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Little Transformers: Eburia pedestris

We are back to celebrate little transformers: insects that are more than meets the eye. In this post I feature an insect whose transformation may seem a little awkward at first. It is not of cryptic nature, and it is not a case of mimicry.

While doing research about whip spiders in Belize, I also surveyed the insect biodiversity of one site, and so made sure to visit the light traps that we set up in several spots. The traps attracted an impressive diversity of insects, including moths, leafhoppers, ants, mantids, and katydids. One night a beautiful longhorn beetle (family Cerambycidae) showed up at the light trap. I did not recognize it at first so I collected it for a short Meet Your Neighbours session.

Longhorn beetle (Eburia pedestris) from Belize

Longhorn beetle (Eburia pedestris) from Belize

It was Eburia pedestris, a member in a genus of hardwood-boring longhorn beetles with a wide distribution in the Americas. I took a few decent shots. The beetle was trying to escape of course, so I reached out to grab it before it fell from the acrylic sheet. The moment I touched it something interesting happened. It crossed its legs and took a sitting position. I could not help it and I sneaked a loud laugh, because it looked like the beetle was in the middle of a yoga practice. It stayed in this comical position for a while, so I took some additional shots.

Longhorn beetle (Eburia pedestris) just sitting around

Longhorn beetle (Eburia pedestris) just sitting around

Another view of the strange pose taken by Eburia pedestris

Another view of the strange pose taken by Eburia pedestris

The strange position did not make a lot of sense to me, but I thought maybe it was a more elaborate way of playing dead, a common behavior in many beetle families (which will probably be featured more than once in this series). I finally decided not to wait for the cerambycid to “open up” so I grabbed it in my hand to put it back into the vial before releasing it outside. And then it hit me.

I mean, it literally hit me.
I felt my hand being pierced in several spots. Blood was dripping from my fingers.
You see, there is a reason why Eburia beetles take this unusual body posture. Look at the beetle’s leg joints and at the tips of the elytra. By taking a “sitting” pose, the beetle transforms into a prickly business, pointing sharp spikes in all directions, making it difficult for large predators like myself to handle the beetle. It will also not hesitate to use its other cold weapon: biting mandibles. Something I only noticed much later when I examined the photos – notice how the beetle contracts its abdomen, to make the elytral spines more prominent. Even with caution it was difficult not to get your skin punctured by the spines. They are as sharp as syringes. I would not want to imagine the experience for a mammal trying to eat this beetle. Ouch.

Longhorn beetle (Eburia pedestris) in defense posture. Grab it if you can.

Longhorn beetle (Eburia pedestris) in defense posture. Grab it if you can.

Some insects prove to us that avoiding predators is not all about hiding, mimicking other organisms, and advertising toxicity or potent venom. There are other, more creative ways to survive in the jungle out there. I will even take it a step further and say this Eburia beetle is comparable to the armadillo girdled lizard in its behavior. Nature is so awesome.

Little Transformers: Ceratocanthinae beetles

If you missed my subliminal message in the last two sentences of the previous post, I am not done yet with the Transformers. I was building up to this exact moment. You see, insecticons ARE everywhere. Maybe not in the same context as depicted on the TV series, but still there are creatures out there that are more than meets the eye. A substantial part of their existence relies on fooling predators into thinking they are something else: an inanimate object, another animal, or something completely different. I am happy to introduce “Little Transformers”, a new section on the blog, in which I will present interesting cases of insects in disguise.

We are launching this series with the beetle that started it all – the pill scarab (member of subfamily Ceratocanthinae). If you run an internet search with the words “transformer” and “insect”, there is a high chance that one of the results will be an image created by Kenji Nishida, showing a small beetle from Costa Rica transforming from a ball-mode to beetle-mode. The image has gone viral soon after being posted online, and now that Ceratocanthus beetle is fairly recognized by title as the beetle transformer. I have posted an image of a similar beetle before on this blog, a Ceratocanthus species I found in Belize. It was featured in an excellent phylogenetic paper about this subfamily by Alberto Ballerio and Vasily Grebennikov, and even made it to the journal’s cover. I recommend checking the paper out, even if you are not interested in these beetles, you can enjoy the beautiful images showing the impressive diversity of the group.

Pill scarab beetle (Ceratocanthus sp.) from Belize, showing the spherical alternative mode typical to members of Ceratocanthinae

Pill scarab beetle (Ceratocanthus sp.) from Belize, showing the spherical alternative mode typical to members of Ceratocanthinae

Ceratocanthinae are a subfamily of Hybosoridae within the Scarabaeoidea beetle group, containing over 360 described species, most of which are small in size (just a few millimeters in length). They have a wide distribution range mainly in tropical regions throughout the world, with only a few genera and species recorded close to temperate regions. Ceratocanthinae also occupy different types of habitats. The highest diversity seems to be in new world rainforests, but they also occur in temperate forests, subtropical forests, savannahs, and even in coastal deserts. Adult Ceratocanthinae are best known for their ability to conglobate: rolling into a nearly perfect ball. The elytra, pronotum, head, and all six tibiae interlock with each other by means of grooves and corresponding ridges, forming a tightly connected external surface. Many beetles take the form of a tight compact structure when threatened, however in Ceratocanthinae the tibiae of all six legs participate in forming the external hard surface of the sphere, unlike in other beetles.

