Too cool, part 55: What are the odds?

Once again courtesy of Astronomy Picture of the Day, a few days back, we have a wicked conjunction:

ISS and aircraft occulting sun simultaneously, by Petr Horalek from Astronomy Picture of the Day
Fantastic image by Petr Horalek, Inst. Physics Opava, courtesy of Astronomy Picture of the Day
first off, pretty decent image of sunspots, clearly taken with a solar filter. Getting the timing and focus down to capture the International Space Station so sharply against the sun’s face is a serious accomplishment in itself – I’ve been trying for this myself, several times over. But then Petr Horalek, of the Institute of Physics in Opava (Czech Republic) captured an aircraft at the same time, which virtually cannot be planned and probably wasn’t even timed – it was strictly luck. Definitely click on the links for the complete rundown and the larger version (click on the image at the APOD site, or here.) Why is the plane not as sharp as the rest? Because it was significantly closer than either the sun (~152 million kilometers distant) or the ISS (better than 400 kilometers distant,) likely being less than 10 kilometers distant itself – I can’t get any closer than that, because I don’t know exactly where or when it was taken. It’s still in focus enough to make out the pitot tube extending from the wing’s leading edge though, and no visible motion blur – the defocus characteristics seem the same on all sides, suggesting that the shutter speed was fast enough to limit the motion blur to trivial amounts (with none from the ISS either.) Petr Horalek estimates the chance of capturing these three objects together is about 30 million to one.

Can that be right? Let’s break it down. The sun is a relatively small target in the sky, being less that the width of a dime held at arm’s length (roughly 0.5 degrees,) so the chances of anything passing in front of it are small to begin with – the sky is 180° across of course. I semi-routinely use the ISS Transit Finder site to plot when the ISS and other manmade satellites may pass in front of the sun, and the path where this can be seen is usually around 8 km wide. The ISS itself is moving at a pretty good clip, so usually passes across the entire face of the sun in less than a second. A plane will cross it twice as fast or more, and while it’s larger from this viewing perspective, it’s also a lot closer and so the path where it will cross the face is much narrower. So while I wouldn’t bet heavily on the exact numbers, I can see where capturing them both is a matter of very specific timing and location. He’s also extremely lucky that the plane didn’t obscure the ISS, which would be just my luck.

Idly, I’ve been looking at that plane and trying to pin down what it is. Straight, unswept wings and no visible engine pods, plus exhaust distortion occurring right inline with the fuselage, seems to indicate a single-turbine internal engine, though it’s possible it was a single turboprop and the propeller is outside of the sun’s disk. There’s little else I can tell about it, and it’s not ringing any bells, but if I suspect I have it, I’ll let you know.

Universally celebrated

Too many of the holidays that are featured here are rather narrow in scope, or appeal, or culture; photography-related, or specific to the US (like we need any more reasons to be self-absorbed,) or even, dare I say it, almost resembling contrived excuses to put up handy content. Today, however, is a holiday that we all can celebrate, and indeed, have probably celebrated countless times in the past, and that’s Fret About What We Should Be Reading And Then Still Not Actually Read A Damn Thing Day, the day that we look at our bookshelves or reading lists or even wish lists for bookstores and think, Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get to that, and then take solace in the thought itself and believe that we’ve made some kind of progress. Personally, I think I celebrated it three times or more today.

Normally, there’s a modicum of guilt associated with this (in)action, which we try to bury under the concepts that we have more important things to do right now, or there won’t be enough uninterrupted time to get much reading in, or we don’t have the right spot to sit down and get comfy. However, that’s what’s so great about this holiday: we’re supposed to make excuses and go watch Bob’s Burgers instead (pay attention to how often Gene has the closing gag to a scene) – there’s no guilt to be had, if we’re patriotic, well, anythings. We’d be spitting on the memory of whoever came up with this holiday if we had any regrets whatsoever. Let’s show some respect now.

Now, I can already hear you arguing, “But Al, the guilt is actually a good thing since we really should be getting to this reading,” and quite frankly, that’s just making an excuse to dodge the meaning and tradition of the holiday – shame on you. There are books and articles and papers just waiting for our attention, and that promise of things to come is what we should be savoring. The moment we actually read them, well, that’s over, isn’t it? I mean, now what?

