Jim pic 45

multi-colored slope, Badlands South Dakota by James L. Kramer
This has been a largely missing week for me – I’ve had the time to do stuff, but not the inclination. Ah well.

On the previous Jim pic, Jim himself stated, in a cameo, that he liked the “upcoming images” better, and so I had to delay posting them for a while, because. But I’m not in total disagreement, either – the odd colors for a hillside are rather compelling by themselves. They actually come from a series of explosions that occurred nearby in the grain storage region of South Dakota, immediately bordering the Badlands; first a number of wheat storage silos suffered a dust explosion, followed only a year or so later by a buckwheat accident. Thus the yellow and carmine layers. Less than three years later, a plane had to make an emergency landing at adjacent Badlands Regional Airport, and dumped its cargo of kitty litter to lighten the load. This caused a dramatic upsurge in the feral cat colonies within the region.

You’re not buying any of this, are you?

So I have no idea what produces the colors in these layers – probably sulfur and manganese. Maybe theodolite and parchesium. Maybe it’s Maybelline. Look, just marvel at the colors, okay?

And I’ve looked at high magnification – there’s no fucking car in this one.

Change of plans

fishing boat against looming sunrise, Wrightsville Beach, NC
Okay. So. The plan, which we’d had for close to a year, was to spend this past week down on Jekyll Island, Georgia, and we’d chosen this time to maximize the chances of seeing a sea turtle nest hatching out, because this is the season. So we watched the predictions for Hurricane Irma with some misgivings, obviously. We were supposed to drive down Saturday September 9th, but by the previous Thursday, we were sure it wasn’t going to happen; landfall in south Florida would occur early Sunday morning, and even if Jekyll Island somehow avoided anything serious in terms of weather, the mass migration out of Florida meant that gas, at least, could be very difficult to find. But soon afterward, Jekyll Island was evacuated and closed anyway.

The Girlfriend, as she herself put it, was following the old saw: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and so she was finding various things for us to do around here since the three of us (her, her daughter, and I) had all long ago scheduled the week off. On the other hand, I’m stoic but still grumpy, and I was more inclined to hurl lemons at other people just for the hell of it.

[I am well aware that a lot of people had, and still have, things a hell of a lot tougher than I do because of this storm, and am not minimizing their problems at all in favor of our trashed plans. And there’s no way that this isn’t going to sound petty in comparison, but this was a major trip for us, another opportunity to lay in some serious shooting and relaxation before the winter dead season hit, and I was pretty depressed about losing it, not at all helped by the lower temperatures, overcast sky, and constant drizzle that seemed to indicate that autumn was already upon us. Yeah, yeah, bitch and moan, I know, but it’s a blog, and I’m not taking photos of my food, so…]

After a couple of days when the hurricane had passed and was no longer a threat, we decided to do a brief trip to the closest beach to us, which is the Wilmington area and Wrightsville Beach. This is far from our first choice, because Wilmington is one of NC’s bigger cities and even the beaches tend to be overdeveloped and crowded, but at least we were getting out. From a photography standpoint, this wasn’t terribly productive, largely because of the issues that I’ve gone over here, but it produced a lot more than simply staying around home.

burrow on unidentified animal through sandThe one goal that I had firmly in mind was a crab hunt. On a previous trip many years ago down at the end of the strand at Fort Fisher, we had come across numerous hermit crabs, and I wanted to tackle them with more time and effort. However, timing was an issue, and we didn’t got out early enough in the morning when we were heading down there; when we did arrive, it was with just enough time to catch the ferry over to Southport, so I left the hunt for later.

Southport itself wasn’t too conducive to my kind of pics, but I did split away from the ladies to scour the waterline while they checked out a museum nearby. Eventually, I unearthed a couple of crab species and a sweet LED flashlight that had obviously washed ashore, still working fine. I did a few initial pics of the crabs in the open hatch of the car, because I’d brought the macro aquarium along, but I also hung onto the critters to do a more dedicated shooting session back in the motel room that evening.