Ceratocanthus sp. transformation sequence from ball-mode to beetle-mode

Ceratocanthus sp. transformation sequence from ball-mode to beetle-mode

It is fascinating to observe these beetles transform to and from their alternative mode. Nancy Miorelli, an entomologist and science communicator living in the Maquipucuna reserve in Ecuador, recently recorded a video showing the beetle opening up (by the way, Nancy also creates beautiful jewelry from insect wings and Tagua nut with the proceedings supporting rainforest conservation and the local community. You can check out her shop here).

Why do they do this? The ability to roll into a tight compact structure probably has anti-predatory and physiological advantages, such as moisture retention or thermoregulation. It seems that the primary use is as a form of crypsis, to avoid detection by nearby predators, however after following several beetles in the wild I noticed that they stay transformed into the ball-mode even when they are not active; perhaps it is a way for them to rest too.

Pill scarab beetle (Ceratocanthus sp.) from southern Belize. Full beetle-mode!

Pill scarab beetle (Ceratocanthus sp.) from southern Belize. Full beetle-mode!

Unfortunately, very little is known about the biology of Ceratocanthinae. They are sometimes found under bark, in tree holes, and in decomposing wood. Several records report adults and larvae that have been found in termite nests. However, It is unclear whether Ceratocanthinae are termitophilous and have a relationship with the termite hosts. The ability to roll into a ball can serve as a defense and might be an adaptation for living in the hostile environment of a termite nest. Another suggestion defines the beetles as termitariophilous, in other words attracted to the properties of the termite nest itself as opposed to its inhabitants. While the feeding habits of Ceratocanthinae are mostly unknown, a handful of observations report adults feeding on various fungi. It is therefore possible that Ceratocanthinae are attracted to some of the fungi growing on the surface of termite nests. This can explain the presence of the beetles in the nests, but unfortunately without additional data about the beetles’ life history it would be difficult to validate this connection.

So the next time you are out in the field and you stumble upon a tiny sphere in a peculiar place, take a closer look. If it looks like a beetle mummy, then bingo! You have a Little Transformer. Now all you need to do is wait for it to open up… Patience. Lots of patience.

(Inter-)National Moth Week

When all that people talk about right now is going outdoors with their smartphones and tablets to play the current-trendy Pokémon Go, an augmented reality game of hunting fictional creatures, it seems appropriate to remind everyone that a similar “game” was already in existence centuries ago and still goes on today. It is called being a naturalist, and the rules are pretty simple – you just go out to search for, observe, and document everything that nature has to offer. I guess making people spend more time outside is a good thing nowadays, I just wish they were looking more around them instead of having their faces glued to mobile screens. Nevertheless, many players reported that while playing the game they stumbled upon “real life Pokémon”, in other words wild animals such as snakes, birds and even mammals. Several biologists on twitter decided to take a nice turn on this game and came up with the hashtags #PokeBlitz and #PokemonIRL, tagging and spreading facts about various wild animals, plants and fungi. It is a cool initiative that I hope will spread like fire, but in any case I wanted to use this opportunity to mention another similar event happening this month – National Moth Week.

Geometer moth (Rhodochlora brunneipalpis), Limón Province, Costa Rica

Green geometer moth (Rhodochlora brunneipalpis) from Limón Province, Costa Rica

National Moth Week is a citizen science project that sets out to increase public awareness and appreciation of moth biodiversity. It has been running continuously for 5 years, with the main event taking place on the full last week of July. During this week, moth enthusiasts set up light traps to attract moths and record the species found in their area. They are often joined by professional lepidopterists (scientists studying this insect order), who offer assistance in identifying moth species and wait for cool and unexpected discoveries. With the current accumulating evidence of dwindling insect populations, especially those of pollinators like Lepidoptera and Hymenoptera, this activity has huge importance. National Moth Week has become a global joint effort to record moth species, yet the project’s title remains “national” to emphasize the outreach activity on the local scale. Anyone can join and attract moths in the comfort of their own home, but many groups hold moth-watching events at public locations, attracting a large crowd of enthusiasts and curious people (you can attend an event close to you by searching in the event map).

Crambid moth (Desmia bajulalis), Mindo, Ecuador

Many Crambid moth species, like this Desmia bajulalis from Ecuador, have iridescent scales on their wings.

Setting up a light trap for moth watching is super easy. All you really need is a light source, and turning on the porch lights is probably the simplest way to attract moths. If you want to invest a little more, you can get a light bulb with some output in the UV range, as many moth species are attracted to this type of light. Many entomologists and insect enthusiasts use high-output mercury vapor bulbs because their spectral range seems to be more attractive for insects compared to other bulbs. Personally, I do not like these bulbs; they are very fragile, become extremely hot during operation and quite finicky to set up in remote locations. I use a compact version of a bulb that has a similar spectral distribution and get good results. My setup is built to be portable, so I now take my light trap almost anywhere I travel.

