Just once, part 28

elephant mosquito Toxorhynchites rutilus showing iridescence
elephant mosquito Toxorhynchites rutilus shown in scale with 'normal' mosquitoThis week we have a curious specimen that was rather obvious when spotted that one time, nine years ago, because of both its size and its coloration. This is an elephant mosquito (Toxorhynchites rutilus,) and it was surprisingly easy to catch when it was perched atop the car, less so to photograph even with the help of a terrarium – the top image was tweaked to remove the contrast-reducing haze caused by the terrarium glass. It really is an iridescent blue and gold, and as you can see from the size comparison at right, much larger than a ‘normal’ mosquito (whatever species that is – there might be several.)

Since The Girlfriend and The Sprog both react badly to mosquitos, I did not keep this one around, much less release it, once I was done with the photos, but preserved it in alcohol. This was before I attempted to identify it, when I found that I should have released it, since not only do they not bite humans, their larva prey on the larva of the mosquitos that do. They are, in fact, used as a control measure in areas where the parasitic mosquitos breed. However, I can see how this might meet with mixed success, because anyone seeing a mosquito this size is quite unlikely to allow it to fly off unmolested.

Elephant mosquito Toxorhynchites rutilus head detail
The iridescence really does extend down the legs a bit and even out onto the proboscis – if you’re gonna be flamboyant, don’t half-ass it. What actual purpose this serves, I cannot even speculate on – no, that’s not true, very little stops me from speculating, but let’s just say, take it as seriously as Faux News deserves to be. Since this species feeds on flower nectar as adults, the coloration may help them camouflage among the blossoms when they’re holding still during feeding and thus most vulnerable. Or they may simply be Notre Dame supporters (and given how dismissive of all sports that I am, I had to look that up.)

So as I type this, I find that Wikipedia says there are many species of Toxorhynchites and they’re extremely hard to tell apart, making my specific identification somewhat suspect, but going back to BugGuide.net, there’s only one species in North America, so we’re staying with Toxorhynchites rutilus. The amount of research I do for these posts…

This evening’s display

male northern cardinal Cardinalis cardinalis flying against rainbow as female watches from blooming crepe myrtle Lagerstroemia indica
Late this afternoon or early this evening – before sunset, anyway – we had some storms roll through, looking quite ominous for a bit, but what we ended up with were summer showers. The scattered nature of the thunderheads did let the sun poke through, and so we got a quite vivid rainbow for a decent amount of time, but granted, I boosted contrast on these for better display – in this case, as much to make the northern cardinals (Cardinalis cardinalis) stand out as to enhance the rainbow. The male didn’t want to pose out in the open like the female down there, but I snagged him as he crossed the bow, just not sharply.

The neighbor’s crepe myrtle tree (Lagerstroemia indica) was in the same direction as the bow, and so I didn’t even have to leave Walkabout Estates to frame a foreground element.

There were two items of note in the few minutes while the bow was visible, however.

both rainbow arcs against blooming crepe myrtle Lagerstroemia indica
The first was the second, meaning the secondary rainbow arc, seen here faintly above the first – this entered and left visibility in the space of two minutes or less. It was still raining lightly where I stood, and if you look at that higher arc, you can see a darker round shadow from a raindrop on the lens. This was better than the lens fogging up in the heat and humidity, which is what was happening when I first got out there since the camera had been sitting indoors in the air conditioning – it’s still hot as blazes around here, which the scattered showers have done little to alleviate.

I also suspected that I was seeing a hint of something else, and tweaking a few of the frames after I unloaded confirmed it.

contrast-enhanced rainbow arc showing faint supernumerary bow beneath
Significant contrast enhancement was used here, but it shows the ‘echo’ of a supernumerary arc underneath the primary Roy G. Biv pattern of the main bow – I go into them in more detail (with better illustrations) here, but what you’re looking for are the faint violet and teal bands repeating underneath the rainbow, which happens in certain conditions.

