Tag Archives: 2017 Lab Highlights

Under the Microscope: Arthropod Trends of 2017

Over 2,500 cases flowed through the doors of the UW Insect Diagnostic Lab last year, ranging from the typical June beetles through bizarre creatures that most humans will never see in their entire lives (like the itch-inducing pyemotes grain mite).  Perhaps Forrest Gump said it best when he quipped, “life was like a box of chocolates—you never know what you’re gonna get.”  A distinction amongst insects, however, is that the “box” contains 20,000+ possibilities in Wisconsin alone and over well 1,000,000 globally.  With that said, a year at the UW Insect Diagnostic Lab is like having one humongous, box of really awesome chocolates, without all the calories.

Finding a pyemotes itch mite is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, except in this case these microscopic mites were in a farmer’s batch of corn. Photo credit: PJ Liesch, UW Insect Diagnostic Lab

With insects and related creatures, the weather can of course have a big impact and there definitely were examples of this in 2017.  The current cold winter aside, the last two winters had been otherwise mild, giving a few insects suited for warmer conditions a chance to inch their way northward.  Last spring and summer, this meant a bunch of sightings of an otherwise uncommon bee for our area known as the carpenter bee due to its habit of tunneling into unpainted cedar trim and other wood.  In a typical year, I might see a few cases out of the southeastern corner of Wisconsin, but 2017 had regular reports of these bumble bee look-alikes during the spring and summer months.  Similarly, praying mantids often meet their maker at the hands of a cold winter, but were surprisingly abundant in late summer and fall of last year.  Ticks were also extremely abundant last spring and with the rainy start to the summer, mosquito numbers were at an all-time high in some traps.  Mosquitoes were also a big deal in the news, with Wisconsin’s first confirmed reports of the Asian Tiger Mosquito last July.

Asian Tiger Mosquito (Aedes albopictus). Photo credit: James Gathany, Centers for Disease Control

The creature that amassed the most phone calls and emails in 2017 was the notorious Japanese beetle, which likely also benefited from the warmer than average winters these past few years.  For Wisconsin gardeners and farmers, the Japanese beetle is certainly a formidable foe, but at least there are ways to mitigate the damage.  In contrast, there’s another destructive pest wiggling its way into the spotlight in the state, which is much more difficult to control—an invasive earthworm commonly known as the jumping worm.  While they may not be insects, these earthworms are creepy-crawly and can wreak havoc in  gardens and flower beds, so I received a fair number of reports and questions.  What stood out to me in last year was the rapidity with which these destructive worms have been moved around the state (moved—as in humans have moved soil, plants, mulch, and similar materials).  Jumping worms were first found in the state in 2013 (in Madison), but have now been spotted in roughly half of the counties in Wisconsin.  To make matters worse, we don’t have any highly effective tactics to prevent these worms from turning rich garden soil into the consistency of dry, crusted coffee grounds—gardeners beware!

Speaking of invasive species, the emerald ash borer has continued its march through the state and now has footholds in some of our northern counties including Chippewa, Douglas, Eau Claire, Marathon, Marinette, Oneida, and Sawyer counties.  Unfortunately, our greatest concentrations of ash trees are in the northern part of the state (e.g. black ash in swampy areas), and the loss of ash from northern wetland areas could result in significant ecosystem effects.  Other recent invaders like the spotted wing drosophila and the brown marmorated stink bug had busy years as well.

Rusty patched bumble bee (Bombus affinis) visiting a flower in Middleton, WI. Photo credit: Rick Terrien

In other insect news, it seemed to be a good year for monarch butterflies in 2017, and the rusty-patched bumble bee finally made it onto the federal endangered species list. I was pleasantly surprised by a number of confirmed sightings of the rusty-patched bumble bee in the state as well. Perhaps my favorite “bug” story for the year involved black widow spiders.  It’s not common knowledge, but we do technically have a native black widow species in the state (Northern Black Widow, Latrodectus variolus).  It’s a reclusive species and is rarely encountered in Wisconsin, but reports trickled in once or twice a week at some points during the summer months (details to follow in a future blog post).

With so many cases last year, we’re really only touching the tips of the antennae.  If you’re interested in hearing more of the unusual stories from the UW Insect Diagnostic Lab, I’ll be giving a “highlight” talk on May 4th on the UW campus.