White witch moth (Thysania agrippina). Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Sometimes a light trap is not even needed for attracting moths. This gigantic white witch moth (Thysania agrippina) came to our bathroom lights in the Amazon rainforest, Ecuador.

light-trap

The light trap I used at Caves Branch, Belize, attracted a nice variety of interesting moths, including members of genus Petrophila (mentioned previously on this blog).

Moths attracted to light trap, Mindo, Ecuador

Moths (and other insects) gathering around a light trap in Ecuador

Moth feeding on top of another moth's wing, Mindo, Ecuador

When it gets crowded at the trap interesting behaviors can be observed, like this small moth feeding on a bigger moth’s hemolymph.

Finally, if you want to be able to record the species coming to your trap, you will need a surface for them to rest on. The simplest way to do this is by stretching a white sheet behind the light source. The flying moths will come to the trap, bump into the sheet and cling onto it, allowing close observation and photography. Not only moths, but also other arthropods can end up coming to the light trap as well. And, if you are lucky, even amphibians and reptiles can show up to take advantage of the abundant food.
The best thing about setting up light trap is that you never know what will show up. It is not uncommon to encounter a species that you do not know, or even better, find something that is very rare.

Geometer moth (Eutomopepla rogenhoferi), Mindo, Ecuador

Geometer moth (Eutomopepla rogenhoferi) from Mindo, Ecuador

Giant silk moth (Rhescyntis hippodamia). Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Giant silk moth (Rhescyntis hippodamia), one of the heaviest and largest moth species found in the Amazon Basin of Ecuador.

Geometer moth (Opisthoxia uncinata), Limón Province, Costa Rica

Geometer moth (Opisthoxia uncinata), from Limón Province, Costa Rica. This is probably one of the most common species in Latin America, it showed up in every light trap I have set up so far.

Wasp-mimicking moth (Gymnelia sp.), Mindo, Ecuador

Do not forget to check the surroundings of the light trap for even more species! This wasp-mimicking moth (<Gymnelia sp.) from Ecuador was found resting on the wall a few meters from the trap.

White geometer moth, Limón Province, Costa Rica

Some moths remind me of common butterflies. For example, this moth from Costa Rica somewhat looks like Small White (Pieris rapae)…

Giant silk moth (Titaea tamerlan). Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Giant silk moth (Titaea tamerlan) from the Amazon rainforest of Ecuador

Green moth (Epidelia sp.), Caves Branch, Cayo District, Belize

Green moth (Epidelia sp.) from Belize

Crambid moth silhouette, Mindo, Ecuador

Even a silhouette can be interesting! Crambid moth from Mindo, Ecuador.

Owlet moth (Sosxestra grata). Caves Branch, Cayo District, Belize

Sosxestra grata has become one of the most iconic Latin American owlet moth species, thanks to an excellent photograph taken by Thomas Shahan in BugShot Belize.

Crambid moth, Mindo, Ecuador

Some of the nicest wing patterns are found on the smallest species, like this delicate Crambid moth from Mindo, Ecuador.

So go out, and enjoy this fun activity. Moth-watching is the new birding. In fact, it might even be better than birding. It requires much less effort and preparations. In addition, the diversity of moth species found in a limited area can be astounding compared to that of birds. There is so much out there to discover, you really just have to look.

New species of Charinus in Belize

I am happy to announce that our new paper, describing two new species of whip spiders (Amblypygi) from Belize, was recently published (the paper can be downloaded here). This culminates work that started in 2013, in collaboration with Gustavo Miranda and Alessandro Giupponi.

Charinus reddelli from Waterfall Cave, Cayo District, Belize

Charinus reddelli from Waterfall Cave, Cayo District, Belize

The new species were found during the BugShot Belize workshop at Caves Branch Jungle Lodge and its surroundings. The smaller species of the two, now named Charinus belizensis, was discovered under a fallen log during a night hike, concealed inside the decomposing wood and sharing the space with Diplocentrus maya scorpions and platydesmid millepedes. The second species was found within several nearby cave systems, hiding under stones and running on the sandy bottom of the cave. As soon as I found these whip spiders I knew I had something that probably no one has seen before. These were new, undescribed species. Charinus species have been described from almost every continent, they are well-recorded in South America, but so far no species have been described from Central America. Only two reports mention presence of the genus Charinus in Central America: one report from Panama mentions an epigean species with well-developed eyes. I knew the Charinus that I found were different species due to their “blindness” – the two new species have no median eyes, an adaptation for life in closed dark spaces, such as caves and deep crevices. The other report from 1982 is by James Reddell, mentioning a whip spider “troglobite of uncertain generic affinities” in the Footprint Cave in Belize, probably the same species that I found in the very same cave, three decades later. We therefore decided to pay tribute to James Reddell for this discovery and for his enormous contribution to the study of the arachnids by naming this new species after him: Charinus reddelli.

The entrance to Waterfall Cave, where specimens of the new species C. reddelli have been found.

The entrance to Waterfall Cave, where specimens of the new species C. reddelli have been found.

