Am I Bugging You Yet?

2011 Winter Solstice Bug Count

2011-12-28T22:31:00.000-08:00

Drum roll . . . a little late but not forgotten, the sixth annual AIBYY winter solstice bug count post.

I did the count on two consecutive days straddling the astromonic solstice, the 21st and 22nd of December. Both days were sunny and relatively calm compared to strong winds we had been experiencing. According to CIMIS the daytime high temperatures were in the low 60s both days with night lows around 40, that is in Fahrenheit. So a typical southern California winter's day.

First, a note about temporal accuracy in the bug count. I was tempted to include a large female adult orb weaver spider, Neoscona crucifera, in the count. I saw her on her web high over the strawberry tree on 12/20; a rarity this late in the year. Next day a fresh web was still draped over the garden path but no spider there to be counted; and she hasn't been spotted since. Likewise but conversely, the mantis that arguably is the star of this year's count was present and counted on the 21st, but has not been seen since; possible her dead body fell from the fence into a bunch of leaf debris which was raked up on the 23rd just in time for the holiday weekend. If a presumption of death on both counts were true, what is the significance of a mantis living one winter day longer than an orb weaver? If the presumed deaths did not occur and the creatures were simply not available be seen . . . well I never said I see everything there is to be counted, but I count (or at least estimate) and report everything I see:

ARACHNIDS
Lots of spider mites on the mint and the lippia graveolens.
1 tiny orb weaver, possibly Neoscona crucifera but too small for me to ID
1 predatory mite, Anystis baccarum. They cruise around on wood surfaces looking for . . . something.
? Pomegranate leaf curl mites, Aceria granati. There is still leaf curl evidence on the pomegranate, but not sure whether the mites are still kicking.
7 Funnel web spiders, Hololena curta, sheltering under my front porch.

INSECTS
Some evidence of pittosporum psyllids (fresh waxy strings, curled leafs, shiny honeydew) among lots and lots of old damaged leaves covered in sooty mold.
7 colonies of Aphis nerii, all wingless
5 colonies of unidentified aphids on fennel, all wingless
2 leafhoppers of the green persuasion
1 glassywinged sharpshooter adult, Homolodisca vitripennis,

1 Creontiades rubrinervis, small nymph
36 to 40 Oncopeltus fasciatus, large milkweed bug, on cactus and buddleia but not on milkweed. 25 of these were recently hatched, aggregated on a buddleia tip.
1 green stink bug, Nezara viridula, immature
9 green lacewing eggs, Chrysopa sp.

4 Kaydid nymphs, Scudderia furcata

20 or so small green thrip-shaped items that scurried out of the gerber daisy disk when I disturbed it.
1 California mantis female, Stagmomantis californica

1 Cloudless sulphur (Phoebis sennae) floated overhead among the tecomara blooms,
1 Monarch (Danaus plexippus) joined in the floating in the sunshine.
21 monarch butterfly eggs on the milkweed and
1 tiny just hatched caterpillar of the same species.
2 unidentified larvae living inside gerber daisy flower disks
5 Fuller rose beetles, Pantomorus crevinus. All found on the feathery cassia curled up among flowers.
100s of ants. These ants seem to live on or near the bronze fennel and tend the aphids living there. But they also stage forays down the parkway, across the sidewalk, up the driveway, and into the soil of my neighbor's yard.

35 honeybees, Apis mellifera, mostly working the cape honeysuckle but also a few on the willow wattle.
1 polistes wasp of unconfirmed species
2 syrphid fly adults, species unknown

1 green bottle fly, Lucilia sericata
lots of no-see-ums, small flies around my face
10 lavatera leaves with fresh serpentine leaf mines, evidence of Lyriomyza trifolii

NON Arthopod
1 very small garden snail, Helix aspersa

Mantises

2011-12-16T10:58:00.000-08:00

This beautifully colored California mantis, Stagmomantis californica, was prowling along the top of my old hall tree in the low angle winter sunshine the other day.

Apparently she had left this ootheca in a convenient 90 degree angle on the piece of furniture that I guess will remain unfinished until spring when the baby mantises hatch.

These mantises come in a nice array of colors. In addition to the golden green one on the hall tree, through the summer I found:

a bone white one that grew up on adenium stems of nearly the same color;

a bright green juvenile with red patches
climbing an old wooden slot-spoon hanging on a rebar stake;

and a reddish brown one with beautiful markings that grew up among the dark red rudbeckias. I happened to stop by one summer day when this one had just finished molting. Then she stalked away down the hairy daisy stem leaving her exoskeleton behind hanging from the Cherry Brandy blooms.

Ah, summer I miss you now.

Winterbloom

2011-12-15T18:55:00.000-08:00

Some dried rudbeckia and gomphrena in a balsamic vinegar flask (empty of course) silhuoetted in my happy orange summer window of sunflower batik fabric mod-podged onto the south-facing glass . . . winterbloom.

Welcome Monarchs

2011-12-02T06:00:00.000-08:00

Until yesterday, and since March, I've seen zero monarch (Danaus plexippus) caterpillars in the garden.
It's cold enough to wear a wooly beany during the day; chilly enough to make me to remember the long hot days of summer fondly; and wonder why there were no caterpillars during summer's bounty of succulent leaves and flowers.

But now that the milkweed is cold-purpled and thin, I find these two little guys munching away.

This one is sandwiched between two leaves . . . cozy?

Pomegranate update

2011-12-01T20:25:00.000-08:00

Back in March when I noticed the spiraling leaves on the pomegranate tree I searched the internet and print sources for information on what might be causing the deformed leaves. I found nothing definitive; also not anybody else wondering about the problem. Said it looks like insect damage, and shelved the question.

A little while passed, the leaves were still spiraling, and I finally found a reference to Aceria granati, the (apparently if this is indeed the culprit) aptly named pomegranate leafroll mite. I meant to post this update but didn't get a round to it.

A fellow pomegranate grower here in So Cal inquired the other day about the twisted leaves, since they too have the same thing on their punica granatum. And so I am given the impetus to post this update on the pomegranate. It still has spiral leaves; about 1/2 of the remaining (some has seasonally dropped) foliage is spiraled. The tree produced few flowers this year and only one fruit; bear in mind this is a p. granatum nana and so doesn't bear a lot of fruits. Still, I will say there was a definite reduction in productivity. My plan is to prune off the affected leaves now before they drop; allow the tree to further defoliate for winter; watch for infestation early spring; and treat with neem or insecticidal soap if there is mite sign. Chemical use against mites often gives a bad result because the pesticide kills off predators that would otherwise feed on the mites; also mites can become resistant to chemicals.

University of California IPM guidelines for spider mites (different but possibly similarly controlled organism) suggests that water stress and dust can set up a plant for mite infestations. So I will probably supplement water the pom in spring and spray off the leaves if there is sign of trouble with aceria granati.

A bee, a caudiciform, a self-satisfied cackle

2011-11-15T06:01:00.000-08:00

I found a honey bee clinging to a flower in the middle of the day, appearing to be at the end of its last honey run. While a bit sad the scene was pretty with the bee glowing in the sunlight reflected off the flower that I was darned if I could remember the name of.

An iceplant (aizoaceae family); for sure. This one grows erect and shrubby, with typical iceplant leaves and of course the small orange flowers. So I searched on the internets for "shrubby iceplant orange flower" and scrolled down the page. Not Ruschia pulvinaris or mesembranthemum; not lampranthus of any kind but there toward the bottom of page one I found a promising entry: Mestoklema arboriforme at San Marcos Growers. No photo. Search for Mestoklema (no wonder I couldn't remember the name, it's hard to type and hard to say) and photos confirm this is the genus but my plant could be either M. arborifome (more likely to form a water-storing stem or caudix) or M. tuberosa. Still, I couldn't suppress a little gurgly cackle of self-satisfaction with my researching skills. You know how Gollum sounded when he caught a fish in the forbidden pool in Two Towers?

Anyway, next day I found the bee dead, its tarsi still clinging to the Mestoklema (I'm going with) arboriforme flower.

Daylight Confusion Time

2011-11-06T18:49:00.000-08:00

If today we ended Daylight Savings Time, have we now entered the time of losing, or possibly wasting, daylight?

Today seems like a perfect day to revisit images from the past summer. These are all dead insects (and one spider and one isopod) found about the estate as summer passed. The top photos are a robber fly, Mallophora fautrix, I found resting on a eriogonum giganteum branch. I gathered it up and set it in a planter with the brain cactus for safekeeping.

As time went by, a yellow faced bumblebee (Bombus vosnesenskii) joined the robber fly. I rarely see bumblebees flying in the yard so this was an unusual find.

This cabbage white butterfly was found on the gravel and joined the brain cactus collection. There were a lot of cabbage whites this summer.

Out on the front porch I found a sad scene with dismembered house spider (achaearanea tepidariorium) and sowbug. A deadly fight between a spider and a sowbug seems unlikely but what other explanation is there for this scenario?

A neighbor found a dead black witch moth (Escalapha odorata) while rummaging through her stuff in the garage. She brought it over to share. This one appears to have been dead awhile and the colors are faded. Females have a light band zigzagging across the wings, not clearly apparent in this specimen. Though I was sad it was dead, this discovery gave me hope of someday seeing a black witch flying around my garden some night.

Rain

2011-11-04T14:15:00.001-07:00

The big scary spider (Neoscona crucifera) seen earlier in this previous post is today hunkered in the sparse protection of a dried up Cestrum newellii stem. Because it's raining and there's no point in building the web, no warm sunshine to bask in while waiting for a passing bee, no bees (or flies for that matter) out anyway in the more or less continuous drip of the day.

I like the rain but I have a roof that only has one teensy leak; I also have a big pile of firewood, a gas heater, lots of blankets and warm soup to sip.

Meanwhile an old lawn mower collects drips

and an old wind chime catches a sunbeam during a break in the rain. How does the spider's exoskeleton measure up to the iron indifference of these objects to the cold and wet?

Saints and other Spooky Creatures

2011-11-03T13:41:00.000-07:00

Almost time to take down and pack up the Halloween for another dark year in storage in the dusty attic.
But not before a few pictures of this year's haunt. Top of this post is the garden Bruja, conjuring up a spiralling stem of red Vitis californica leaves. Then in no particular order:

two jack-o-lanterns

Raggedy Andy in an altered state

a very realistic but fake Rat obtained at a yard sale in the merry month of May

a baby doll head

big scary plastic fly
(species undetermined, possibly sarcophaga sp.)

Sir Knight

tarantula in the corn stalks

and last but never least Saint Francis and his pumpkin friend by night and by day.

Obligatory Spider Post

2011-10-31T06:50:00.000-07:00

It's Halloween and what can be scarier than a real live spider . . . NOT.

Actually Mr. Cardui is afraid of spiders. I think he doesn't trust them. This particular one, a spotted orb weaver Neoscona crucifera, has built her web on the north facing side of the prunus caroliniana hedge for weeks, positioning herself in the center of the web right about eye-level to an unusually short blogger. For some reason, yesterday afternoon she had moved two of the web anchors and enlarged her web so it now spanned from the hedge to the house, a distance of about 12 feet. Mr. Cardui blundered face-first into web as he was putting away parts of his scary troll costume from the weekend's festivities. Ironical, isn't it?

These spiders are out on the web during the day; this one scurried up to the center of the bridge thread of her web to survey the damage . . . the bottom anchor in the middle of our driveway was severed, and then the spider-fearer detatched the anchor to the house as well to discourage the spider from building web where people like to walk. It worked. Late last night I checked to see where she was: in the center of a beautiful new perfectly flat and shining web on the north side of the prunus hedge just about eye-level to flashlight-wielding bug nut.

Here is the orb weaver's web from a couple days ago, glowing in the sun. It's interesting how this one has an bend in it; the spiral is not all in one plane. Maybe this was a repair job on a partially damaged web.

Happy Halloween and don't let the spiders scare ya.

I watched your masked face
--too huge to eat-- ruin my web
and you said Oh ick.