So, fidget with all the shit on your desk, or fake the throw for the dog, or go through the cupboards to see what snacks would be appropriate for reading and then consume them without actually doing the reading. It’s your solemn duty. I’d even chide you for reading this, except this isn’t on anyone’s list of things they should be reading, so it’s all good. In fact, go check out the Random Post thing over there on the sidebar – you can thank me later…

Been so, so long

I had a few wood duck photos to feature, a teaser until I get the video clips together, and I was thinking it’d be a nice change because we hadn’t had wood ducks for a while. So, exhausting researcher that I am, I looked for the last appearance of “wood duck” on the blog.

Which was yesterday, since they appeared in the video. But okay, the last appearance before that was late June, so we’re going with that and pretending that the species in the video was something else. Okay?

Not too long after the ducklings had become too big to effectively fit what people imagine when they hear the word, “duckling,” the wood ducks (Aix sponsa) had almost disappeared from the pond, helped perhaps by the drastic drop in the water level, limiting their swimming access to specific reduced portions of it. But since this happened last year too, we think it’s just a habitual thing. The water level has bounced back to what we’re used to now, and they’ve (perhaps coincidentally) been coming back again, though there’s a curious detail about it.

cluster of late juvenile wood ducks Aix sponsa gathering at base of Haunted Tree
The morning and evening raids after the corn we distribute were no longer regular, sometimes occurring, sometimes not, most often in the mornings. But for a short while, they were gathering instead at the base of Haunted Tree, which you can see is half-obscured by foliage from my normal vantage point. Every one of them, however, was in juvenile plumage, meaning this year’s ducklings – not a full adult to be seen among them. We found this curious, and don’t know the reason or meaning behind it, but the result is that their coloring has a lot more variation in it.

late juvenile wood ducks Aix sponsa showing transitioning plumage
The female in front looks almost like an adult, but the male in the back is definitely between patterns, showing more of the iridescent blue in the wings than the adults normally do with almost none of the blacks. The beak is pretty much on-cue though, and the eyes are red, or reddish at least.

A nice comparison was captured yesterday morning, though.

two juvenile male wood ducks Aix sponsa showing distinctly different interim plumage
Both males, both this year’s brood, but you could be excused if you thought they were different sexes or species. The one in front shows more of the iridescent green on the head, but lacks the body coverts that would hide the blue wing feathers, while the one in back looks less scruffy and more ‘complete,’ yet shows nearly none of the adult coloration. Which as a reminder, looks like this:

adult male wood duck Aix sponsa in adult plumage
Considering that, even early this year before nesting season, we were seeing the occasional duck sporting incomplete adult colors, I suspect that adult plumage doesn’t fully come in until the mating season change erupts in late winter/early spring. It’s still curious that no adults seem to be hanging out with the current crew, though.

Another, in the tree on Duck Island:

late juvenile male wood duck Aix sponsa in transitional plumage
The white ‘chin strap’ seems to be the first thing to develop after the duckling colors, making the sexes distinguishable fairly early, since even the females’ white eye rings seem to develop later than this. Notice that the male bill colors are only halfway there, and the eye might be developing a hint of red, but even under high magnification, it’s not distinctly noticeable, though we are looking from the shady side here.

Like I said, video to come (eventually,) but sometime after that, you might notice a change in the scenery; we had one cluster of trees on the pond edge come down this morning, falling just behind both Haunted Tree and Duck Island, so there’s a bunch of loose background foliage that will be dying out. There’s little point in trying to remove them, seeing how they’re completely in the water, as shallow as it is, but we’re also curious to see if the beavers take advantage of this windfall (well, technically a rainfall, since we believe they toppled because of the rain weight and the fact that they had shallow roots in the pond bottom.) This may be another opportunity, though most likely for night photos or video. We’ll see…

Estate Finds 64 & 65

A twofer, except they’re both half-assed, no real luck with the video this time, so consider these a teaser until I get better evidence. The video will illustrate it well enough.

So, right after we first moved in, we’d found some fox scat on the driveway, and then not another sign at all, save for a neighbor telling us she’d seen one in the past. When I’m in the upstairs bathroom window watching for the morning activity of the wood ducks, the view down lower, closer to the house, is largely blocked because I stand back from the window so the ducks are less likely to see me. So the grey fox (Urocyon cinereoargenteus) appeared rather abruptly on the path leading down to the water’s edge, before I’d even seen any sign of ducks; the camera and microphone were switched off because of this, and the fox didn’t wait around as I was correcting this. Thus the abysmal clip.

