Trail companions

I've been out looking for bears again. There are signs at several trailheads; BEAR ALERT, and a recent date. But no bears. Falling yellow and brown leaves, mud and slippery dead leaves underfoot, salmon breaking the surface in the river, fisherfolk casting their lines into rushing water, gulls waiting for leftovers, bear (and maybe cougar) tracks in the mud, dewy spider webs laid across the trails at face height, and mushrooms, mushrooms, mushrooms. But no bears.

There were a few other visitors on the trails:

Red-breasted sapsucker, Sphyrapicus ruber.

The sapsuckers drill lines of holes in live tree bark; the little wells fill with sap, which attracts insects. Then the birds come back for dinner. On the menu, assorted insects, washed down with sap. This little sapsucker was too busy with his meal, poking around in one of the holes, to pay us much attention even though his tree was right on the edge of our trail.

He has noticed us. No worries; he finished his lunch in peace.

Snail-killer Carabid, Scaphinotus angusticollis.

This black and red beetle scuttled across the trail right in front of me. A fast runner; I only got a photo because I already had the camera pointing in his direction. These beetles eat snails and slugs; in these damp woods they find plenty of prey. And the beetle has passengers, a dozen or so orange mites. These mites are common passengers on beetles, often in a symbiotic relationship in which the beetle provides transportation to food sources, like fungi (some prey on slugs, too), and the mites protect the beetle's eggs by keeping the nest site free of fungi and invertebrates that otherwise may feed on the eggs.

And here's some fungi for the mites, and a slug for the beetle.

Young gull in a shallow creek.

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Salí otra vez a buscar osos. A la entrada a varios caminos, hay letreros: ADVERTENCIA: OSOS, con una fecha reciente. Pero no hubo osos. Hojas amarillas y cafés que caían describiendo eses en el aire, lodo y hojas muertas volviendo el sendero resbaloso, salmones que rompían la superficie del rio, pescadores lanzando sus lineas sobre el agua turbulento, gaviotas esperando algún sobrante, huellas de oso (y tal vez puma) en el lodo del sendero, telarañas llenas de rocío, y hongos, hongos, más hongos. Pero ni un solo oso.

Encontré otros compañeros en el camino:

1. Un chupasavias pechirrojo, Sphyrapicus ruber. Los chupasavias hacen agujeros en la corteza de árboles vivos; estos pocitos se llenan de savia dulce, lo que atrae a los insectos. Un restaurante para pájaros: el menú incluye una variedad de insectos con savia como bebida. Este chupasavias estaba tan ocupado con su comida que no nos hizo caso, aunque estábamos a unos pocos pasos de su árbol. 
2. Ahora nos vió. Pero no se preocupó en lo más mínimo, y siguió comiendo tranquilamente.
3. Un escarabajo "asesino de caracoles", Scaphinotus angusticollis. Cruzó el camino corriendo, muy rapidamente. Solamente pude sacar su foto porque ya tenía la cámara apuntada en su dirección. Estos escarabajos comen caracoles y babosas, que se encuentran facilmente en estos bosques húmedos. Y el escarabajo trae pasajeros; una docena o más de ácaros anaranjados. Estas garrapatas son pasajeros comunes en los escarabajos; una relación simbiótica comunmente, en que el ácaro obtiene trasporte a sitios donde encontrará su alimento, por ejemplo, un hongo (algunos también son predadores de babosas), y proveen un beneficio al escarabajo, permaneciendo en los sitios donde el escarabajo ha puesto sus huevos, protegiendo estos de hongos y otros animales que los comerían.
4. Unos hongos y una babosa.
5. Una gaviota joven en un riachuelo.

Pearly everlasting and pointy beetles

It's the season for pearly everlastings. They're blooming on every sunny roadside. I picked a bouquet for the winter; the flowers stay white and yellow even dry. One clump held a swarm of tiny beetles.

Pearly everlasting, Anaphalis margaritacea, with beetles.

I have spent a couple of hours skimming through about 3,000 photos of sap beetles on BugGuide, without finding a match. I've sent them the photo; maybe someone will recognize them.

In my Bugs of BC guide, the one that looks closest is a sap beetle, the so-called "beer beetle", but I don't see the 4 red spots that it would be wearing. And the beer beetles like fermented fruit, not necessarily flowers. So I'm still in the dark.

*UPDATE. Sara Rall, in the comments, gave me a name: they're tumbling beetles, in the genus Mordella. She gives me a link, and I found more on BugGuide (for example), in this general area. So that's it. Thanks, Sara!

