"Spike"

The ladybugs are back, and feasting on aphids in the linden tree.

Here's a fat larva, with aphid gut dinner.

Messy eater.

More members of the family coming tomorrow.

Variations on a spotty theme

Eighteen-spotter:

Ladybug on a napkin, Tim Horton's, Tsawwassen

And six-spotter:

Ladybug on a leaf, at home in Upper Delta.

And they're the same species, Harmonia axyridis, as shown by the W on the pronotum.

These beetles can sometimes be difficult to identify because of the variations in color, spot size, and spot count of the elytra. The easiest way to identify H. axyridis is to look at the pronotum and see if the black markings look like a letter "W" or "M" (depending on if the marking is viewed from the front or the back). (From Wikipedia)

Ladybugs in love

A couple of ladybugs were hanging out in my spider box; the spider ignored them, and they seemed contented there, and didn't try to leave when I left the lid open. They were happier than I had guessed; I came in one afternoon to catch them in the act, and had to get out the camera.

Here's the video. A little graphic, maybe, but I had to share it.

I never imagined that ladybugs were so ... enthusiastic.

I looked everywhere, later, hunting for eggs. I didn't see any. Both beetles have flown the coop now, so they may be searching for a decent tree for their young 'uns.

And I'm still working on those worms.

Now you see me ...

Wednesday had been such a bright, summery day, and we'd spent it in traffic and malls. But we got home with maybe half an hour before the sun set and the chill returned, so I dashed across the street to the vacant lot, to get at least a taste of wildness into the day.

It had been raining off and on for days, so the ground was soggy and puddly. The plants, except for a dandelion and two fading daisies, were all dry stems and crumbled brown leaves. Only the goldenrods held some shape. I picked a handful and headed home; the sun had already dropped behind the evergreens to the west, and the wind was cold.

When I spread out the goldenrods at home, two spiders and a black stick that wriggled dropped out.

I posted the tiny jumping spider yesterday; here is the second:

Hunting spider, blending in to the shapes and colours of the goldenrod.

I tried to photograph the spider on the table; she wasn't interested, so I caught her and replaced her on the plants. Then I spent a good part of the evening looking for her. She was so perfectly camouflaged that I could look straight at her and not see her until she moved.

She's somewhere in here, but I can't see her. A few seconds after I took the photo, there she was, in plain sight.

Goldenrod flowerhead, now fluff, and seed with parachute.

The tiny stick that wriggled was about the size and colour of the seeds. Worse; it was clinging to a bit of the fluff, which made it look even more like a seed. But it was moving, slowly. I brought out the lens.

Bagworm moth larva, 5mm long, with only head showing.

It's a bagworm, the second I've seen. (Dahlica triquetrella, on a wall.) This one doesn't look like the same species, however; the body pattern is different, and instead of sand, it has chosen bits of the goldenrod to make its case.

Head end.

Bagworm moths live all or almost all their lives in these cases. Some species are parthenogenic; there are no males, and the females lay their eggs without needing fertilization. These females never leave their cases. Males of other species do, but only to find a female and mate; then they die.

Larvae hatch from eggs inside the mother's case, leave and immediately start building their own case, using materials and patterns specific to their species. The case has two openings; the head end, where the larva stretches out to walk about and to eat, and the tail, which allows the worm to excrete waste materials.

Some cling to walls or stone, where they eat lichen. Some hang from evergreen trees and eat the needles; a large infestation can seriously damage the tree. This one probably eats goldenrod leaves, and it seemed, watching it, that it was also eating the fluffy parachutes of the seeds. The leaves are dry and brown by now, anyhow. When it has eaten enough, it will pupate and wait out the winter in that state.

Making the case out of local material, in this case goldenrod fiber, helps to protect the moth by making it blend in to the background. Once I had replaced the bagworm on top of the goldenrod, and looked to see how it was managing, I couldn't see it at all.

I shook out a lot of the fluff and examined it, shaking it and blowing it about for a while, until I found a second larva.

4mm. Much more timid; by the time I'd brushed the seeds away from it, it had retreated into the case and refused to come out.

One last critter showed up in the pile of sorted fluff; a small ladybug, the eleven-spotted lady beetle, seemingly dormant. When I moistened the cloth she stood on, she woke, took a drink, groomed herself, struggled past the clinging seeds, and flew away.

Coccinella unidecimpuntata, 5 mm. long. Not camouflaged at all.

All growed up now

Another brand-new arrival!

This ladybug just emerged from the pupa, and is still catching her breath. Most of the ones I've seen just after hatching have unspotted backs; the spots gradually darken over a few days. But this one has all her spots. The "skin" is still slightly traslucent around the edges.