[Note: red foxes and grey foxes would be distinguishable by the overall color of their coats, you would think, but this is hardly the case. Both often sport a good mix of red and grey throughout, so the only dependable way to tell them apart is, red foxes have a white tailtip, just like the cartoons, while grey foxes have a black strip that runs down their entire spine and to the tailtip. To date, I believe I have only seen grey foxes anywhere in NC; this is not to say they’re the only species around, only that they’re the one I’ve had the privilege of seeing.]

Also, while it occurred well out of sight a few hundred meters distant, I’m fairly certain the cat squall was only a warning and not the cat falling prey to the fox, though there’s a decent chance it was indeed from an encounter; cats have a distinctive warning cry, different from when they’re injured. Foxes tend to take smaller prey like field mice and small birds, since they’re only marginally bigger than cats to begin with – fluffier, but pretty lean under that coat. Would they take a wood duck? Perhaps, especially since those are smaller and possess no defensive measures. But a nutria, even a small one? Unlikely. A house cat? Also unlikely – house cats are fierce fighters. I wouldn’t rule either out, but foxes really do seek other, easier meals.

As for the wild turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo,) The Girlfriend was the one that spotted them while I was napping, quickly waking me because of course, and my initial view was of all four collecting on the lawn leading down to the pond’s edge, a near-perfect view. The camera equipment was still tucked away in Deep 13 from an unsuccessful project the day before though, down two flights of stairs, so by the time I arrived and set up, the turkeys had moved along. After the brief clips, I did go down onto the deck, and then down in the yard, to chase frames as they moved on.

female wild turkey Meleagris gallopavo peeking from tall grasses on Walkabout Estates
Since I was handholding the long lens at this time, I wanted to count on autofocus so I could have a steadier grip without playing with the focus ring (which is, unhelpfully, towards the base of the lens,) but the environment simply wouldn’t allow it and focus went all over the place, so I had to switch to manual. This meant few sharp images, especially when there was virtually no perspective that wasn’t semi-obscured by foliage. Again, proof of their presence, but none of these are going to become prints.

trio of female wild turkeys Meleagris gallopavo disappearing into undergrowth at edge of property
At no time have we lived in an area that didn’t host wild turkeys, but my views of them have been few and far between, and I think I’ve only heard their calls once. Here’s hoping that this is the beginning of their visits, though we’ve had enough one-off species come by that I’m not holding my breath. The camera is staying ready on the tripod, though.

We need a controlled experiment

Don’t they say, “Never assume you know the answer to something that hasn’t been tried”? (And where should the question mark go in that sentence? Do I have it right? Or should I have rephrased it so it wasn’t even an issue?) (And who’s “they”? Or is that, “Who’s they?” Fucking quotes, man…) So while I can easily say, “It’s just superstition, don’t bother,” am I not performing due diligence by resorting to that? I’m no scientist (duh!) but I try to behave like one where it’s important.

With that lede out of the way and You The Reader inescapably intrigued, I’ll say that, two nights ago as I was looking over the black knight butterfly bush by the light of the headlamp, I came across several crab spiders, but remarked internally that I have never yet seen something here that I used to see every year at the old place, and that was, the jagged ambush bugs that also adored the butterfly bushes. I idly put this down to subtle differences in the environment, but only idly, because that didn’t necessarily make sense: the genus is present throughout the US. And then last night, just 24 hours (give or take) past wondering about that, I find this:

jagged ambush bug Phymata on black knight butterfly bush Buddleja davidii with unidentified butterfly prey
The crumpled and unmoving butterfly was the giveaway, because as you can see, the jagged ambush bug (Genus Phymata) is hard to distinguish even this close, though it’s center-frame. Seen from above its back, the head sits just behind that long-thin butterfly antenna, the body extending to the left and slightly upwards. The coloration is blending in with the reddish dead blossoms of the bush pretty damn well, even though being on one of the more active, healthy clusters would provide more concealment. I’ve seen this a lot: ambush bugs tend to stay on a cluster until it’s quite dead, one of the reasons that I always drop the severed clusters underneath when I’m dead-heading the bushes, because I’m almost guaranteed to clip one that’s still occupied, by either an ambush bug or a crab spider, and this makes it a little easier for them to climb back up and find a new spot.