 

 

 

Mantid Mania

If you spotted one of the unusually large green or brownish insects working on its kung fu moves in late summer, you would have undoubtedly spotted a praying mantis.  These insects are an unusual sight in Wisconsin as we really don’t have native mantids in our area.  The closest native mantid, the Carolina mantis (Stagmomantis carolina), occurs in the southeastern US and does makes its way as far north as Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana.  A stray may show up in Wisconsin on occasion, but this seems to be an exception, rather than the norm.

A female Chinese Mantis (Tenodera sinensis) blends in on vegetation in late summer. Photo credit: Jill Schneider.

When mantids are found in the upper Midwest, the culprits are typically two introduced species: the European mantis (Mantis religiosa) and the Chinese mantis (Tenodera sinensis).  Both of these species have been in the country since the late 1800’s and have become well established in North America.  Of these, the Chinese mantis stands out with its sheer size as it can approach 5 inches in length with its outstretched legs.  The Chinese mantis is our largest and commonest species, based on observations.

Overall, mantids are much more common in southern states. The scarcity of these insects in the upper Midwest has a lot to do with their life cycle.  For the species in our region, females lay egg pouches (oothecae) in late summer or early fall in exposed locations—twigs, gardening stakes, and similar spots.  If there’s a harsh winter, these exposed egg masses face the brunt of the cold and mortality is high.  As a result, the vast majority of Wisconsin’s mantid sightings are restricted to southern and eastern counties where temperatures are slightly warmer during the winter months.  In 2017, there was a distinct increase in mantid sightings, likely due to the two consecutive mild winters in our area.  Assuming an egg case makes it through the winter, hundreds of juvenile mantids emerge in spring and surviving individuals reach maturity by late summer.

Chinese mantis (Tenodera sinensis) cleaning a leg. Note the enlarged (“Popeye-like”) raptorial forelegs lined with spines to subdue prey. Photo Credit: Jill Schneider.

Not only are mantids fascinating creatures to watch, but they’re impressive predators as well.  A number of adaptations place mantids amongst the top predators of the insect world.  First off, large eyes give them excellent stereoptic vision—if you’ve ever watched a mantis, they’ve watched you as well.  Camouflage also benefits many mantids, with color patterns that allow them to stealthily hide on plants, waiting to ambush unsuspecting prey with ninja-like agility.  The tropical orchid mantis (Hymenopus coronatus), even takes camouflage to an extreme with bright pink coloration to blend in on flowers.   The grisliest adaptation would be the enlarged “raptorial” forelegs armed with spines, which allow mantids to rapidly seize and impale prey and hold them in a final, lethal embrace as they begin to eat.  Mantids typically eat a variety of flies, moths, bees, butterflies, and other insects, but large mantids have even been known to prey upon birds on occasion [Note: it’s pretty gruesome and involves eating brains!].  Mantids aren’t picky eaters, so cannibalism can even be a significant challenge to those trying to raise them.

While uncommon in our area, reports of mantids may continue to increase in the future with climbing temperatures and milder winters—something to keep an eye out for!

 

Signs of Autumn: Orbweavers

Without looking at a calendar, certain things tell you autumn is approaching—pumpkin spice encroaches upon your food and beverage options, weekends are filled with football, the leaves are turning various hues, and brightly-colored orbweaver spiders adorn the landscape.

A beautifully patterned shamrock orbweaver (Araneus trifolium) on the side of a Northwoods cabin. Photo Credit: PJ Liesch, UW Entomology.

Like the overwhelming majority of spiders, the orbweavers (Family Araneidae) of autumn are harmless to humans.  There are a dozen or more common species in the Great Lakes Region and these can be good sized as far as spiders are concerned—easily over 1” long when you include their legs.  Our commonest species are from the genus Araneus and include the cross orbweaver, shamrock orbweaver, and the marbled orbweaver.  They can be quite common in yards, gardens, on plants, and on your back patio.  Other common species in the genus Argiope (the “garden” spiders) are even larger, spanning over 2” with outstretched legs.  In addition to their large size, flashy “fall” colors and patterns conspicuously adorn these spiders—yellows, oranges, reds, stripes, polka-dots, and more.

Despite the large size, orbweaver spiders are harmless. Photo credit: PJ Liesch, UW Entomology.

Their life cycle is another reason why many orbweavers can be so noticeable in autumn.  Our common species overwinter in the egg sac and the young spiderlings usually go unnoticed as they grow and develop the following spring and summer.  By the time they’ve reached maturity in late summer, it’s mating season and the adults have a month or two to go about their business. During that time, they’re easiest to spot sitting in their large circular webs, which were an inspiration for the children’s classic Charlotte’s Web.