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Es la temporada para las flores "perla perpetua"; ahora alumbran cada margen asoleado del camino,  Recogí un ramo para alegrar mi casa en el invierno: las flores secas mantienen su color fresco, blanco y amarillo, todo el año.

Unas plantas traían estos escarabajos miniaturos. Me he pasado varias horas revisando fotos en BugGuide, tratando de identificarlos, sin mucha suerte. Les mandé mi foto. Tal vez alguien los reconocerá.

En mi guía "Bugs of BC", hay un escarabajo algo parecido, el dicho "escarabajo de cerveza", pero éste tiene cuatro puntos rojos muy evidentes. Y les gusta la fruta fermentada (y la cerveza), las flores no tanto. Así que me quedo con la duda.

¡YA LO TENEMOS! Es un escarabajo de los Mordella, los "escarabajos revolcadores".

In formal dress

I went out to water the garden and found this black and white beauty on a gladiolus stem.

Banded laurel borer, Rosalia funebris

His* body, not counting those antennae, is a bit over an inch long.

He's dressed formally in black and white; a white top with a black shield in centre back, a long coat-tail with three white bands. I love the two white buttons on either side. Legs and antennae are in alternating bands of black and white. And look at those fancy shoes with the two yellow-fringed toes!

The larvae of these longhorned beetles eat wood, but since their eggs are usually laid in fallen wood rather than living trees, they're not a threat to local landscaping. The adults feed on flowers.

*The antennae of the males are longer than their bodies; females have shorter antennae. I can't tell here, whether this one was male or female, because the antennae that were in focus curved around behind the next glad stems.

When I watered the glads, he hung on, not seeming to mind the rain, but when I returned after I hung up the hose, he was gone.

The species name, funebris, comes from the Latin for "funereal, mournful, gloomy", probably referring to the black and white colouring, but he looked cheerful enough to me.

Bee, beetle, rose

The Nootka roses are blooming. And the beetles and bees are busy.

Almost hairless bee, with her legs covered in pollen. And a tiny beetle, up there on the tip of the top left petal.

Another rose, another bee, with bigger saddlebags.

Here she is, zoomed in.

Years ago, I posted a sort of comparison of the different bees and bee mimics I'd seen on the Lower Mainland. I went back to it today for help in identifying these bees. It was a good reminder of the things to look for, but not much help with this set. At least they're not bee mimics, syrphid flies and the like; they have long, jointed antennae, round abdomens, and those saddlebags. And they're female: only the females carry the saddlebags, to bring home the groceries in.

I like the way they're so glossy that they reflect the pink of the rose petals.

More of those tiny beetles coming tomorrow: I took at least 30 photos, hoping for one in which most of them behaved, so I've got some sorting to do.

Spring decor on the dunes

Most of the year, our Douglas firs are dressed in sober greens, dark and mysterious under the grey skies. But come spring, the youngsters deck themselves out in bright yellowy greens and orange paper decorations.

Young Douglas-fir, Oyster Bay dunes. The new buds grow at the tips of every branch, and before they open, they're gift wrapped.

New tips at the top of the tree, with the remains of the papery orange wrapping.

Another tree, another batch of buds, and a beetle just spreading his elytra, preparing to fly away. The wings underneath are transparent.

The better to grab you with

Even contained in a glass under bright light, a June beetle resists being photographed. Legs, complicated antennae, wing covers; everything is in constant movement. (It doesn't help when the cat keeps pushing the glass off the white background, either!) And I keep the photo sessions short, because it's a terrible imposition to take up so much of her short life being glared at. I got a few shots of those amazing grappling hooks and released their owner outside.

Look at those hooks! What he grabs, he holds.

He's a ten-lined beetle. To get the ten, you have to count the centre line as two, one for each wing cover. That gives you eight, but there are two very short lines between the outer two long lines (barely visible in this photo), making the total ten.

Such a nice furry vest! And more leg and foot detail. She's a female; the antennae of the males are much larger.

First dibs

Chia the cat was purring. And something was hissing*. I went to see what was going on, and found her rolling a ten-lined June beetle around the floor.

I grabbed the nearest glass (IKEA) and rescued the beetle. Upturned it on a sheet of paper on  my desk and got out the camera.

Chia did not approve.

"Mine! Mine! I saw it first!

I did get some photos, but it was a struggle.

*They can make a hissing sound when touched or otherwise disturbed, which can resemble the hissing of a bat. This sound is made by their wings pushing down, forcing the air out between their wings and back. (Wikipedia)

Maybe he doesn't like rain

This reddish ground beetle met me at the door this afternoon, so I brought him in and took his photo.