Scary Goathead Cactus Flower

2011-10-30T20:59:00.000-07:00

So the San Pedro cactus, Echinopsis pachanoi, put out another set of blooms; this time lower down on its ungainly self. This flower bud is just beginning to crack open about 2:30 in the afternoon.

By 5:00 the flower has opened up a bit

and by sunset it and some others are fully open.

Next morning the flower is still open, along with an unopened bud on the other side of the stem in an awkwardly angular ungraceful presentation as commented upon by a reader in my previous post on this plant. Still, the flowers are strangely compelling in their largeness, their complex parts surrounded by translucent white feathery petals.

Once bloomed the petals and sepals fold in and down around the flower. One of these collapsed flowers, seen in the top photo, took on the appearance of a scary goathead on the eve of All Hallow's Eve.

Flowers for Suki

2011-10-29T10:00:00.000-07:00

I planted a scrawny nearly dead twig of a brugmansia in the disturbed soil next to my dog's grave last autumn and this is what is has become.

This was my mom's plant that was sidelined in a pot in my yard for awhile until she found a new place to live (my mom that is). Mom's new patio really wasn't spacious enough for an Angel Trumpet, so the potted plant stayed with me. It wasn't until I wanted to use the pot for something else that I decided to plop the brug into the ground . . . I really wasn't that into the plant and figured it would die anyway.

It has repaid that backhanded kindness with a cascade of flowers. We fondly call them Suki flowers after the dog . . . she was also white and odorous.

This tiny katydid is stepping out to take on a giant flower. These guys love to eat holes in flowers.

There is also a mantis lurking around the flowers waiting to catch the unaware bee or maybe that katydid when it has gotten a bit larger. At one point she was standing guard over a hole in the sepals, hoping something tasty would emerge no doubt.

Sometimes she retreats back into the shrubbery or takes up a position at the crossroads of brugmansia stems.

The brugmansia has been in bloom for two weeks now. It's almost done with its heroic display; many shriveled blooms hang limp from the stems and bulbous pods begin to form and I thank it for its tribute to both my dog and its own tenacity and for creating a place for life in what was a empty spot in the garden.

RIP Suki

Tree Lizards

2011-10-23T16:38:00.000-07:00

Two of my friendly neighborhood southern alligator lizards (Elgaria multicarinata) were found up the lemon verbena tree.

They simply lay there lounging on handy horizontal branches, not seeming to be bothered by me or even a pesky fly (Minettia flaveola I believe) that spent long minutes on the one lizard's head and face. I kept hoping it would snap up the fly and end the suspense, but the lizard closed a stoic eye on the situation.

Meanwhile its partner in lounging watched from above what passes for lizard action on a lazy afternoon.

Beware the Solanum?

2011-10-16T20:11:00.000-07:00

I was creeping around a well-known garden center in Newport Beach whose name shall remain nameless because they are already well known enough, checking out their very cool but too expensive collection of Halloween decor. Out of the corner of my eye, looking past the gigantic animated spider, the moon-face jack o lanterns, the headless horseman, the gothic costumes and candelabra, the skeletons, the crows, the spooky photos . . . um, yeah and the price tags . . . past all this I saw some scrumptiously Octoberesque porcupine tomatoes, Solanum pyracanthum. Yeah, this garden center is really more of a lifestyle shopping experience, but they do also sell plants.

Hold onto your credit cards, this one gallon specimen of one of my favorite plants was less than 10 bucks. Since I already knew what pot it would look good in (bought when Mainly Seconds in Orange was closing for 70% off) I wasted no time picking out the best of the litter and carting my new porcupine tomato home.

Called that because 1) it is in the tomato genus, closely related and it even produces little tomato-like fruits after flowering in a tomato-like but purple way; and 2) it is covered in long spines. Now, porcupine spines are not day-glo orange, but as you know common names for plants sometimes stretch the truth.

After the plant was potted up (with sedum nussbaumeranium, lilac lobelia, and lysimachia congestiflora 'Persian chocolate'), looking good, and set in a place of honor by the front stairs, I noticed a group of newly hatched leaf footed bugs, Leptoglossus zonatus, gathered on a flower bud. It looked like they were in a huddle or maybe a prayer meeting but really I suppose they were just getting ready to disperse. Here's one that was well on its way to exploring the porcupine tomato world it has found itself inhabiting.

I assume the bug eggs were on the solanum plant when I bought it, and hatched soon after I brought it home. Tomato is one of the many many plants this bug likes to feed on, being as they say polyphagous. Previously in my garden the leaf footed bugs have been found on pomegranate, opuntia, myrtle, jade plant and milkweed. I guess I got some cool (and free of additional charge) Halloween bug decorations after all.

Finally one last note about solanum: it is in no way connected with zombie-ism. Solanum virus is NOT REAL. Solanum is a genus of plants, not a zombie-causing virus. Check out this article from the Zombie Research Society for clarification on all things zombie. Thank you.

Some Flowers for October: part 3

2011-10-15T16:14:00.000-07:00

Another reason to always grow rudbeckia hirta are the amazing dried flowers. These two have dried on the plant with no additional effort required; just go out in the yard this time of year and cut great looking blooms in full senescence for your harvest-time arrangements. I suppose if I picked the flowers when they were in full bloom and dried them in a protected area maybe they would be prettier. But that sounds like work, and I like the naturally decrepit look of these field grown daisies way past their prime, which one was like this:

I grew some red rudbeckia this year; I have gathered a bunch of dry ones which are nearly black and will make a suitable arrangement for a ghoulish feast later this month.

Some Flowers for October: part 2

2011-10-15T16:09:00.000-07:00

It's a fine day in October when your mini rose is blooming and two tiny katydids (Scudderia furcata) pose attractively in the buttery autumn sunshine.

Some Flowers for October: part 1

2011-10-15T15:41:00.000-07:00

I shambled into the backyard this morning, my mind in a bit of a fog thinking about corporate greed and all the bad that comes with it, when I noticed a stench of dead animal. Seriously, I was mincing my steps as I scoped out the vegetation for buggies and stuff, imagining my foot's encounter with a possible half-rotten carcass lurking under a dried-up fallen-over corn stalk or an overgrown buckwheat or something.

Then I remembered: it was the sweet smell of stapelia in bloom. This spring I divided my big old potted clump of stapelia gigantea, aka carrion flower, creating many more smaller plants. This succulent plant, a member of the milkweed clan, is ridiculously easy to grow and propagate. But once propagated bloom they will . . . beware the stench. One of the cuttings shown here with a big balloon-like bud and a withered up claw of a spent flower.

Flies are attracted by the smell and meat-like appearance of the flowers, and they actually lay eggs on the flowers which hatch, live for a few days, then die of hunger. The top photo shows a beetle of some unidentified sort that was also attracted to the flower. Here's a fly and the beetle. More about flies and stapelia here.

Assassin Bug Eggs

2011-10-06T18:45:00.000-07:00

Back in summer, I saw a female leafhopper assassin bug (Zelus renardii) cruising among the milkweed, and obviously full of eggs.

Then I found this bunch of eggs on the underside of a milkweed leaf. The temporal and physical proximities suggested these were assassin bug eggs, plus these eggs didn't look like other insect eggs I had already found and identified. A bit of internet research indicated these are assassin bug eggs.

I kept checking on these eggs and one day actual observation confirmed the virtual evidence when I saw tiny assassin bugs were pouring out of the eggs. They looked a lot like mantises hatching, except a lot smaller. A day later they looked like this:

Now my photos join the body of virtual evidence in the circle of helpful electrons hoping to validate, identify or illuminate reality.

Alkali Flies a Bonus for Sierra Visitors

2011-10-03T21:42:00.000-07:00

Mr. Cardui, myself and I took a quick jaunt up the eastern Sierra end of last month. This time we toodled around the Upper Owens River area as well as Mono Lake. Though Mono Lake and the Owens River are not hydraulically connected (Mono has no outlets; the Owens headwaters are just south of Mono) they each have played big parts in the water use history of the eastern Sierra.

This top photo is the shore of Mono. The black line on the shore is comprised of gazillions of Mono Lake alkali flies, Ephydra hians, one of the very few organisms that can live in the waters of the lake. The female traps air on her body hairs and walks under water along an algae bed laying eggs. The larvae eat the algae and turn into, what else, pupae. The native people of this area used the incredibly abundant pupae as a food source; they called them "kutsadi". However, white people had established contact earlier with the Yokut people of the western Sierra, who traded with the kutsadika'a ("fly eaters" in their own tongue); these traders called the tasty pupae "Mono" and so that name stuck . . . easier to say, I guess. The gulls (also seen in the top photo) feed on the flies in all their life stages.

Anyway, Mono Lake is really pretty and the flies are interesting bonus material.

Flowing through a broad valley (Long Valley) and into Crowley Lake is the upper Owens River. Lots of people fish up here, but I found these old bridge supports interesting. Soon after this photo was taken, those clouds up among the sierra peaks started sprouting lightning.

Lightning can be scary, and even more so the fires it often starts, but on Space Trash Day, I was way more freaked out about getting hit by satellite parts, so I took shelter under this antique hair curler at the Laws Museum in Bishop.

No that's not really me but this is:

There's always lots of interesting barbed wire in the valley, separating someone's old ranch from someone else's new dreams.

I encourage you all to visit the Owen's Valley and the Eastern Sierra as it is particularly beautiful this time of year and the residents could use the money.

The End of September as We Know It

2011-09-30T23:00:00.000-07:00

Nothing apocalyptic, I just like wielding the plowshare of drama as the months and seasons wheel around us:

As the pivotal month of September ended, my big columnar cactus (a small thing in a small pot many seasons ago) bloomed. These blooms are about 6 inches across and open as the sun sets: quite spectacular in a backyard kind of way.

You (and I) would assume the pollinators for these flowers are nocturnal; moths, bats, vampires. And that could be the case, but I was out at six a.m. to photograph the flowers and found small swarms of honeybees working the brush of stamens for pollen. More than once in awhile one of the bees would land on or brush against the branched stigma with its pollen coated body, so the potential exists for bees as pollinators for this cactus.

About mid-day after blooming the flower has closed in on itself; still a few bees were seen crawling into the collapsed flower. In this photo, there is a spent flower (left), a full bloom (center), and a bud (right) all atop the six ribbed seven foot stems of my cactus. Notice the hairy bumps near the flowers. These are I guess I would call them proto-buds. They've been there for months, waiting for the proper stimulus (day length? temperature? age?) to develop into flowers.

Identifying tall columnar cacti with large white flowers isn't as easy as I thought. I combed through photos and descriptions of many genuses, thinking it was sure to be one of the -cereus types. But the hairy buds, short spines and bluish color along with other attributes led me to believe this is Echinopsis pachanoi, the San Pedro cactus.

My neighbor across the street has a huge cactus in her front yard. You can judge the scale from the trash bins under it. This cactus is not E. pachanoi; it has annually segmented stems that also branch, no hairy buds, more ribs, longer spines and is more of a yellow green. But for whatever cactusy reason it is also in bloom here at the end of September.

How Long it takes Snails to Eat Paper

2011-07-23T16:01:00.000-07:00

As I started out on the morning's walk the other day I noticed this group of garden snails converged on a round paper thing . . . what looked like a lid of some sort to a food container maybe . . . on the sidewalk. The paper was wet, probably from overspray from the sprinklers in the nearby planter of star jasmine ground cover, also probably the snails' home and shelter.

Nearing home after four miles or about an hour later, the snails had pretty much consumed the paper.

Large Amounts of Milkweed Bugz

2011-07-22T23:51:00.000-07:00

Are large milkweed bugs (Oncopeltus fasciatus) pests?

In years passed the milkweed bugs have been plentiful on the milkweed plants for several months, then the population goes down as either the milkweed declines (sometimes due to monarch caterpillar feeding) or weather changes or something known only to milkweed bugs. In other words the bugs seem to be part of a self regulating natural cycle. They ebb and flow among the milkweed fluff and since the milkweed needs regulation itself they seem to leave no mark in their passage.