A little closer now:

closer view of jagged ambush bug Phymata on black knight butterfly bush Buddleja davidii with prey
Yeah, it’s a little soft, but there are mitigating thingies. Ambush bugs are small, never getting longer than 15mm, so I had to be close to get this. But the cluster was actually a little above eye level on a long stalk, so it moved at the slightest provocation, which did not combine well with my holding a heavy rig up high with nothing to brace against, and I normally sway a little regardless – it was all a matter of trying to time when the combined swaying reached tight focus. Add in, even late at night, both the viewfinder and my glasses fogged almost immediately, and so within a couple of seconds I couldn’t see clearly enough to tell anyway, and had to pause to clear both. I was just after a couple of illustrations; I didn’t want to set up a tripod, branch anchor, and fan just to get a few frames of a subject I’ve done before anyway. I’m whining again, aren’t I?

But getting back to the title and opening statements, I might have to do some experiments on wondering about subjects that I haven’t spotted, and seeing if this influences finding them soon afterward. I’d probably need to ensure I’m wearing my lucky socks though.

[So you know, I haven’t worn socks in months, and even sandals have been avoided in favor of bare feet for the past several weeks – it’s been too hot to even consider them. I actually limit the amount of time I’m out in ‘public’ because I have to have footwear, which really does get uncomfortable fairly quickly.]

While out there, I decided to chase another subject I’d found earlier, one of the larger crab spiders I’ve seen, though on the dog fennel and not the butterfly bush.

large female crab spider Thomisidae on dog fennel Eupatorium capillifolium
Now, “larger” is relative, since she wasn’t large enough to cover my thumbnail, but for crab spiders (Family Thomisidae,) this is pretty big – most times, they run from 2-6mm in body length, but this one was pushing 10. I would suspect she’s gonna drop an egg sac soon.

That was full-frame, by the way. Let’s go in closer, since even with the conditions described (moaned about) above, I managed a reasonably sharp frame.

close inset of crab spider Thomisidae, showing eyes identifying this as likely Mecaphesa
So here’s the deal: BugGuide gives an identifying characteristic of Genus Mecaphesa as the anterior lateral (front outside) eyes being slightly larger than the median (inside,) which is clear here – but also list the species as normally ‘hairy’ which this isn’t, really; see the other illustrating images at that link. This is part of the fun of trying to provide accurate identification – there’s more work that goes into these posts than you might suspect. Yeah, I know, “And this is still what we get,” I hear you, shut up.

One last, because I was there and I want to.

extreme closeup of head of small juvenile Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis resting on mint plant
This tiny juvenile Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis) was snoozing on a mint plant when I went in close, and cropped even closer for this – the head is literally smaller than my pinky nail. Calling it “green” isn’t doing justice to this palette – I personally wouldn’t even attempt to paint this accurately. You know, that’s why I’m a photographer…

Tip Jar 36: Infra-red photography

First off, I apologize for missing another Tip Jar. I got both under the gun on a deadline for last Monday, and under the weather with a chronic gut. I was attempting to have this up a day or so late, but realized it would be better if I delayed it further to flesh it out with more example images. So let’s delve into infra-red photography.

To start off with, infra-red refers to a very large bracket of light wavelengths, essentially meaning, “below red,” and more specifically applying to wavelengths in the rough range of 780 nanometers to 1 millimeter, or 1,000,000 nanometers – a hell of a large range. All of this is beyond what out eyes can see, and when we see footage of someone glowing from their body heat, caught on the infra-red cameras of, say, a police helicopter, that’s the far infra-red (hereafter, “IR”) – what we can capture with relatively normal equipment is roughly in the range of 780 to 1100 or so nanometers (nm,) the near IR, and does not involve body heat or anything like that – this will all be reflected sunlight, but still, sunlight that we can’t see ourselves.

Digital sensors, however, can capture into this range, as can specialty films. The key to a decent IR image is filtering out the visible sunlight to let the much weaker and less abundant IR come through, which requires a special IR filter – or sometimes not. We’ll look at these first.

selection of infrared pass filters
It’s important to note that there is a distinction in IR filters. Most (all?) digital cameras today have a filter that blocks infrared, meaning all wavelengths above 780nm – what is needed is an IR pass filter, often identified by the wavelengths it lets through. These are easy to distinguish, since IR blocking filters look like clear glass, usually with a faint color cast, while IR pass filters look black, period – they’re not letting through any wavelengths that we can see (or not much of them.) In the image, we have filters for wavelengths above 720nm, 950nm, and my old beat-up Lee 87C polyester filter in a homemade frame, permitting about 780nm. They all have different effects, as we’ll see.