Charinus reddelli, a freshly molted specimen besides its molt in Waterfall Cave

Charinus reddelli, a freshly molted specimen besides its molt in Waterfall Cave

It is not surprising that these species have not received any attention up until now. To begin with, they are very small. The leg span of the bigger species, C. reddelli, is just over 2.5cm. They constantly take shelter inside decomposing wood (C. belizensis) or in rock crevices in caves (C. reddelli). Also, to the untrained eye they may appear as juveniles of the much bigger Amblypygi genera found in the same area, Paraphrynus and Phrynus. As such small arachnids, one might wonder what they feed on. It is possible that C. belizensis feeds on termites and other soft arthropods found inside the wood cavity, whereas C. reddelli was observed feeding on cave crickets nymphs and was even spotted taking down another arachnid – a cave schizomid. Moreover, the live specimens that I keep in captivity have been found to be very fond of eating isopods, so it is possible that they are an important component in these species’ diet. Another interesting observation relates to their breeding strategy. Whip spider females are excellent mothers and demonstrate a high level of maternal care, carrying and protecting the eggs and then later carrying the hatched babies for a while until they can fend for themselves. As small-sized arachnids, Charinus species confront a problem. If they go the same path as the other whip spider genera, producing several dozens of tiny offsprings, then they might run into survival challenges, as the tiny babies must track down and hunt for even smaller prey, and at the same time deal with predators. Instead, C. reddelli‘s egg sac contains only 4–10 eggs, and the hatching whip spider babies are quite large. This ensures that the offspring have a slightly better start in life as they can exploit the common prey size in their surroundings.

Whip spiders females are good mothers and Charinus reddelli is no exception. Here, a female carrying her newborn baby on her back. Three other babies are still in the process of hatching under the mother's abdomen.

Whip spiders females are good mothers and Charinus reddelli is no exception. Here, a female carrying her newborn baby on her back. Three other babies are still in the process of hatching under the mother’s abdomen.

Charinus belizensis fresh after molting before pigmentation appears. Found under a fallen log in Caves Branch forest.

Charinus belizensis fresh after molting before pigmentation appears. Found under a fallen log in Caves Branch forest.

It took a long process to obtain the proper permits, collect, export, and describe the new species, in which I received tremendous help from Ella Baron from Caves Branch Jungle Lodge. The important thing is that now these two small arachnids are known, they have a name and a valid presence, which will make it easier to protect them and their habitat. I hope that in the near future more species of Charinus will be discovered in Central America, filling the gap in their known distribution.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Orchid Bees

Whenever I visit Latin America I make sure to leave some time for observing orchid bees in activity. This means my morning routine is usually very brief: a quick breakfast, some reorganization of gear from the previous night hike, and heading out. The bees are usually active between 7:30-11am, so it is a race against the clock to locate them in the rainforest.

A month ago I posted a photo on my social media accounts showing a group of Euglossa bees collecting fungus threads from tree bark in Costa Rica. Since then, this photo has become very popular and has been shared and retweeted thousands of times (unfortunately, a big chunk of these shares is by people who uploaded the photo to their pages without my permission). This is currently my most shared photo to date. Even as of writing this post, one month after posting the photo, it still generates new likes, shares, and comments. In fact, the title of this post, “Teenage Mutant Ninja Orchid Bees”, is taken directly from the comments, as some people noted the photo reminded them of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

A group of colorful orchid bees (Euglossa hansoni, E. sapphirina and E. tridentata) collecting fungus filaments from tree bark, Limón Province, Costa Rica

A group of colorful orchid bees (Euglossa hansoni, E. sapphirina and E. tridentata) collecting fungus filaments from tree bark, Limón Province, Costa Rica

While I will argue that in order to truly appreciate the beauty of orchid bees one must observe them from a close distance, this photo does represent well their diversity (showing three distinct Euglossa species) and variation (the “red” and “orange” bees belong to the same species). Soon after the photo spread through the internet I was flooded with questions about orchid bees, so I thought it would make a nice opportunity to write a post about them and address some of the inquiries.

That orange bee (Euglossa hansoni) from the group photo above? This is what it looks like when viewed from up close. Words cannot describe this beauty.

That orange bee (Euglossa hansoni) from the group photo above? This is what it looks like when viewed from up close. Words cannot describe this beauty.

Are you sure these are not flies? Despite bearing a strong resemblance to bottle flies, these insects are indeed bees: orchid bees are members of tribe Euglossini which contains five genera: Euglossa, Eulaema, Eufriesea, Exaerete and Aglae. They are somewhat closely related to the eusocial honey bees and bumblebees, however most orchid bees lead a solitary lifestyle. The genera Exaerete and Aglae are cleptoparasites, developing in the nests of other orchid bees. There are about 200 species of orchid bees, distributed only in the Americas, mostly in Central and South America. Only one species occurs in the United States. Like many other bees, orchid bees collect nectar, pollen and resin from plants. They can be distinguished from other bees by their shiny metallic coloration and their extremely long tongues, which can be twice the length of the body. Most of the time the tongue is folded underneath the body and extends behind the abdomen.