When we returned to Fort Fisher, I got out for a brief exploration in the same marsh areas where I’d found the crabs, but it was now mid-afternoon and activity was typically scarce. I saw a select expanse of sand that bore the traits of fiddler crab feeding, the little pellets of loosely-packed sand that they leave behind, and a curious burrow through the sand, typical of moles though I never thought moles would have the slightest interest in a brackish marsh, so I’m inclined to think it was from something else. I did, however, locate a couple of hermit crabs and did a few quick portrait sessions, but between the conditions of the day and the fact that the ladies were waiting back at the parking area, I kept it brief.

thin-stripe hermit crab Clibanarius vittatus eyeing the photographer with suspicion
It’s funny, the different ‘personalities’ one runs across in wildlife, not just between species but among members of the same species. The larger one that I found was exceedingly shy, and I had to wait a short while for it to emerge, only to send it immediately back into its shell for an extended period when I made an incautious move. I heard someone approaching on the paths while I was in my typically awkward position waiting for the re-emergence, and whether they saw me lying sideways across a driftwood trunk, motionless, camera pressed to eye, I can’t say, but I imagine the scene was rather curious. But getting back to personalities, the crab seen here, half the size of the shy one, wasn’t even inclined to remain in its shell while it was in my hand, and didn’t wait for me to get into position after I placed it on the trunk in good light and angle to photograph it venturing out. Behavior is in many ways shaped by experience, and the larger one might have only been as big as it was because of its shyness, a lesson that this one had yet to learn. Or it could be simply genetic variation. Or the need for a restroom.

unidentified snails on marsh grass stalks
In the same region, patches of snails could be found, clumps of them appearing in certain areas but not in others that appeared identical, and what the difference was I cannot say (I have been forbidden by The Elders.) What I will say is that the hermit crab above is probably sporting a shell from the same species, despite the outward difference in appearance, since the living snails are usually coated with an algae or fine weed that dulls their appearance and helps them to blend in. Though how much this helps, when they’re obvious clumps on thin reeds, I can’t fathom.

But there were plenty of them.

unidentified snails on marsh grasses
Seagulls aren’t among my first choice of birds to be chasing on the beach – I have way too many images of them, really, and so does everyone else. But I’ll still take the opportunity for a fartistic shot when it’s available.

laughing gull Leucophaeus atricilla in winter plumage on post against clouds
I’m fairly certain this is a laughing gull (Leucophaeus atricilla) in winter plumage; in summer, their heads are black. They are easily the most numerous birds on the NC coast, and pretty raucous – their name is taken from the derisive sound of their calls, the mean kids on the playground.

I’ll take a second to point out something. Most times, the composition ‘rule’ is to leave space in the frame ahead of your subject, in the direction that they facing or moving – in this case I should have aimed to put the gull at the left side of the frame. Or so it says, and for many cases it works. But the clouds were an important aspect of the scene, and I wanted a certain portion of their shapes to be evident, and accenting the bird in position. As I look at it now, I kinda wish that I had shifted slightly more, getting the top edge of the clouds to fall under the body and tail of the gull, with the legs falling into that dip just visible between them. Maybe I can rush back there…

juvenile American white ibis Eudocimus albus still showing evidence of fledgling coloration
I was pleased to spot an American white ibis (Eudocimus albus) right next to the gulls – they’re much more common in Florida. No, they’re not misnamed, nor is this one especially dirty; the juveniles are brown, to blend into the marshes where they nest, and only in adulthood do they develop the nearly completely white coloration (their wingtips are black, which makes them easy to tell apart in flight.) I got just close enough to this one that you can distinguish their blue eyes.

One type of bird that I am still seeking images of are the pelicans, and they’ve been pretty scarce on my last few beach trips. A flight of three passed immediately overhead on the ferry ride, when I was unprepared, but otherwise they were maintaining a distance every time I saw them. Save for this one.

brown pelican Pelecanus occidentalis with ruddy turnstones Arenaria interpres and unidentified sandpipers
The brown pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis) on the pole wasn’t inclined to give me any other poses – it was difficult enough just to get this light angle, since solid land was some ways behind it off to frame left, and I was venturing out on the slightly submerged retaining wall alongside a boat ramp just to get this far (the same wall, in fact, seen under the ibis, just further along as it disappeared into the water.) Among the smaller birds on the rocks, the darker ones mostly to the left are ruddy turnstones (Arenaria interpres,) I’m almost positive anyway, while the paler ones remain unidentified – too many species with similar appearance, not enough detail to distinguish them. By the way, my normal standing position put the pelican about even with the horizon, so I had to crouch slightly to place it against the sky in this way. It’s funny – you don’t think it would be hard to maintain a partial knee bend for a short while until you try it, and realize that your muscles aren’t accustomed to such things. I would easily believe it’s just me, but some of my students can’t hack it either. But go ahead – show off, prove me wrong.

