Not that long at all

March 11, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

I was going to open this by saying, it’s been a while since we’ve had an arthropod, but on checking, it’s only been since the end of last month – it’s just been a while since I’ve done a session revolving around one. Not much of one either, but the subject presented itself.

I’d gone into the bathroom and, as I was washing my hands, something flew/dropped into the sink, and I knew I hadn’t done it. It was quite round and the size of a pinhead, so I bent close and examined it, determining that it was indeed self-propelled, a tiny beetle of some kind. I carefully slipped it into a small container until I could do something more serious, which came about an hour later.

Twenty-spotted lady beetle Psyllobora vigintimaculata on dead air plant
It kind of looks like a ladybug, and it is – a twenty-spotted lady beetle to be precise (Psyllobora vigintimaculata.) Finding it on BugGuide.net was far easier than I imagined, but that’s because they’re fairly common – tiny, but common. I had to get out the reversed 28-105 for this, and I believe these two frames were even taken with an extension tube for greater magnification. My specimen wasn’t doing a hell of a lot, which was okay because achieving focus at this size is tricky enough, more so when the lens is locked at f16 and thus the viewfinder is quite dark. Eventually, the beetle began to wander and I saw the evidence of it about to fly, though my timing was off – the resulting frame is empty, the beetle already having launched into the air; at the range I was working with, a few millimeters of flight and it was out of the frame. I figured that was the end of the session, because there’s virtually no way to track something that small that’s flying, but I discovered that it had only gone to the desk beneath and was still retrievable, so I switched backgrounds.

This time it’s a succulent from the window box, with one of my paper scales in there – yes, this lines denote millimeters. The species averages 1.75 to 3mm in length, so mine seems typical, if a little boring – there are better color variations to be found within the species.

By the way, the tiny size made retrieving it from the desk a small challenge in itself – not happening with my fat fingers for sure, nor with any kind of tweezers. Even sliding a piece of paper alongside and trying to get under it was pushing it aside rather than slipping underneath, but eventually with the aid of a scalpel blade I coaxed it onto the surface of the paper and then over to the plant, where it disappeared between leaves for a bit before coming back out into the open enough for me to slide the paper scale into the frame. It then dropped back down between the fat leaves and appeared to want to stay there, and I returned the plant to the window box with the beetle riding along. They eat fungus, mainly mildew, and it obviously doesn’t take a lot to fill one, so perhaps the beetle was finding food down there.

I admit, this was much earlier than expected to find a macro subject of this nature – more will be along with warmer weather.

Trouble with the neighbors

March 9, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

I’ve been sitting on these while I get a few others things done, so the images here all came from four days ago, another trip down to Jordan Lake, in less than ideal conditions, that netted a bit of drama nonetheless. The first bit is, the ospreys have returned.

While the eagles overwinter in the area, being quite well cold adapted (able to be found up near the arctic circle,) the ospreys (Pandion haliaetus) migrate south for the winter – the last photo that I actually have of one in my stock dates from September, but I think they hang around well into October at least. Last year’s first sighting was March 7th, so we’re ahead of the game by two days here, though since I don’t spend all my time down at the lake, I can’t say when exactly they arrived for either year.

This did, however, create a little friction with the bald eagles (Haliaeetus leucocephalus) that have been loitering at the osprey nest.

They still show no sign of using it as a nest, though on occasion one actually perches onto it (mostly to eat I think) rather than alongside as seen here, but it became clear that at least one of the returning osprey either considered the nest itself or the surrounding territory as its own, despite having abandoned it during the winter months. I was raised on ‘finders keepers,’ you know? Yet the osprey had other ideas.

Bear in mind, the actual distance from my shooting location was better than 450 meters – this has been cropped significantly – so the resolution is limited, not at all helped by the overcast conditions of the day. The osprey was definitely not pleased with the presence of the eagles, and while one was convinced to move to a nearby tree, the other eagle remained in place and fended off the repeated attacks.