NOTE 1: While researching this post, I found that the market for IR filters has changed drastically in the 11 or so years since I purchased all of these, probably due to the surge in IR security cameras, and they’ve gotten expensive anymore. The Lee pictured is discontinued, and comparable ones from Kodak and Wratten don’t seem to be below $50 – I probably paid somewhere in the realm of $8-15 for each of these. One not pictured, but used for some of the demos, is a simple, stupid trick: unexposed, developed slide film blocks IR, but in variable wavelengths, I believe. Not as good as, for instance, the 720 or 780 wavelength filters, but passable. I cut the unexposed leader from one of my processed rolls of medium format Provia 100F and fit that into a UV filter holder.

Now here’s part two. Since digital sensors can capture IR, they would overexpose surfaces that reflected IR strongly, which is how I stumbled onto doing this in the first place. But manufacturers since about 2005 have included an IR blocking filter over the sensors now, so virtually no modern digital camera can do this without modification. My old Canon Pro 90 IS can, though, as well as many older, basic digitals (look for something with less that 5 megapixels,) and you can still pursue this with infrared film.

NOTE 2: Many/most Canon EOS film cameras use an IR light to count sprocket holes when winding, which made reloading partially-shot rolls a breeze, and precise. It doesn’t register on any routine films, but it will fog the lower edge of IR films. This is not a big deal as long as you account for this and frame accordingly, but it’s better to use virtually any other camera.

Infra-red light is much weaker/thinner than visible light, so exposure times will go long, typically in the 1-8 second range – a tripod is necessary, and you’ll want to be shooting in nothing but bright, direct sunlight because things start to get murky even in haze. Different things reflect IR differently: foliage does so strongly, with evergreen trees being weaker, while the sky produces very little. Bark usually reflects almost none – depends on the species. Water reflects it well, but that means it only shows what’s bouncing off of it, and when it’s sky, well, it gets dark. Butterflies reflect well, lizards don’t, and skin tones, believe it or not, fall pretty much in the middle range, so people look largely like people. Let’s see some examples.

two versions of IR digital at roughly 780nm filtering, one tweaked for better effect
The top version is what the Canon Pro 90 produced with the Lee 780nm filter, faint purplish color cast and slightly weak contrast. The bottom version (which is on one of my business cards) has been reduced to greyscale and the curves adjusted for best effect. This was a perfectly clear morning and the sky was bright blue in visible light. The Pro 90, by the way, automatically adjusts for the filtered light and can even autofocus in IR, or most wavelengths anyway.

So let’s compare them all side-by-side:

same view through four different IR filters: slide film, 720nm, 780nm, and 950nm
We can see the slide film actually produces some blue in the sky, which seems a little odd since blue is at the opposite end of the spectrum – but then again, so are violet and magenta, coming through on the 720nm filter. Since we said infra-red starts at 780nm, both of these are letting through a bit of visible light, though it’s not a dividing line and we’re after the effect, not precision. You’ll also notice that the slide film is a bit softer than the dedicated 720nm filter, which itself shows some darkening (vignetting) in the corners; this is because I was shipped the wrong filter size for the camera, using a step-down ring to make it fit. I could eliminate this by zooming in slightly, or simply not worry about it, given the nature of the images anyway.

There’s little visible difference between the 780nm (Lee polyester) and 950nm filters, with one notable distinction: the 950 let’s through so little light that the exposure time jumped from 1 to 6 seconds and the Canon Pro 90 could no longer autofocus. While I locked the focus setting from the 780 to use for the 950, this wasn’t accurate, rendering this particular filter next to worthless for me.

Below, the 720 and 780nm versions were converted to greyscale, contrast increased until it filled the full dynamic range, and mid-tones tweaked slightly for best effect:

720 and 780nm IR mages converted to greyscale and contrast-enhanced
This produced some subtle differences, mostly in the rendering of darker portions, but the 780 version had almost nothing above the midpoint in brightness originally, requiring much more expansion than the 720. However, had the brighter leaves been more dominant in the frame, we’d have seen how much they exceeded the dynamic range in the 720 version, bleaching out to featureless white. While, in this case, I was trusting the exposure meter of the Pro 90, bracketing isn’t a bad idea.