Back at the motel in the evening, I did a more extended session with the crabs and aquarium, sequestered once again in the bathroom so the repeated flashes wouldn’t bother anyone.

porcelain crab posing briefly
porcelain crab Petrolisthes armatus or Porcellana sayana showing belly and extending feeding appendagesOne of my captures was a porcelain crab (either Petrolisthes armatus or Porcellana sayana,) which I had only before seen in Florida, but I maintained several in the tank while I lived there. This trip, I was hampered by the brief time that I had and the shyness of the crab to pose near the glass, with the murkiness of the water contributing as well, producing a lot of obscuring glare and making me constantly reposition the flash unit for better effect – even then, this image has been tweaked for improved contrast. I came prepared, but getting better shots would still have required a lot more time and preparation. So it goes.

What I did manage to capture was the brief extension of its feeding appendages, folded in the top image and looking like two plates near its mouth, but starting to unfold in the lower image; go to that link above to see a video of the feeding seines in action, because it’s pretty cool.

Since we were at the beach there should be, you know, pictures of the beach, right? And I’m getting to that, but it even took me a bit while there. First off, Wilmington isn’t exactly a beach city, and the place we stayed at was about 20 minutes from the ocean, given traffic and all. We did a quick visit to the shore right after we arrived, but it was a typical touristy area with little to photograph. And for the two sunsets that we would have on this trip, we were nowhere near a scenic area at the times, and the first morning we simply didn’t get going before sunrise, even though I had scheduled an appropriate post ahead of time to appear then – like, right then, the time of sunrise for that day, because I do stupid things like that. I won’t announce trip plans here, partially because of just what happened, with the trip falling through and all that, but mostly because I won’t admit online that the house will be empty, or that I can be found at a specific area – you know, rabid fans. Anyway, I made it a point to get up and steal the car on our last morning there, knowing the ladies would sleep in for a bit longer.

probable willet Tringa semipalmata silhouetted against morning seafoam
For this session I had two cameras, one on a tripod with the 17-85 lens for broader shots, and another handheld with the 100-300 L lens for details and wildlife. But I made a mistake with the image seen here: when shooting the sky and horizon, I had the exposure compensation darkened down a bit, underexposing to bring out the colors, but hadn’t switched it back to normal when this willet (Tringa semipalmata) was scurrying along the oscillating foam edge. Still, I consider it a nice moody piece.

I had decided to go straight to Wrightsville Beach pier to have something to work with in the frame, but this had its shortcomings too. The primary one being, this is where everyone goes, and before the colors had even come up very far, there were surfers getting into the shot, conveniently ignoring the “No surfing” zone because, you know, the waves were identical all along the entire fucking coastline, and pretty pathetic at that, the curlers getting about a meter in height. This is why I aim for areas where few people bother to go.

But anyway, as I waited, realizing that the sky wasn’t likely to do anything interesting that morning, I got a couple of frames that were curious in comparison.

two sunrise frames showing changing color register
First off, note the cloud line across the horizon, pretty much aligned with the top of the pier, while the water line and ‘true’ horizon runs at the bottom of the pilings. But the distinctive thing is the color difference. Taken just six minutes apart, no settings were changed between these two images; the only difference was the shutter speed, becoming shorter for the bottom image as the sky brightened. White balance was set for Full Sunlight (or, as the EXIF info has it, Manual, which is the same thing – no correction by the camera.) The color change came from the sky itself, as the sun reached a higher angle in relation to my position and had less atmosphere to pass through.

Astronomical sunset came and went without note, since the sun remained behind those clouds and had none higher than it could play color games with, but eventually it rose above them and peeked out, and I had a fishing boat to use at the time.

sun peeking above clouds behind fishing charter, Wrightsville Beach NC
I was a bit too far down the beach to line the sun up with the pier, but at that point I wasn’t inclined to move, since the sky wasn’t going to do much and the surfers were already dicking around, so I kept it simple. I’ve said it many times before, with sunrise and sunset you work with what you get; often enough, you’re just counting on another day to be better.

I did, in fact, put the surfers in the frame, shot vertically now to get the reflection on the foreground water and sand.

lame surfers and fishing charter against sunrise, Wrightsville Beach NC
Yes, the boat was circling at that time, possibly because they’d found a promising region for fish, but possibly because someone with binoculars on the boat recognized me and they were trying to stay in my frame. You know how it goes.