Near as I could tell, no actual contact was made, though this may have been only because the eagle was well aware of the osprey approaching and was ready each time; here it’s actually launching itself into the air for a more spirited defense. Telephoto compression makes the distances between the birds indiscernible – it’s usually much larger than the images suggest. This is especially true tor the next frame:

This was before one of the eagles moved off a short distance, and the osprey is there, almost hidden in the foliage of the tree and significantly closer to the camera than the eagles. There were numerous dive-bombing attempts over multiple sessions, and while the osprey remained silent, the eagles did not, and could be heard clearly even over that great a distance. It made me regret not being equipped for video (which would require the tripod and gimbal head at least, but the shotgun mic would be useful too, and the external monitor.) However, it might be less impressive that the still photos, because it would be captured without cropping, and the actual view of the above image was this:

So you’d be seeing the action, but not really the expression or much of the details. I know that video can be cropped closer, but this reduces the resolution as well and might make for grainy footage, though this might be unnoticeable for webbernet usage. Worse still might be that all camera shake would be magnified too, and it’s already bad with the long lens – I do not have a professional video rig, but you know, there’s that donation widget on the sidebar if you’d really like to see good results…

This is the dead tree not too far from the nest; I made an attempt two days back to plot the exact locations by triangulating, but determined that the GPS on my phone is not at all up to the task – I actually got to the base of this tree while no birds were present, yet the nest is not visible through the foliage from down at ground level. I would say they’re removed from each other by at least 30 meters, and perhaps a lot more, despite being able to align them together in many of these images.

The osprey eventually gave up and the eagle remained perched in this tree, with things getting quiet for a bit. Meanwhile, in the bay between me and the nest, the double-crested cormorants (Nannopterum auritum) were busy fishing. Only once did one appear with a capture, though.

This is a fairly big capture for a bird the size of a cormorant, which are comparable to slender ducks though with longer necks. Like herons, cormorants swallow their food whole, and she (the coloration pegs this as a female) juggled the fish for a while to try and get it into the proper position.

Which was proving to be challenging – you can see from the airborne droplets that a bit of tossing around was taking place, but at least she had the help of the buoyancy of the water to help reposition the fish by dipping her head a bit.

And then she dropped the fish and dove, resurfacing right alongside, and I figured she was trying for a better angle.

Or she might have determined that it simply wasn’t going to go down, or – most likely – she saw what was going on, something that I missed from my field of view being limited through the viewfinder. Because she dove again, only a second before…

Did you see this coming? I did not, but bear in mind that the eagle was more than twice the distance from me than the cormorant was, and so ‘in another area.’ This was being short-sighted, I know, because eagles have far better vision than humans and thus this was well within its ‘territory.’ Too bad I missed the moment of contact.

The climb out wasn’t too shabby, but of course there’s a lot of movement going on here and the light was still dismal. These images allow you to scroll back and forth and compare the relative sizes of cormorants and eagles, though.

The thief did not return to either the dead tree or the nest, however, disappearing into the trees in that general direction, while the second one was no longer visible, so I have no idea whether this meal was shared or not – I did not hear the telltale calling at any point, which is normally heard when one brings food to another, so I’d wager this was not shared. Meanwhile, the cormorant resurfaced and ensured that the coast was clear.

Look at those staring eyes and the sweat – she knows she narrowly escaped a terrible fate, and the fish was a small price to pay.

Okay, you and I both know that’s nonsense, and she’d look like this regardless. It’s not even clear how much anxiety birds actually feel in such situations, because such interactions are not uncommon – she knew to get out of the way, but might never have felt directly threatened. We just can’t say.

But the eagle is a total chav…

Well, it is rut season…

March 6, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

… but I’m doing what little I can to avoid being too deep into it. Meaning we’re going to briefly lean away from the same subject matter for a little bit (meaning, “a post,”) before we go right back to the same rut again. So here are the, um, other subjects from yesterday’s trip to the lake.

As we (meaning the Irascible Mr Bugg and I) walked form the parking spot down to the beach access, we could hear the chorus frogs sounding off in a drainage ditch, another sign of spring, though as we got closer, naturally the sounds stopped. We paused, searching for the source and knowing full well that chorus frogs are notoriously good at remaining hidden. This one was not quite as accomplished, however:

Not any of the local chorus frog species, but a green frog instead (Lithobates clamitans,) which makes it about three times the size while still not large – chorus frogs are tiny. I wasn’t even sure of the species identification on this one, given our view, until I got back home and examined the frames closely, but you can even see here the dark line shadow running down the back from behind the eye, delineating the telltale veinlike ridge that the species has. It certainly was not sounding off with the chorus frogs, because their call is distinctly different.

