Can "Enting" Be a Thing?

The short answer is "yes." The more appropriate answer is "it has to be." There is precedence in other scientific disciplines for actively engaging the public, and training people in proper techniques for observation, identification, and documentation. Entomology is lagging behind at a time when we are desperate for more information. Insects are more than a little challenging compared to vertebrate animals, and present unique problems, but let's recognize and address those shortcomings now instead of waiting until it is too late.

Birding and Herping and Enting, Oh, My!

Birding, the scientific and recreational observation of avian organisms, has been around for decades, if not a century or more, and is experiencing a renaissance of sorts thanks to the likes of Jeffrey Gordon, Kenn and Kimberly Kaufman, and a host of other ornithologists and experts who make a point of recruiting new "birders" to the ranks.

.... if birds are everywhere, insects are "everywhere-er-er."

Meanwhile, "herping," the seeking of reptiles and amphibians, is also a popular hobby that contributes substantially to our collective understanding of the abundance and distribution of snakes, lizards, frogs, salamanders, turtles, and their kin. There are rules for how to undertake the activity with minimal stress to the animals, and maximum reward for the participating humans. Collaborations between professional herpetologists and amateur enthusiasts are common and encouraged.

"Ent-ers" observing a hornet nest from a safe distance

So, in light of the success of birding, herping, and other wildlife-watching, why not "enting?" The appeal of birding is said to come from the fact that birds are everywhere, and so are instantly observable anywhere. Well, if birds are everywhere, insects are "everywhere-er-er." You don't even have to leave the average home to find them, nor even look out the window. Just point a flashlight into some dim corner of the basement. Ok, maybe start somewhere less spooky....

The Void and The Fun

Entomologists lament that they have little data to chart the abundance and diversity of insects over time, but are reluctant to admit that citizen scientists can inform that discussion in any fashion. The scientific community either wants data or it doesn't, and there are only so many professionals to go around. Most of those experts are busy identifying potential crop pests or inventing new ways to combat existing pest species.

Given the irritating connotations of "bugging," not to mention the scientific inaccuracy of such a term if it were applied to insect-watching, "enting" is probably the most all-encompassing and appropriate name for the observation of insects, and by extension arachnids and other arthropods as well.

© Amanda Accamando"Mothing" during National Moth Week

"Mothing" is already a recognized pursuit, usually involving deployment of a blacklight and/or mercury vapor light, a reflective white surface such as a sheet, and a camera or phone to record whatever is attracted. Sometimes mothing involves "sugaring," painting a fermented bait onto tree trunks. "Oding," pronounced "O-ding," is the quest for dragonflies and damselflies. This ideally requires a catch-and-release technique such that one can document the external genitalia of male specimens, often the only way to achieve a solid identification beyond genus.

The Obstacles to Overcome

One enormous hurdle that must be overcome is the insistence of some professional entomologists that the only viable records of a species are those that involve a collected "voucher specimen." Collecting, and imaging of live specimens, are not mutually exclusive. In fact, the two complement each other. Photos often give more context than specimens because the host plant may be included in the image, a certain behavior depicted, or even the ecosystem itself be recorded. This is especially true for quality videography, but still images are also valuable. Lastly, if you cannot identify something as unique as a Filigree Skimmer dragonfly from a photo, then I question your credibility as an authority.

Filigree Skimmer dragonfly, male

While some scientists must be convinced of the capacity of the public to aid them in truly scientific investigations, the public has to be convinced they can be brought up to speed in ways that can make them the most effective contributors to the cause. One impediment to embracing insects as wildlife is the lack of "common names," the English labels assigned to some species, but completely absent for most invertebrate species. Species are assigned standardized Latin or Greek (or combination thereof) names by the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature. They abide by strict rules governing such things as name "gender," and engage in exhaustive research for historical synonyms and other matters that affect the naming of species. Tasking the commission with the creation of English names is simply asking too much.

A Plea For a Common Names Initiative

It may be worthwhile to create a complementary body that does precisely that: generate standardized English names for insects, arachnids, and other arthropods. It would be no small feat, involving at minimum the translation of the Latin and Greek. While the Entomological Society of America has a Common Names Committee, we need something bigger. This could help the public understand just how descriptive and appropriate (and sometimes whimsical) scientific names can be, while making the study of the organisms more user-friendly. Further, it would enhance the appeal for conservation measures if the insect had a more easily-pronounceable name for media relations. In some cases, common naming rights could be auctioned as a conservation fundraiser, probably with fewer objections than the same mechanism for generating scientific names for newly-discovered species.

