes from.

Here, one flower head has pincushions; the other one pins (delicate stalks).

Bending close to try for a close-up of the flowerets, I saw a flash of orange-red; some sort of insect. An ant, I thought at the time. I followed him around for a bit, trying to get him on camera. He didn't make it easy, and I clicked wildly every time I saw a flash of red on my screen. Mostly, I missed.

So I was pleased with two of my photos. I had more than one red insect. And they were more like beetles than ants.

Three of them. And there soon will be more. Here's a closer view.

Ah! Young love!

(Now comes the hard part: I'll be spending some time on BugGuide trying to identify these beetles. I'll update this when I do.)

Update: Boris Buche at BugGuide ID'd them for me: they are Common red soldier beetles, Rhagonycha fulva. They eat the aphids and other small insects from umbelliferous flowers, like these pincushion flowers. And UBC Botanical Garden has a photo (on fennel) and more links. Follow their link to the flying beetle -- amazing!

Three Carnivals

Past, present, future;

"I and the Bird, #54" was posted 3 days ago, at The Egret's Nest. If you haven't seen it yet, do it now. A class assignment, on which we all earned an "A".

Yesterday, the Gypsy posted the second July "Good Planets". Wonderful photos, as usual. I had to save Divajood's Alaskan forest to my hard drive. Sheer joy!

And coming up, the 23rd edition of "Circus of the Spineless", at Words and Pictures. The deadline for submissions is tomorrow, the 30th; send yours to roger.butterfield (at) gmail.com .

Happy reading!

Waterfront Protectors

Tugboat, New Westminster Quay

Railway bridge, Burnaby Foreshore

Waiting their turn. Ladner Harbour

---

Digg Del.icio.us

Rainbow Colours

Backyard Bugging:


First, in the daylight.

My hostas are blooming. They don't make much of a show; only one flower opens at a time, on each of a few stalks, while yesterday's droop and tomorrow's are still in bud. I grow them mainly for the leaves. Still, that one small flower is worth photographing.


Zooming in, I discovered that it is playing hostess to a party of ants.

I wonder: they don't seem to be going anywhere near the pollen. Do they have any role to play in the fertilization process? Or are they just opportunistic feeders?

On the wall, I discover another visitor; a tiny yellow fly, about the size of a fruit fly. From the rear, his abdomen looks like a miniature lemon.

And at night:

I was out checking on the American house spiders, and discovered this beastie on my patio doors. The photos were taken with a desk lamp (so the camera could find something to focus on) and the flash, looking from outside in.

First, just the plain bug. I'm not sure what it is yet; a green and red bug, with wings, about 1/4 inch long. Strong, defined markings, big black eyes, outlining on the head. Some kind of "toothed" edge to the body or wings at the bottom, barely visible in this photo, more evident in the next, if you click on it to get the full size.

Here he is, with his reflection in 2 double-glassed panels. Too bright in the flesh, progressively paler with each reflection. (And it looks like I need to be washing those windows again!)


And sometimes there's an advantage to the "El Cheapo" brand of digital camera; look what it did with a bit of conflicting light in the distance! Again, click on this to get the full effect.

I still don't know what this is, but for now, I'm calling it my "fire bug".

*Update: It is a rhododendron leafhopper, Graphocephala fennahi, the only graphocephala in the west. Thanks to Lynne, of Hasty Brook.

Fresh Laid Eggs!

I've been wondering about my American house spiders (see previous post); they seem so lethargic most of the time. I decided I would check them at night, and see if there was any difference.

Just after dark last night, I looked. They were in their normal spots, but moving around, gently.

At 10:30, the female was fiddling with her web, pulling at the strands.

I had to work late: I didn't get out again until almost 2 AM. And we have eggs! There is a large egg case hanging in the web. Larger than the spider herself; how does she manage that?

I went out with a lamp to take photos. She didn't like that, and got quite protective, moving in front of the egg case and hanging there staring at me. So I didn't get too close.

I got a couple of blurry photos. Here's the best one; I'll try again tomorrow, in daylight, and when she has calmed down.


(Update: a newer photo:
A bit clearer, anyhow. I still didn't get too close.)

So I know I've missed a round of spider sex. I'll have to do more night-time snooping.

Mom's Last Request

My mother had no "wish list". Not that anyone knew about. For birthdays and Christmas, she insisted that we spend little on her, and give her only useful items. She worked hard at being sensible and practical, at "pulling her own weight".

When she was 80, and in the middle stages of Alzheimer's disease, her self-control snapped; she asked me to bring her a birthday present, something she wanted "just because": a bird book where she could look up the birds that came to her yard or walked on the beach. I bought her The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds (Western Region). And while I was at it, a bird feeder for her window and the feed to go in it.