Since I noticed the first group of them in late May, and the first bug maturing to adulthood in mid-June the large milkweed bug population has, well, enlarged.

There are hundreds of them of all ages on the milkweed in the backyard and they have moved to the milkweed in the front yard as well. Aside from feeding on the milkweed, which is their birthright after all, do the bugs do any real harm?

I suppose if one were freaked out by bugs in general or bright orange and black bugs specifically one might be troubled by the sight of the large conglomerations of them. Possibly they could interfere with the success of monarch caterpillars, another milkweed specialist, by taking up feeding positions or reducing the vigor (as if that were possible) of the milkweed. I haven't really noticed that being the case, but who knows? maybe a female monarch will avoid plants loaded with the bugs. There have been few monarch caterpillars in evidence this summer but maybe that's not the milkweed bugs doing. But wait.

Just about the time I'm agreeing milkweed bugs are not pests I was shocked to find a small to medium mass of bugginess on an aeonium plant, an offspring of Juan's aeonium no less. Are they feeding there? Are they breeding there? Since the first discovery five days ago, the bug bunch has grown in size and numbers as seen below. Aeonium is not remotely related to milkweed, but unless these guys are just resting up for their next foray up the milkweed, I'd have to say that Oncopeltus fasciatus finds something useful in aeonium.

Grasshopper Life and Death

2011-07-21T19:15:00.000-07:00

This bright green grasshopper (schistocerca nitens, I presume) caught my eye on top of a borage plant.
I suspect they have pretty good vision, at least detecting motion and large black objects well; this one moved away and sidled behind the bristly stem as I approached with the big scary camera.

It appears to be a female and if so, has a lot of growing to do: bad news for those borage leaves. Adult females often are 3" long; this one is just over an inch.

The nymph stages of the grey bird grasshopper are found in different and often bright colors; the very small ones are what I call focus free green: it seems like their surface defies autofocus by means of its pebbly surface resulting in sub-par photos typically.

The adults make the final molt into winged beings that are mostly greyish brown, though not unattractive.

One day I found this very large and unusually bright brown female among the fennel stems. Surprise, she was dead, a dried out husk of short horned hopper quite possibly the mother of the next generation shown above. Does it make you feel uneasy referring to an orthopteran with inhuman starey eyes and hinged mouthparts as mother?

Still, this one undoubtedly mated and inserted her eggs into the good and seldom-disturbed soil in my garden under the phlomis. Never visited by her offspring she ended her life clinging to a food plant; later a fly visits her carcass looking for a meal or a place to lay eggs.

Anise Swallowtail

2011-07-17T18:18:00.000-07:00

See July 11 post for the tale of the anise swallowtail.

The Rise of the Small Assassins

2011-07-17T17:09:00.000-07:00

Another exciting part of the alarming increase in the presence of bugs in the garden is the sudden rise of the assassin bugs.

Zelus renardii was one of the first loves of this blog, going way back to 2005 with this post in which I ruminated about the difficulty of identifying buggies due to the vast varieties of them, some poorly studied or documented. Since that time dedicated professional and amateur entomologists (and arachnologists and other -ists too) have built up wonderfully helpful resources online with new information including blogs, photo galleries and even online keys to help identity based on appearance, behaviors, times of emergence and geographic distribution of species. Thank You.

And oh joy, Z. renardii now has a common name: Leafhopper assassin bug. Not sure what the basis of that name is, but I'll run with it.

I found several adult leafhopper assassin bugs on the fennel, including this one which the distended abdomen . . . a gravid female from the looks of it. Here is another view of her with a green stink bug looking on among the fennel flowers.

Assassin bugs lurk slowly among flowers where other buggies come to feed and Pow, grab them with their forelegs then pierce the prey's body with the long proboscis and suck out the juices.

This assassin has captured a green bottle fly (Lucilia sericata) near a bud of the red buckwheat. I just read a reference (see under Remarks) that suggests this species and other Zelus actually secrete sticky fluid and present it on setae (hairs) on the forelegs as an attractant to prey similar to a sundew plant. Wow.

Green and Red Bugs

2011-07-16T14:14:00.000-07:00

There is an explosion of bugs happening in the yards now, not only of numbers but of species. In particular, the true bugs of sub-order Heteroptera are going nuts. These two, a small sampling, were found in close proximity both location wise and color wise.

The stink bug on top is Thyanta pallidovirens, red-shouldered stink bug. I don't think this species has ever visited us before unless it was one of the less colorful variants. Smaller considerably than our usual green stink bug (Nezara viridula).

The bug hanging almost spider like from a borage seed is Creontiades rubrinervis. It looks as though it was feeding on the seed, but this group of bugs (Mirids) is most commonly found sucking plant juices and many of them are crop pests. Heteropterans go through a gradual, or hemimetabolous, metamorphosis. As they grow they molt and change shape and/or coloration until the final molt produces a winged reproductive adult. This one is a sub-adult; you can see the wing buds.

First Flowers

2011-07-15T18:23:00.000-07:00

Oops I missed posting on bloom day in a timely fashion, but that doesn't mean there weren't flowers that arrived exactly at the appropriate times:
The first (and 2nd) rudbeckia hirta of the summer;

a cactus I've had in a pot for years offers up its first ever bright orange blossom. The bud enticed for many days but the flower had faded by the second afternoon.

Of the multiple morning glories one blooms its first on the front porch; another one that nearly died waiting for me to transplant it puts out a flower which later faints into the nearby fencepost;

an unusual and unnamed aeonium blooms after years of pretending to be dying;

and the uncarina roeoesliana blooms beautifully but in vain since there is no pollination partner anywhere near here.

A Beautiful Katydid

2011-07-14T09:35:00.000-07:00

Forktailed bush katydid (Scudderia furcata) glowing in the early morning light is freshly molted and perfect.

Now, to find a mate.

Early Morning Greeter

2011-07-13T07:34:00.000-07:00

When I visit the back garden before the sun has crested the house or the RV and the cool night shades still linger among the hairy rudbeckia and borage leaves, I am greeted by this crane fly that startles up from his resting place closer to the soil. Down there the shadows and cool last longest and I've disturbed the repose of this fly that we associate closer with the damp of spring.

A male crane fly can only be seeking one thing other than cool shade and that would be a female to mate with; unless he already has and therefore would be waiting to expire among the rank summer foliage. This looks like one of the Tipula crane flies, maybe T. paludosa.

First Mantis

2011-07-12T06:39:00.000-07:00

I noticed this mantis the other day as I was preparing to water the adenium plant it was lurking on. At first I thought it was a molted mantis husk because it was so light in color. I reached out to examine it and it moved on up the sparsely leafed and heavily thorned branch it was on.

Later I found the actually shed exoskeleton dangling from another branch, much less lively but similar in color to the real mantis.

This looks like Stagmomantis californica, the species of mantis that has been stalking my garden, except the coloration is much lighter and the stripes on the legs are missing. In this previous post is a mantis of the same age showing the coloration I typically see. I know there is color variation in California mantis, and I also wonder if they have some ability to change color to match their environment. This light one blends in so well with the shiny grey bark of the adenium branches.

I also wonder how many insects it takes to grow a mantis. Not only is this adenium sparse (not sure which species it is but it has much fewer and smaller leaves and flowers than the typical Desert Rose you see), but it is growing in a pot on the patio, making for what I imagine are slim pickings in the prey department. Still, the little white mantis continues to stalk among the thorns, the first and only mantis I've seen in my garden this year.

Anise Swallowtail

2011-07-11T19:34:00.000-07:00

When a new species breeds in my garden, it is a moving experience. I feel humble, exultant, proud, nervous, awed, and hopeful.

On June 19 I first noticed four small (2nd instar) caterpillars of anise swallowtail (Papilio zelicaon) on the foliage of a fennel (foeniculum vulgare) in the back yard. I've grown fennel for several years now, but the past two years the patch has enlarged. Perhaps it's finally reached a size acceptable to breeding anise swallowtail. Anyway, I was really exciting by this turn of events but nervous because of the numerous caterpillar preying polistes wasps cruising the fennel. On June 21 I checked and there were still four, and one of them recently molted.

I took a short trip to Chicago for a few days and though I did ask Mr. Cardui to check on them,

I mostly left the caterpillars to their fate.

While in the windy city, I saw a spider.

Upon my return to Tustin on June 27 I found the caterpillars to be greatly enlarged.

I could only find 3;
by June 30 only one of the original four was still to be seen feeding among the foliage.

I did see some black gooey droppings among the leaves; quite possibly from the intestinal purging of one of the caterpillars just before marching off to pupate . . . but where? After the June 30 sighting I did not see any more caterpillars. I looked all over the fennel plant, having read that these caterpillars commonly pupate on the fennel. No luck finding any and so it seemed the wasps may have had their way with my Papilio zelicaon population.

It wasn't until July 8 that I noticed this pupa on the Eriogonum giganteum, St. Catherine's lace. You can see how the pupa is supported by a silk lashing around the middle.

The pupation site is about 6 feet away from the fennel where the caterpillar fed.

A few days later on the early morning of July 11 the pupa has changed color, indicating that eclosure is imminent. How soon I had no way of knowing, but when I checked during lunch break around noon it looked the same.

It was a sunny warm day, a good day for butterflies. Later on, at about 1:30 I took a look and the butterfly was fully emerged, wings filled and rigid, beautiful. I went for the camera; still there when I returned but had climbed higher on the buckwheat. I barely raised the eyepiece to my eye when the butterfly made one beat of its wings then flew off and up strongly to the east and over my house. I was privileged to have glimpsed it at least.

This is the empty pupa showing how it is split to let the butterfly free.

I noticed several drops of whitish fluid below the pupa, and wondered if this is meconium. Compared with meconium of monarchs and mourning cloaks I have seen which is bloody red, if this is meconium (waste product from metamorphosis expelled by the butterfly) it seems so pure.

Does this have something to do with what the caterpillar fed on, the amount of waste produced, or have I simply witnessed the birth of an rarified butterfly spirit?

Butterflies are Free

2011-07-05T11:06:00.000-07:00

Among the many species of butterfly flying now that the weather has turned hot are an unusual number of mourning cloaks which have been flying, well, all year. Even though the greater part of this spring's huge crop of Nymphalis antiopa caterpillars and pupae perished to predation there are still many adults left to carry on. Mourning cloaks are multiple brooded meaning they will produce more than one generation per year. This one is either an older adult that emerged in April, or a newly emerged second generation adult.

Whichever way, Nymphalis antiopa, I salute you on this hot and bright summer day in my garden happy and able to support butterflies.

By the way, our city tree trimming crew came around a few weeks ago to reduce the lush canopy of the evergreen elm street trees . . . just in time for the intense summer sun. Also a vast reduction of caterpillar food, as the elm is the food of choice for this species in my neighborhood. I'm sure the breeding butterflies will manage with the leaves that remain, and the trees grow fast. I do wonder what the very best tree trimming timing would be for conservation of this species, though.

Spider on the 95th

2011-06-24T18:34:00.000-07:00

Here I am at the Signature Room, a schwanky restaurant on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building (signature room...get it?) having dinner with my mom sister and daughter.

And the most memorable part of the event? Aside from the prodigious size of the steaks, the overdose of cheesy potatoes, the colorful martini, and the view (that's Chicago in the foreground, then Lake Michigan, and in the distance Indiana for heaven's sake) a group of spiders living outside the windows. According to the waiter they are always there . . . it's where they live. As we watched a few other random buggies happened by on the glass. Prey.

15 minutes in the sun

2011-06-21T17:51:00.000-07:00

The day of solstice 2011 was the veil between the gloom that preceded it and the honest summer heat that followed. Today the sun actually burned off the cloud cover before noon (!) and I observed what was flying around the fennel flowers that had just opened fully and were offering up nectar. A lot of them were wasps.

The first visitor to show up was a paper wasp, Polistes apachus. This is one of the paper nest builders once famous for threatening visitors to my front door. I almost misidentified this one as P. exclamans until I remembered that species is marked by its yellow tipped antennae. This one's antennae do not have noticeably light tips. Paper wasps feed on nectar, but hunt among the plants for caterpillars to feed their growing larvae back in the paper nest cells. I do have a pet paper wasp nest this year but it's not on the front porch.