So it gave me something to shoot for a few minutes, which was about as long as I wanted to be outside anyway. Balanced out nicely.

female northern cardinal Cardinalis cardinalis in blooming crepe myrtle Lagerstroemia indica against background rainbow

Oh thank you

After spending far too much time seeing countless online displays of American hubris and mindless patriotism for the holiday yesterday, I ran across this little gem.

frame grabs of Diane Morgan as Philomena Cunk, dumping on the US' long history of slavery
While I’m not familiar with the specific episode, I feel obligated to say that this is Diane Morgan as her character Philomena Cunk, the host of a few shows that interview various historical experts while being even more ill-informed than the majority of Americans (yes, I live in North Carolina, and yes, I’ve been an American all my life, so I’m well qualified to make this statement.) If you have not seen Cunk on Earth, it’s worth seeking out, because it’s quite entertaining and Morgan is excellent.

On a serious note for a moment, I think it says a hell of a lot more when we recognize the shitty behavior we used to have and accept it as our history – it’s not going to change, after all – to reflect on how much we’ve changed for the better and can continue to do so, rather than attempting to whitewash it or pretend that it doesn’t exist to escape any culpability. One is growth; the other denial. Perhaps we’re big enough to recognize that? And then we can tackle, oh, the shit that we still do and really shouldn’t be…

Just once, part 27

red-backed salamander Plethodon cinereus exposed from under rotting log
While we found several examples of this species on the day this was taken, to my knowledge, I’ve never seen it before or since. Yet this red-backed salamander (Plethodon cinereus) was found in the best location nearby to find salamanders and newts of any kind, which is West Point on the Eno River in Durham, NC. Their range across NC is curious, to be sure, especially when it doesn’t seem to follow the rivers that salamanders tend to congregate near. Why is it patchy and separated like that? My guess would be family issues – you know how it is sometimes.

While this image is rather straightforward from the top, something that I try to avoid as much as possible, what I like about it is how the natural speckling of the salamander is duplicated from the underlying leaves, a purely serendipitous effect from the sun angle, but I’ll take it. There’s a potential that pine pollen season had something to do with this too, since this was shot in April, but it looks far more uniform than pollen usually does, plus the fact that until moments before this image, everything you see was under a rotting log. Pollen can certainly get around, but not quite that well.

Plus, these guys are certainly less sticky and oogy to handle than white-spotted slimy salamanders, for eponymous reasons, though they were both found in the same location, just in different years.

It’s all cool

Or at least, a lot cooler than it has been for the past month.

Sunday finally brought some rain – not a lot, but enough to make some of the wilted plants look happier – and it also brought a brief drop in the overall temperatures, enough that last night we actually had the windows open, being cooler outside than in the house with the AC on. This morning, not facing the idea of overwhelming heat like I had been all through June, I ventured out to the neighborhood pond to see what was happening.

osprey Pandion haliaetus wheeling overhead at neighborhood pond
I know we have no osprey living in the immediate area, but that doesn’t mean we don’t get singular visits from time to time, and they always have the pond to themselves. This one circled around for a bit, dipping once to get a closer look at something that wasn’t enough to provoke a predatory stoop, and I fired off a bunch of frames hoping for something a little more than “osprey in the sky,” but that’s what I got anyway.

Though under a tree canopy nearby, a pair of sizable fish were remaining safely out of sight, which was good because they were too shallow to escape.

protruding tail of unidentified larger fish in pond
Actually, this one might have been safe just from its size, since there’s a very good chance that it was too large for an osprey to lift from the water – the visible tailfin here was perhaps over 15cm in width as the fish foraged in the shallows. I did my part by flushing it from the shadows and into sunlit water, but the osprey didn’t respond. You try to help a guy out…

We’ll go slightly out of order here, just to feature this one, sunning itself on a log while others around it had already plunged into the water at my approach.

possible yellow-bellied slider Trachemys scripta scripta basking on log, potentially quite old
I’m going to tentatively identify this as a yellow-bellied slider (Trachemys scripta scripta,) based on the shape of the carapace and that’s what the pond is full of, but I’ve never seen one completely without markings. Does this make this an old specimen? Possibly – it certainly wasn’t lacking in size, but the mud on the carapace didn’t help matters any.