And I leave you with my last frame from the trip, taken just a wee bit later as I strolled the beach for a couple of minutes before heading back to the motel. We still spent more time there, mostly touring the battleship USS North Carolina, which was interesting enough, but not my typical subject matter – you can ask The Girlfriend’s Sprog for pics, since she took a few hundred I believe.

It wasn’t what we’d been planning, but it was something, and served the purpose of breaking us away from work and the area for a bit.

tidal pool and channel, Wrightsville Beach NC

Do I know you?

juvenile Copes grey treefrog Hyla chrysoscelis on rainbarrel
I passed one of the rainbarrels yesterday afternoon and glanced down to see this guy hanging out in the bare patch of sun that was breaking through the backyard trees. With this coloration, I have no doubts that this is a Copes grey treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis,) and it was the same rainbarrel as this little spud (the one on the dime) so, same one, now sporting more adult coloration? I honestly can’t say – I didn’t have a dime handy to show comparative scale, but this one is roughly twice the size of the one in that post. And you’ll notice, it has no green on it at all, unlike the one seen here. They’re really not making my job easy, are they?

Sunday slide 38

juvenile American alligator Alligator mississippiensis with just head showing among reeds
I think the reeds give a pretty good indication of scale, but just in case, the first thing I’ll point out is that you’re looking at the head of an American alligator (Alligator mississippiensis,) and a small one at that – much less than a half-meter in length, probably closer to 35cm. Most of the gator is submerged, and you’re seeing just the top of its head and snout, and the reflection of the same.

It’s getting to the point where I don’t remember where I took every photo anymore; this is not so much a function of age (I don’t think,) but of numbers – there are just too many images in the folders, and no small amount of them are gator shots. Since I’d scanned this one a long time ago for other purposes, I had to go back and find the original to spark my memory, which worked nicely because it not only had a date, it had a selection of other images from the same session. So I can confidently say now that this was shot in 2002, on Blackpoint Wildlife Drive in Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge (immediately adjacent to Cape Canaveral and Kennedy Space Center,) and my sister and her husband were standing nearby. I’d taken them up there specifically to see Florida wildlife, alligators chief among them, but my sister was unimpressed with the small size of what we found (including another twice as long and much closer,) despite them being completely wild. A day or so later, she opted to visit one of those ridiculous tourist traps which promise live alligator shows so she could see big ones, and of course all of the shameless pandering to yokels that this entails. So much for authentic experiences…

Regardless, I’ve always liked this image for the abstract nature of the ‘floating’ reeds and head, perhaps slightly confusing at first but easy enough to fathom once one looks closely enough. Having the viewer want to spend time on the image is always a plus.

They are if I say so

I have a tendency to lump reptiles and amphibians into the same general classification, including within my stock categories, even though either is just as close to, say, badgers – the phylum Chordata is the last common point for all of them. But fine – you want me to make a separate post to break them all out? Is that what you want? Because I’ll do it if you want.

On a trip to the NC Botanical Garden about a month ago I was, of course, on the lookout for the green anoles. It turns out that I didn’t see one, even when I thought I did. And in fact, the opportunity to see them has now entirely passed. No, they didn’t go extinct, but the name did – they are now, apparently, Carolina anoles (yet still Anolis carolinensis) – another reason to check up on species even when I know what the hell they are. But of those, I saw a couple.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis deep in shadow among leaves
This one, a juvenile about half adult size (or maybe simply a half-adult – I can never keep those two apart,) was being more shy than usual and scampered for cover almost as soon as I saw it, going deep into the leaves. Since the day was overcast with the occasional raindrop, this was pushing the limits for useful results while handholding. The photo still makes the lizard obvious, but anyone there in person would have had to have been quite sharp-eyed to see this one in its hiding place.

Another had initially been overlooked by me as I perused the foliage, and might have escaped attention entirely had it not moved its head suddenly when it could register on my peripheral vision.

Carolina anole Anolis carolinensis posed against mixed foliage
This one was a bit large even for an adult, and out in plain sight, so how I missed it on my initial pass I can’t say – since I was looking for just this species (okay, kinda,) I can’t figure how I overlooked it. But I probably would have seen it on second glance, so it jumped the gun by drawing attention to itself, like a little kid playing hide-and-seek. Good thing they don’t have the ability to giggle.