Those are raindrops on his back.

When I put him back outside, he immediately turned and tried to come back in the door, where it is warm and dry. I had to be quite firm with him; there's no beetle food in here.

A handful of beetle

I've been out flipping rocks, and came home with a stack of photos to process. Here's the first of the lot.

All out of breath.

Could that beetle ever run! I chased him and chased him and chased him through piled dead leaves and old sticks, caught him and lost him and caught him again. Then when I finally had him, he must have figured he was safe in my hand, and just sat there while I aimed the camera at him, one-handed.

The rest of the photos and story will be along presently.

Bees, beetle, and Joe Pye weed

Our summer is starting to wind down. It's still hot in the afternoons, but the temperature drops at night; tonight it's down to 12°C (53 F). Some of the flowering plants in our garden have given up for the year. The maples are dropping their winged seeds, which are quickly snatched up by a fat little black squirrel. The slugs had gone into hiding while the nights were hot, but they're back, chomping great holes in hosta leaves and leaving trails of slime across the pathways.

We went down to our local plant nursery to see what's happening there. It's more of the same; most of the flowers are gone, shrubs are straggly and yellowing, trees are setting fruit. And workmen are everywhere, getting the place ready for Hallowe'en. (Already!)

Many of the plants are at half price, so we loaded up with perennials that will settle in this winter and be ready to go by spring; ferns, heather, lavender, evergreen sedums.

I stopped at a stand of Joe Pye weed, looking like tattered pink mop heads, and buzzing with excited bees.

So very pink, even the stems.

A big bee, sprinkled with pollen

Neat little bee

Two bees here. Some of the flowers are still in bud.

I walked the aisles, comparing the bug populations; on other plants there were wasps and flies, but all the bees were here on the Joe Pye weed. One of the staff told me that when they were moving the plants out of the building site, they put all the Joe Pye weed on a wagon together. When they hauled it to the new location, a cloud of bees followed it all the way.

On another plant, half fallen over and unlabelled, I found this tiny beetle:

4 mm. long. Probably one of the sap-feeding beetles.

I couldn't find it on BugGuide, so I've requested an ID.

UPDATE: From BugGuide, "Twenty-Spotted Lady Beetle, Psyllobora vigintimaculata, or something close." And from the comments (Upupaepops): Western Psyllobora Lady Beetle, Psyllobora borealis. Which is so close I can't really tell the difference.

Another flower beetle

... with bright orange flower colours.

This one is a flower longhorn beetle, Xestoleptura crassicornis.

The glossy elytra (wing covers) and the orange antennae are diagnostic features.

BugGuide has about 3,600 photos of beetles in the flower longhorn family, about half of them decked out in vivid colours, reds and orange and yellow. I wonder if these are a sign to birds that the beetles taste bad, as is said about some other insects.

But then again, we're just guessing at that, aren't we? Maybe there is no reason at all; it's just the way things happened.

Any volunteers to taste a pretty beetle? I've lost my appetite. Or I'm allergic. Or my taste buds are old. (Any excuse will do.)

Lonely beetle

At our usual entry point to Crescent Beach, where the lane emerges from deep shade to the sunlight, we always have to pause to look at the flowers, wild and cultivated, that bloom there. This time, we found purple irises, a towering mass of small white flowers I can't quite identify, the brilliant evergreen roses, and beside them, the quieter wild Nootka rose.

On one of them a golden soldier beetle longhorn beetle caught my eye.

Golden back, black pronotum and head.

Pidonia scripta, a flower longhorn

This looks similar to the soldier beetle I usually see, the Common Red Soldier Beetle, Rhagonycha fulva, often in large groups, usually mating. It has the long golden body, but with black tips on the tail, and a red head. I only saw the one beetle here, although I looked at other flowers nearby.

Common Red Soldier Beetle, Rhagonycha fulva, on daisy, June 2010

When we came back to the shore an hour and a half later, this same beetle, as far as I could tell, was still on the same flower. And still alone.

UPDATE: BugGuide has identified it as Pidonia scripta, a flower longhorn beetle. Post corrected accordingly.

What was I thinking?

Remember Rock Flipping Day? I didn't. I completely forgot about it until I saw Bill's post on Fertanish Chatter; he remembered, and found frogs, worms, and a beautiful green beetle. Go look!

I've been calling myself all sorts of names all afternoon. Doesn't fix anything, does it?  If you were planning to join us this year, I've let you down. I'm so sorry.