However, what I was really after was something that I spotted early yesterday morning, when the sky was still overcast from the rain and the light thus crappy. It was much better today, and allowed for a handful of useful frames of my target.

newly-fledged green heron Butorides virescens trying to remain hidden in foliage
That’s a green heron (Butorides virescens,) and a newly-fledged one at that, hanging out in the same tree where I photographed (and videoed) the newly-fledged pair a couple of years ago. This is encouraging, because overzealous homeowners around the pond cut out the healthy tree that had previously housed the green heron nests for many years – I don’t know what’s going through their heads, but it has nothing to do with conservation or responsibility. So at least the herons have chosen this tree instead, to all appearances anyway, since I’ve never spotted the nest myself. This one was endeavoring to remain out of sight while I crept closer, maneuvering to new locations and keeping a careful eye on me.

newly-fledged green heron Butorides virescens peering down through foliage suspiciously
For my part, I was slinking around trying for a nice clear shot, while the heron did its best to prevent it. I have other frames where the eyes are less-obscured, but liked this one for the appearance of that left eye – or is it the right?

If you look very close, you can just make out a little tuft of baby down feathers atop the head, but we can do better than that too.

newly-fledged green heron Butorides virescens showing baby down and muted markings in sunlight
I’m now certain there are a pair of them, not half as reluctant to fly as the ones that I watched two years ago; this one popped up from the shoreline with a brief alarm call and flew to a nearby tree, giving me a bit better light and perspective. Now the down feathers are obvious, but you can also see the lean physique and the muted colors, even though in size, this is only marginally smaller than a full adult; most birds reach near adult size before they leave the nest. I’m a little sorry that I wasn’t trying to track their growth, but since I’ve never found the nest, this might have been hard, and given the heat index for all of the days I would have been trying, it’s probably better this way. See? Professionals can justify their failures as intended all along…

Oh, gosh, another one

I was just glancing down at the clock and calendar of the computer after completing a stack of tasks tonight and said to myself, Thirty days has September, April, shit. Because of course it’s time for the end of the month abstract and I didn’t have anything prepared.

Not only that, but I shot extremely little this month, for reasons that will eventually become clearer, though it won’t be for a while yet. So I dug this out, one that just barely made it through the sort in the first place, and not even shot this month, but the tail end of May instead.

lichen-stained tree bark
Is this all lichen, or do some trees just have bark that always looks like this, or what? I don’t know – I just know I’ve done better in this regard, both with much more interesting-looking bark and from an abstract standpoint.

If the heat breaks, maybe I’ll be more motivated to go out and shoot something – and the same might be said if it doesn’t break, though we’re talking different definitions now. It’s been over a month with nothing more than a sprinkling of rain, not enough to even register on a gauge, and the plants look horrendous; we really are hoping for a hurricane at this point. But I’ll stop bitching now…

Fermi and physics

I’m up to these kinds of things again, by which I mean, thinking exercises that won’t ultimately mean a damn thing – but then again, that’s the story of my life, so why stop now?

Most people that have even the faintest interest in the idea of life on other planets are familiar with the Fermi Paradox, an idle question from physicist Enrico Fermi one day that says, in essence, “The universe is an old place, and there should have been plenty of opportunities for life to arise on other planets. There should also have been enough time for said life to have expanded quite far across the universe, perhaps even to effectively permeate it. So why haven’t we seen the faintest sign of them?”

First off, we’ll ignore the claims that we have been seeing signs, in the form of little spaceships that come to Earth solely for the purpose of zooming around within easy sight – there are lots of things wrong with this idea, chief among them that applying any critical thought at all to the reports causes them to fall apart very quickly; I’ve tackled this before and will tackle it again, probably before too long. And Fermi’s Paradox has been examined many, many different ways over the years and some of the potential flaws highlighted then – I’ll let you do a search if you like.

Right now, I’m going to examine one aspect in particular, one that gets glossed over pretty often by people that, to my thinking, should know better – likely they just haven’t thought about it carefully. So let’s look at the idea of a race of intelligent beings expanding across the stars.

To establish some basic traits, we’ll consider our own efforts, feeble in comparison to what we believe an extraterrestrial, more-advanced race could accomplish. After making the moon landings, the public idea was that we would soon be expanding to Mars at least, and getting bases established on both, and so on. But the physicists involved in actually planning these things knew there was a major problem: Earth’s gravity. It takes a lot of effort (read: thrust) to overcome this gravity and get a vessel into space, just to the Earth orbit level, and then a lot more to get such a vessel out much further away. The Saturn V booster was a thirty-story tall spacecraft to get just three people to the vicinity of the moon, in tiny crafts, and back again, the vast majority of this being expended in the first portion of the trip. Add more fuel, and you add more weight to be lifted as well, and need more fuel for that weight, and so on; very quickly, you hit a limit as to how efficient the fuel is and that you simply cannot boost enough of it out of Earth’s gravity to go very far. At least, not at once, and this leads to the idea of a space station or moonbase. The moon, having 1/6 of the Earth’s gravity, could serve as a refueling stop where a lot more fuel could be loaded to push a lot farther out, and a space station would be even better in that regard, having virtually no gravity to speak of.