The entire time we were out shooting, we’d be hearing a belted kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon) chattering madly in their manner while racing around not too far away, but never even got the faintest glimpse of it, and I finally got frustrated enough to try and track it down. Eventually a pair made an appearance, but still in such a way that clear views were not available, not at all helped by the light conditions of the day, and so this was the best that I got as one flitted past:

One of the species that I’m still trying to obtain a decent portrait of, yesterday was certainly not the day – but I got dem spots on the tail at least. That’s not much consolation, to be honest.

But I’ve still had better luck than with the next.

This is a pie-billed grebe (Podilymbus podiceps,) a species that I’m starting to become mildly obsessed with. I’ve seen them several times now, and not once well enough to obtain any images that weren’t shit. It’s always been at least 30 meters off (these are both cropped) and often in poor light, and they’re notably shy waterfowl.

The size doesn’t help, because they’re about half the size of an average duck, or less, and will dive under if they feel the least bit threatened. There was a pair on the lake yesterday, but they soon moved further off, despite my assurances that I’d make them stars.

I had better luck with the next two, though.

While chasing pics of the “others,” a few tutfted titmouses (which I think is the correct pluralization, but Baeolophus bicolor anyway,) lit into the trees nearby, briefly, but one was close enough and waited long enough for me to rack the focus back in from waaayyyy out there in “other” territory, though it wasn’t quite cooperative enough to show off the namesake crest of feathers atop its head. It’s one of the many hyperactive little birds in the area that make faint little noises and can go completely unnoticed if you’re distracted by virtually anything. While the next are often hard to miss.

Yeah, I’ve got enough pics of great blue herons (Ardea herodias herodias,) but the pose, sharpness, and rendition of the background were nice enough to warrant another appearance – I think they look a little bit better in low contrast light, actually. And I had to check just now, but that bright spot isn’t a leg band, just some white-tipped feathers in the tail.

And finally,

In the US and Canada, these are known as Bartlett pear (well, the blossoms thereof,) while elsewhere it might be Williams pear or Williams’ bon chrétien pear, but Pyrus communis anyway, a European cultivar. They’re among the first trees to blossom out in the early spring, vying with the redbuds, found in numerous places as wild species though it doesn’t appear that they started that way. I’ve never seen them bear fruit and it may be that, like apples, they cannot unless they go through a decent cold spell, but at least they’re a nice indication that winter is being ushered out the door. We might have to get one in the yard here at Walkabout Estates.

But this means that, very soon, we’re back to too many pics of a species you’ve seen enough of already. Don’t touch that mouse.

Just once, part 10

March 6, 2024March 2, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

This week we have one that’s no surprise, because I rarely see birds like this – the brilliant yellow ones (or red, or any bright color really) tend to be few and far between around here for some reason. This one was trying its hardest to remain out of sight as well, flitting among the dense undergrowth on the edge of Jordan Lake, and this represents one of the few times it was mostly unobscured. It’s (likely) a prothonotary warbler, (Protonotaria citrea, and yes, that’s spelled correctly – don’t ask me why there’s an ‘H’ in the name but not in the name.) I may only have gotten this shot because the bird had captured a spider and so wasn’t as inclined to diddle around hyperactively in the foliage. This has also been shot at 600mm and further cropped.

I’ve never been much for songbirds and, with the exception of the most common ones, always have to look them up after obtaining photos – forget about memorizing calls. Even putting nest boxes up on the property has been hit-or-miss. Give me the big birds any day.

More vernal indicators

March 4, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

This is the 30^th post beginning with “More” – just so you can keep track. You never should have lost count in the first place.

But as I said in the previous post, there are more signs that spring has arrived, and I present a few. Plus some extras – that’s called a “loss leader,” to rope you in.

We must start off with the first open blossom on the almond tree, the one self-started from a discarded almond in the compost pile twelve years ago. Last year it did better than ever before, but that was because I started using the deer repellent spray well before there was anything for the deer to munch on; it seems that their periodic browsing was stunting the growth of new branches, so when they never got the chance to clip off the new buds, the tree did several times better. Last year we even had almonds developing, though something stripped them from the tree before they were ripe – likely a squirrel. It would probably fare a lot better if it were far more than a meter or so in height, but we’ll see how it goes this year.

Neither of the next two are really signs of spring, any more than the daffodils, but we’re including them to be perverse.