I played around a little (a long time back) with IR film, too, where bracketing is almost certainly called for if you want the best results.

farm scene on infra-red film
depth-of-field scale from Olympus 50mm lens, showing IR focus markWhile this was with the 780nm filter, you can see that the dynamic range is closer to the results with the 720 in digital, just lacking color – easy to tweak into a full range by deepening the lower ends (or using contrast filters in the darkroom.) This was done with an old Olympus OM-10, though any film camera can handle it – but, there’s a specific thing that needs to be done. IR wavelengths, being longer than visible light, get bent more within the lens, which we got the hint of with the difference in the 780 and 950 test above. So we look at this illustration of an older lens with its depth-of-field marks. See how the right side pointer for the f4 depth is painted in red? That’s specifically for infra-red work; what you would need to do is, obtain sharp focus as normal, without the IR filter (since you’d see nothing,) then shift the focus the necessary amount to consider that red mark as ‘center’ – in this case, shifting the 5 meter mark on the focus ring until it sits at the red mark the same way it sits at the center mark now. This accounts for the shift that infra-red light goes through. Using a smaller aperture is also not a bad idea, since you’ll be using a tripod for the longer shutter speeds anyway.

More digital fun.

visible light image of morning glory Convolvulaceae blossoms and leaves
How do some colors render in IR? This can be a fun experiment.

same as previous scene, under 720nm filter reveling the presence of a Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis
Hah! Had you seen that anole in the previous image? After an initial shot showed the effect, I worked hard to stage this one so the anole was as subtle as possible while still being in plain sight, but it reveals that their skin reflects very little IR light, which makes sense since they’re exothermic and obtain some of their body warmth from, specifically, IR radiation. Meanwhile, the flowers themselves do actually register a little differently from the leaves, but the colors and striations are completely gone. This might be a different matter in ultra-violet light though, but that’s a lot harder to photograph…

Now, while it’s not hard to find older digital cameras that lack the IR filter of the later ones, it often takes some testing or research. But you can also purchase digital cameras modified specifically for IR work – or even do your own modification, though this is quite tricky; it’s on the docket for the old DReb of mine, still sitting in a drawer here, but – I’d still have to use lenses that possessed those IR marks, since such DSLRs were focused strictly through the viewfinder. I mean, will it autofocus? That remains to be seen, but I couldn’t check it ahead of time, only chimp at it afterwards. Also note that, if you purchase a camera or body so modified, you’re typically locked into the IR (pass) filter they install within, right where the IR (block) filter used to be. If you’re only toying with the idea, find an old digital and use a filter, like these, first – you may save yourself a significant expense and/or amount of tinkering.

All that said, it’s a fun branch of photography, one that I still play with from time to time, and produces distinctive effects, so if you have the opportunity, try it out! Just be sure to allow plenty of experimental time.

park gazebo on a clear summer day in infra-red

Until they get blinking lights

Several days back, I looked out towards the pond in the early morning and saw this strange-looking web, largely because it was backlit.

web of spinybacked orbweaver Gasteracantha cancriformis with 'dotted' support strands
You have to admit, those ‘dotted’ support strands are distinctive – there really was only a narrow time of day that this would be so visible. Notice how tightly-spaced the orb portion of the web is, obviously targeted towards quite small insects, and how the support strands are curved, pulled tighter as the spider added more webbing in the orb. While it appears to be occupied in this image, it wasn’t when I walked closer for better images that would allow me to identify the species, and it was well over my head so even checking back wasn’t much of an option. I snagged the image as a curiosity but thought little more of it.

Until the next day, when another was found attached to the hosta plants alongside the back deck. I was busy then, so I vowed to return with the camera, but then forgot about it until after nightfall, when the web was not only unoccupied, it didn’t even exist – just the support strands. Ah, so a day hunter! I’m quite used to the various species that appear once it’s dark to spin a new web each night, dismantling it by day, but this appeared to be the opposite. So it wasn’t until the following day when I returned again to actually photograph the spider responsible.

spinybacked orbweaver Gasteracantha cancriformis in middle of web
It was cooperative and remained in place as I maneuvered around and played with framing and lighting, producing a nice surrounding halo from a break in the background foliage. Only about 8mm across the widest of those spines, this was easy to identify as a spinybacked orbweaver (Gasteracantha cancriformis,) and they have a moderate variation in colors, often with a more yellow ‘frosted’ back and even reddish spines. The tufts that make up the dotted appearance of their webs is thought to help prevent birds from crashing through it, something that the coloration probably also assists with, while the spikes discourage those insectivorous avians that might consider this a treat instead.