At this stage, for a brief while, ladybugs are moist and a bit sticky. If one is turned on her back on a piece of paper or fabric, she will be trapped and unable to free herself.

It's a vulnerable moment. They spend the first few minutes just taking stock, doing a bit of grooming and stretching, drying off. Then -- lunch! They hurry off to find a juicy aphid.

Never Trust a Ladybug

Ladybugs are so cute, we forget that they are predators. Watch:

The truth about bugs. And a moth.

"Bugs have no morals!" This was me, half ranting, half laughing this afternoon. Laurie was just laughing.

The story will have to wait until I've put together a bit of a video, say tomorrow or the day after. All I can tell you now is that it involves cannibalistic ladybugs.

Meanwhile, here's a pretty moth, quiet, polite, and innocent of all malice.

It's probably an orange underwing; I saw the flash of colour as it flew away.

The hunters, the farmers, and a pair of gadabouts.

A pair of big yellow butterflies has been flitting about the lawn, and I've had the camera close at hand, hoping to catch them at rest. No such luck. I haven't seen them stop yet.

They passed my window again, low down. I grabbed the camera and dashed out. The butterflies flew over the treetops and away. Again.

I was standing there, squinting into the sun, hoping they would come back, when I noticed that it appeared to be raining under a young linden in front of me. A steady rainfall of small drops, but only underneath the tree. I went to investigate. The entire tree is coated in a glistening, sticky fluid; so is the grass underneath.

Each leaf sheltered a number of insects on its sticky underside.

Aphids

Ants ran up and down the trunk and over the leaves. Aphids produce a sweet "honey" that ants prize highly. Some species maintain an aphid farm, and milk their stock regularly, by stroking their backs with their antennae. This doesn't seem necessary on our linden; there's enough honey dripping off the tree to feed any number of ants.

Young aphid, wingless and almost colourless, except for stripes on the antennae.

Older aphid, with dotted abdomen.

Some of the aphids are winged. These may eventually fly to a new tree.

The wings have a dark border and cloudy spots.

Young winged aphid, with the shell of its recent molt.

The aphids won't harm the tree, so I am told. And their numbers will soon be kept in check. I found a 13-spot ladybug on one leaf; she flew away when I tried to photograph her. (It's difficult when your fingers keep sticking to the leaves.) But she has left plenty of progeny:

Family of ladybug eggs and newly hatched larvae. At first, they eat the leftover egg casings, but in a day or two, they'll be hunting for aphids.

These are still very small. They will go through 5 or more molts before they pupate; by then they will be longer than their parent.

So, I feed and water the linden tree, the linden tree feeds the aphids, the aphids feed the ants and the ladybugs, and the ants and ladybugs feed the birds. I wonder; will the honeyed tree attract and slow down the butterflies? I'll keep my eye on it.

Orange

At the New Westminster Quay:

18-spot ladybug

Lilies

Pansies

Deceptive succulent. The prickly stem is another plant.

Succulent, unidentified.

A perpetual astonishment*

In a patch of weedy grass beside the path to the beach at Boundary Bay, we chased a butterfly, and found these:

Dead nettles and grape hyacinth

The butterfly. Cabbage white, male. The females have two spots in the centre of each wing.

And a pair of amorous ladybugs. These are the Seven-spotted Ladybug (but one is a guy), Coccinella septempunctata.

A good start to the buggy season!

*Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment.  ~Ellis Peters

Ladybug, ladybug, fly ...

... or walkcreep, if you don't feel up to flight at the moment.

This ladybug, the first we've seen this year, landed on Laurie's leg, just outside of the Tim Horton's in Tsawwassen. I took her inside to see if I could identify her; I would have to count her spots and get a good look at her pronotum, the shield between the head and the wing covers. She was quite agitated, and raced around the table. Twice she flew away, only to land on the window behind me. So I brought her home in a bottle Laurie had in his pocket.

Slow down! I can't count your spots!

She's a Multicoloured Asian Lady Beetle, Harmonia axyridis, an imported species. The defining characteristic is the more or less "W" shaped mark on the pronotum. These ladybugs are extremely variable,* with anywhere from no spots to 18, like this one, and in any combination of yellow, black, orange, red, and white.

At home, she came out of her bottle running, and wouldn't stop. Back in the bottle, she went into the fridge to cool off and, I hoped, go to sleep.

I've had trouble with beetles; they're tough little beasties. Often, I take one, sound asleep, out of the fridge, and before I've got the camera focused, it's awake and running again. So I put a light cloth over an ice pack, and park the beetle there. It works, sometimes.

