Nah, Strashilids Weren't Fleas

For paleoentomologists, the revelation in January of irrefutable evidence that the Strashilidae—a Mesozoic family of grotesque insects—were not ectoparasites of pterosaurs was startling. (Or at least it was to me.) This complete revolution in our understanding of what these bristly little puzzlers were was in my mind no less drastic than the moment in 1981 when previously dissociated fossils of a jellyfish, a sea cucumber, and a shrimp turned out to have been the corpus of predatory arthropod Anomalocaris.

Why should you care? I dunno... 

Donald Trump's Hair Found in Peru

We always knew that Donald Trump's hair could detach itself from his body and move about freely, but where does it go? Oh—the Amazon.

Technically, the alleged Trump toupee (found crawling around on a leaf in Peru during a photography tour) is a flannel moth caterpillar (Megalopyge opercularis), but it's hard to tell the difference. The urticating setae with which it is covered mean that it should not be touched, much like Donald Trump's hair; probably, the resemblance is due to Müllerian mimicry.  

What Army Ants Are—And What They Are Not

"They came at noon the second day. Their approach was announced by the wild unrest of the horses, scarcely controllable now either in stall or under rider, scenting from afar a vapor instinct with horror.
       "It was announced by a stampede of animals, timid and savage, hurtling past each other; jaguars and pumas flashing by nimble stags of the pampas, bulky tapirs, no longer hunters, themselves hunted, outpacing fleet kinkajous, maddened herds of cattle, heads lowered, nostrils snorting, rushing through tribes of loping monkeys, chattering in a dementia of terror; then followed the creeping and springing denizens of bush and steppe, big and little rodents, snakes, and lizards."

So wrote German author Carl Stephenson in "Leiningen Versus the Ants" (1938), describing the wave of Brazilian fauna fleeing the scourge of "The Naked Jungle" (as the 1954 film adaptation of Stephenson's story was entitled): army ants, capable of bringing down a fleet-footed stag and skeletonizing the body within seven minutes. This ferocious horde faces an obstacle in the person of Leiningen, a manful plantation owner who plans to defeat the bloodthirsty insects through cunning, manpower (in the form of hapless Indian laborers who must trust in the Great White Hope of their boss' wisdom), and casual misogyny ("Critical situations first become crises ... when oxen or women get excited"). 

Leiningen "would send these vermin back to the hell where they belonged, somehow, anyhow", and he naturally succeeds in the end: for how could any primal "devil's spawn" withstand the zeal of a Caucasian planter devised near racialism's zenith in Germany? Despite the fact that Leiningen's two-fisted, nobly testosterone-laden struggles against the "evil black throng" would be idiotic in reality—his vertebrate-devouring foe doesn't exist in South America, for one thing; and for another thing, army ants' visits are welcomed eagerly by farmers. 

Clearly, there are many misconceptions concerning the army ants: to remedy this is the mission of the latest post on my personal blog.       

We're Starving the Monarch Butterflies

A recent blog post by Chip Taylor, director of Monarch Watch, said: "All in all, it was not a good year for monarchs." 

You can say that again. A March 13th press conference held by the World Wildlife Fund-Mexico and CONANP (Comisíon Nacional de Áreas Naturales Protegidas) revealed that the total area occupied by Danaus plexippus in the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt over the winter of 2012-2013 declined precisely 59% since the previous season.

Granted, the monarch butterfly population has a tendency to fluctuate annually—even greater shifts have been observed in the past—but this past winter's numbers are the lowest since the monarchs' overwintering locality was discovered by science in 1975. Moreover, a very statistically significant decline has occurred overall in the past 19 years. 

Of course, we Americans' first instinct would be to point fingers at the Mexicans, who have chronically logged the subtropical pine-oak forest upon which D. plexippus depends; but, although conditions at the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve remain sub-optimal, according to the press release, "by protecting its sanctuaries and practically eliminating large-scale deforestation, Mexico is doing its part."

Concurrently, 25.5 million more acres of corn and soybeans were planted last year in the United States and Canada than as recently as 2006. What's the connection? Monarch caterpillars feed only on milkweed (Asclepias sp.) (along with a number of other insects), a plant that grows in unkempt grasslands, often occurring along the edges of roadways and fields; but this habitat is disappearing as cropland expands—not, apparently, due to a greater need for food, but because of our (yes, our) increasing demand for the biofuels that are vaunted as "green". 

The proximal cause of the 2012-2013 monarch decline was probably the severe drought of 2012: temperatures above 95°F are often lethal to D. plexippus caterpillars. In the long run, however, the decline of Asclepias is to blame. So: what's to be done? For Monarch Watch, the answer is straightforward: plant milkweed. Lots of it. It is urgently needed.

And no, this is not a plug for the politically powerful milkweed-grower's lobby. 

Zorapterans Are Worthy of Our Notice

On my visit two months ago to a prospective college that will remain unnamed (since it was not—gasp—UK),  I toured Incognito University's insect-pest-research lab. Therein I saw bedbugs of all instars eagerly imbibing rabbit blood (and hoping for a taste of the human kind too), and also termite colonies in every stage of development: including a few that were a decade old, and (uniquely in 2002) had been founded in captivity; these lived in forearm-deep 3-foot-long Rubbermaid tubs filled to the brim with mulch. Up in a corner shelf, I noticed one of these tubs to be conspicuously labeled "Zoraptera", not Isoptera: referring to an order of Insecta of whose existence even many systematic entomologists are unaware, and which I had never seen. 

Upon request, my graduate student guide brought down and opened the bin, which contained no termites—my guide informed me that this mulch had been abandoned by the wood-chewers for some time, leaving it to the fungus-browsing zorapterans: inconspicuous things, being only 3-4 mm. long. I knew little of these insects, other than their habitat, their obscurity, and their subsociality; and I inquired if Incognito University was researching them.

Apparently not: according to my guide, these zorapterans were just baggage that came along with the mulch; nobody there really bothered with them. This is unfortunate, for the Zoraptera are far more interesting than most will give them credit for (http://gentlecentipede.blogspot.com/2013/03/patriarchy-and-other-eccentricities-of.html).

Strangest of the Strange

There are a number of Animalia that reach the highest level of human-perceived strangeness any organism can achieve; creatures that make the likes of H. P. Lovecraft argue a case for God's insanity, and cause the rest of us to at least challenge His taste. Examples include: the sessile marine bone-snacking worm Osedax, the females of which have hundreds-strong harems of dwarfish males inhabiting their guts; or Acarophenax, a mite with a sex ratio biased 15/1 in favor of females, with a single male per brood impregnating every single one of his sisters while they are all still in the womb. Then there are the twisted-winged parasites (which have the order Strepsiptera all to themselves): easily the most bizarre insects known to man, and organisms in a general sense that give even Osedax a run for its money (http://gentlecentipede.blogspot.com/2013/02/twisted-winged-parasites-are-friggin.html).

"Margarinefly": Will it Catch On?

Some readers may recall a mention of "butterflies of the Jurassic" back in a July post on the Daily Entomologist. Dramatically resembling modern macrolepidopterans, these Mesozoic lacewings (Kalligrammatidae) were far more akin to antlions (doodlebugs, if you're a Southerner). You'll be able to find out more about them here (http://gentlecentipede.blogspot.com/2013/01/butterflies-before-butterflies-flowers.html)—and discover what a "margarinefly" is.