Soon a great golden digger wasp (Sphex ichneumoneus) arrived to feed among the flowers. They don't call them great for nothing as this wasp is impressive in its size and robust appearance. They are always "friendly" in that they never threaten me or seem agitated with my presence; not that they smile and say "hey, how's it going" or anything like that. S. ichneumoneus digs her nest in the soil and provisions it with orthopterans (grasshoppers, katydids, crickets). I'm keeping my eye out for the nest location, also for a great golden digger capturing prey.

Black and yellow mud daubers (Sceliphron caementarium) also came by to feed and *ahem* meet. At least I saw a male and female:

male with curled antennae; female's are straight. The two of them came by separately and fed a bit; then one got close to the other, maybe in a mating attempt,

and a bit of a confrontation ensued. Mud daubers build those mud covered nests under your eaves or in your garden shed or garage. Inside the cells are spider prey and wasp eggs and later, wasp larvae.

I don't know what these mating small black wasps (?) are. Obviously not on the fennel but too good to pass up. You can get an idea of the size by knowing that is an agapanthas flower they are on, which by the way was close to the fennel.

Not wasps or even hymenoptera, but also attracted by the fennel flowers were some tachinid flies. This is probably genus Peleteria, based solely on appearance (white markings especially). Sadly, I don't know what type of insect host the maggots of this species develop inside of, but that is the way of tachinid larvae, often growing inside of caterpillar hosts as parasitoids. Parasitoids are creatures that feed on another living thing but unlike parasites, they usually kill and often consume the host. The adult flies feed on nectar; they seem to really like fennel and don't seem to do it any harm.

Last but not least was a honeybee.

All these visitors to and near the fennel plant were observed between 11:30 and 11:46 am today, an hour or so past the actual solstice.

Things in the Fennel

2011-06-19T21:47:00.000-07:00

It was one of the final days of the legendary April-May-June gloom of 2011 and I was strolling past a fennel plant (Foeniculum vulgare) that overreaches the pathway with its vulgarity, when a white/orange/black thing of an unusual shape and size caught my eye. Looking closer I saw it was a bit of the trailing edge of a monarch butterfly wing. Yay, great find! I thought as my normally down-glancing eyes luckily decided to move up the fennel plant and so happened to notice another white/orange/black thing that was more interesting:

Oh My Gorsch . . . it was a small caterpillar of the swallowtail persuasion. I thought this because the overall, out of the corner of the eye first impression was strongly bird-dropping-esque bringing to mind the caterpillar of the Giant Swallowtail. Checking my resources later confirms this to be a second instar Anise Swallowtail larva, Papilio zelicaon. The fact it was feeding on fennel, possibly the most utilized larval food plant for this species in this area, of course supports the identification. Very exciting to find this new species breeding in the yard; turns out there were four little ones working on the annihilation of the upper portion of this fennel plant on this particular day.

Also found among the feathery reaches of the fennel were a tiny down feather in a similar color scheme as the wing bit and the caterpillars . . . maybe a towhee feather or maybe that of a house finch. I recently followed a towhee (Pipilo crissalis) as it walked down the sidewalk in front of my house. It was a very odd feeling.

Then there was one green lacewing egg. This one is a bellwether of the coming tide of lacewing eggs that will proliferate on the tips of vegetation as soon as the weather warms up and the prey populations explode.

And there was also a fennel inflorescence just opening up. These graceful flowers open slowly and dramatically in the languid cool sun of summer 2011.

Bloom Day Bs

2011-06-15T10:40:00.000-07:00

Borage (Borago officinalis) is welcome in my garden not only because it attracts insects like a magnet but the star shaped blue flowers aren't too shabby either.

Occasionally there is a pink flower like this one, maybe these are older sun-faded flowers or ones that haven't been pollinated.

Part of the attraction for insects is the flowers, but also the hairy stems and leaves provide good habitat for a variety of buggies usually. The borage is doing its part putting out lots of blooms and hairiness, but our days are so cool and sunless the insects just haven't revved up into summer mode yet.

Just a few dedicated honeybees were found visiting the borage flowers.

After the flower is pollinated the ovary swells; each one has four spots for seeds although a lot of the seeds fall out before you notice them.

I hear that borage will grow readily from seeds, although mine hasn't yet self-sowed successfully.

Borage is grown commercially for the seed oil; I read that it is a good companion for tomatoes because it deters tomato hornworm. Next year I'll try that instead of deadly nightshade.

Obligatory Fennel Post

2011-06-15T09:58:00.000-07:00

The fennel has started blooming, attracting small hordes of syrphid flies despite the persistently gloomy June weather.

This fly is Allograpta obliqua, the common oblique syrphid which is a very common denizen of the small sky over my garden. Here the fly is feeding on nectar but it will also be likely that she (if this is a she) will lay eggs among the fennel flowers. The larval syrphids feed on aphids, and aphids are very common feeding on fresh succulent fennel flowers, stems and leaves; and they also persist on the stems as the fennel matures into senescence. So eggs laid on fennel are likely to have a good source of food for some time to come.

But for now the fennel is fresh and new and aphid free.

Bloom Day Solanacea

2011-06-15T09:43:00.000-07:00

We planted up some big pots with veggies in April including tomatoes and what the garden gurus identify as good companions such as onions, mint, nasturtiums, marigold and geranium as well as "other nightshades" (eg tomatoes, peppers, potato, eggplant, and well, nightshade?) I happened to have a one gallon Solanum wallacei, Catalina nightshade, hanging around the yard looking for a home so I popped it into one of the pots. It spills out of the pot with long stems covered in downy leaves and sprays of purple tomato flowers.

I was wondering one day as I watched flies and bees working the flowers: whether pollen transfer from the poisonous nightshade could effect the fruit quality of the tomatoes, as is the case sometimes with cross-pollinated squashes.

The tomato plants are loaded with fruit that is just turning red: we will keep an eye out for signs of poisoning as we enjoy their juicy goodness. Meanwhile the nightshade has set no fruit so far.

Oncopeltus fasciatus metamorphosis

2011-06-14T22:49:00.000-07:00

I figured the group of large milkweed bugs must be getting ready to molt into adulthood so I checked on them from time to time. On the afternoon of June 4 I noticed a shed exoskeleton near the group and knew the final stage of their metamorphosis was underway.

Nearby was a bug standing off by itself under a leaf; it's exoskeleton was loose, looking a bit like skin that peels after a sunburn, so I was lucky enough to have happened by just as the process for this one bug was starting. My camera noted the time as 4:27 pm.

In a process that seems motionless but obviously involves moving, the bright orange adult bug squeezes out of its old shell. As the legs become free, the bug stretches them to full length and then rested for a little while.

Here is a wide view, showing the molting bug, another bug's shed, and the group of bugs nearby.

The bug continues to emerge: it reaches up for the leaf with its hind legs for support as the wing tips and the rest of the abdomen pull free.

End of molt was at 4:59, so the process took about 32 minutes to complete.

Here is the newly molted adult
viewed from above
before the colors have darkened.

Nearby was an earlier molted adult with its antennae quivering; possibly sensing another sexually mature individual in close proximity?

The following day, many have molted though many haven't in this mixed aggregation; the rate of maturity among milkweed bugs varies by several days.

Acanthus

2011-06-07T18:17:00.000-07:00

The bear's breeches (Acanthus molle) are in bloom. It's an interesting perennial that goes dormant in late summer after blooming. The big leaves start coming up from the rootstock in the cooler part of the year, then the spikes of flowers appear as it warms up, growing to five feet and more: taller than me. The unopened flower buds (? bracts? not sure what they're called) are pretty backlit by the morning sun.

A few insects were visiting on this particular day.
In the top photo is Pyrausta volupialis, a pretty little moth that I know nothing much about. The genus' name derives from pyr, for fire which references the red colors, and it is populated by other very pretty moths, many more colorful than this one.

A fly was hanging out on the peculiar shaped flower parts. This looks like a muscid fly of some sort.

I happened to glance down as another fly was grabbed and hauled down the funnel web of a funnel web spider built in the shallow vee of an acanthus leaf.

Acanthus is supposedly pollinated by bees; I'm not sure I've ever seen a bee visiting these flowers, maybe a carpenter bee. Anyway, it doesn't attract swarms of pollinators like some other plants, but does serve as a home or perch for a few random creatures.

Tomato Worminess

2011-06-06T16:23:00.000-07:00

We have a lovely and promising bunch of tomato plants this year. One day I noticed this green caterpillar and the hole it had eaten into a succulent tomato leaf. Alas, there are numerous green or greenish caterpillars that will feed on tomatoes, from info found at California Integrated Pest management site and an assist from Bugguide.com:

Heliothis zea; usually known as corn earworm but called tomato fruitworm when it's damaging tomato crops. Not this one; H. zea tunnels into the tomato fruits instead of eating the leaves.
Beet armyworm, Spodoptera exigua feeds on leaves of tomato; however the eggs are laid in a mass, the caterpillars feed as a group, skeletonizing the leaves. So that is not a likely suspect this time.
However, two species called "tomato looper" (again multiple common names to match the crop under attack) are likely to be my tomato worm: Autographa californica (Alfalfa looper) feeds on about 50 different plants especially legumes like alfalfa and clover. Trichoplusia ni (cabbage looper) larvae feed on plants in the cabbage family and "many other garden plants". My caterpillar looks a bit more like the cabbage looper; and in the photo I think you can barely tell there are just two pairs of abdominal prolegs, confirming looper status.

And then there is the tomato hornworm we all know and love (not). This one just hatched and so is very small (about .5 cm long) but of course had the potential to grow to about 3 inches and wreak havoc among the tomatoes along the way. But is this really tomato hornworm (Manduca sexta) or is it M. quinquemaculata (tobacco hornworm)? The two caterpillars can be told apart by the markings (backslashes on tomato, Vs on tobacco). Anyway, here is a photo of an egg of one or the other hornworm.

I'll never know which hornworm that was since Mr. Cardui has rid our tomato crop of caterpillars of all stripes and markings by applying DiPel, a bacterial insecticide that works well on lepidopteran larvae. Sorry, that cute little hornworm was probably already sick when I took the photo. Can't risk holes in the tomatoes now, can we?

Large Milkweed Bug Territory

2011-05-28T21:55:00.000-07:00

This is the milkweed patch in the back garden in full flush, about one month ago and sure to be a magnet for a female Oncopeltus fasciatus looking for a place to lay eggs.

Sure enough, this aggregation of sub-adult large milkweed bugs is the result of that egg laying on the lush and edible (for a milkweed bug) plants. These bugs tend to hang out in dense groups, although the occasional individual will move away from the group.

The individuals in this group are one molt away from adulthood.

Home Sweet Home for Grubs

2011-05-07T09:07:00.000-07:00

So we got around to splitting the wood, a pile of various types of logs we've been collecting for a few years. It's a fair piece of work but gives the householder such a warm feeling once that wood is all split, sized and stacked to cure in the summer sun. Also, the beauty of the wood as each smaller log or huge stump is split to reveal its unique coloration, texture and odor makes the job a joy. Not to mention the satisfying crack as a log splits apart under the brute force of the hydraulic splitter. You didn't think we used an axe, did you?

Then I got a special treat when this grub tumbled out of a split white alder log.

This is Dicerca hornii, a metallic wood boring beetle that specializes in alder, prunus and other deciduous trees. In the wood-destroying organisms trade it is referred to somewhat generically as a flathead borer.

You can see the flattened oval shape of the grub's tunnel in the alder log from whence it came.

There are several tunnel holes that were exposed by the split in this log, maybe from other grubs still hidden inside the wood or maybe this grubs extensive tunnel. D. hornii female beetles lay eggs on failing trees or standing dead trees, and the grubs feed on the wood creating tunnels through the wood as they grow.

Same log, surface under the bark shows no tunnels or galleries and leads me to believe this beetle species does not feed on the cambium directly under the tree bark.