One more, because.

Carolina anole Anolisis carolinensis in even deeper shadow under flower
This is likely the same anole as the first pic up there, but I saw it on my second pass through the area. It was out on the upper surfaces of the leaves right near those flowers and I wanted to coax it towards the blossoms for a more fartistic composition, but it was having none of that. Still, after it dove for cover I still managed to put the frame together in a way that worked.

It does – stop backtalking.

green frog Lithobates clamitans lurking among lilies in pond
In a nearby pond planter, a green frog (Lithobates clamitans) or maybe it’s a Carolina frog, was hanging out in reasonably good cover among the lily pads, and stayed put as I maneuvered around for a portrait shot. I’m fairly certain that giant ear drum means it’s a male, and I’ll let you make all the comments that you want. Certainly nothing of the sort occurred to me.

This other one is a little freaky – I didn’t notice the crucial details until I got back and was unloading the card.

tadpoles feeding off skin of dismembered frog
Now, the state of the frog hadn’t escaped my attention; I do shots of this nature just for illustrative and ‘authentic’ purposes, because nature isn’t always pretty (or ever, if your only exposure is my stuff.) What I’d missed are the tadpoles clearly feeding from the skin of the dismembered frog. I mean, what the hell, guys? I thought you were vegetarians at this stage?

(They likely are, but the decaying frog is playing host to any number of pond growths, and that’s what they’re eating.)

We’ll head back home for some more savory images. I mentioned before that I was hoping to establish some green treefrogs (Hyla cinerea) in the area, and it appears I have been successful. Even as the heat of summer caused most of the frogs to seem scarce and the common Copes grey treefrogs hadn’t been visible for a while, one night I suddenly found two of the green treefrogs, hanging out on the pokeweed plant in the backyard.

Green treefrog Hyla cinerea perched on pokeweed Phytolacca americana
The frogs seem to know what they blend into the best, and the pokeweed is the closest thing we have in the yard to their coloration, but it also attracts countless other species like varieties of marauding caterpillars, so they’re getting food there too. Every once in a while, I find their daytime hiding place somewhere near the back porch, often enough under the grill cover – I have to check the grill over carefully before I fire it up.

Not too far away, closer to the backyard pond, sits one of our rainbarrels, and for a couple of days I was finding a minuscule variety of frog hanging out there.

tiny juvenile frog, possibly chorus frog, on dime for scaleThis one was pretty shy, which is good because it means it will seek shelter when danger threatens, but it makes my job a bit tougher. I wanted a scale shot and had the dime handy, but the frog wasn’t taking direction well and kept hopping further away, making me place the dime in a new position ahead of it in the hopes that it would cross it. Eventually, with many false starts, I got what I was after, even though the flash angle wasn’t ideal. Based on the size there’s a good chance it’s a form of chorus frog, which are much smaller than the either of the treefrog species.

More fun has been the trio of tiny frogs that have taken up residence on the front porch. The Girlfriend has gotten a pair of ornamental sweet potato plants with large pale green leaves, and a few posts back I said something about them attracting the golden tortoise beetle. But the frogs seem to like them too.

unidentified juvenile frog on ornamental sweet potato leaf
Again, I’m not sure what species these are. The leaves run roughly the size of your palm, so the frog itself is literally fingernail-sized – yes, even smaller than a thumbnail. Since the nights have been getting cooler now, the frogs are often seen during the day, venturing out to bask in the sunlight. They’re semi-wary, not real wild about my leaning in close, but if I go slow they’ll often stay put. Of course, I discovered the limits of their patience to determine what I could get away with.

unidentified juvenile frog deep under leaves
One of them seems more shy that the others, too. And one of them is more gold-hued, making for a colorful portrait.

unidentified juvenile frog portrait
But yeah, I can still get close. It seems likely that these are new emergents from the backyard pond, so quite possibly the same species that I was photographing as tadpoles, but I have no easy way of telling – there were several species in there at the same time and I see them sporadically enough not to be able to trace lineage.

