Back in April, this moth was on our front window, and didn’t show any inclination to move. It had a wingspan of a bit under an inch, and as near as I can tell, it is in the genus Eupithecia, based on the way that the wings are held splayed out when at rest, rather than folded over the back. These overwinter as pupae, and so are one of the moth species that appear as adults very early in the season.
Little Brown Job
When birdwatching, there are a lot of what S. calls “little brown jobs”, little nondescript brown birds (sparrows and the like) that an amateur doesn’t have a prayer of identifying on-the-fly. Well, there is the same problem with jumping spiders, like this one:
This is in the family Salticidae, which is a huge group of arachnid “little brown jobs” (about 4,400 species identified). There are at least two species around here (brown ones like this one, and black ones with white stripes that I hope to get a picture of later). Whether this is just two species, or two groups of umpteen species each, I don’t know.
These little guys don’t build webs, instead they charge around pouncing on things. As you can see in the next picture, they have really good eyes for a spider:
Isn’t that a sweet face?[1] They are believed to have full binocular vision (depth perception is so important when you are planning on pouncing on something), and they can jump a couple of inches. This particular one sat for the photos, and then abruptly leapt completely out of the dish and scurried off. They’re kind of like the ant lions in that they either don’t move at all, or move so quickly that they almost seem to teleport from point to point.
We were picking mulberries back in June, and found these cute little guys, who had just hatched from their egg clutch on the bottom of a mulberry leaf. When we spotted them, they were all in a little cluster next to the eggs, but started to disperse by the time I got them to the camera stand.
Well, this one has disturbing implications:
We had a sudden infestation of these flies in the house, to the point that we had to vacuum them off of the windows:
Don’t make the ladies angry. You won’t like them when they’re angry.
So, we’ve been tearing down an old outbuilding because it was (a) rotting to the point of being unsafe, and (b) kind of in the way. Friday, I was stripping off shingles to take to the dump, and had gotten to the last bit on the edge of the roof. As I was pulling up on the shingles, I suddenly felt this stabbing pain on the back of my hand, and as I was looking down to see what it was, felt another on my other arm, and one on my shoulder, and . . . .
Anyway, after beating a dignified retreat[1] and waiting for things to settle down, I went back with the camera to see what I had uncovered:
And the black flies, the little black flies
Always the black fly no matter where you go
I’ll die with the black fly a Pickin’ my bones
In North Ontar-i-o-i-o, In North Ontar-i-o
-Wade Hemsworth, “The Black Fly Song”[1]
And here we have a “black fly”, family Simuliidae, also known as “buffalo gnats” (either because of their humped back, or because they tormented buffalo. Maybe both). This one was on our kitchen window, and is evidently fairly old, judging by the tattered trailing edge of the wings.
An Example of Convergent Evolution
This robber fly (subfamily Asilinae, I think[1]) was hanging out on our mulberry bush. It didn’t move when S. broke off the branch and brought it inside, and I actually thought it was dead while I was photographing it. But then, after getting several good pictures, it suddenly flew off. It was the most cooperative subject I’ve had since the millipede (and the dead ones, of course). These are carnivorous flies that prey on other insects. I suppose they would be capable of biting people, too, but I’ve never had one try to bite me.
They change so much as they grow up!
In the middle of June, S. found this little caterpillar on an aspen tree
Every morning when I bicycle to work, I go past “Houghton Medical Arts”, a private clinic. For a long time, their sign out in front has said “Try Acupuncture for Pain”, and whenever I saw this, i would think of a scenario kind of like this:
Acupuncturist: Now hold still . . . [Jab]
Patient: Ow! Hey, that hurt!
A: Well, what did you expect? Didn’t you read the sign? [Jab]
P: Ow!
[and so on]
A few weeks ago, I posted pictures of a predatory beetle, and mentioned that I’d like to get a picture of the larva of that beetle, because they were pretty wicked-looking[1]. Well, here’s a nice example, which I found crawling across the kitchen floor[2]. Correction: this is evidently some type of carrion beetle (see comment from “Anthony” below). The small squares on the grid are 1 mm, so this larva is close to 2 cm long.