Orchid bees can be easily found near fragrant orchids. This male was spotted hovering near a vanilla flower. Photographed in Caves Branch, Cayo District, Belize

Orchid bees can be easily found near fragrant orchids. This male was spotted hovering near a vanilla flower. Photographed in Caves Branch, Cayo District, Belize

Male orchid bee (Euglossa sp.) collecting resin from tree bark. Photographed in Toledo District, Belize

Male orchid bee (Euglossa sp.) collecting resin from tree bark. Photographed in Toledo District, Belize

Are they dangerous? Can they sting? Orchid bees are far less dangerous than honey bees. Being solitary (excluding a few species that are communal), orchid bees have no colony or a queen to defend. That being said, female orchid bees do possess a stinger, which they will not hesitate to use when threatened. Interestingly, the females are very rarely encountered. I have encountered them only near stream banks, collecting clay mud for construction of their nest. Most of the bees observed in the rainforest are males. Although their folded tongue sticking behind the abdomen may look like a stinger, males have no stinger and pose no danger to anyone.

Male orchid bee (Euglossa sp.) in mid-flight, showing its long tonguefolded underneath the body. This is not a stinger! Photographed in the Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Male orchid bee (Euglossa sp.) in mid-flight, showing its long tonguefolded underneath the body. This is not a stinger! Photographed in the Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Why are they called orchid bees? Male orchid bees exhibit an interesting and unique behavior – fragrance collection. They collect and store different volatile compounds, some of which are found in orchid flowers. To get the right mixture of chemicals, they sometimes travel long distances in flight. Being able to detect the tiniest amount of a desired compound in the air, the bees home-in on the scent column and navigate to it with impressive accuracy. Once landed at the site, the males scrape the odorous compounds using modified brushes on their forelegs, and then while in mid-air transfer and press them into special storage chambers in their hind legs. The process is repeated until the bee has collected enough of the chemical. The purpose of collecting the fragrant compounds is not entirely clear, but it is strongly believed that they play an important role in mate choice by the females, just as perfume is used to attract a mate in humans.

Male orchid bee (Euglossa intersecta) collecting fragrant compounds from tree bark. Note the long hairs on the forelegs that assist in scraping the chemicals. Photographed in the Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Male orchid bee (Euglossa intersecta) collecting fragrant compounds from tree bark. Note the long hairs on the forelegs that assist in scraping the chemicals. Photographed in the Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Male orchid bee (Euglossa sp.) collecting fragrant compounds from tree bark. The chemicals are stored in special chambers located in hind tibia. Photographed in the Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Male orchid bee (Euglossa sp.) collecting fragrant compounds from tree bark. The chemicals are stored in special chambers located in hind tibia. Photographed in the Amazon Basin, Ecuador

To collect a variety of scents, the bees visit primarily orchids flowers, but also other flowers, tree wounds, fungi and even corpses. One species was even recorded collecting the insecticide DDT without suffering any damage from the chemical.
The fragrance collection behavior allows the attraction of males using different baits containing essential oils, and can be useful for biologists to learn about their seasonal abundance and diversity.

A carefully selected site for bating orchid bees can attract a few dozens of males, as seen here. Photographed in Cayo District, Belize

A carefully selected site for bating orchid bees can attract a few dozens of males, as seen here. Photographed in Cayo District, Belize

Some fragrant orchids have evolved different adaptations to take advantage of this perfume-seeking behavior, which involve the male bees pushing or crawling into the flowers, triggering a mechanism that glues a pair of pollen packets (called pollinia or pollinaria, depending on the type of plant tissue involved) on the bee’s head or thorax. These pollen packets will travel with the male bee to the next flower to complete the pollination process.

Male orchid bee (Euglossa cyanura) pollinating the orchid Gongora maculata. Note the pollen packets glued on the bee's back. Photographed in Toledo District, Belize

Male orchid bee (Euglossa cyanura) pollinating the orchid Gongora maculata. Note the pollen packets glued on the bee’s back. Photographed in Toledo District, Belize

Why are orchid bees so colorful? This question is a hard one to answer. The metallic color does not seem to have a clear function. However, it is important to note that not all orchid bees are colorful. While members of genera Euglossa, Exaerete and Aglae are flashy with colors ranging from gold, red and green to blue and violet, members of Eulaema and Eufriesea are less showy and sport dark colors and a thick coat of hairs, which make them look like fuzzy bumblebees.

Representatives of three Euglossini genera, left to right: Eulaema seabrai, Euglossa intersecta and Exaerete smaragdina.

Representatives of three Euglossini genera, left to right: Eulaema seabrai, Euglossa intersecta and Exaerete smaragdina.

Orchid bees are fascinating insects that can be observed safely without the need for special equipment or prior preparation. I would like to share with you something I like to do when I find a group of male bees in activity: I approach slowly and place my head close to their gathering spot. The bees are so busy closing in on the scent cone that they are not bothered by my presence. Then I close my eyes. The loud buzzing sounds piercing through the air make me feel like I am standing right in the middle of an insectopian highway. It is quite a unique sensation. Try it. You won’t regret.

Good times to celebrate the diversity of Amblypygi

For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by arachnids. Their high diversity, which includes a variety of morphological and behavioral adaptations, is impressive. It might be surprising though that my favorite arachnid group is not spiders, but a relatively small and not-so-diverse order: whip spiders (Amblypygi).

Juvenile Heterophrynus batesii from the Amazon rainforest in Ecuador. The bright coloration and cute proportions fade as the amblypygid grows older.

Juvenile Heterophrynus batesii from the Amazon rainforest in Ecuador. The bright coloration and cute proportions fade as the amblypygid grows older.