She didn't use the book long; a couple of years later she could no longer read the words or find the photos she wanted. But Dad still drove her to the creek to feed the ducks and she laughed with delight like a little girl.

Years have gone by. Both Mom and Dad are no more. And now I sit, evenings after supper, hearing the robins "Cheering up" the cedars and the flicker in the shrubbery, watching the chickadees come down for their evening bath and sitting, fluffed out to dry, in the rhododendron. And I laugh with delight.

Cleaning out old photos last week, I came upon this one: Mom, 1959, somewhere along the highway in Mexico. Smiling at a friendly parakeet.

Spider watching

For the last couple of weeks, I've been pestering a spider I discovered just outside my patio door, poking my camera lens at her, aiming bright lights in her direction, and often shaking her web in the process. At first, I was just trying to get a photo, any photo; she is in a very awkward situation, up in a dark corner where, standing on tiptoe on a chair, I could barely get closer than 6 inches. And stretching like that, my hands shake. But she interested me, so I persisted. I've been taking a couple of photos every day.

She hangs in her web, a tangled mass of threads going every which direction, always upside-down. And usually with her face to the wall. Not until today, after two weeks of trying, had I managed even to see her eyes.

After a few days, she attracted a boyfriend. Ah! Spider sex! I would get a photo! So I've been checking them out several times a day, with no luck, so far. He hangs out in her web, approaching to about 2 inches, but I've never seen him closer. Not yet. (Laurie says I'm intruding on their intimate affairs; I say they don't care. They're not complaining, anyhow.)

An early photo.

Laurie eventually dug out a step-ladder for me. That helps; now I can get a couple of inches away, but only by breaking strands of the web, upon which she heads up, out of range. As soon as I get off my ladder, she comes back to taunt me.

Oh, the trials of a bug watcher!

Anyhow, searching through BugGuide, I found photos of the Western Black Widow that looked very similar, as to body shape and colouring. I tried again to get a look at her underbelly for the hourglass (not getting too close, just in case); she wasn't having any. I posted her photo on the ID Request page, and Eric Eaton relieved my mind; she is an American house spider, Achearanea tepidariorum. Perfectly harmless, he says.

Back to my observation post.

She is a fat spider, with a great mounded abdomen, marked in browns and blacks, with a whitish upside-down vase-shaped mark at the top. The male is tiny and skinny, about 1/4 her size, all legs and quite visible palps.

He hangs around at the edges of the web, sometimes approaching slowly, tentatively. She seems not to notice. I wondered at first if it was because she was still immature, and not interested yet, but one of the websites I consulted says that the webs of immature females are more tightly woven; hers certainly isn't.

The web seems almost too tenuous to catch anything, but last week she had a large brown moth which kept her busy for hours, sucking away at its soft parts. Another time she was eating what looked like a worm; how one would get up there, I have no idea. SpiderPharm tells me that a good part of the success in catching large prey is due to her potent venom. Oh. I'll keep my fingers away.

Yesterday she had a crane fly.

In this second photo, you can see a few of the scanty lines she uses as a trap.

And the male, tiny as he is, had moved down the wall a ways to deal with a moth ten times his size.

On a close-up (click on this for a clear view), you can see the moth scales and the silken lines that bind them.

Reading up on these spiders, I learn that males and females will inhabit the same web and mate repeatedly. So I guess she won't eat him after the first try. I may get a photo yet.

And then I'll be looking for egg sacs and spiderlings. What fun!

Update: Next post about these spiders: Fresh Laid Eggs!

I found a couple of excellent photos here and here. Somebody has excellent cameras!

Shameless!

Christmas cactus, in full bloom:


And excerpts from a book-length poem by Erasmus Darwin (Charles' grandfather), "The Botanic Garden":

THE ECONOMY OF VEGETATION.

CANTO I.

STAY YOUR RUDE STEPS! whose throbbing breasts infold
The legion-fiends of Glory, or of Gold!
Stay! whose false lips seductive simpers part,
While Cunning nestles in the harlot-heart!--
5 For you no Dryads dress the roseate bower,
For you no Nymphs their sparkling vases pour;
Unmark'd by you, light Graces swim the green,
And hovering Cupids aim their shafts, unseen.