As I close with my favorite composition (so far, anyway,) I’ll point out a little detail. There’s a pale spot under the eye, and this might be an indication that these are juvenile Copes grey treefrogs (Hyla chrysoscelis) – they have a telltale light spot edged with black as adults, and I’ve seen it in a juvenile, albeit one a bit larger than this. So, maybe? Either way, they’re nice little accents on our front porch plants – when anyone is sharp-eyed enough to distinguish them.

unidentified juvenile treefrog, possibly Copes grey treefrog Hyla chrysoscelis, on ornamental sweet potato leaf

Jim pic 44

painted hills under wispy clouds, Badlands South Dakota by James L. Kramer
This is probably my favorite of Jim’s Badlands shots, because of the light quality and the clouds in the sky – most of his other shots show skies that are brilliantly blue yet bare, in need of something to offset the solid color. Here, however, the color has softened, and not just in the sky – everything has a pastel appearance that comes very close to making this look like a painting. You can even see the brush strokes in the clouds and on the rock faces.

Wait a second. I think Jim might be trying to pull a fast one here…

[Want some irony? Often enough, painters try to make their images look like photographs, while occasionally photographers try to make their images look like paintings. Yes, art is weird.]

More than you might think

In doing an earlier post about local arthropods, it struck me how long it can sometimes take, and this is mostly because of the research (and only partially in trying to write flowing and coherent sentences – perhaps I should be devoting more time to that.) Let’s be blunt: blogs are an exercise in thinly-disguised narcissism, or at least those like mine are. Okay, mine is, perhaps alone. A lot of it is simply relating what I’m doing, finding, photographing, or wasting time thinking about, but somewhere in there, at an unknown point on the importance and impact scale, lies the idea that I should be imparting some kind of useful information. That’s what makes it readable, right? Or would, anyway.

Chief among the habits that I’ve adopted is including the scientific name whenever I can. To some extent, this is because common names are wildly variable and subject to regional differences (I can’t tell you how many different names there are for wood lice,) while scientific names are a constant, even through other countries. But more importantly, having the name attached means that someone is more likely to find my images when searching for them under the proper terms. The serious users – as in, the ones most likely to pay for rights – will be more often searching under the scientific names, especially since a lot of different species might fall under the broad umbrella of “daddy longlegs” or whatever. So, I work to include those names almost every time.

But it can be challenging. Like, if I have no real idea where to begin looking, I can only start a search based on rough appearance, and things like, “small white flower clusters” can turn up a shitload of hits, most of which bearing no resemblance to what I’m trying to find. BugGuide.net is an awesome resource, and is responsible for 99.9% of the arthropod names that I provide. If you can’t find something, all you have to do is post a photo of it and someone will be along to tell you what it is, if it’s at all possible from the photo – many times it isn’t, because species differentiation can depend on subtle differences that are hard to make out, or something seen only on the underside, and so on. But of course, receiving an answer from their crew of volunteer entomologists requires that you send in the pic and wait for a reply, and most times when I’m posting I haven’t had that much foresight.

While some types of insects are easy to describe with a few words in the search bar, producing everything on the site which seems to match the keywords, others are not so simple. For the unidentified insect in the post that spurred this idea, I tried “thin assassin” because, seriously, how else could I describe it? It looked like an assassin to me. And I was wrong – it’s not. Near as I can tell, it was one of many species of “rice bug,” which gets interesting because – well, let’s allow BugGuide’s own words to illustrate:

Photo-based identification barely possible. The key below has been designed by D.R. Swanson based on info provided in Ahmad (1965).

1 Posterior angles of pygophore acutely pointed; claspers crossed over pygophore; posterior margin of female seventh abdoinal sternum always with a short median split (subg. Oryzocoris)…2

  • Posterior angles of pygophore not acutely pointed; claspers crossed in a socket; posterior margin of female seventh abdominal sternum always medially biolobed, never with a split; [venter pale ochraceous]…S. (Stenocoris) tipuloides
  • 2 Median longitudinal red line on ventral abdominal segments present, sometimes faint; pygophore with posterior processes rounded and pointing posteriorly; basal portions of eighth paratergites largely visible…S. (O.) furcifera

  • Median longitudinal red line absent; pygophore with posterior processes pointed and facing each other; basal portions of eighth paratergites largely concealed by first pair of gonocoxae…S. (O.) filiformis
  • If you went a bit crosseyed trying to interpret that guide to identification, trust me, I did too. I did even if you didn’t – I think I’d need at least a semester of entomology just to become familiar with the fucking body parts. You know it’s bad when you have to do research in order to determine if you’ve successfully done your research.