I find it amusing that despite my obsession with Amblypygi, I have not yet written anything about them. This website had a gallery of whip spider photos since day one, but I guess I have been waiting for a good opportunity to mention them on the blog, and there is no better time than right now. A recent publication by my colleagues, describing eight new species of whip spiders found in Brazil, has given this group the much-deserved public attention.

Charinus is a genus of relatively small-sized whip spiders with a worldwide distribution. New species are discovered almost annually (the species described in the above mentioned paper are all members of this genus). This one is another new species from Belize soon to be formally described.

Charinus is a genus of relatively small-sized whip spiders with a worldwide distribution. New species are discovered almost annually (the species described in the above mentioned paper are all members of this genus). This one is another new species from Belize soon to be formally described.

Despite their common name (see footnote †) and general appearance, whip spiders are very different from spiders. They cannot spin silk and therefore have no webs. Their first pair of legs has evolved into long, antennae-like sensory organs, which are used for navigation, detection and manipulation of prey, and social communication. It is ironic that what makes whip spiders so visually appealing to some people (myself included), is the same thing that makes them terrifying for other people: the raptorial pedipalps. Enlarged and armed with strong spines, the pedipalps are used as a catching basket for grabbing and impaling prey. They are also used in mating and fighting rituals. The long, spiny “grabbers” make many people cringe in fear at the sight of a whip spider. But make no mistake: these animals are completely harmless to us. They do not have venom, they cannot sting and never bite, and they will do whatever they can to avoid confrontation with a human. It is therefore unfortunate that whip spiders are often if not always used to provoke feelings of fear and disgust, as seen in TV programs such as “Fear Factor” and movies like “Harry Potter” (see footnote ‡).

Adult male Heterophrynus batesii with impressive pedipalp armature. This is the same species shown in the first photo above.

Adult male Heterophrynus batesii with impressive pedipalp armature. This is the same species shown in the first photo above.

Paraphrynus raptator feeding on an assassin bug. The spiny pedipalps are used to impale the prey and bring it closer to the mouth.

Paraphrynus raptator feeding on an assassin bug. The spiny pedipalps are used to impale the prey and bring it closer to the mouth.

For a shy animal, whip spiders sure pack a lot of character. This is something I will address in several future posts. But newly discovered species of whip spiders are always a cause for a celebration. The new paper puts Brazil in competition with Mexico for the title ‘Country with the highest diversity of Amblypygi’ (Brazil wins. For now). One of the possible explanations for the high diversity is the large continental area within the borders of each country, following a classic principle in Ecology that says species richness increases with area. Under the same principle, the smaller neighboring countries are expected to have less species, and this is indeed what we are seeing. Or is it? There might be another reason involved. Because the small order Amblypygi is of no economical and medical importance it is often understudied, so it is very possible that the low amblypygid diversity seen in other countries reflects a lack of research or difficulties in sampling. A similar trend can be found for other groups of organisms sharing the same attributes. It all points to a problem: basic natural history and taxonomic research is becoming less common and receives fewer support, while our conservation efforts aim higher every year. This creates a conflict – how can you protect something if you do not know about its existence? And indeed, the authors of the paper discuss the issue of conservation. The newly discovered whip spiders may already be endangered due to habitat destruction by humans. Nevertheless, their formal description gives them a valid status, and together with other native plants and animals in need of protection, this serves as an incentive for conservation of their natural habitat.

Juvenile Phrynus parvulus found on a moss-covered tree trunk in southern Belize

Juvenile Phrynus parvulus found on a moss-covered tree trunk in southern Belize


† There is a bit of a confusion around the common name for Amblypygi, as several different names exist. I prefer to call them amblypygids, referring to the scientific name of the group, but if I am forced to use a common name I go with whip spiders. One other frequently used common name is tailless-whip scorpions, which refers to their tailed relatives, the whip scorpions or vinegaroons, members of order Thelyphonida (formerly Uropygi). I completely disagree with the use of tailless whip scorpions as a name for Amblypygi. A large taxonomic group cannot be defined by something it does not have, unless this character is found by default in all other related groups. If you disagree, please consider why humans are not called “tailless monkeys”.

‡ One example in particular that I find infuriating is a series of videos recently turned viral, showing a person literally abusing whip spiders to the point that the animal has no choice but to attack using its pedipalps. Because of my deep interest in amblypygids these sickening videos have been forwarded to me multiple times by friends who thought I might like them. Interestingly, the person who made these videos actually loves arthropods, yet he seems to be unaware that his videos are spreading hate and misinformation towards these remarkable arachnids, not to mention the pointless abuse and stress of wild-caught animals (I have never gone after someone with the goal of publicly shaming them and will not mention any names; those who have seen the videos know the guy and what I am talking about).

Giving birth to a botfly

Sitting at my dentist chair for 40 minutes and suffering through the shrill sound of the ultrasonic cleaner, I suddenly started to feel contractions from my chest. Oh, no. Not now. Is it really happening? If it happens now this will be a visit I will never forget. Am I getting into labor?

2014 hit me hard in the face with all its goodies, that it was difficult for me to pinpoint the best moments. I still have one more story to share before I bid farewell and move on. For me, 2014 ended with a blast.