Also curious is the large gap between the center where the spider waits and the crossbars of the orb portion that would catch their prey, meaning any captures are going to occur removed a certain distance from the spider. I can’t imagine what the purpose of this is, except to help highlight the spider in the center (birds again,) or perhaps to isolate it from the morning dew – though they create the webs in the morning, so there shouldn’t be much opportunity for it to form in the first place. Hmmm…

closeup of back of spinybacked orbweaver Gasteracantha cancriformis in web
If you look very closely, you can see two of the eyes on top of the head, only because they have the barest of catchlight reflections. The species reminded me a lot of the common spined micrathena, but they appear distantly related, in separate genera. Its habit of disappearing at night prevented me from experimenting with UV light to see if it fluoresced like the micrathenas do – I suppose I could have captured one and done some tests in the dark, but I really had enough projects these past couple of weeks. Maybe later…

Can’t imagine the trauma

juvenile green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus hiding under morning glory Convolvulaceae leaf
Out this morning gathering more images for the Tip Jar post tomorrow, I happened across this guy, anxiously hiding away from the morning glory blossom back there. This doesn’t make any sense to me, since all the blossoms that I’ve seen (save for Star Trek and Audrey II) have been distinctly non-aggressive but, you know, that’s towards me, who outweighs them by a factor of a few thousand. Who am I to say that this little frog doesn’t have his reasons? Unimaginable things can happen out there, and like Jane Goodall established, our mere presence can change the dynamics and behavior, at least until we’re accepted. I should probably spend a lot more time among the flowers, learn what being pollinated feels like…

ADDENDUM. While writing this post, The Girlfriend came down (remember, I’m in the dungeon down here,) and I took her out to see the new blue-ish glories that had appeared overnight. While there, a lizard was scampering around nearby, and eventually got into the frame with the frog.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis perched on morning glory Convolvulaceae leaves alongside juvenile green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus
It must be said, the lizard hadn’t the faintest concerns about the morning glory blossoms, and in fact, I missed a great shot where it was perched atop one because the camera wasn’t in hand – you hear that a lot, don’t you? However, I believe I did get some more illustrations for tomorrow’s post, so there’s that. And these. Things are moving again.

Dafuq, man?

Yeah, it’s been nine days since my last post, skipping over the Tip Jar even – readers, were they not imaginary (or even if they were I guess,) gonna think I died or went over to the Dark Side, i.e. some form of lame-ass social media. But no – I’ve been singularly lacking in motivation while at the same time tackling far too many other things. There are still a few photos and video clips piling up, I just haven’t been doing anything with them yet.

For now, we have an interloper in the garage, discovered while I was looking for something distinctly unlike this:

female eastern box turtle Terrapene carolina carolina found in garage
For a day or three previous to this, The Girlfriend thought she had been smelling something that had died in the garage, so when I spotted this one, I figured the worst, but no, she was quite healthy, insofar as I could tell anyway – she was active and responsive at least. However, this is what we get for leaving the door cracked for the invasive lizards, but at least it wasn’t the red-bellied water snake we’ve seen in there on two occasions. What the utter fascination with the garage is, I have no idea, but this little sheila (an eastern box turtle, Terrapene carolina carolina, and definitely a female) was all the way in the back and facing even deeper.

female eastern box turtle Terrapene carolina carolina in lawn after removal from garage
While it’s generally not a good idea to move turtles too far from their location, since they have their own ideas and instincts as to where they should be going, we had to believe that the garage was a dead-end, even hotter than the outside temperatures, and sorely lacking in either water or wild strawberries. So we took her down closer to the pond in a shady part of the lawn and left her to her own devices, knowing it was a short trek to water at least – box turtles are largely terrestrial, not quite counting as tortoises, and can do without water for a while, but still prefer dense and shaded woods. Meanwhile, we’ve been attempting to crack the door enough for lizards, but not enough for turtles now. We wouldn’t even leave it open for the lizards if they didn’t hurtle inside as soon as they saw the door was open, meaning we had to ensure that they weren’t trapped inside.