Kind of. The station has to be somewhere stable, and right now that’s always been in Earth orbit. Despite what we see in photos and videos, the occupants of stations like the ISS aren’t really in zero gravity, and truth be told, there is no such thing – remember that the moon is held in orbit by Earth’s gravity, while both are held in orbit by the sun’s. The space stations are simply moving sideways fast enough to overcome the downward pull towards Earth – someone once put it as, “falling towards the planet but missing” from this lateral motion, which is what actually makes an orbit. So any spacecraft refueling at such a station is still overcoming Earth gravity to some extent, though the orbital speed, if aligned properly, can be used to counteract this and help them on their way. Aligning properly is a bit of a key here, in that an orbit that will help boost a craft towards the moon is different from one that will help boost towards Mars – and both of them keep moving. The mathematics involved in calculating orbits and interceptions is far beyond me.

The same can hold true for a moon base. The moon is orbiting on its own, in a pretty specific direction, and only occasionally will this direction help throw a vessel towards Mars, for instance. But more of the problem is having the fuel there to begin with.

Back to that diminishing returns thing: only so much fuel can be lifted to either a space station or a moon base at a time, so it would take a lot of trips to build up a ‘tankful’ to go farther out. The mass of the fuel also has to be considered if it’s to a space station, where it will affect the orbit and will require the station to have to go faster to avoid sinking out of orbit towards the Earth. More fuel there.

[Small related anecdote: When the Falklands War broke out in the 1980s, England had no major military bases anywhere near the islands, and no structure in place for long-range maneuvers. When they wanted to bomb an airfield in Argentina, a pair of bombers needed a support structure of eleven air-to-air refueling aircraft, most of which were simply refueling the refueling aircraft, a pyramid of support to make one bombing run, a there-and-back mission. We’re talking about the same kind of problems here.]

Plus the fact that the spacecraft have to have the tank space for such fuel, and may have to land this additional mass onto the moon itself, or pick up a new booster thereon, and so on. Then we’re talking about having enough fuel for a return trip, and soft-landing this on Mars or keeping it in orbit around the planet (much like the command modules did around the moon for the Apollo program.) On top of that, having people along means a significant support structure for them, which is a hell of a lot more mass/weight. So, theoretically, we know what it would take to get to Mars, but logistically, we can’t accomplish this, and at the very least it would be a very involved and expensive program with a large support structure.

In comparison, the New Horizons probe went way out to Pluto, so how about that, eh? But it used the gravity boost from orbiting multiple planets to do so, took nine years to accomplish the trip, and blew past Pluto at high speed because it carried too little fuel to slow down and enter into orbit. Plus no life support.

So, despite the claims of Elon Musk (who’s been proven to talk out of his ass more than his mouth,) a manned mission to Mars isn’t going to happen anytime soon, and only once the elaborate support structure has been put into place first. Right now, the plans for a sample-return mission to and from Mars are hitting significant snags, and that’s targeted for grabbing and returning a soil sample roughly the size of a test tube.

Now let’s scale all of this up. The nearest star to us is about a million times farther than Mars is, and that’s actually on the lower end of average distance between stars in this arm of the galaxy (4.2 light years versus an average of 8 or so.) So, a million times more support, like a million times the number of space stations? Not quite; while a lot of the trip is going to be coasting so fuel isn’t needed for such portions, if we don’t want to blow past Alpha Centauri at a blinding speed, then we’d need to slow down as we approached. And travel time is a factor, because taking a few hundred years to accomplish this has a lot of problems of its own.

But more to the point, each station built along the way is going to take a ridiculously long time to build, and stock, and maintain – that pyramid thing again. All of which have to be there-and-back missions, or fully automated somehow. The cost would be absolutely stupendous. And bear in mind, this is good for one direction only. Want to check out another star? If it’s not right in line with the first, start a whole other supply pyramid.