The story actually begins in fall 2013. Shortly after returning from BugShot Belize, I noticed that three mosquito bites on my chest were not going away. They became red, started to feel even itchier, and occasionally there was a slight pinprick sensation. I immediately suspected they harbored botfly larvae, and indeed confirmed this after a couple of days when the sensation became more intense.

Hypoderma bovis is a species of botfly that attacks cattle. The resemblance to a bumblebee is not incidental. Upper Galilee, Israel.

 

Botflies belong to the family Oestridae, whose larvae develop in the body of mammals as endoparasites. They are mostly known as pests of cattle, but also of rodents and other small mammals. At least one species, Dermatobia hominis, attacks primates and, as I learned the hard way, humans. And it does this in the most incredible way: the female botfly waits in ambush for a female mosquito to pass by, and when the blood-sucking insect shows up, a chase ensues between the two. The botfly grabs the mosquito in mid-air and takes her captive to the ground level, where she proceeds to do something unique to Dermatobia botflies – she starts to lay eggs under the abdomen of the now-immobilized mosquito. When she is done, she releases the mosquito from her grasp. Now the botfly has a carrier, a vessel to transport the eggs to a suitable host, preferably a mammal. Once the female mosquito locates a bloodmeal and lands in order to bite, the mammal’s body heat triggers the botfly eggs to hatch, and tiny larvae drop to the mammal’s skin. They quickly start to burrow into the skin, head in first. Some take advantage of existing pores, such as hair folicules or even the mosquito bite itself. The small larvae have several rings of curved hooks pointing backwards; these hooks assist in anchoring the larva inside the host’s tissue and prevent removal. After fully embedded into the mammal’s flesh, the larva (which is a foreign object) excites the body’s immune system, and feeds on the inflammation response and white blood cells that arrive to the area. Its only connection to the outer world is through the entrance hole, now called punctum, from which it extends its spiracles for breathing air.

This beautiful mosquito (Psorophora sp.) is known to be one of the vectors for D. hominis eggs. Photographed in Belize, in the same location where I got my botfly larvae.

 

When I first learned about Dermatobia hominis in Intro to Entomology course back in 2004, I could not help but wonder how it feels to have an insect living inside one’s body; whether it is painful; and does it show on the outside? Little did I know that I would become a host for the same species 10 years after. Well, it was painful indeed. Sharp, ticking pains that came and went in cycles. I immediately sought medical advice and came across a medical paper describing a method for removing botfly larvae using a suction pump. Fortunately for me, the leading author of the paper was a bus drive away. There was much excitement at the Tropical Diseases Clinic, when several doctors and medical students gathered to see my botflies. We removed three tiny larvae, and I was released home. Then, in the evening of the same day, I felt that sharp pain again from all three locations. Over the next days, the pain became worse, think of chest-stabbing, or corkscrewing in pulses with heated iron and you get the idea. There were larvae still in there. And it seemed they were growing faster because there was no competitor in there with them (the larvae we already removed). To make a long story short, I managed to remove one of these larvae (on Halloween Eve nonetheless!), accidentally killed another at the clinic (only to be removed later by me), and failed to remove the third one. It continued to remind me of its existence with pseudo heart attacks several times every night until it finally died and the punctum sealed over it.

This was quite the experience, and we even published a report of the case in a medical paper. Originally, I wanted to keep one of these larvae until completion of its development. As an Entomologist, I was eager to see the adult fly, let alone this might be the only chance I could give something in return after collecting and killing many insects for my scientific work. However, I was not lucky, and I started to accept the possibility that I will not get another botfly larva, surely not in such a convenient location again. And so, a year later I returned to Belize, not even considering the option that it might happen again. Remembering the lancinating pain that I experienced, I tried to be careful and well-protected from mosquitoes this time. So you can imagine my surprise after I returned home, when I found a new botfly larva in my chest, almost in the same location as last year!

At first I repeated the “routine” of visiting the Tropical Diseases Clinic, but the larva was still too small to be removed. Then I decided to leave the area as is and give the larva the space it needs. I was amazed to find out this larva was not even slightly painful. The feeling was completely different, I could easily feel it moving, but there was no discomfort about it. This is it. I am keeping it.
Maybe I should pause here and say that a botfly is probably the “friendliest” parasite one can wish for. It does not transmit any diseases, does not cause any significant damage to the body, does not leave any scars, keeps its area clean from infections by antibiotic secretions and most importantly – unlike other parasites, once it finishes doing its thing, it leaves on its own!

Portrait of human botfly (<em>Dermatobia hominis</em>) larva. The resemblance to a walrus is incidental.

Portrait of human botfly (Dermatobia hominis) larva. The resemblance to a walrus is incidental.

 

For more than two months I nurtured the larva, patiently observing while it was growing inside me. Photographing it was not easy, and essentially could only be done facing a mirror, but I learned the trick and eventually got used to operating the gear backwards. It allowed me to take this photo of the larva’s spiracles as it is breathing from the punctum (this might be graphic to some people, so you can view it here). But like I said my real goal was to see the adult fly, and I was restless in the final two weeks of the larval development in fear that I will miss the event. The botfly larva does not pupate inside the host. It first has to leave its host’s body, drops off to the ground and then quickly looks for a suitable place for pupation. In the end, the contractions I felt at the dentist were a false alarm, and I could not feel anything when the larva emerged eventually.