I think it takes about a year for the grubs to mature into the colorful adults also known as jewel beetles. These photos are from a few years ago in December when I saw my first jewel beetle.

When the beetle takes flight, the lifted elytra reveal an emerald green abdomen as an extra treat for the observers of this interesting species.

Miscellaneous Flies

2011-05-04T06:50:00.000-07:00

Clearing out the diptera file from mid-spring, here are some flies I've seen lately to awhile ago:

Top of post is a crane fly male, maybe European crane fly, Tipula paludosa or another in that genus, visiting the dried up holiday wreath hanging on the back fence.

Green bottle fly, Lucilia sericata, perched on a milkweed leaf. This is the fly that Jack Hodges of Bones is always mentioning as he walks into the room. The female fly lays her eggs on dead animals; the maggots develop in predictable ways and so forensic entomologists use them to determine time of death.

A Mediterranean fruit fly, Ceratitis capitata stopped on a nearby shrub briefly one morning; it's the only one I have ever seen. Most likely this is a sterile male released by the people that breed sterile fruit flies at the state of California. The sterile males are marked with red between the eyes . . . if you can get close enough or a sharp enough photo to see it. Otherwise, a female fly would have a visible ovipositor . . . again I failed to notice or get a photo showing that. A female C. capitata would indicate a med fly infestation . . . a bad thing.

This muscid fly spent its mornings hanging out on the cactus spines. Not sure why.

Lizard Love

2011-05-03T21:47:00.001-07:00

Mr. Cardui has developed an eye for the smaller, finer things in life over the years. The other day he brought my attention to a pair of mating southern alligator lizards (Elgaria multicarinata) on top of the block wall between us and the guy next door.

The first thing you notice is the tails entwined. Then I went up the ladder and closer for a side view and almost swooned when I saw they were holding hands. I hate to assign human values to animal behaviors, but is that cute or what?

Then I repositioned the ladder for a shot at the pair's other side. Here you see the other side alright, the one in which the male grasps the female's head in his jaw. The two maintained this position until nightfall and beyond possibly . . . I stopped watching and went inside to do human things. The lizards were gone next morning.

Tail twining, hand holding, head biting. Lizard love is in the air or at least on the wall.

When Crypticism Poops Out

2011-05-01T20:26:00.000-07:00

Tobacco budworms (Heliothis virescens) are good at hiding among pelargonium flowers and buds, both by taking on the color of the flowers, flower stems or leaves and by mimicking the shapes found in the flower clusters. The fact they like to hang out deep within these big clumps of flowers doesn't hurt to keep them hidden to the casual eye at least when they are small little buggers.

But as they grow they must eat more. And as they eat they must poop; and the poop obeying the law of gravity, filters down and out of hiding. I found lovely green and rose colored H. virescens poop on the pot edge and sprinkled on a leaf, alerting me to the growing presence of the caterpillars I knew must be there.

Taxonomy note: When I first posted on this species in 2007, it was named Helicoverpa virescens, but has been assigned to a new genus heliothis. Helicoverpa zea, corn earworm, was an alternate id based on the reasoning stated here. But on reconsidering I believe these to be H. virescens the polyphagous tobacco or geranium budworm.

According to Featured Creatures at the U of Florida this caterpillar eats a lot of stuff, "attacking such crops as alfalfa, clover, cotton, flax, soybean, and tobacco. However, it sometimes attacks such vegetables as cabbage, cantaloupe, lettuce, pea, pepper, pigeon pea, squash, and tomato, especially when cotton or other favored crops are abundant. Tobacco budworm is a common pest of geranium and other flower crops such as ageratum, bird of paradise, chrysanthemum, gardenia, geranium, petunia, mallow, marigold, petunia, snapdragon, strawflower, verbena, and zinnia." Whew. I always find it among the pelargoniums in April and May, especially when the poop blows its cover.

By the way, tobacco budworm is also cannibalistic; as the caterpillars grow they sometimes attack and feed on each other. Something more interesting than poop to keep an eye out for.

Fungus #1

2011-04-30T17:22:00.001-07:00

We planted some big pots up with tomatoes and peppers from the Fullerton Arboretum, along with companion plants (pelargoniums onions nasturtium mint oregano marigolds and each other) sure to help our crop become a success (!). We used nice fresh bags of Kelloggs Patio Plus to fill these pots, watered everything in and sat back to watch things grow.

And grow they did. One morning I noticed spore prints all along the side of one of the pots, from a bunch of small now slimy mushrooms that had gone previously unnoticed under the tomato foliage.

A few days later there were some fresh buttons rising from the potting soil, which grew and opened into these small (about 1 inch across) corrugated caps.

The open caps began collapsing and then dissolved into black goo within a day or so.

My knowledge of mushrooms being almost non-existent, I hesitate to say what type this one is. However the gooey black stuff seems typical of the genus Coprinus, the aptly named Inky Cap mushrooms.

The fungi were liberally and fairly evenly distributed throughout the planted pot and they continue to pop up every couple of days. They don't seem to be causing a problem for the tomatoes which now have fruit setting; or any of the other vascular plants.

Did the mushroom spores or mycelia come in with the potting soil?

The New Bee

2011-04-28T06:50:00.001-07:00

European honeybees, Apis mellifera, were brought to North America by the European colonizers over 390 years ago according to my lazy afternoon reading of a few days ago . . . now they are as ubiquitous as cell phones throughout the U.S. Well, up until recently when domesticated honeybee hive numbers and populations crashed. Now when we see a distressed honeybee we might feel sad but we may feel uneasy not knowing if this bee is simply old, or has a damaged wing, or it might be a refugee from colony collapse disorder which poses a threat to our food production.

But yeah, honeybees are nice and they have endeared themselves to us not only by pollinating our crops and producing honey for us to eat. The honeybee also seems to be an emblem of all that is good in the insect world. Look at how many states in the US have officially adopted Apis mellifera as their state insect as opposed to selecting an insect native to the state.

Also according to my reading, people have monitored the volume of nectar and pollen collected by honeybees and other pollinators and have calculated the effects of the redistribution of floral resources; they also actually count the visits to flowers by various critters, then catalog the pollination success by way of mature fruits and seeds . . . reproductive success. And the evidence suggests the presence of honeybees reduces the populations of other bees, and that honeybee competition reduces floral visits by more effective pollinators, thereby reducing reproduction among the native plants to at least some extent.

Given the huge diversity of flower forms and pollination strategies, it seems naive to assume one type of bee could service them all; yet the ubiquitous and noble Apis mellifera reigns in our collective consciousness as the default, all-purpose pollinator.

But our misinformation is not the honeybee's fault, especially not this cute little one with the damaged wing. She hung out on a leaf and repeatedly groomed or combed the damaged wings as I was watching the male carpenter bee that hovered a few feet above her perch. Later she flew or fell to a gazania stem; then later she was gone, either flown off or more likely fallen into the foliage below, no longer a colonizer or the new bee but a worn old bee that worked until her demise for the survival of her hive.

Everybody Loves a Butterfly

2011-04-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

There are lots of mourning cloak butterflies (Nymphalis antiopa) in flight these days. Yesterday I observed one of them for awhile visiting the back garden.

It would enter the garden space by sailing over the back neighbor's bougainvillea, or the side neighbor's tecomara, or by shooting the channel between our ligustrum hedge and the cedar fence. Then it would land on a sun-lit shrub, often the tallest phlomis but also the tip of an artichoke leaf or sometimes a bare lemon verbena stem or the eriogonum and even the privet.

Occasionally the butterfly would flex its wings downward past the horizontal into the ventral hemisphere; it looked like it was hugging the stem it was on, or hunkering down. But mostly it perched with wings together, slowly opening them from time to time. Then it would fly off, circle the yard and land again; and again and again.

These butterflies feed on tree sap as well as nectar; I saw one feeding on a pittosporum leaf that was sapping due to psyllid infestation. So its possible some feeding or foraging is involved with all this shrub-perching. But I suspect it's more likely to be a male territorial/mate-finding behavior with the high perches serving as a good vantage point for the overhead airspace, and the frequent fly-arounds a way to check for and discourage competitors from entering its territory.

Not So Forgotten Pollinator

2011-04-24T20:51:00.000-07:00

I was sitting out in the garden this afternoon reading The Forgotten Pollinators, a book about the status of pollinator/plant relationships in various environments around the world. My reading was interrupted by loud buzzing; I looked up to see the expected male valley carpenter bee (Xylocopa varipuncta) patrolling the crown of the tallest phlomis. The males do this in the late afternoon, hoping to attract a female with which to mate. This particular male continued to cruise in and out of the phlomis, with occasional forays into the nearby alyogyne, for a long time. I got chilled in the late afternoon shade and went in before the bee gave up his vigil. You rarely see the male bees enter a flower to feed, or even pause for a moment on a twig. Here is the male's territory; you can barely see him in the lower center portion, restlessly buzzing around.

The females, meanwhile, are most commonly found in the morning buzzing loudly inside of flowers, often mallow family flowers such as abutilon, alyogyne, lavatera, hollyhock etc. They seem to like those wide open cup-shaped blooms. These bees are supposedly good for pollinating tomatoes; the buzzing vibration triggers flowers to release the pollen for the bee to gather to provision her nest and meanwhile pollinates the flower's ovules. I am hoping for a good tomato crop this year so I'm glad to see the bees around. Anyway, I have yet to see both sexes in flight at the same time, but that doesn't mean I'll stop looking; maybe I'll hit the jackpot and see them mating some late afternoon.

So it's hard to read in my garden with so many potential distractions, but I did learn that bumblebees are the premier tomato pollinators, and are being bred expressly for hothouse tomato culture. Since tomatoes don't produce nectar these captive bumblebees are fed artificial nectar. I rarely see bumblebees around; I'll have to rely on the carpenter bees to get the job done.

I was inspired to rescue a likely stump out of the soon-to-be-split wood pile and plan to set it out in the garden as a hopeful nesting spot for bees. The stump is pine, one of the wood species said to be preferred by Xylocopa females to drill their nesting tunnels in.

So, first sighting of male Xylocopa varipuncta this year was a few days ago. The females were in flight at least a month earlier when the wisteria was in bloom but actually haven't been in evidence lately.

small things

2011-04-15T00:01:00.000-07:00

As I weight the merit of spending the weekend working on the tax return against filing an extension and going to the Green Scene, I stop to appreciate some small-scale blooms on the estate today including Dodonaea viscosa,

Pelargonium grossularioides,
Senecio radicans,
Pelargonium carnosum, Cynara cardunculus,

and a grass of forgotten identity in no particular order.

The hop bush is one of my favorites, its flowers usually described as "insignificant". I bought coconut geranium years ago at a garden show and it has never failed to delight me with its fragrance as it returns from the dead clumps, or sprouts from wayward seeds, each spring; the flowers really are small for a "geranium". String of bananas is almost done blooming now, most of its composite flowers are hanging upside down full of marigold-like seeds, which is fine since we only grow it "for its form and foliage". The grass has been moved around the garden quite a bit, but I seem to like it in its present location and so it rewards me with abundant if hardly noticeable flowers. The fleshy-stalk pelargonium is favored by caudiform collectors for its stalk, but the flowers should never be overlooked.

This artichoke bud is small, for an artichoke. The form 4868 is small, for a tax form. It is after all the small things that, when we take time to appreciate them, make our lives richer.

Bee Good

2011-04-09T22:49:00.000-07:00

Honey bee resting on Salvia clevelandii leaf on a fuzzy day.

When the sun shines there is some typical honeybee activity among the flowers that are blooming, but when it doesn't I may find the odd bee like this one away from the hive.

Bumper Crop

2011-04-08T21:22:00.000-07:00

After the initial mass march of the mourning cloak caterpillars, there has been a continuing trickle of them out of the elms and into the darnedest places to pupate. On the house, yes, but also on a ficus trunk

on the fence,

in a euryops shrub,

and on a bucket.