Further Reading:
Unfortunately, most folks never take the time to learn about these beautiful and fascinating creatures.  If you ask someone their thoughts of spiders, feelings of fear, disgust, repulsion, and anxiety might come to mind.  In society as a whole, there seems to be a feeling that spiders are something to be loathed or feared, which really shouldn’t be the case. It doesn’t help when the internet has an abundance of myths and preposterous stories about spiders [here’s a good source to debunk some of those myths].  In the grand scheme of things, you’re more likely to be injured by a pet dog than you are to be harmed by a spider.  If anything, spiders should be considered beneficial as they eat an astonishing mass of insects every year.

If you’d like to learn more about spiders, one of my favorite books for the Midwest is Spiders of the Northwoods by Larry Weber.  There are also some great spider blogs out there; my favorites include: SpiderBytes by Catherine Scott and Arthropod Ecology by Chris Buddle. To this day, two of my all-time favorite spider posts are from Chris Buddle’s blog and have the self-explanatory titles of “Spiders do not bite” and “Update: spiders STILL don’t bite”.

Just like Clockwork

We’re all familiar with phenology—that regular progression of plant and animal life through the seasons—to a certain extent.  We might not stop to think about it in detail, but we recognize the crabapples blooming in spring, the fireflies lighting up the nighttime sky in June and July, and the southward flying geese and rutting deer in fall.  When you think of the 25,000+ insects in the Great Lakes Region, there’s a rich diversity of seasonal patterns to pick up on.  Some insect patterns, like cicadas, katydids, and tree crickets calling during the summer months, are hard to miss—although it can be challenging to decipher exactly who’s making that racket (Hint: here’s your translator).  Others are much harder to pick up on unless you’ve been briefed on the subtle clues.  For example, take the tiny foreign grain beetle (Ahasverus advena) which conspicuously pops up in unexpected places in August, September, and October.

To the naked eye, these tiny (1/16 inch long) brownish insects can be a bit tricky to see and it’s hard to tell if they’re beetles, ants, or something else.  Even to budding entomology students pushing the boundaries of what they can interpret under the microscope, foreign grain beetles and relatives might be jokingly referred to as “little brown nothings” and passed over for easier-to-identify specimens.

Foreign Grain Beetles next to a US nickel. Photo credit: PJ Liesch, UW-Entomology.

Around the UW Insect Diagnostic Lab, foreign grain beetles are one of my favorite samples when they arrive in late summer and early fall as they give me the faintest sensation of what it must feel like to be Sherlock Holmes.  Picture a client coming in with a Ziploc bag of tiny brown insects.  After a cursory glance and before the specimens even make it under the microscope, I ask, “are you in a new home by any chance?”  The standard reply is often along the lines of, “Well, yes—but how did you know?”  A quick check under the microscope and the specimen’s identity is confirmed.  It’s elementary, my dear Watson.

Up close view of the Foreign Grain Beetle (Ahasverus advena). Actual size: ~2mm long. Photo credit: PJ Liesch, UW-Entomology.

How is there such a reliable association with an unexpected source: newly constructed homes, where intuition wouldn’t have you expecting insects?  The secret to this seasonal pattern lies in understanding the biology of the foreign grain beetle and its relatives.  These insects love to feed on fungal spores—often in musty stored grains on farms.  It turns out that during the construction of a new home, residual dampness in construction lumber, plaster, sawdust, and other materials can lead to the growth of a trivial amount of mold.  Like vultures to carrion, these beetles fly in looking for a fungal smorgasbord.  Eggs are laid and entire life cycles can be carried out in the wall void of a new home after the drywall, insulation, and siding are put up.

Fast-forward to late summer and just like clockwork the proud new homeowners suddenly have hundreds of tiny brown beetles crawling out through nooks and crannies, causing immediate dismay.  While this can be alarming, these insects are harmless to people, pets, and the home, and are simply a temporary nuisance.  As the construction materials lose that lingering moisture, conditions become unfavorable for the beetles and activity drops off over time.  Pesticides often aren’t needed as the beetles already face an inevitable demise.  Vacuuming or sweeping them up and running a dehumidifier are often the remedy in fall until the dryness of winter puts a final end to the beetle activity.