The Future is Now

What can we agree on, then? Surely we see the value in encouraging and rewarding public curiosity about arthropods, and the potential viability of public contributions to scientific knowledge. Between Master Naturalist curricula, and advanced naturalist workshops, we can coach the ardent entomophile in the art of insect and spider identification, equipping them with the tools necessary to achieve meaningful, reproducible results. Do scientists really need to be convinced that these are worthwhile exercises?

Bugwatching can be a social pursuit, too.

It is highly encouraging to see the influence of social media, spearheaded by the most youthful generation of scholars, in sparking public interest in insects and related invertebrates. Facebook groups are full of stories of how once-fearful entomophobes have been converted to insect- and spider-lovers and advocates. Time to take the next step and turn these friends into scientific allies. Let the "enting" begin.

Donation Day

This past Tuesday, June 27, I donated my insect collection, all 115 Cornell drawers and 13 Schmidt boxes, if I counted correctly. The recipient institution is the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. They made a good case when myself and several other members of the Mile High Bug Club toured their new state-of-the-art collections facility a couple years ago. Oddly, I did not have mixed emotions about the move. It was time.

Frank (left) and Jeff (right) happily departing with my insect collection

Jeff Stephenson, Collections Manager in the Zoology Department, and Dr. Frank Krell, Senior Curator of Entomology, came down to my home with a U-Haul van and we set to work loading it up. Much to my delight, they even took the cabinets the drawers were in, so that our spare bedroom is now much, much roomier.

Heidi never complained about my collection, in fact she has been very supportive, unlike some spouses or girlfriends of entomologists, so I have heard anyway. Still, it is a relief to have this burden lifted, like a proverbial albatross around one's neck. I did not have space to work on further organizing the specimens, and they were doing no one any good locked up in my home. Once integrated into the museum's collection, they will be available for loan to scientists researching different genera and species. They may eventually be imaged and put into a growing online database accessible to everyone, not just scientists. That pleases me greatly.

One does get a few perks when they make a donation of scientific specimens. There is some brief acclaim or notoriety when the museum makes public its acquisition of your material. This will take the form of a blog post and maybe a newsletter blurb sent to museum patrons and volunteers. Then there is the tax write-off. This will be interesting because the museum can only count specimens and give an overall description of the collection's condition, not an appraisal. Even that can take weeks if not months, understandably. Thankfully, the entomological community is full of people who have experience in such matters. Meanwhile, Heidi and I have not itemized, taking the Standard Deduction instead, so that will be another adventure, possibly worthy of another trip to a tax expert for our returns next year.

I did not donate the collection for any of those gratuities. I did it to further free myself from the label of "bug guy," and continue my growth as a writer and artist. I did it to continue downsizing my possessions, which become increasingly burdensome as one ages. Simplicity and travel take priority more and more, and I find myself wishing I had done this sooner. I'd rather visit friends and make new ones than collect more specimens. Some of my colleagues still reprimand me, if kindly, for failing to take specimens I have photographed in their habitat. Some discoveries can only be properly documented with a voucher: the creature itself.

I do wish that donating my collection would cure me of my "trophy mentality," the need to provide proof that my time spent afield is worth something, not just a "hobby" or trivial pursuit. I sometimes wonder whether a suntan is some people's proof of status that they can afford to vacation frequently, an almost literal badge of affluence.

When "citizen science" became a....thing, I found myself lamenting that volunteers were putting real scientists out of work. I still think that is true to a degree, but now there are platforms on the internet that allow people to make real, concrete contributions to scientific knowledge. Those databases need refinement to be sure, but it is a step in the right direction, and it is a wonderful tool in recruiting a new generation of scientists, and launching whole new careers for retired folks. I am proud to be a part of that community, whether I am considered an authority or not. It is a constant learning curve, and I am happy to help those behind me, as others ahead of me generously lend me a hand in return.

I am looking forward to the next chapter in my life, however it unfolds, and happy to conclude this one, which began seriously when I was about twelve years old. I heartily recommend the process of self-evaluation and charitable donation. It is a sign that you are a responsible, adult human being who can think beyond himself.