This year's bumper crop of mourning cloaks continues to unfold; I found the pupa on the bucket rim as I was rummaging in random "stuff" in the back yard. You can see this pupa has turned dark, the wing markings are visible and I correctly assumed it would soon eclose. Within a few hours of finding the pupa I found it had emerged.

Below the butterfly is the stain of meconium on the bucket.

Here is a close view of the attachment of the pupa to the smooth surface of the bucket by means of a silk patch and a hook.

Snail . . . Grasshopper . . . Tomato rain

2011-04-05T17:01:00.000-07:00

Tomatoes planted around or about St. Patrick's day have quadrupled in size or more, dusted with raindrops in the ongoing spring dream of sunshine and heat.

Snails continue to flourish while the vision of a lone grasshopper is an omen of summer dryness to come.

Mourning Cloak Eclosure A and B

2011-04-03T19:03:00.000-07:00

On March 15 the march of two mourning cloak caterpillars came to an end on the ceiling of my front porch, just over the door. These two pupated within hours or maybe minutes of each other and have been hanging there next to each other since.

In the morning two days ago I noticed one of them had turned dark; you can see the wing markings through the pupal case. The second pupa hanging nearby has not changed yet and appears the same as it has for the past 17 days.

By that evening the darkened pupa had opened and I found a freshly emerged butterfly at 5 pm. It hung from its empty pupa that evening, and next morning had taken it maiden flight to a nearby senecio.

By mid-afternoon it had flown off into the wilds of Tustin.

The second butterfly eclosed today as I was sitting on the front porch bench observing a mourning cloak caterpillar, part of the ongoing second wave of maturing Nymphalis antiopa, climbing the wall. I had noticed the pupa had turned dark, I even saw it twitch. However, just a few minutes of distraction by this caterpillar and I missed the moment . . . again.

Nymphalis antiopa pupation duration March/April 2011 Tustin CA:
pupa A 16 days pupa B 17 days 21 hours give or take a few minutes.

Pupae Predation : (

2011-03-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

Leaf-fattened we marched,
then outwardly quiet hung,
still. Snap of wren's beak.

Bewick's wren is a small but mighty predator of insects. Of the seven nymphalis antiopa pupae on the front of my house, two have survived the hunger and sharp eyes of the birds through the twelve days (so far) since pupation.

Spiders I Have Seen Recently

2011-03-26T16:33:00.000-07:00

Spring is a slow season for spiders anyway; the adults typically die off over the winter and the tiny spiderlings are well, tiny, and not active when it is cold out and did I mention they are tiny? This year spring has been colder (and wetter) than usual and fewer of the spiders' prey items are in abundance or active, so the ripple effect is there are few spiders out and about, at least as far as I have noticed.

Nevertheless, on the occasional sunny day, I found an interesting species climbing around an old concrete valve box in the deeps of the back yard. This is a female thin-legged wolf spider (Pardosa sp.) carrying her egg sac around with her as they typically do. I saw two of these females in the same location.

I've seen several young jumping spiders here and there.

This one jumping about on the Calliandra californica is a young Bold Jumper, Phidippus audax.

A brown widow (Latrodectus geometricus) made her appearance among the senecio leaves one day. This potted senecio is on the front porch, so I imagine my leg brushed Dangerously Close to this spider before I noticed she was there. I snapped a few photos, went about my business for a short while and then noticed she was gone. I have wondered whether my camera's autofocus sensor emission (infrared in my case) disturbs my arthropod subjects and causes them to move on in many instances.

At the top of this post is a color adjusted (Green!) photo of a friendly neighborhood funnel web spider, Hololena sp, that has made her home in a seldom-used hose nozzle. Here is the original normal color photo.

A Perfect Day for Snailomotion

2011-03-25T15:37:00.000-07:00

It was a slow day in Tustin today, rainy and not much doing. So I had time to observe snail locomotion in the mist. This one was traversing the top of the fence.

One thing I learned is I really need to paint the fence.

Riders on the Storm

2011-03-21T09:29:00.000-07:00

We missed seeing the sun at dead center on First Street yesterday because storm clouds were gathering all morning and half the afternoon, with rain falling in earnest by two-ish on the Spring Equinox.

Does it seem wrong to have thunder and lightning, hail and rain on the First Day of Spring? If so, think of the equinox as the middle of spring as it is and it won't seem ruinous at all. The middle is squishy, flows from one end to the other, not as importune as the First or Last.

Various scenes from a blustery, wet and cold equinox include a propeller spinning in a gust,

a lavatera bud, the dried holiday wreath,

wisteria in full bloom, a monarch caterpillar on a twitching stem,

smoke from a cozy fire,

osteospermum blossoms glowing, a garden snail on Juan's aeonium,

a mourning cloak pupa hanging in the euryops, and last but not least an opossum mom and her five babies.

The opossum (Didelphis virginiana) surprised me as I was surveying the property this morning after the hail and wind. There she was in broad daylight staring at me. I went to grab my camera, and as I reappeared from behind the privet hedge she seemed appalled, in a slow opossum-like way, that I had come back. She slowly turned away from my unwanted attentions and scuttled behind the fence with her babies clinging to her back.

Opossums eat snails and slugs and all sorts of other things, some of which I don't necessarily want around, so I'd say this family is a good addition to the garden fauna.

We also missed viewing the supermoon as it was obscured by cloud cover Saturday evening. A nice man on a video on the internets had advised us "the supermoon is not to be feared, it should be observed, either alone or with someone, maybe a romantic interest or just the person you will spend the night with." Oddly personal advice coming from an astronomer. So, yeah, sadly the moon was not in view on the eve of the equinox.

Spin on Pupation

2011-03-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

So on the 12th the mourning cloak (Nymphalis antiopa) caterpillars marched out of their trees and onto my house. They idled in their selected spots until yesterday when these prepupae assumed the J position. They have by this time attached themselves to the house by means of a hooked appurtenance at the end of the abdomen that is anchored to a small pad of silk.

J one day before pupation

The first pupations occurred before a reasonable hour this morning; they were there hanging over the front door by the time I emerged for the day. The shed larval skins, which look like mostly heads, were found on the porch below.

Over the next 10 hours the rest of the Js made the transition to pupae.

I got extremely lucky and noticed one next to the crawl space vent that was in the process of shedding the larval cuticle. It gyrated convulsively as the skin gathered at the top (actually the pupa's bottom)

and then finally the crumpled old black spiny cuticle fell off.

The pupa moved around a bit for awhile; after about an hour it had compressed and hardened, the color changing and it looked very much like any other mourning cloak pupa I had seen.

1/2 hour after pupal molt

One hour after pupal molt

I noticed one of the Js twitching so I watched for awhile . . . a long while it seemed once the twitching stopped and the hanging continued. So I entered into a what I thought was a shortish conversation with the old man (could have been an hour or so; he talks a lot) and when I checked back on that J it was already a pupa fairly well cured. So the actual molt to pupa occurs quickly especially when you are not watching.

J a few minutes before pupation

In all there are seven pupae on the front of the house. I'm sure there are many more in undisclosed locations. The thesaurus gives synonyms like change, alteration, modification, evolution for metamorphosis. The antonyms are stagnation, idleness, sameness. The caterpillar changes dramatically in form through the process of metamorphosis; the process itself unfolds in predictable steps that don't change generation after generation, for disruption to or deviation from the process is likely to result in death for the individual butterfly.

B & B Day and other Spirits

2011-03-15T08:20:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me as the winter holidays were ending that this expired B & B bottle would be an appropriate container for buds and blooms.

I was not involved in the emptying of the Crystal Head but I was happy when a friend gifted me with it; visions of Dia de Muertos floral displays danced in my head.

It's the Ides of March, not a holiday I think, but here are some random spring offerings (everlast gerbers, osteospermum, statice, acacia cultriformis, alstroemeria, calendula, lavendar, kalenchoe 'chocolate soldier', and a rose bud) putting the spirits of holidays past to good use on my windowsill.

March of the Chenilles 2011

2011-03-12T21:14:00.000-08:00

Sure enough, the Nymphalis antiopa caterpillars came out of the elm tree today in search of places to pupate. We arrived home from yard sale-ing before noon to find them marching across the sidewalk, the street, the driveway and up the walls of the house.

Some of them were seen crawling down the tree trunk; we thought we heard one fall into the shrubbery under the tree. To the extent an arthropod can purposefully act, do some caterpillars mean to drop off the tree as opposed to climbing out down the trunk?

Along with quantities of droppings, we find a lot of them in the street . . . . where many are culled out by passing cars and maybe kids on scooters.

One of them was stopped on the sidewalk. It seemed to be in one piece; I picked it up and set it down to have a look. There is a round dark spot on its side that looks like a bruise. This one never moved again.

Still there were plenty of healthy caterpillars that made it to a place to pupate such as the walls of my house. They move fast across the concrete but once they start climbing they spend a lot of time investigating the surface before moving.

This one was checking out the hinge on my front screen door for awhile. Later I noticed it had proceeded up to the porch ceiling.

This one was taking its time at each lap in the siding.

By the end of the day some were still in investigative mode and none of the caterpillars had assumed the J position.

Previously observed Mourning cloak caterpillar pupation marches at this location:
April 6, 2008
Not recorded in 2009, however adults in flight on April 21 . . . possible pupation late March
March 13, 2010

7 on 3/11

2011-03-11T18:14:00.000-08:00

I found this pretty seven-spot ladybird beetle (Coccinella septempunctata) on a great bumpy interesting Salvia madrensis leaf today. A birthday bug for someone who is 2x11 on 3/11. With all these prime numbers bouncing and crawling around I feel I must go get a lottery ticket.

Leaf-footed Bug Explores Santa Hat

2011-03-10T18:53:00.000-08:00

It takes awhile to put away the holiday stuff, but I generally get it done by the end of February. This Santa hat, however, escaped my attention and has wound up sitting on a picnic table in the backyard until "someone" has a chance to put it away. I picked it up the other day for no apparent reason (definitely NOT planning to climb up in the attic with it) when this leaf-footed bug (Leptoglossus zonatus) made its appearance from within the deep red polyester cone of the hat.

Was it sheltering there from the cold? Attracted by the red color, so much like a ripe pomegranate? Was the bug a believer in Santa? Whatever the reason for its presence in the hat, the bug seemed energized by opening of its cocoon; climbed to the white brim and very abruptly and energetically flew off into the nearby sky.

Is March Caterpillar Madness Imminent?

2011-03-09T21:32:00.000-08:00

We found a cache of dark barrel-shaped insect poop on the front porch steps today. There was no sign on the nearby plants of grasshoppers or caterpillars; nor evidence of their recent chewings there. So the eye continues upward, past the acacia, past the eaves, past the power lines up into the freshly foliated Ulmus parvifolia tree. Up there are several large and a few scattered bunches of dark possibly spiky caterpillar shapes, sure to be the larvae of Nymphalis antiopa, the mourning cloak butterfly. Elm, along with other trees such as willow, birch and poplar, is larval food for this species. The female butterflies lay clusters of eggs on the tree twigs. After hatching, the caterpillars feed as a happy hungry group.

I guess there are about 30 or so large caterpillars on three or four elm branches that just happen to overhang the porch steps. A few wasps were cruising the airspace around them, seeking easy prey. I expect the survivors will soon march out of the tree, as they usually do this time of year, seeking a vertical surface (often the side of my house, sometimes the elm tree trunk) on which to pupate.

The caterpillars consumed all the leaves from a few branches of the tree; a smallish price to pay for butterflies.

From the Butterfly Eclosure File

2011-03-06T16:56:00.000-08:00

Here are a few more photos from the recently observed monarch (Danaus plexippus) eclosure. The butterfly emerged from its pupa on Feb 12; early the next morning the new butterfly is found hanging under the leaf right where we parted company the previous afternoon.

Underneath on the next leaf down is a spot of meconium.

Once the butterfly began to warm up in the spreading sunlight it began to climb, first by pulling itself up to the top side of its overnight leaf. Just a bit later it pauses on the leaf and spreads its wings to their full and glorious extent.

Then the butterfly resumed its climb up the phlomis stem.