Did anyone else go out all on their lonesome and flip rocks? I know one museum had scheduled an event, but I can't find any mention of having done anything.

Beetle with a better memory than mine. He came inside to remind us, but I didn't twig.

Hard-scrabble existence - IRFD 2012

It's been a long, dry summer. Anywhere we are not watering, the ground is baked as tough as a high-fiber rye cracker, and looks as lifeless as a Martian desert. We (my grandson and I) set out to flip rocks in the vacant lot across the street without much hope of success. But there had been pools, the water retained by hard-packed clay, in June. And a shaded creek runs around two sides; maybe, maybe there would be something to see.

And we gave that big lot a good flipping; leaving no stone larger than a pair of fists and light enough to heave off the ground untouched. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. Dry, caked soil; dry, flaked grass blades; dry blackberry canes, thorns at the ready. I ripped my legs in several places; will I ever remember to wear protective clothing? (Probably not.)

The creek bed was dry, even deep beneath the rocks. But on the edge, where some of the weeds were still green, we found life, at last.

Under a broken board; the wood held in a bit more moisture. One carabid beetle.

Next board; one tiny snail, probably dead.

And under a large rock slab, we found a spider in her web.

But look again at that spider. Look above her, on the upper left. See the pale tangle of legs, the remains of her recent molt? Now look below her; see the sunburst of legs? Another spider! It's not often we find two spiders in such close proximity.

The second spider has come out into the light.

The only thing that brings spiders together, even for a short visit, is sex. The one on the upper right is the female; her abdomen is large and round. The male, below left, is smaller, skinnier, and his pedipalps, or "feelers", have enlarged tips, visible in the photo as dark spots just in front of his mouth. He has excreted a drop of semen, and scooped it up with his pedipalps. He will carry this around until the female allows him to approach close enough to deposit it in her sexual organ, on the underside of her abdomen.

If he's lucky, he'll escape uneaten.

And another rock, another spider. Same species, much smaller.

Another rock. And a tiny spider, of the same species.

Back home, at the edge of the garden, where I've been watering, a colony of sowbugs sleeps on the underside of a rock.

I should have carried a shovel. Something has to be alive out there, besides spiders; the spiders are not starving. Maybe the other animals retreat deep down to where they find cool dampness while the sun shines.   I'll go and look one day soon.

Very Big, BIG, Beetle

We've been told that the beach below our motel in Campbell River is a favourite site for fossil hunters. With that in mind, when I saw this ...

... I was immediately convinced that it was a humongous fossilized beetle.

Well, not exactly convinced. Not really. Not even slightly. But I do have a good imagination.

The "head" is over a meter long. The antennae are longer still. The rock is just one of the great slabs of sandstone that cover the beach. The green fuzz on it is rockweed.

And don't forget; September 9th is Rock Flipping Day! Pass it on!

Wonder what he's thinking

Raking the garden a few days ago, preparing a spot for planting lupins, I disturbed this big, black, ground beetle. He scrambled across the lawn, but was surprisingly docile once I'd caught him.

He was a dull black, I thought, until the light played on him; then he turned out to be beautifully decked in iridescent blues and purples.

As curious about me as I am about him.

Day two of early mornings and long days behind me. One more to go.

While the sun still shone

It has been raining, desultorily, without enthusiasm; too damp for gardening, too cool for bugs, too grey for photos. Most of my flowers are gone anyhow. Even the begonias and winter pansies are hanging their heads under the weight of rainwater.

It's good, then, that I'm still sorting September photos, full of bright, warm, sunshiny flowers and critters.

Our neighbour's sunflowers.

Banana flower and green fruit. Beach Grove.

Flies and a beetle on goldenrod. Mud Bay Station.

Unidentified seed pods. Possibly peppergrass* (a Mustard). Mud Bay, growing through the  rip-rap.

Gumweed and Cabbage white butterfly. Mud Bay.

Tiny succulent, Beach Grove.

Orange-brown sandhill skipper* on sea rocket. Centennial Beach.

Pickleweed, Salicornia pacifica. The white "spines" are salt crystals. Salicornia gets rid of excess salt by moving it up to the tips of the stems, which turn red and eventually drop off. Mud Bay tide flats. 

Another pickleweed plant. This one is just starting to accumulate salt at the tips.

It's raining harder now. I wonder if it's going to rain all month long, to make up for our warm September.

*Thanks to biobabbler, Katie and Jodi for the IDs. (See discussion in comments.)