Review: Diving Beetles of the World

Johns Hopkins University Press is an underrated publisher of natural history titles for both professional scientists and general audiences. Their latest example of impeccable quality is the book Diving Beetles of the World: Systematics and Biology of the Dytiscidae, by Kelly B. Miller and Johannes Bergsten. It is somehow fitting that a relatively ignored family of aquatic beetles gets its "coming out party" delivered by a publisher assumed to be mostly a purveyor of medical books.

Diving Beetles of the World should be a model for a serious and thorough treatment of any entomological subject. Every aspect of the biology, ecology, and classification of the family Dytiscidae is covered here. It is this placement of the beetles in a larger context that is so vital, and so often lacking in other technical publications devoted to various insect taxa. Creating an appreciation for a neglected family of organisms is no small feat, and this publication vastly exceeds expectations.

Rhantus gutticollis from Colorado

It helps greatly that the book is lavishly illustrated with detailed images of perfectly prepared specimens of the beetles themselves. Even a casual student of entomology will feel comfortable at once. Furthermore, keys to the subfamilies, tribes, and genera of diving beetles are likewise illustrated with line drawings and clear, magnified images of critical parts of the beetles' anatomy. Were that not enough, there are also maps showing the global distribution of each genus.

The summary for each genus includes a "diagnosis" of physical characters peculiar to that genus, in case you missed anything during your journey through the keys; a history of classification and relationships to other genera; a description of diversity that includes the number of species currently recognized for that genus; a natural history indicating what habitats and niches the particular genus occupies in nature; and finally a distribution description that complements the maps.

Thermonectus marmoratus from Arizona

The authors, one American and one European, fully recognize the fluid nature of insect taxonomy and have cited virtually every paper and publication written previous to this current work. This sets the stage perfectly for ongoing and future investigations into the Dytiscidae.

Considering that aquatic ecosystems are arguably the most critical habitats on the planet, this book deserves to have an impact far beyond entomology. Every aquatic biologist, environmental consultant, and citizen scientist needs to have this volume in their library, or at least seriously consider it. Should you not make the purchase yourself, please suggest it to your university library.

Colymbetes sculptilis from Massachusetts

Indeed, the only unfortunate aspect of this tome that does not recommend it is the price: $150.00 U.S. Easy for me to enjoy my review copy while my readers are looking at a major expense, no doubt. Still, this is an important work, not just a gift for "the entomologist or naturalist who has everything." How to reconcile quality work with an affordable sale price is a question for another blog, and believe me I am open to suggestions. In the case of Diving Beetles of the World, the product commands the monetary value assigned to it.

Note: Images other than the book cover are my own and are not featured in the book.

To Collect or Not to Collect

It has become fashionable in the last few decades to voice objection to the practice of collecting organisms, especially animals, and often certain types of animals like butterflies. Such righteous indignation is misdirected at best. Here is my personal assessment of this complex issue.

Reprimands from the public

When someone encounters you out in the field engaging in collecting, and scolds you for "killing butterflies" or bees, or whatever, you can defend yourself a number of ways. Gently remind them that if they drive a vehicle they are going to kill far more insects and other invertebrates in a year than you will collect in a lifetime. Ask it they apply pesticides to their lawn, yard, or garden. If they answer "yes," then again you can remind them they are killing far more insects than you are. Let them know that habitat destruction is the leading cause of extinctions, both local and global. You get the idea.

Comments from "citizen scientists"

Citizen scientists should understand the importance of scientific collections. If they do not, offer them a brief education to that end. The digital age has allowed people to make virtual collections through images, but seldom can a conclusive identification be made from a picture or two alone. An actual voucher specimen is needed to confirm the ID. These days, even gross morphology is often insufficient to reach a conclusion, and processing genetic material (DNA) is required. That doesn't happen without collecting. Scientific collections complement recordings in still images, audio, and video.

Student collections

Let's take a look now at who is making collections. Educational institutions that include the creation of an insect collection as a course requirement should be free to continue doing so, provided certain criteria are met. Students must be instructed on the proper techniques for preparing specimens. Data labels must be attached to each specimen. There must be a "chain of custody" in place resulting in the permanent disposition of student collections in a museum or other facility where they will remain useful in perpetuity.

Hobbyists and sellers

This category of collectors is much more difficult to defend. Again, it hinges on purpose. Collections are vital not only to scientific study, but for educators who use living and preserved specimens to create awareness and appreciation of those species by the general public. Scientists rarely have the time or inclination to make such presentations, but there are other people who are gifted at doing just that. Depriving them of a vital instrument in that mission is not in anyone's best interest.