Twisted Pomegranate

2011-03-04T16:24:00.000-08:00

I noticed these spiral pomegranate leaves the other day.

The plant the leaves were growing on was labeled Punica granatum Nana, dwarf pomegranate, when I planted it several years back. Nana is often variable; this one has stayed fairly small (about 4 to 5 feet with light pruning), blooms nicely but not a blockbuster, and bears normal sized fruit but not a lot of it. Aside from a few katydids chewing on its flowers from time to time and leaf-footed bugs feeding on the fruits, it has grown well on the south side of my house. Pomegranates are often regarded as a fool-proof fruit tree because of their lack of pest problems.

Enter the curly leaves. Misshapen leaves are often the result of insect infestations: either thrips (as in ficus) or psyllids (eugenia and lately, pittosporum) and even caterpillars (citrus leafminer). These pom leaves are uniformly spiraling seemingly caused by the rolled leaf edge, but otherwise appear healthy. When I unroll the curled edge I see nothing but that may not be conclusive because, hey, my eyesight isn't that good. Some leaf distortions are caused by fungus (as in peach leaf curl) or even bacteria (pear blight) but in these cases the leaves look terribly sick as well as being distorted.

So I'm going to assume for the moment my leaves are merely twisted, not sick AND twisted, and that there is some insect at work on the pomegranate, causing the leaves to turn around on themselves, and keep an eye out for further symptoms or visible-to-the-naked-and-aging-eye insects.

From Grubby to Groovy

2011-02-25T22:14:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, when the weather was deceptively warmish I decided to plant some drab vacant areas of the garden to what we call in the trade "color". Yes, color is what is needed as a gardener's heart quickens this time of year when spring is tantalizingly close.

So I double dug the planting areas. In one of them, less than a square yard area between the myrtle and the aloe brevifolia, I found at least 20 medium sized grubs. I picked 'em out as I went, gathering them in a little orange plastic bowl. Once upon a time we bought a bunch of these bowls for serving and eating ice cream. Now I find they look colorful while collecting things like grubs.

Anyway, the plants got planted and so far there's no evidence of damage from grubs. Grubs are the larvae of certain beetles that lay their eggs in the soil; the larvae feed on plant roots obviously sapping the vitality of the plants as they do so. Did I get them all? Not likely; but UCI IPM says that grub populations of less than 6 per square foot are not harmful (?!?).

Monarch Eclosure #2

2011-02-13T19:57:00.000-08:00

There were two monarch caterpillars preparing to pupate one day back in January; one of them had to go first so I called it Pupa #1. #1 emerged as a butterfly yesterday making it Eclosure #2.

Here are some photos of the gradual change in the appearance of the pupa over the last 3 days. The last photos are about three hours before the emergence and show the transparency of the pupal case at this point.

This pupa was attached to the underside of a phlomis leaf by a tiny hook (the cremaster, in black) through a pad of silk. By the end of the 29 days of pupation the silk seems worn and weakened; but the hook held through some strong winds that rocked the pupa in its final days.

Yesterday 2/12 at about 3:15 I got home and went to check on the butterfly's progress. I thought this one would wait for the following morning, but I was surprised to find the pupa case split open top to bottom with the black fuzzy wings just starting to bulge out the cracks. In the minute or two it took to run for the camera the butterfly had fully emerged, looking very bug-like and bedraggled.

Over the next 40 minutes the butterfly hung upside down while fluid flowed from the swollen abdomen into the wings. In an amazingly short time the wings are fully extended and rigid while the abdomen has shrunken.

At 5 o'clock, the butterfly has settled for the night in its roost under the next phlomis leaf over.

The next morning, 2/13 at around 8:30 the butterfly is in the same spot. In the next several minutes it began to climb away from its roost up the phlomis stem toward the sun.

It took an hour and a half for the monarch to climb to the top of the plant. Once there, the sun slowly inched past the shadow of the neighbor's palm tree to shine directly on the butterfly's wing muscles.

And then at 10:50 am #1 flew off.

#1's pupation stats:

J to pupation took 43 hours
Pupation to eclosure took 29 days 6 hours
Eclosure to flight took 19.5 hours

Monarch Eclosure #1

2011-02-11T20:15:00.000-08:00

Time has passed in chrysalis-watching land, and while it has taken more time than anticipated for the monarch caterpillars to complete their pupation, still time and sunshine are free when you're a butterfly.

I've kept two eyes on the two caterpillars in this post that I observed pupating back in mid-January. Caterpillar #1 pupated under a leaf of the big Phlomis purpurea while caterpillar #2 attempted the same feat but fell into the phlomis duff and was rescued by me. #2 spent its pupation suspended from a bamboo skewer on my back porch or, when the winds got rough it spend timely safely in my house or office.

Caterpillar #2, The Fallen One, completed its transformation to an adult monarch butterfly today. The photos in the slide show follow its progress from 2/9 the day before eclosure through 2/11 when the apparently viable butterfly flew off.

Notice the dark marks on the pupa and the pupal case in the first photos. This pupa had apparently sustained some damage possibly when it fell; the dark marks seem limited to the outer layer and remind me of scabs. When eclosure is very near, the outer covering of the pupa looks like it has separated from its contents. I missed the actual emergence since I have to work from time to time. By the time I found the emerged butterfly, it had crawled around the edge of the box I had it suspended in. I had intended to put the pupa out in the shrubbery when it started to clear . . . about the stage of the first slide show photo. We had high winds that day so I decided to keep it in a protected area using this deeper box so the butterfly could hang unimpeded. By 4pm the wings are rigid; in the photo you can see a drop of meconium being expelled.

The next morning was still, sunny and warm so I decided to move the butterfly out from under the patio cover into the sun. Even so, with all that warmth it took until midday for the butterfly to take flight. After a short hop of a first flight, over to a nearby euryops shrub, The Fallen One spent a few minutes flexing its wings then suddenly flew up and away over the roof of my house.

A lot of sources informed me the pupal stage of monarchs lasts 10 to 14 days. Obviously, this is not always correct. The Fallen One's pupation stats:
From J to pupa took 3 hours
From pupa to eclosure took 26 days
From eclosure to flight took 25 hours

I glad I could assist this one butterfly in its transformation.

the adventure of young scudderia furcata

2011-02-09T22:04:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm not tiny but I'm also not very large. I was tiny when I hatched from an egg inside the edge of a leaf. After that I started eating the leaf and other leaves like it. I grew, things got tight, and then my outer covering split open. I stepped out in a new skin and started eating more leaves and some flowers. The skin splitting keeps happening but I can't stop eating. As I mentioned I'm not too large, so I need to continue eating.

Today the wind blew me onto this unappetizing milkweed plant. A noisy black thing hovered in the space above me for awhile then went away.

I hopped away in search of good leaves and flowers to eat.

Two Signs of Spring

2011-02-02T18:16:00.000-08:00

Fungus gnats becoming common, in fact mating on the side of a flowerpot. The adults look a bit like mosquitoes, and this female will likely soon be laying eggs in the soil of this weathered clay pot. Potting soil is their natural habitat as maggots, feeding on rotting organic matter in the soil and, to my surprise, plant roots.

Yes I was not aware these gnats were more than a nuisance and could be the agents damaging some of my potted plants! Information at University of CA IPM has given me some insights into fungus gnat management. First I shall try the potato cube test to monitor for larvae. Apparently fungus gnat larvae are suckers for raw potato. After peeling a potato and cutting it into one inch cubes, I shall insert these cubes 3/8" into the soil of the pots I suspect may be infested. In a day or two I'll check for larvae (the folks at U of CA were too nice to call 'em maggots). If I need to take action to control the gnats, I'll do that, then reinsert the potato pieces (or get fresh ones) to monitor the success of my controls.

The second sure sign of spring is, no not the ground hog and his shadow or lack thereof, but fresh local grown strawberries. I shall eat some strawberries, wait several days to a week, then report back on the fungus gnat situation.

Flowerhead

2011-01-28T00:33:00.000-08:00

More monarch caterpillar fun for your viewing pleasure. This one, still actively caterpillaring unlike his pupated kin in the previous post, was caught in an interesting position while eating this milkweed stem down to the nub.

Phlomis Purpurea Pupation Pilgrimage

2011-01-27T13:48:00.000-08:00

On the afternoon of January 12, a warm and inviting day here in Tustin, I realized I would be an idiot if I didn't get some gardening done. You could say I was drawn to the task by an irresistible force; or you could say it was a very good idea to soak up some sun and get that long-delayed garden clean-up done at the same time.

The phlomis purpurea was a likely candidate for pruning. I was told several years ago the secret to success with phlomis is to pinch back pinch back and pinch back some more. This particular phlomis is definitely due for pinching if not regulation pruning. But, its six-foot tall spires of fuzzy gray leaves are full of buds and flowers, so I set to work cutting back other plants around it, working my way in and up to the task of cutting it back. As I turned my red-handled Felcos from the rudbeckias and hummingbird sage, the sighting of these two monarch caterpillars in pupation mode stopped my clippers in mid-snip.

Monarch caterpillars often leave the milkweed they have been feeding on and climb other nearby or sometimes not so nearby plants to seek a place to pupate. (By the way, they sometimes wander off the milkweed to molt, as well.) These fat ones had traveled about 10 feet out and 3 feet up from their home milkweed.

One of them wandered restlessly over the phlomis while the other caterpillar had already assumed the J position,

having selected a spot (the mid-rib of the underside of a phlomis leaf), spun a small silk cushion, hooked its cremaster through the silk, and proceeded to hang and await the final molt.

Photos of the J were taken Jan 12 at 3:30 pm; I found the pupation complete but still hardening at 10:30 am Jan 14. I'm assuming the pupation molt occurred morning of Jan 14, so this caterpillar spent at least 1.5 days in the J position.

The second caterpillar wandered around until the following morning, Jan 15, when I caught it hanging in a J around 8:20 am. This one made much quicker work of its transformation, and just 3 hours later at 11:30 it had shed its skin and a very fresh chrysalis was squirming and shining in the sun. You can see the shriveled black skin is still either hanging on or is just caught up by the pupa's attachment point.

I remember thinking this caterpillar had not chosen wisely, as it seemed tenuously attached to the outer edge of a droopy leaf. Using phlomis leaves of any type seemed ill-advised, looking down on the thick bed of dropped leaves. But, the pupal stage lasts just 10 to 14 days usually so I was hopeful the leaves these two chrysalises attached to would hold that long.

In the next couple days our Santa Ana winds kicked up. Though the blow did not reach the Storm Watch predicted, biblical proportion of 80 mph, it did rattle the branches a bit. I checked on the two from time to time and on the afternoon of Jan 20 found the second hasty pupa had fallen off its attachment. I was able to find it in the soft duff of fallen phlomis leaves. I picked it up gently with my sweatshirt-gloved hand.

I took the five day old fallen pupa inside and attached it to a bamboo skewer with some white glue and jute string. It had some brown marks on it, maybe damage occurred when it fell. It is spending its days now suspended over a small plastic bowl, but when (if) it turns transparent as soon-to-eclose monarchs do I will take it out and attach the skewer to a likely shrub so the butterfly can emerge in a natural setting.

As of right now, both pupae are still green and so are not expected to produce butterflies for a day or so. But while I was checking on them a female monarch was depositing eggs on the nearby milkweed leafs, maybe drawn there by an irresistible force or maybe it's just a very good idea on a bright shiny day to lay eggs on milkweed if you're Danaus plexippus.

one egg on a fuzzy schizocarp

2011-01-25T20:49:00.000-08:00

I've gone poetic in the past about lacewing eggs. They appear delicate, tenuous, ethereal. But in reality the stalk they rest upon is exceptionally resilient and while this egg itself may fall prey to various fates, eggs, and more importantly their contents, continue to prevail in sufficient quantities to prolong the existence of lacewings. An individual egg as seen here stands alone like a punctuation mark, an embellishment on the mother lacewing's statement about life.

This egg is attached to the dried schizocarp of Pavonia praemorsa, full of seeds that may or may not ever sprout.