    One of the flowers from that same post – in fact, the same photo – was also fun. I’d found a guide to identifying wildflowers, and it even sorted by state, and then by color. Which can help a lot, because my catch-all term is, “purple,” despite the very large number of variations within that definition, especially with flower colors. Except they didn’t even have a “purple” category and had it listed instead under “red.” And then, the image for the match was more white than anything else, especially when seen as a thumbnail. I think it was 20 minutes alone just to find Maryland Meadow Beauty (Rhexia mariana.) I mean, god damn, you better buy a print or web-usage contract if you came here while searching for either of those terms…

    It certainly does not help that I’ve fallen into concentrating on arthropods. I have no background whatsoever in entomology, and there are literally thousands of species on the North American continent alone, with lots of tiny variations. Which is why you often see hedging; I’ll list something as “likely” a particular species simply because I cannot know for sure. It’s easy to know if you have a raccoon, and even if there were three subspecies it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. But caterpillars, for instance? They’re almost all green, so what do I search on? And even when I think I have a positive ID, I might have no idea how many different species look almost exactly like that, making my confidence entirely misplaced.

    Which brings up one small flaw with BugGuide.net, something that could have helped enormously. They appear to have no keywords attached to species pages, and no ability to even search by region; their search engine seems to mostly find text from comments or replies. On occasion, I will switch to Google itself and search the webbernets at large, because a descriptive phrase can garner more hits there. Guided by a potential match, I can then refine the details through other sources, which is often necessary because many of the hits I find are far from accurate.

    And then, there are the variations. Just about every guide that provides illustrative images will only provide one. Even with something as relatively simple as frog species within this state, there can be a lot of variation in color patterns and size just for adults, to say nothing of how much difference there can be with juveniles. There are several frogs in the yard on which I cannot pin down a positive ID, because they don’t look like any image, or match any description, that I’ve found. No, it’s unlikely that I’ve discovered a new species; the guides just don’t include enough (any) details about juveniles.

    Not all of this is for posting, by the way – I also have to provide this information within my own database, because that’s the best way of finding images for clients. My first photo sale, of water striders, came with a request for exact species, and I was embarrassed that I couldn’t provide it. I know a bit better now; without very close examination (read: high magnification or dissection of a dead example,) it can be impossible to tell. But it’s often because I’m posting recent images that I’m doing the legwork then.

    An unfortunate side effect is how some of this research ends up being duplicated – I look up species that I’ve already looked up before. It’s a symptom of the overall issue in the first place; what happens when I forget that the skinny non-assassin is a rice bug? Sure, I can have it in the database, but it’s not directly linked to a thumbnail, just an image filename, which is a number. So I go looking for those pics to get the file number, then into the database to get the names again – if I remember that I already have images of that species, which doesn’t always happen (getting old, you know the drill.) Just to give you an idea, I have over 20,000 arthropod images in my digital stock alone, so sifting through them isn’t a casual undertaking, and they’re sorted by filename and not by, for instance, “skinny suspected assassins” – the database is what I use for refined sorting, and that can only use the information that’s there (again, no “skinny bugs” categories or anything of the sort.) The blog, meanwhile, has tags of all the scientific names that I’ve used, but to find them I have to know what they are to start typing the damn name – they’re not cross-linked in any way. And let me tell you: even in the rare circumstances that I remember what the scientific name is, I often cannot spell it correctly from memory, because Latin doesn’t follow the same rules as English (or any, perhaps.) So on occasion I search for the species to find out where the species name can be found in my own system…

    So there you have it. When it seems that I’m taking a long time between posts, sometimes it’s because I’m not simply throwing up an image with, “This… is a bug!”

    A little advance notice

    unidentified moon over Saturn's rings
    Credit: NASA/JPL

    Okay, everyone, take heed. Friday, September 15th is International Dive Into A Gas Giant Day! NASA is celebrating by sending its orbital probe Cassini down into the atmosphere of Saturn, which it has been taking photos of for the past thirteen years. This could be encouraging to many people out there, since it shows that perseverance may pay off: it took over a decade of lurking and spying, but Cassini is finally going to gain entry.