Collections made for purposes of personal amusement, decoration, or commercial display are nearly impossible to justify, especially if specimens lack data, are improperly prepared, or otherwise cannot be repurposed for scientific or educational use. One significant factor that may possibly change that is the increasing business of "farming" invertebrates. Captive breeding now accounts for a sizeable percentage of specimens on the market for "hobbyists" and casual collectors. One should always inquire as to the original source of specimens being obtained through a vendor. This is for your own protection, too, lest you be subject to fines and criminal prosecution for illegal trading in specimens. Keep the paperwork.

Arguing for collections

Discussions about the ethics and importance of collections should not be invariably "defensive." It is the responsibility of those who understand the role of collections to advocate for them. The collections housed in public institutions are under increasing assault from within, by administrators who don't understand their value, or view collections as "dinosaurs" that are now a burden on the business of museums to "entertain" visitors and increase profits.

Much is at risk here if we fail to protect existing collections and foster better ones for the future. We stand to lose the next generation of scientists, for one thing. Biologists need to mentor high school students, even elementary students, and coach them in proper fundamentals of collecting, including the ethics. Many, many of my colleagues recount the early life experiences that led them into their scientific careers, and collecting insects is a recurring theme.

Collecting and you (and me)

Only you can decide whether collecting is an important activity for you, but please don't criticize those who do; certainly reserve judgment until you fully appreciate their motivation. Me? I have a collection of over 100 Cornell insect drawers. I have loaned many specimens to scientists who have identified specimens for me, resulting in many county and state records, and a handful of species new to science. When I moved into my wife's home, the "bugs" came, too, but there is not enough space to curate them properly. I have decided to deposit my specimens at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, where they have state-of-the-art facilities. That transaction will likely happen later this year.

Sources: Freedman, Jan. 2015. "Bring out your dead: How museum specimens can contribute to environmental sustainability," Museums & Heritage Advisor.
Kemp, Christopher. 2015. "Museums: The endangered dead," Nature.
Roston, Michael. 2015. "A Guide to Digitized Natural History Collections," New York Times.
Warren, Andrew. 2015. "Why We Still Collect Butterflies," The Conversation.
Yong, Ed. 2016. "Natural History Museums Are Teeming With Undiscovered Species," The Atlantic.

About the BioQuip ad....

There is little that one gets for free these days, and indeed I could not continue to produce my blogs without help from various individual and corporate benefactors. While my readers probably like the fact there is minimal advertising on this website, financial realities demand that I seek additional advertisers. I have high standards, however, and will not endorse any product or service that I do not believe in, and/or have not personally worked with. That is why I am proud to have the BioQuip button on my page.

BioQuip is the leading provider of entomology equipment, books, educational materials in the U.S., if not also abroad. Recently, they expanded their offerings to include both living and preserved specimens of insects and arachnids.

BioQuip was founded in 1947 by Richard P. Fall and his wife Louise. Sadly, Richard passed away in October of 2000. Louise continues to run the company today, aided by their two sons, Chris and Ken. You can meet them and get a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the company in this two-minute YouTube video.

Their current headquarters in Rancho Dominguez, California include a retail store on the premises, as shown in the image above. I highly recommend BioQuip for quality scientific merchandise and specimens. Consider them as a one-stop shopping gift center for the entomologist on your holiday list. You will not be disappointed. Please visit the online catalogs at bioquip.com and bioquipbugs.com (formerly Combined Scientific), or simply click on the ad to the right in this blog.

BioQuip Bugs at the 2011 Los Angeles "Bug Fair"

Meanwhile, if your own enterprise promotes an appreciation of arthropods through photography, writing, graphic arts, or even organic insect pest control, please consider my blog as a potential avenue for advertising your business. Rates are negotiable. Thank you.

Spider Sunday: Breaking News

I was debating with myself about what species to feature in this week’s “Spider Sunday,” when I got wind of a story that immediately trumped all other options. Not only was there the formal announcement of a new species of spider, but one that represented an entirely new family of spiders as well. It takes a very unique species to demand its own family, but this arachnid is strange indeed.

Several press outlets carried the story, many including images of this odd spider. Not surprisingly, there is some conflicting information and perhaps exaggeration.

What is known for certain is that the spider had to be formally described and named before the discovery could be made public. That official record is in the latest issue of the professional journal ZooKeys, a peer-reviewed online publication of Pensoft Publishers. This in itself is newsworthy. Online journals shrink the timeline between discovery of species and the broadcast of those discoveries. Even so, this spider was found initially in 2010. Online journals also mean that you don’t have to live next to a university library to be able to access authoritative serial publications.