These are the flowers of a rosemary bush, and they’ll appear sporadically at different times of the year, but I think we’ve been able to see some (among the three bushes we have) all winter long. Two of the bushes are showing rather large dying patches while the rest of them thrives, and we’re not sure what this is, but there has been no changes of conditions that we’re aware of. It might be due to mole damage of the roots, or it might be a blight of some kind; when we first moved here and tried to establish new rosemary plants to replace the huge one that we’d had to leave behind, there were none to be found anywhere, something apparently killing off the new plants even in nurseries. So we’re just keeping an eye on them right now, not sure that there’s anything that could be done regardless. There remain plenty of healthy branches to use for any cooking that we’re doing.

These are the flower clusters of a paperbush (Edgeworthia chrysantha,) and they break out even earlier than daffodils, being a late winter bloomer – these have been around for a few weeks now, but appear to be peaking right now. They always face downwards, so this perspective required lying on my back to shoot directly upwards against the sky. Don’t ask me how they pollinate.

But speaking of pollination…

As we determined last year, the lime trees that The Girlfriend had obtained in the spring really were Key lime (Citrus × aurantiifolia,) and they produced just enough fruit last year to make an excellent pie; this is one of the two budding out madly in the greenhouse. It’s not quite warm enough yet to feel comfortable moving them out, but maybe within the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, I’m liable to be pollinating these myself while they’re in there, which worked amazingly well for the lemon trees last year. They’re dripping wet because we’d had a horrific hatching of aphids in there, and I’d just blasted them off with a strong water spray, prior to treating the leaves and buds with something that may repel the aphids. If even half of these germinate, we’re gonna have a shitload of limes.

The trees had grown so well last year, in fact, that after starting from something not half a meter tall, they’d grown well over two by the time we had to put them into the greenhouse for the winter. Since the greenhouse is slightly less than two meters at the tallest, this meant a little trimming was in order, and the lime trees told me what they thought about that:

You can see the pruned ends, and the myriad new branches sprouting out beneath them – like the flowers above, this is far from the only example too. They appear quite happy with the greenhouse, but not nearly as happy as the avocado trees. One of those was begun on the deck last year but has doubled its size since moving into the greenhouse, while three others started indoors in a window plant rack and were moved to the greenhouse when they were getting too tall for the rack. The first has leaves that are close to 25cm in length.

And finally,

I spotted this Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis) on the wall but it scampered for cover, though after a short while it had climbed atop this telephone junction box to bask, and allowed me a much closer approach. Curiously, this is within a meter or two of the regular haunt of the other that we’ve seen already, which was initially found at the same time today – that’s pretty close proximity for aggressively territorial reptiles, so I’m surmising that they’re opposite sexes. No sign yet of my fork-tailed buddy from last year (who might be the same one from that video in the previous link,) but it’s still early yet.

So while it’s not safe to consider spring firmly established, things to photograph are starting to show up, and we can be pleased with that. They’ll appear here soon after, um, they appear here – you know what I mean.

Let no one tell you otherwise

March 4, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

Yesterday was officially the first day of spring – I could have let you know yesterday, but it would have been very late yesterday (like an hour ago,) and only if I’d scrambled, which I wasn’t inclined to do. But regardless of equinoxes and calendars and whatever silly flower someone might prefer, we have the only dependable guide to the start of this season, to wit:

Yep, that’s the first green treefrog (Dryophytes cinereus) of the year on Walkabout Estates – one, mind you, that was not in the greenhouse or otherwise disturbed from its habitat, but had ventured out on its own from whatever faintly sandy locale it had overwintered within. Though I admit to editorializing with my choice of images, because it was largely looking alert and bright-eyed – I snagged this frame here as it closed its nictitating membrane (the third, clear eyelid) over its eye, possibly because it wasn’t too happy about the bright headlamp first damn thing in the season. Nonetheless, this is about right – it’s presently 15°c out there right now, having been a few degrees warmer during the day.

I took a look around for others, preferably one in a natural setting and not perched on the sun umbrella, but saw none. I did see a resident of the backyard pond, though that’s no big deal – they’re visible the moment it gets above, like, eight or ten degrees c.

This is likely the same juvenile American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus) photographed earlier – see? And I saw another, smaller frog, that submerged before I could approach closely enough for a positive ID – it might have been another bullfrog, or more likely, it was a green frog, which are typical residents of the pond. I’ll keep trying, and keep you posted.

That water looks terrible, doesn’t it? I actually cleaned a lot of stuff out of the pond in the fall, but the winter deposited tons of junk into it, yet the algae bloom is relatively recent – perhaps the fault of the residents, perhaps not. We certainly had a hell of a lot of rain in the past couple of days and I would have expected a significant turnover of the water therein, yet here we are. Once it’s consistently warm enough that I’m not disturbing the frogs as they’re trying to semi-hibernate in the mud at the bottom, I’ll clean it out again.