    Meanwhile, I’m trying to give you some time to prepare, since finding a way to celebrate Dive Into A Gas Giant Day might prove a little challenging. While we have a few select gas giants on Earth, I’m not suggesting that anyone should even attempt to dive into them; I’d recommend keeping as much distance as possible, actually. Which means avoiding 1211 Avenue of the Americas in Manhattan…

    Okay, yeah, I’ve been doing a fake holiday every month, and I don’t think Dive Into A Gas Giant Day is going to catch on. But the event is real; Cassini will enter Saturn’s atmosphere on Friday, the end of a long and remarkably productive mission. We’ve seen more detail about Saturn itself and its curious hexagonal polar storm, its various rings, and the makeup of quite a few of its moons – the probe, in fact, found seven more moons during its mission, and might even have witnessed the birth of another. And Enceladus is a relatively promising candidate for extraterrestrial life, if we find a way to get past the ice layer.

    Now, if you look at the dates of the mission, you might find fault with NASA and JPL, since the plunge is going to take place exactly one month shy of the twentieth anniversary of the launch – wait a second; didn’t I just say “thirteen years?” Now, c’mon, think about it – Cassini was launched 20 years ago, but it took seven just to get to Saturn, probably because the GPS satellites are in orbit only around Earth, and who you gonna ask for directions out there? But that’s orbital mechanics for you, for both aspects, really. Cassini had to do a few flybys to get itself out to Saturn, and decaying its orbit to get it to enter Saturn’s atmosphere takes a bit of juggling – it’s been in process for years, in fact. Mucking about with this just to make a meaningless anniversary isn’t really worth the effort, if it was possible at all. Remember, Cassini is out there to gather information about Saturn, its rings, and its moons, and this requires some pretty careful orbital mechanics. You can’t just aim for a moon and flit off there – you have to adjust an oblong orbit to intercept a moon as it trundles past on its own circuit.

    Are we going to see something really cool as Cassini enters Saturn’s cloud tops? Well, there might be some detailed approach images, but chances are once it gets close everything is going to become a monochromatic haze, and once it ‘enters’ these clouds (there’s likely no firm demarcation, just an increasing density,) the light will drop to nothing quickly, and as the gases thicken Cassini will simply fail and break up. While there might be a solid core deep within, Cassini will be toast long before it could ever reach it.

    While I close with an image of Saturn’s moon Mimas against the rings, I’ll leave you with a couple of links. The two images here and eight others can be found at this link, with another ten from 2015 at this one. The mission finale is already linked at top, but the broad overview of Cassini’s history can be found here. And finally, the coolest image of its history, without argument, can be found here – be sure to click on it for the high-resolution version.

    Enjoy the holiday!

    Saturn's moon MImas against the rings
    Credit: NASA/JPL

    UPDATE: Astronomy Picture of the Day today has a virtual animation of flying around Saturn, based on Cassini images. For some reason it starts in the middle, so you might want to click on the player and take it back to the beginning, but I admit the impressive stuff doesn’t start until that middle point. Bear in mind that Cassini didn’t actually fly these paths – it’s all computer trickery. But the images that they’re based on are real.

    Jim pic 43

    mazelike expanse of crevices, Badlands South Dakota by James L. Kramer
    Jim told me that, standing up on top of the hills where he took this pic, he could hear the desperate cry of hikers that had ventured down to the valley floors and gotten lost in the natural rock maze. Plus the occasional scream as one would get eaten by a Griffindor…

    Okay, I lie, Jim would pay no attention to anyone that idiotic. But I did finally look up the geologic history of the Badlands, and found that it’s a lot softer than I imagined (as Jim mentioned in a corrective comment on a previous post.) The area is all sedimentary rock, which the distinctive layers indicate, but weak stuff, not like shale or slate. Somewhere around the time the dinosaurs were leaving the neighborhood, this was the washout region from the Rocky Mountains, receiving the settling sediments from the erosion of those mountains, as well as a few layers of volcanic ash, yet there wasn’t enough accumulation to build up the weight that would fuse the layers into tougher rock. Before this could happen the entire region was uplifted, which then meant that water was running off of it rather than pooling over it, and the valleys started to form through what was once lake or ocean bottom. With bigger hills nearby, this area would have eroded away entirely by now, but since it’s still largely flat the runoff generally comes from rain, which isn’t as destructive as, say, rivers and glacial meltwater. Nonetheless, the region is said to lose 2-3cm (about an inch) in height each year, which is pretty fast as far as erosion goes.

    So the lost hikers only have to bide their time, and the maze will drop low enough to see their way out easily. No biggie.

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