Let’s get back to the spider, though. What makes it unique? There is no question that the most distinguishing feature is the long, articulated, blade-like claws on the tip of each leg. The spiders are found on the ceiling of caves in southern Oregon (one report included northern California and British Columbia in the distribution), suspended upside down in very small, minimalist webs. It is thought that they wait for small, flying insects to come within range of their lanky legs, then hook their prey with those sickle-like claws.

These are not small animals. The legspan of a mature specimen can exceed two inches (five centimeters). As scientist Charles Griswold, the lead author in the journal article, explained in a BBC radio interview, they look even larger in the beam of a headlamp. The spiders are not blind, but have only six eyes as opposed to the usual eight for most spiders. Live specimens in Griswold’s lab at the California Academy of Sciences refused to eat.

The last time a new species of spider required the erection of a new family was back in 1990, when a South African spider was described. You have to go back to the 1890s to find the last time a new family of spiders was established for a North American spider.

The new family is named Trogloraptoridae. The spider’s official species name is Trogloraptor marchingtoni. The genus name is a combination of Greek and Latin that translates to “cave robber.” The species is named for Neil Marchington, a deputy sheriff for Deschutes County, Oregon, who first showed scientists the spiders inside a cave. Marchington is also a member of the Western Cave Conservancy and an amateur biologist.

Cave organisms in general are poorly understood, and highly vulnerable. Populations of cave animals tend to be small, specifically adapted to a lightless habitat, and prone to perish with the slightest change in that environment. It is largely thanks to the efforts of organizations like the Western Cave Conservancy that any effort at all is made to preserve and protect caves. Irresponsible spelunkers (cave explorers) can easily damage a cave just by touching formations and thereby changing the chemistry that forms caves. Vandals can deface and destroy caves; and development above a cave can result in contamination of groundwater that courses through the cave, if not causing the cave to collapse in part or in its entirety.

I take special delight in learning that this new species was found in my home state of Oregon. The coniferous forests there have relatively poor biodiversity compared to deciduous forests, deserts, and rainforests, but there is no argument that the species found in the Pacific Northwest are often unique. I hope to get back there again in the future, if only to find insects and spiders that I know exist there, but that I have never seen. I’ll have to add this spider to that list!

Wasps to the Rescue

Lest you think that wasps are no more than a novelty of nature, or at best natural pest control agents, take a look at this article in the New York Times. Many thanks to my friend Art Evans for sharing the story of the “Wasp Hound” on Facebook.

I have another personal friend who is (or was) engaged in similar research whereby certain insects could be reliably employed to detect explosives, and/or search for human survivors amid piles of rubble too inaccessible or unstable for firefighters and EMTs to negotiate. There is real potential here and it would literally pay to continue refining the capabilities of “bugs” to aid in the war against terrorism.

The only question I have after reading the above article is “So what species of wasp are you using?!” Details, details…

The Lab

Welcome to Holdsworth Hall on the campus of the University of Massachusetts (Amherst), my home for the next six months. The campus is largely deserted now, graduation having happened about a week ago, and my supervisor, Theresa Portante, herself a grad student, is leading her team in the field for the summer. I will be pretty much alone for the next three months.

There is not much to set my workspace apart from any other scientific technician, but I am grateful for a very nice microscope, illuminator, computer with internet, a small clock radio, and lots of ethyl alcohol. No, the alcohol is not for stress relief! It is the preservative used for the trap samples I will be sorting through.

Right now I am sorting through pitfall trap samples taken on each of last year’s study plots, all of them in wetland habitats that dry out during the heat of summer. Each sample comes in a labeled plastic cup with a locking lid. My job is to segregate the invertebrates contained therein into separate shell vials. Each “order” level of classification gets its own vial. It is not as easy as it sounds. Globular springtails and wingless barklice are easily confused, for example.

Lunch is my chance to get outdoors and breathe some fresh air after sniffing alcohol all morning. My favorite haunt thus far is the ”Campus Pond,” a surprisingly lush, well-landscaped water feature. Aside from being mobbed by ducks accustomed to being fed by everyone that lingers on the shore, I find it is a peaceful spot to enjoy a brown bag meal.

At some point I hope to include an entry in this blog that details what it is like to process a sample. Meanwhile, coming soon….let sleeping wasps lie, giant ichneumons, and other stories from the field.