More is coming. Seriously. Notice that I didn’t say when…

It should be flatter

My ass, that it, since I’ve been sitting on it for too long, regarding posts at least. I’ve had some pics and ideas lined up for a while now, and have simply been doing other things. So let’s get to it.

large female golden silk orbweaver Trichonephila clavipes not long before producing an egg sac
Some time back, there was a post featuring the detail captured from the molted exoskeleton of a golden silk orbweaver (Trichonephila clavipes) – actually this very specimen, unless she swapped webs with another one night. I was too late to capture any part of the process, but then many days later, I came across another that was actively molting, and trotted back inside to get the camera. I was almost too late for that one, too.

golden silk orbweaver Trichonephila clavipes in later stages of molting old exoskeleton
The details are a little hard to make out without close examination, and believe me, it was even more bizarre-looking in the dimmer light of the headlamp. Since the spider’s legs are so long, they’re the last things to be slid out of the old exoskeleton, so the body hangs down below and the bunched legs are all lined up above like some kind of weird seed pod. At top, the old clothes are looking like mere debris – yes, that spider just exited that exoskeleton. But it does not help that an opportunistic male is in the way between the legs and the abdomen, just muddying up the view even more. There was nothing I could do about any of this, taking place as it was above one of the Japanese maples – I couldn’t even change shooting angle, but I could wait while the female spun slowly on the end of the anchoring web that the old skin was still attached to.

And yes, the males are that small compared to the females, which is fairly typical for the arachnid kingdom. What isn’t typical is that the male for this species is not only around quite a bit once the female is even close to adulthood, but apparently they can mate multiple times. This one had heard those details and was attempting to make the most of them.

male golden silk orbweaver Trichonephila clavipes attempting to mate with newly-molted female
After molting, virtually all arthropods are soft and vulnerable, until their new chitin hardens and dries, so after the legs popped free (which happened almost as soon as I started taking photos,) she simply hung there biding her time, and to all appearances, the male thought this was the perfect opportunity, perhaps because she was unlikely to be defensive – spider courtship is notorious for being fraught with danger, for the males at least. So he was clambering around, though I couldn’t tell if he was having any success or not. We’ll go in closer, due to popular demand.

inset image of male golden silk orbweaver Trichonephila clavipes attempting to mate with newly molted female
We’re looking at the female’s underside here, and the epigastric furrow, or reproductive opening for females, is a flap-like opening on the abdomen that normally sits closed, and I’m not entirely sure, but for this species I think it sits immediately below the yellow stripe here. The males, meanwhile, prime their pedipalps (the ‘mouthfingers,’ looking clublike in males) with semen in preparation for mating, and the inserts them into this opening, occasionally losing one in the process. So they’re not actively mating here, but he’s hoping at least. I’m pleased that his eyes were actually captured, given that his body length is perhaps 10mm (not counting the legs.)

But now, here’s another scale comparison, because I could. You recall when some of the newly-terrestrial green treefrogs (Dryophytes cinereus) were featured earlier, and I did the posts in this order for a reason. Because immediately after getting frames of the spiders, I went over to the morning glories where I’d already seen one of the bebbeh frogs, and obtained a few frames of this diminutive specimen at the same magnification, specifically so that they could be overlaid as a direct comparison in an animated gif (pronounced, “GY-ro.”) To wit:

animated gif of golden silk orbweaver Trichonephila clavipes overlaid with very young green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus at exact same scaleYep, both full-frame, same distance and magnification – really drives it home, doesn’t it? The webs of the golden silk orbweavers can be over a meter across, while the anchoring strands can extend for many meters, depending on where they decide is an ideal spot; one has been anchored to a post on the kayak dock for weeks now, even though the web is well out of the way (it’s been too hot to do any kayaking, plus the pond level was too low until recently anyway, so no biggie.) Meanwhile, this very female moved her web a few days later, switching it from above the Japanese maple to alongside it, which The Girlfriend forgot while she was picking up sticks after a storm – that was an encounter she wasn’t thrilled about, though no harm came to either. It helps a little that the web of this species is very strong and is usually felt before someone can blunder through it. Still, one of the things we deal with on the property.

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