Now the fun bits. Most proponents of interstellar travel, by other species than our own, believe in the deus ex machina of “advanced technology,” something that will permit faster than light travel or super-efficient energy sources or something along those lines, always vague and without the faintest support from physics. Let’s be blunt: we, as a species, have been hashing out the laws of physics for quite a few decades now, with some elaborate and esoteric experiments with super-colliders and a lot of observations of extremely powerful stars. There has been no evidence that such things could ever take place, yet at the same time there’s a lot of evidence that they never could. And it’s not about discovering a new law of physics, because we already know the existing ones and they’re not going to suddenly vanish when a new version comes out – at best, they can be refined for circumstances that have yet to be discovered. But to think there’s a “magic switch” that will allow something like faster-than-light travel while simultaneously allowing us to maintain a coherent and cohesive body in the shape of our preference, not to mention being compact and manageable enough to actually fit within any reasonable (or unreasonable) spacecraft, is nothing but comic-book thinking. The same can be said for an energy source that somehow exceeds the E=mc2 formula for total binding atomic energy. Don’t count on it happening, any more than exposure to gamma rays will do anything but kill you.

Thus, expansion by conventional physics, which would take a loooonnnng time. Centuries at least to cover just a few nearby stars, much less the majority of the galaxy. If you can find someone to do it, which would actually be harder than the physical, logistics part of it. Unless your planet has some pretty specific circumstances, confining oneself to any kind of space-traveling vessel is going to impose severe limitations, physically and mentally, and while it’s hard to vouch for what some other species might be like, chances are they evolved to favor certain conditions on their planet that will be nonexistent in space – to use us as an example, gravity, blue skies, open spaces, fresh water, a varied diet, and so on. Confinement and limited stimulus are a recipe for severe mental breakdown.

So, to expand throughout even a significant portion of this spiral arm of the galaxy would require centuries of effort and vast quantities of resources. The idea that asteroids and planets providing access to more raw material to help fuel this expansion is bandied around often, but think about it: raw materials. As in, requiring lots of refining to turn into useful product. An asteroid may be iron-rich, but to turn it into frames for the new space station? Mining, smelting, forming, and so on, several production plants worth of equipment and labor – that all has to be gotten to the asteroid (at the very least the mining equipment,) then transported from there with fuel that comes from some other station.

And all this ignores that, in the deep space between star systems, none of this will be able to be found anyway. Asteroids and planets are attracted to gravity sources – they don’t congregate out in the middle of nowhere. Exotic fuels? Not in any quantity, even in a nebula – we can see through most of those even with nearby stars lighting up all that gas, indicating that it’s not terribly dense. And solar energy is going to be pretty lean between stars too.

On top of that, it would require a species that not only had all the resources, but the desire to spend so much of them on… what? The possibility that nearby stars would provide much better conditions or materials or living areas? The desperation that they’re going to die out if they don’t? (And that’s a possibility that isn’t likely to be beneficial to any race they contact.) What species is going to expend so much effort for such expansion, and can any species actually live that long? Spend enough time in space, and they’ll evolve away from any traits that sent them there in the first place.

Finally, we’d also have to consider that such a species would either aim directly towards a star system showing promising traits (of which ours is unlikely to count,) or towards the center of the galaxy where the stars are most dense and travel thus more efficient.

But the long and short of it is, that diminishing returns thing about fuel, up there at the beginning, is quite possibly a factor against expansion throughout any portion of a galaxy: it may be simply impossible to cross a certain distance, no matter how much time or effort is able to be put into it. The fuel and materials will run out before they carry far enough, the drive and mental state of the beings attempting it may simply not hold up, the nastier conditions among certain stars could be too much to protect against. Everything has a limit.

Just once, part 26

Florida gar Lepisosteus platyrhincus lying in grass alongside drainage channel
Today’s prehistoric installment comes to us from just over 20 years ago, this image being taken on June 4th, 2004 – I could potentially line these up closer to the anniversaries (not perfectly, since the 4th was a Tuesday this year,) but I’m working from a spreadsheet that lists the first post they appeared in and has no image date info, and it’s not worth the effort. Plus I try to space out the birds and insects and so on.