"But THOU! whose mind the well-attemper'd ray
10 Of Taste and Virtue lights with purer day;
Whose finer sense each soft vibration owns
With sweet responsive sympathy of tones;
So the fair flower expands it's lucid form
To meet the sun, and shuts it to the storm;--
15 For thee my borders nurse the fragrant wreath,
My fountains murmur, and my zephyrs breathe;
Slow slides the painted snail, the gilded fly
Smooths his fine down, to charm thy curious eye;
On twinkling fins my pearly nations play,
20 Or win with sinuous train their trackless way;
My plumy pairs in gay embroidery dress'd
Form with ingenious bill the pensile nest,
To Love's sweet notes attune the listening dell,
And Echo sounds her soft symphonious shell.

XI. "Come, YE SOFT SYLPHS! who fan the Paphian groves,
And bear on sportive wings the callow Loves;
Call with sweet whisper, in each gale that blows,
The slumbering Snow-drop from her long repose;
445 Charm the pale Primrose from her clay-cold bed,
Unveil the bashful Violet's tremulous head;
While from her bud the playful Tulip breaks,
And young Carnations peep with blushing cheeks;
Bid the closed _Petals_ from nocturnal cold
450 The virgin _Style_ in silken curtains fold,
Shake into viewless air the morning dews,
And wave in light their iridescent hues;
While from on high the bursting _Anthers_ trust
To the mild breezes their prolific dust;
455 Or bend in rapture o'er the central Fair,
Love out their hour, and leave their lives in air.
So in his silken sepulchre the Worm,
Warm'd with new life, unfolds his larva-form;
Erewhile aloft in wanton circles moves,
460 And woos on Hymen-wings his velvet loves.

From Project Gutenberg.

Shallow Waters

We've been gradually making our way around the coast of the Fraser Delta. Ladner Dikes, Tsawwassen, Boundary Bay, Mud Bay, Blackie Spit, Crescent Beach (not necessarily in that order, although that is how they line up on the map). Between Crescent Beach and White Rock, almost on the US border, there is a long, rocky stretch, accessible only on foot. We made a start on it a couple of weeks ago.

The tide was halfway out and the shore looked rocky. While Laurie went back to the car for his boots, I went wading. The water was shallow and warm; I walked for quite a ways, straight out, with the water never coming up to my knees. Looking back, I could see the whole coastline laid out for me.

Looking southeast: the beginning of the wooded area. There is housing under those trees, but well shaded, and back a bit from the cliff face and the railroad track that follows the shore from here to the US border.

Looking northeast:
A bit beyond me, a woman was walking her dog. In the water. Still not up to her knees.


The water was really clear, almost transparent. In this next photo, it was several inches deep over the shells and sand. The wavelets warp the image, but don't change the colouring.


Laurie came back, booted for walking on rocks, and we went on south. After a short stretch of sand and snails (more of those invasive Asian snails), the shore turned to rocky shingle. It made for slow going. We passed a few sunbathers, up close to the bank where there was shelter from the wind, and a circle of teenagers with a cooler; otherwise, the beach was empty.

Bad hair day.

An uprooted tree, long denuded, just begged to be climbed.

By teenagers.

And not-so-teen-agers. Here's Laurie: "Lord of all I survey!" he claimed.


Seaweedy rocks, stepping stones to nowhere.

The railroad runs right above the water line here, straight south, and then curving back east to the WhiteRock Bay.

A staircase supported on huge blocks of concrete crosses it about the level of 24th Street, then winds on up the cliff face. We'll have to start there, next time.

Graffitti on the concrete. Of course. ME, it says. Signed work.

On the way back, we had the beach to ourselves. The tide was coming in.


Or almost to ourselves. If you look at this photo full size, you will see how the sand is speckled all over. Those dots are the invasive Asian sea snails, on their mission of world conquest.

Mixed feelings

I have mixed feelings about these photos. On the one hand, this is pollution. Possibly deadly to plants and animals, probably a sign of the lack of concern on the part of the neighbouring farms and businesses. I worry about it, and rail at the blindness that makes short-term monetary gain so urgent that we merrily go about fouling our own nests, or the laziness that refuses to take the few extra steps to discard our leftovers where they won't endanger our neighbours.

But somehow, in spite of that, they have their own sad beauty. I love the way the sluggish current swirls those soapy suds in the first photo, the patterns they make.

Another ditch. A study in blues and browns.

At Steveston pier, Richmond; bits of rope fiber, wood and other flotsam between a boat and the wharf. The to-and-fro of the waves has pushed them into a feathery pattern.

One more. A ditch dug between new industrial development and the Fraser River, through old bush. Oily, slimy water eroding away the soil. No fish, no ducks in these ditches. But beautiful reflections, browns and greens.

When I was a little kid, I used to love wading in oily puddles, watching the kaleidoscope of colours on the surface of the water. Pure enjoyment.

I didn't know any better.

Now I do; I still see the beauty but it makes me angry, too.