Sour Grass Spring Sign

2011-01-24T18:42:00.000-08:00

Um, yeah it is just 80% into the first month of the year. But in this southern California backyard it looks and feels a lot like spring. The Celtic calendar has spring beginning February 1, and this reckoning makes complete sense in my garden.

There are plenty of plants in bloom right now: rhaphiolepis, geranium, acacias, salvias, phlomis. But this Oxalis pes-caprae being visited by a honeybee whispered spring to me on a recent morning. Also known as sourgrass or Bermuda buttercup, this is an early blooming weed that arises from perennial corms left behind when the top growth is pulled or dies down in late spring. An invasive weed, I never have the heart to attempt eradication precisely due to scenes like these on a bright January day.

Not an Orchid Nut, But

2011-01-15T07:06:00.000-08:00

My mom is nearly an orchid nut; she could be a full-fledged one if she was not so tight with her cash. But you can't eat orchids and the Great Depression made a big impression on some people. One day she got me to take her to an orchid "show" (which I had already learned is actually a sale) to look around . . . and buy orchids. Orchids are interesting; many of them have devious means of getting insects to pollinate them, as an example. And the epiphytic lifestyle, using other plants as support for the roots instead of soil, enables them to grow and be grown in very different ways than soil-bound plants. Their ways have endeared them to enthusiasts who have hybridized like crazy making a vast variety of shapes, sizes, colors, smells, etc. Maybe I should be an orchid nut.

Anyway, a small thing labeled "Bl. Seagull's Yellowbug" caught my eye and it was the only thing I bought that day. Since then it has bloomed a couple times, currently has two bright yellow flowers that are covered in tiny brown spots, maybe from raindrops. Anyway, I thought they look striking nonetheless against the very blue expanded metal patio table the plant sits upon.

A Lucky Meeting

2011-01-12T17:01:00.000-08:00

It was so nice out this afternoon, it just seemed right to put profitable work aside for a bit and finally get to some of the overdue cleanup in the back forty. These two monarch caterpillars seeking pupation sites caught my eye before I decided to tip back the phlomis. More on them later.

A Quarter Hour in the Grass

2011-01-11T19:14:00.000-08:00

There is a clump of pennisetum growing in the parkway, planted a year or so ago I think and I've misplaced its proper name. Maybe it's p. a. hameln. By rights it should be cut back soon but meanwhile and as long as I'm procrastinating garden chores it is a wild place of tangled leaves, scraggly blossoms and home to many things.

Just a quarter hour's observation revealed katydid eggs glued in overlapping rows on a stem; a weird colored bagrada hilaris nymph clinging to an inflorescence;

a glowing elm leaf; a schistocerca nitens grasshopper nymph casting an annoyed look at me as I parted the foliage; a green lacewing perched gracefully on a twisting leaf; a geometrid caterpillar of uncertain coinage; and the simple but irresistible combination of milkweed seed meeting grass seed.

Take time to observe, always time to trim later.

Snail Mail, Literally

2011-01-10T18:58:00.000-08:00

There are so many small garden snails around the yard now, and I find them in all kinds of high places. Do they climb because it's colder near the soil? Too wet down there? Some of them are actively feeding and crawling around, but many are lethargic or even dormant.

This one found a spot inside the mailbox. Its shell is a bit crushed, probably the junk mail got thrust rudely upon it while it was taking its rest. Interesting I suppose but it too got flicked into the street.

I have a bad feeling about the chances later in spring for seedlings and 4" potted rudbeckias in a garden that is already so full of snails.

Happy Belated New Year and Bug count

2011-01-03T13:21:00.000-08:00

Time to box up the lights and ornaments, and finally get the Bug Count post posted. As is my habit, the count is posted on the actual day of the survey, 12/28/10.

2010 Winter Solstice-ish Bug Count

2010-12-28T18:53:00.000-08:00

Today, the first available non-rainy day following the winter solstice, I got out and took a survey of the life forms in the yard. It's been wet and cold for southern California and much of the insect life in evidence is cryptic. Eggs, dead eggs, whiffs of life that once was or soon will be present. Still there were a few buggies and others around to observe, perhaps hardier ambassadors of many others hidden away under the shrubberies or way up in the warm sun in the hedgetops.

One species in large numbers unfortunately is Helix aspersa, brown garden snail. There are lots of young ones, boding ill for our plants that will soon be putting out succulent shoots. I am amazed at the numbers of snails crowding the milkweed plants, apparently unfazed by its toxic juices.

On to the arthropods. Representing the arachnids are:

Funnel web spiders, Hololena curta, 5 or 6 of them on the porch and another one out in the aloe.
Whirligig mites, Anystis baccarum, always plentiful this time of year, found running across the picnic table, my notebook, my hand.
Peucetia viridans, green lynx spiders, had a tough year in 2010. The two egg sacs I was aware of both failed to hatch and are still clinging pitifully to the branches where their dying mothers left them.
I saw one tiny orb weaver, likely to be Neoscona crucifera working on a small web and a small jumping spider that looked like Sassacus sp. jumping its way up the lantana.

Insects:

I found eggs, very likely to be Niesthrea louisianica's, on a green seed capsule of Pavonia praemorsa, Yellow mallow. When I first noted this species in my garden in May 2007, it populated the Indian mallow, Abutilon palmeri, exclusively. Now that plant has died, and these mallow loving seed bugs have moved onto another mallow. Yay!
There were some other bug eggs on a dried salvia coccinea flower, and an adult bug nearby; same species? Looks like a lygus bug of some sort.
Saw another bug adult of another species, foggy photo rules out ID.

An unusually colored Bagrada hilaris nymph hangs out on a grass stem.
Lots of cactus scale, Diaspis echinocacti, have sadly colonized a potted Opuntia cutting. Where is my scale toothbrush?

The pittosporum psyllids of summer seem to be all gone, leaving curled leaf tips, sooty mold and probably eggs behind.
There were a few black leafhoppers on the lavendar.

Eggs of glassywinged sharpshooter, Homalodisca vitripennis, recently laid in the leaf tissue of prunus caroliniana. Notice the thin white substance covering the eggs laid down by the female.

Gobs of oleander aphids, Aphis nerii, are troubling the milkweed (both Asclepias curassavica and a. physocarpus) in the front parkway while the a. curassavica in the back yard is aphid-free. Winged aphids were present among a few of the colonies.
One Green Aphid was observed on a large sow thistle among the weed patch out back. As you know these weeds will soon be coated in aphids, but for now there's just the one.

I found a mantid ootheca on the top surface of the shelf I built this fall for potted cuttings. That was a neat surprise. I was happy to find another one on the backside of St. Francis. These are undoubtedly Stagmomantis californica, the mantis that stalks my garden and its statuary.

The katydids were represented by one small nymph found among the lavendar, and two clutches of eggs. The nymph is a forktailed bush katydid, Scudderia furcata. The eggs however are not so easy. One bunch of eggs were inserted between the tissue layers of a gomphrena leaf; these probably are S. furcata eggs. The other eggs were deposited along a grass stem. I saw the female ovipositing but to my great shame did not manage to photograph this event. She looked like Microcentrum rhombifolium, and ovipositing on the outside of the plant points away from Phaneroptera nana I believe. The katydid mystery lives on.

One honey bee, Apis mellifera, buzzed among the still blooming acacia.
Aphid parasitic wasps must be around as evidenced by all the aphid mummies.

Four monarch caterpillars, Danaus plexippus, munched milkweed in the backyard garden, the plants untroubled by aphids.

As I squirreled among the shrubbery a moth flew up and away. Probably a Eupethicia.

Inside the green waste bin there was a silky cocoon that looked like a moth pupa's shelter.
I found this plume moth posing prettily on a poinsettia plant.

A mourning cloak butterfly, Nymphalis antiopa, floated past the corner of my eye and up and over the fence.
Lots of No See Ums were flying around at times in small clouds. These could have been fungus gnats.
One syrphid fly came from out of nowhere and landed on some sweet alyssum that is in bloom.

Meanwhile the syrphid pupa I know about is still pupating.

As for the pumpkin, Something bored this hole into it but so far I don't know what that creature is.

Winter Solstice Bug Count Rain Delay

2010-12-21T22:13:00.000-08:00

As the sun paused, or seemed to, this afternoon I was semi-stuck in traffic on the transition road from the 405 to the 55. But that's OK, rain's good, it's all good. If people had no where to go there would be no traffic. Just drive safely out there.

So, it's been raining non-stop yesterday all of today into tonight and looks like most of tomorrow too. Too wet for the buggies and almost too wet for me. Bug count will proceed when it stops dripping.

Meanwhile, I caught a few sightings of Santa as I tooled around town.

Nice One, Funnel Web Weaver

2010-12-19T22:10:00.000-08:00

I was strolling around the yard in a pre-year-end daze when I noticed this thick web blanketing a potted aloe like a fog bank. The spider responsible, hololena sp., waits in her funnel shaped retreat for prey to stumble by on a misty day.

I thought this web was a pretty nice example of the funnel web spiders work.

Grasshopper Joints and Hangouts

2010-12-18T17:01:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of grasshoppers (sometimes defined as short-horned grasshoppers, helpful distinction for those who call tree crickets and katydids grasshoppers) around now in various sizes and colors. All of these are greybirds, Schistocerca nitens, cousin to infamous grasshoppers of destruction.

Grasshoppers, long and short horned, are classified in the order Orthoptera which means straight wing.

The wing covers are what you see when the creature is at rest; underneath the membranous flying wings are folded lengthwise accordion-like. The young grasshopper hatches resembling the adult except having no wings.

As it grows and molts the wing buds appear about midway through the insect's development and the wings develop outside of the insect's body. This mode of development in the insect world is called hemimetabolous, incomplete or gradual metamorphosis.

Insects are arthropods, which means jointed foot. It's obvious the joints are not limited to the feet, especially in the highly developed jumping legs of these grasshoppers.

Although these grasshoppers are strong fliers and great jumpers they spend most of their time, as far as I've been able to observe, hanging out in the plants eating or just sitting there. Sometimes they squirrel around in the plants on their own initiative, but to get them to jump or fly one must aggressively annoy them.

Maybe I simply have very nice plants that are pleasing and comforting to grasshoppers.

In my garden grasshoppers young and old are commonly found on the grasses such as pennisetum, the bronze fennel, aromatic mint family plants like salvias and lavendar, the lemon verbena aloysia triphylla, and occasionally on the California grape vitis californica.

Have I Mentioned I Like The Eastern Sierras?

2010-12-17T07:06:00.001-08:00

Been busy since the Thanksgiving break trip up the Owens Valley through the mountain passes to Nevada to visit with the old man's folks. I'm sure no one's interested in our gossip, but some photos of the mountains with the pristine blanket of the first snows of winter resting on them are in order. From north to south, a few scenes from highway 395.

Mid-December Bee Festivus

2010-12-16T07:06:00.000-08:00

The acacia iteaphylla, willow wattle, fills the space where the ligustrum hedge (that follows the fence) ends and the porch begins and right now fountains of yellow flowers threaten to encroach the driveway and the steps up to the house. From among this bounty of bloom on an early December morning (a sunny one a few days ago before the clouds and fog took over) came the roar of worker bees. Seriously, there were so many of them there wasn't a wand of wattle that wasn't being tended by an early-rising bee. From this I surmise: there is a hive of honey bees nearby, they are hungry, and acacia iteaphylla has the goods to offer.

Of course acacia is famous for its winter bloom. This one, the willow wattle, has bloomed repeatedly this year with flowers that aren't spectacular but fill the air with sweetness, and honeybee song.

It Is Still Bloom Day Here

2010-12-15T22:56:00.000-08:00

Not quite midnight yet, so here is an iceberg rose I noticed in the yard decorated with fallen elm leaves in green and red. Another bloom nearby didn't look too bad in the early morning light, either.

And, Do You Consider Mushrooms Blooms? I know this means my potted cactus is probably rotting but still the juxtaposition of the delicate and transitory mushroom caps with the sturdy long-lived cactus I like.