This is a Florida gar (Lepisosteus platyrhincus,) and the only time that I’ve ever gotten photos of one, though I might have glimpsed said species here and there. This one was sitting on the bank of a drainage channel (closer to being a canal, really) behind where I lived, potentially caught by a fisherman and then discarded, though why they didn’t simply throw it back into the water escapes me. It was still alive and might potentially have leapt from the water itself, though it was a good two meters laterally and one vertically from the surface, so a damn good leap if so. Either way, I tossed it back into the water to terrify another day.

But this reminds me that it’s still been far too long since we’ve been to Florida, and no indications that this will be remedied soon. Sigh.

Could this be Al?

It’s been almost a week without anything but my routine weekly post, and for that, I apologize – it’s been a bit busy here, and while I obtained some frames here and there, I never got around to doing anything with them. Today, however, is Prove That You’re Not Dead Day, so it seemed as good a time as any to get them up here. Or for someone to produce a post that sounds like it was written by me to throw the investigators off. You can place your votes below.

[Heh, “votes,” plural – like anyone reads this schtuff…]

We’ll start with an update, since the lead-in was featured in an earlier post.

adult female magnolia green jumping spider Lyssomanes viridis poised for defense of her nursery
It’s interesting that they call these magnolia green jumping spiders (Lyssomanes viridis,) because I’ve never seen a magnolia even remotely this color – those tend to be pretty deep green, but even the undersides of those leaves, while much paler, isn’t this shade of day-glo green. I’m not sure what plant I could effectively compare it to, really, but it likely grows in Chernobyl…

Anyway, she was standing guard outside of the bebby nursery peeking in behind her here, where the eggs have hatched now, and I tried to get some decent photos of the young-uns, hampered by the sheltering webbing.

newborn magnolia green jumping spiders Lyssomanes viridis still within web nursery on underside of trumpet flower Brugmansia leaf
This is on the underside of a trumpet flower (Brugmansia) leaf, and you’d have to look close to spot either the nursery or the mother thereon. I had to wait until nightfall for the breeze to stop blowing the leaf all over hell and back as I was trying to focus, and then the flash illuminated the dense webbing enclosing the babies and obscured a lot of the detail, so I boosted contrast on this frame to make things slightly clearer.These newborns do not top 2mm in body length, but I admit to not taking the calipers out there for a precise measurement.

Nearby, the headlamp caught an unidentified larva ‘inchworm’ dangling from a web strand – I couldn’t say it was motionless, but it wasn’t moving of its own volition.

unidentified larva inchworm dangling from web and showing parasitic eggs
There was no breeze at this time, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t inadvertently creating my own when I leaned in close, nor that I could stop the inchworm from spinning on its single strand. They produce the webs from their mouths, instead of from spinnerets at the end of their abdomen like spiders, so they hang head-up instead of head-down. But you likely already spotted that odd little detail, so let’s go in for a closer look at it.

green parasitic eggs on body of unidentified larva inchworm
You know, not only have I found that merely getting the macro rig out will usually stir up a breeze where it had been dead calm before, but when attempting to photograph something that can turn, it will inevitably fail to rotate into view no matter which side I attempt to photograph it from. This took far longer than expected, but at least I got one frame where you could clearly see the eggs from some parasite attached to the larva’s body. This is a doomed inchworm, is what I’m saying.

There are still a handful of mantids to be found, if one looks closely.

juvenile Chinese mantis Tenodera sinensis inverted under Japanese maple leaf
While I had several oothecas (egg sacs) from central NY that I suspected might be European mantises, what I’ve found so far appear to be the Chinese mantises (Tenodera sinensis) that are common around here, so I’m labeling this as such, and if the kidnappers are challenging you to correctly identify a bug and you get it wrong because of me, let me know and I’ll send a free print to your family, because that’s the kind of guy that I am.

Anyway, this one was on the popular Japanese maple, and I wish I’d seen the background leaf right behind the head, but I was focusing by headlamp and didn’t realize it was there. It’s been hot as hell here with no rain for a month, so I occasionally get out the misting wand and give these guys a drink, which they appreciate.