And one more spring picture, which seems to be cheating a little but then again this is par for the course here.

This is the new growth erupting from one of the potted Japanese maples in the greenhouse, the same one seen here. I know what you’re saying, that it doesn’t count because it’s in the greenhouse, but this is where it always winters and so it remains a distinct harbinger of spring. There are other signs outside of the greenhouse, and I’ll be back within a few days to illustrate those – but these leaves look the coolest when they first open up.

Some leftovers

March 2, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

Just a few images from the last outing to Jordan Lake – the post regarding that was overrun with sequences from the eagles, so we’ll just squeeze in a couple here.

While it’s easy enough to find double-crested cormorants (Nannopterum auritum) flying individually, they tend towards flocking in gooselike V-formations, but never seem to climb too high. So it’s easy to photograph them stacked together in total disregard of personal space, looking like an acrobatic stunt in the process of failing. Granted, it’s only the compression of a telephoto lens and they’re comfortably far enough apart, but I don’t need to tell you that…

The species is quite active at the lake at this time of year, and flights of them were passing overhead frequently. In that particular spot, there is a narrow land bridge between a small pond and the lake proper, which provides a decent view of the small ‘bay’ of the main lake that the eagles like, but for reasons unknown, the cormorants greatly prefer crossing this right there as their highway when traveling west, and they can pass directly overhead. It’s a gap in the taller pines nearby, certainly, but they also have to clear the road causeway just a little beyond, while a few hundred meters to the north, there’s a much larger opening with the same conditions. It could simply be that some particular ‘lead’ cormorant chose this spot one time, and it’s become a habit for everyone that was following ever since, but I’ve been seeing it for years now.

Another pair that used the highway:

This is at 600mm and cropped significantly, but I’d estimate their distance at roughly 50 meters. It was getting towards sunset and they were largely facing in that direction, so the light worked, and while autofocus didn’t quite nail it tightly, it did pretty well for subjects not centered under the AF spot and rapidly approaching, as we see when we crop even further:

Yeah, could be better, yet not only seeing the green eyes but the evidence of pupils and catchlights as they passed is halfway-decent, at least. Believe me, I’ve had enough images that never even got close in such circumstances.

And one more expressive one of the eagles:

The lower one, with the wings still spread, had just landed, and they were calling together as they do, though for what purpose I cannot say. This is the same pair that we’ve been following, obviously not antagonistic nor territorial towards one another, so the best I can say is that they’re confirming their identities to one another – don’t be too confident in that appraisal. But it made for a nice pose anyway.

Boy, do I feel better!

March 2, 2024March 2, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

I’ve been dreading the arrival of this day, but now that I’ve unloaded it all, this huge weight has lifted from my mind. Not that you need to be told, but today is ‘Fess Up Day, the day when we reveal some secret hidden deep within the recesses of our hearts, festering away, and thus unburden ourselves for improved mental health. Or set ourselves up for a week or more of derisive abuse. One or the other.

So among the many heinous and unspeakable things that lurk within, I’ve chosen to address this thing from nearly 13 years ago, when I did a book review of Paranormality by Richard Wiseman. I always tried to do something innovative and appropriate with the book covers in my reviews, though I’d purchased this one as an e-book. Eventually I decided upon a very subtle, but hopefully quite topical, treatment for the cover, which appears here to the right. Don’t see what I’m referring to? Well, keep looking at it for at least eighteen seconds.

Here’s the deal. Wiseman created several illustrative videos that accompanied the book, and part of his signature quirks within was a burst of static as a transition, perhaps reminiscent of the movie Poltergeist. So I figured I’d have to include this with the cover, but with a creepy addition, so briefly that no one could get a really clear view of what was there, but should have been able to get an impression, once they noticed it. And with the text right alongside, they should have at least caught the burst once, peripherally, while reading and hopefully kept watching for it again. The thing was, I popped this on two people that I know, and neither really saw something curious within the static, so I extended the period very slightly – again, I didn’t want more than a fleeting impression. No one has ever commented on the image since its been up, but then again, no one comments anyway. I’d get the impression myself that the readers are just as fleeting, but of course that’s ludicrous – this is undeniably quality content here.