This little lady was closed down tight, legs folded against the belly, antennae at rest. On the cold pack, she sat still. For all of 30 seconds. Then she unfolded one front leg.

"Yawn!"

Next, she started to walk. Slowly. Really s  l  o  w  l  y. About 20 seconds per step.

10 seconds. All legs extended.

14 more seconds. Stepping forward.

8 more seconds. Front leg moves back. Middle leg moves forward.

Each little leg moves in its turn; first, middle, last. And the sides alternate; left front, right front, left middle, etc. An interesting, rather complicated gait. (Compare it to the gait of horses, tigers, cats, us, centipedes.)

Because it allows for rapid yet stable movement, many insects adopt a tripedal gait in which they walk with their legs touching the ground in alternating triangles. Wikipedia.

I think that's what the ladybug is doing. Front-left, rear-left, middle-right, all down at the same time, then the other three.

And so it went, for about a minute; barely one complete round. Then her motors revved up, and she went back to running mode. Now, she's chasing around in her bottle on my desk, waiting for the sunrise, when I'll put her out in the garden.

*For other variants, see BugGuide, and this post.

Ladies in polka dotted sundresses

I promised you ladybugs. Here they are, from the same path as yesterday's wasps and bees:

Seven-spotted Lady Beetle, Coccinella septempunctata. An import.

Another seven-spot, on a fireweed stalk.

Harmonia axyridis

This is an eighteen-spotter, one of the many patterns of the Multicoloured Asian Lady Beetle. They're recognizable, whatever the number of spots or base colour of the wing covers, by the "W" on the pronotum. It's also an import.

I haven't seen any native ladybugs yet this year.

In a sprig of fir

Last week, Carol, of Black Jack's Carol, posted photos of a Short-Eared Owl in flight. It looked, to me, like a Douglas fir cone with wings and eyes attached, and I told Laurie about it. So when he went out this afternoon, he brought me back a Douglas fir branch tip with five cones on it.

I think that right-hand one will make a good owl if I add paper wings and painted eyes.

 "It probably has bugs on it," Laurie said. A bonus!

And yes, it did. I put the branch down on the kitchen table, and immediately little black dots popped out of it and started hopping. I ran for my bug containers. They were springtails, the tiny fat, purple-blotched globular springtails. Cute, but so tiny! The biggest one of that batch barely measured 1 1/2 millimetres. I had to use the microscope to get photos.

These two were interesting, if not exactly in focus.

Dicyrtomina ornata, I think.

This little guy had lost his footing, and was struggling on his back. It gave me an opportunity to look at his jumping mechanism. See that long V structure along the belly? It is attached at the tail end.

"The main locomotor organ is a forked, tail-like structure (called a furcula) which is folded forward under the abdomen when the insect is at rest. The furcula is held in place by a clasp-like structure, called a tenaculum. When the tenaculum is released, the furcula thrusts downward and backward against the substrate, allowing the springtail to jump consider able distances." From U. of Nebraska.

And here the furcula is released and the springtail leaps.

Six inches or more in a single bound, easily six inches high. Pretty good for a pinhead!

The crab spider hiding among the needles wasn't so anxious to be out and about; after all, her hunting method relies on being invisible. I had to tip her out with a paintbrush.

Xysticus, female. With a springtail for size comparison. She's about 4 mm. long.

Now she's in a cosy tin, with some springtails and a stray Indian meal moth in case she gets hungry.

All eight eyes are visible here. One row in front, one on top.

Just before I put the branch outside (because springtails were still popcorning around it), I noticed a glimmer of amber. It moved when I touched it.

A ladybug, not hibernating. After all, it seems like spring, these days.

I had never seen one of these. It's a Mulsantina picta, the Painted Ladybeetle.

The photo doesn't do justice to its colouring; the richest of warm amber wing covers, and, with the light at the right angle, a bright yellow pronotum. The head is black, with a creamy yellow crown pattern between the eyes. Before I could coax it into a better light, the ladybug spread its wings and flew away. It's probably looking for aphids on one of my houseplants by now.

We'll meet again, I'm sure.

After the rain

I awoke yesterday morning in Strathcona to the sound of a pounding rainstorm. We went out, once it had exhausted itself, to a drippy world ...

Fallen glories.

Just another droplet on the dill weed.

Holding on tight.

Beaded beauty.

Red berries.

Creamy honeysuckle. (Click on this to see the tiny hairs on the flowers.)

On the leaves of a smoke tree.

Freshly washed.

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