The butterfly bushes (Buddleja davidii) have also been struggling with the heat – actually, every plant in the yard is – and I’ve been steadily draining the rain barrels to keep them watered. On examining one of them the other night, I noticed what appeared to be a white petal on the otherwise pale blue flowers. This merited a closer look.

juvenile jagged ambush bug Phymata on flower of butterfly bush Buddleja davidii
See it up there? It’s a mere 2.5mm in overall length, so not exactly leaping out at anyone, but of course I went in closer.

juvenile jagged ambush bug Phymata on flower of butterfly bush Buddleja davidii
Enough to make out the body shape, certainly – this is a jagged ambush bug (genus Phymata,) and a juvenile or nymph stage. As adults, they’ll get perhaps five times longer than this, and typically turn yellowish with brown markings. I switched over to the reversed 28-105 for the serious closeups, but the bug was getting wary and, even at night, I was fogging up the viewfinder, which is definitely a hindrance when the lens is locked at f16. I have a lot of frames to discard, is what I’m saying.

juvenile jagged ambush bug Phymata on flower of butterfly bush Buddleja davidii
But there’s your menacing head-on shot, and if you were a gnat or moth, this would be a bad thing to see, since ambush bugs are pretty fierce for their size.

Now onto the frogs.

juvenile Copes grey treefrog Dryophytes chrysoscelis perched on leaf of lizard's tail Saururus cernuus plant
Spotted this one night by the headlamp as well, roughly half of adult size, so pale that I wasn’t sure what the species was – at least at first.

juvenile Copes grey treefrog Dryophytes chrysoscelis perched on leaf of lizard's tail Saururus cernuus
Still practically no markings visible, but if you look closely, there’s a paler spot edged with darker grey right underneath the eye, which is enough to confirm this is a Copes grey treefrog (Dryophytes chrysoscelis.) I haven’t been seeing these much at all anymore, which is funny because when we moved here ten years ago, they were the only frogs I’d find. While I don’t think the green treefrogs are somehow chasing them off, it might be that the eggs or tadpoles are favored differently somehow, some pH thing or whatever, and so the populations are changing. I know there are plenty of each at the neighborhood pond, so this might just be a temporary, local phenomenon.

On the front storm door, one night, one of the green treefrogs (Dryophytes cinereus) was trying to do some cutesy, Instagram bullshit.

green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus perched on glass door unable to make a heart properly
It might have carried better if the frog hadn’t been so filthy, but don’t look at me – I didn’t set this up. Meanwhile, a word of advice: if you see someone doing it on any form of social media, this is precisely why you should never do it yourself. Be original, not a mindless fad-monger. I know, I’m being mean to the frogs again.

And of course, I have to close with this one:

green treefrog Dryophytes cinereus looking complacent on sweet potato leaf
This guy was perched on one of the decorative sweet potato vines we establish in the front planters every year, and from a portrait angle, it looks like it’s smiling benevolently. Chances are of course that it’s watching me carefully to see if I’m going to do something aggressive, though the treefrogs really aren’t spooky in any way – when uncovering the grill (a favorite daytime hideyhole) to cook something, I usually have to grab them to carry them to a safe location because they’re not easy to convince otherwise. I keep looking at both the frog’s and the lavender’s angles here and thinking I should level this frame, but it is level – they’re crooked.

Anyway, vote now to say if this was computer-generated, or my actual writing, or too much dreck to give a shit either way. We’ll back to tally up any votes that might accidentally have occurred!

Just once, part 25

summer tanager Piranga rubra peeking from foliage
I knew this one was going to appear in this category and purposefully held onto it for this week. This is a summer tanager (Piranga rubra,) and it was photographed two years ago, coincidentally on the first day of summer (which doesn’t fall on a Wednesday this year, so this is as close as we get.) It was during an outing with Mr Bugg and, despite the brilliant red color, we could have missed it easily but I realized I was hearing a call that I’d never heard before. I’m not very well versed in songbird calls, there being far too many that I know I’ve heard before yet can’t put to a species, but at least I recognized that this one was new to my experience, and carefully tracked its location until we could get a clear view. This habit has produced more than a few photos over the years, and I strongly encourage any nature photographer to develop it as much as possible.

Then again, most birders would be far better than I in pinning down the species by sound, familiar with the various calls, so I could use the work myself. But hey – you’re seeing the pic, so it worked for me, right? Okay then.

We won’t talk about the number of species that I might have missed through inexperience, because it’s my blog. It’s all about the ego.

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