To create this, I needed an appropriate image to start with, to subsume into the static and almost obscure it, and so I needed a model with proper attire. This is what I settled on:

Well, okay, I didn’t have anyone else handy that would fit the bill, nor did I possess a coarse cowled monk’s robe – go figure. And I had to play with the lighting for a bit to get the nice deep shadows – if I remember right, this is taken in the bathroom with a flash unit attached to the curtain rod of the shower. What needed little help was the brow shadow, because a family trait is abnormally deep eye sockets. Then, it was a simply matter to triplicate the frame with different static filters for each, and lay each in for about 40 milliseconds of the animated gif (pronounced, “GNO-cchi.”) The static and the brevity of the appearance would disguise the towelly nature of the wardrobe. It also disguised the potato nose, which the light angle only served to highlight here, but doesn’t everyone notice such things about themselves? I’m sure everyone I know is used to it, and by, ‘used to it,’ I mean, ‘tries to avoid looking at it entirely.’ I do the same, so who am I to judge?

I really liked the effect and considered it perhaps the most appropriate cover that I’d featured, given the subject matter of the book, and it likely took less time to perpetrate than at least one other. But I knew I’d eventually have to cop to the hoax, and the holiday kind of demanded that I do it now.

But while we’re here, I thought I saw something in the original image, and adjusted the light curves to see if I was right:

Boy, that’s a rather dyspeptic expression, isn’t it? I think that’s how fundamentalists imagine atheists always look, and in my case they’re probably not terribly far off, but really, I was just trying to angle my head forward enough to create the correct shadows. Though I now know I could potentially gain some extra income from laxative commercials…

You’ve overstayed your welcome, February

February 29, 2024February 27, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

Despite purchasing the extended plan like an idiot, February has now come to the end of its warranty period, and so as it starts to suddenly make a terrible noise and leave an ominously-stained puddle beneath, we turn to see what abstract image will play it off stage. Why, it’s… this:

I did no alterations to this one other than cropping it tighter – otherwise it’s exactly as captured. Probably not exactly as seen, however, since I don’t think I dialed in any exposure compensation for the bright water, so it’s probably a little darker than it appeared in person. It’s really just a grab shot as I saw it nearby, which makes it even better. Nothing but a body feather with downy base, floating on its own reflection in the water – though why I called it a leaf in the filename after I cropped it is beyond me. Probably just force of habit (go ahead – count up all the month-end abstracts that contains leaves; it’ll take a while.)

But because of the extra time to work on it (not really,) we have another! And this one I did consider in the running for this slot as I took it. Occasionally, things go according to plan.

I called this one a raccoon in the filename, so obviously I wasn’t quite myself when editing. It took a few tries to pin down focus just right, since this was not with the macro lens, but I got a sharp frame for my efforts. The sunset colors didn’t really pan out this session (surprise surprise,) yet I was able to make something from them anyway. No one is quite sure what, but it’s something.

Just once, part 9

February 28, 2024February 26, 2024 Al Denelsbeck

This is one that I find a little surprising, in that it’s only appeared once here, and probably not a whole lot more often in my stock either. This is a six-spotted tiger beetle (Cicindela sexguttata,) and they’re not only fairly common, they’re obviously quite easy to spot – chances are, if you live in most of the eastern US and spot something bright iridescent green, it’s one of these guys. Granted, they’re hyperactive and spooky, rarely letting a close approach happen, and I do recall that I had to crawl up to this one carefully to get this portrait with the macro lens, and even then considered myself lucky to have pulled it off. But this was also just shy of nine years ago, and I would have thought I’d have the opportunity to snag more in that intervening time, but here we are.

I would also think that the bright coloration is a ‘keepaway’ signal, something memorable that goes along with a nasty defensive mechanism so birds and other predators create quick associative memories after an encounter: “Okay, that wasn’t fun! Note to self: avoid the shiny green ones,” Except that I find no mention of defensive traits, so either those jaws are even more capable than they appear, or there’s another purpose to being so easy to spot. I will also note that their style of movement is not unlike some species of wasps: agile and quick to fly, but also kind-of stop-and-go movements on the ground, and a lot of predators recognize prey and not-prey more by their behavior than appearance.

While some indication of size might be determined by the short depth-of-field here (meaning high magnification,) I can simply tell you that the species runs 10-15mm in body length, which seems about right to my memory – I didn’t get any measurements at the time, and I’m quite sure that it wouldn’t have stood happily for me sliding a paper ruler into the frame.

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