Human botfly (Dermatobia hominis) larva after emergence from its host, searching for a place to pupate.

Human botfly (Dermatobia hominis) larva after emergence from its host, searching for a place to pupate.

 

Incubating the puparium has to be the hardest part in keeping a human botfly. In a fascinating paper from 1930, Lawrence H. Dunn describes how he deliberately allowed two botfly larvae enter his arm to document their development. Only later he found out that prior to his actions he was already infected with four additional larvae (on his other arm and leg). The paper is not an easy read, as it spans through the various sensations and types of pain the author experienced during this period. Eventually he had all his six larvae emerging as late third-instars, pupating and turning into adult flies. Unfortunately, this last part of the paper is poorly written and lack details. How moist was the pupation substrate and what was its composition? Did the larvae burrow or stayed on its surface? How long after emergence the adult flies started activity? And were there any losses during the pupation period? That last question is extremely important because I have heard of many failures in keeping Dermatobia hominis for the purpose of getting adults, and they mainly happened during the pupal stage. This is why I was so thrilled to find the adult fly one afternoon waiting in the container. What a great ending to 2014. And what a magnificent fly it is! Glowing red eyes, a pointy head with a bright silvery “face”, and the most dazzling blue abdomen, striking with metallic gloss. For me, this was literally the miracle of birth. No matter how I look at it, this fly is my own flesh and blood.

Human botfly (Dermatobia hominis) adult, fresh after emergence from its puparium (left)

Human botfly (Dermatobia hominis) adult, fresh after emergence from its puparium (left)

 

Larva and adult of the human botfly (Dermatobia hominis). Hard to believe this is the same animal.

Larva and adult of the human botfly (Dermatobia hominis). Hard to believe this is the same animal.

 

Totally worth it.

 

In this day and age, even a fly can take a selfie.

 

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

Piotr Naskrecki had his own personal experience bringing (two!) botflies to adulthood. You can read his blog post here. And do not miss the postscript!

UPDATE (12 Jan, 2015): Piotr has just posted a video about his botfly. Please go to his blog and watch it. I cannot recommend it enough; this is most likely the only filmed documentation that follows the botfly throughout its development to adulthood in a human host:
http://thesmallermajority.com/2015/01/12/dermatobia-redux/
Thank you everyone for the positive response to this story!

Petrophila: Salticid-mimic moths

A few months ago, I returned to Belize to conduct a small arachnid survey. While I was there, I took part in designing insect light traps for Caves Branch Jungle Lodge. The concept of a light trap is simple – flying nocturnal insects use the moonlight to navigate at night, and when there is a brighter light source present (like a light bulb) they are attracted to it. We wanted to have a few traps set up before the beginning of BugShot, and we ran a few trials in several locations using different lighting settings to see what works best and which insects show up at the traps. Very soon we realized that the traps attracted an impressive diversity of insects, but also their predators – spiders, frogs and bats quickly learned the locations of the traps and came regularly to feed. In several occasions fire ants showed up to raid the unsuspecting insects.

Petrophila sp. in typical resting posture, partially exposing the hindwings

Petrophila sp. in typical resting posture, partially exposing the hindwings

 

One of the insects that we saw in great numbers every night was a small, plain-looking moth from the family Crambidae. I would probably not pay attention to it if it were not for four black dots arranged in a row on the margin of each of its hindwings. Many moths rest with their hindwings concealed by the forewings, however these moths, belonging to genus Petrophila, had a unique body posture at rest, exposing only the dotted part of their hindwings. This pattern looked very familiar to me, but I could not pinpoint from where exactly. Then a few nights later one of these moths decided to rest pointing sideways with its head rather than upwards like most moths. And it finally hit me: this moth has an image of a jumping spider on its wings looking straight at you. The mimicry is so convincing that the moth wings even have hair-like scales where supposedly the spider’s head is.

Side view of Petrophila sp.

Side view of Petrophila sp.

 

I should be careful here. Pareidolia is a known phenomenon in which one searches for known patterns just about anywhere. It is what makes people see the face of Jesus Christ on a burnt piece of toast, it is what makes you see a face on a rocky terrain on Mars, and it what makes you see a number when looking at the wings of Diaethria species.
What I mean to say is that the color pattern on the wings of Petrophila species reminds me of a salticid spider, and perhaps it works the same for other animals as well. There is also a behavioral display that makes the mimicry even more deceiving: the moth moves its wings to mimic the movements of a jumping spider. In search for a second opinion, I turned to someone who breathes and sleeps jumping spiders. Thomas Shahan, who fortunately was around for BugShot, confirmed my suspicion and even came up with an ID for a possible model spider: a female Thiodina sp. And so we went on to find a jumping spider that looked like the one shown on the moths’ wings. In any case, to my untrained eyes it seems that this pattern is common in several moth genera, and in other insects as well. Some will debate whether this apparent image actually evolved to depict what we want it to be, but I can only imagine the reaction of a jumping spider to this image and behavior by the moth. Jumping spiders are known to have good vision; a jumping spider will stall to examine an opponent to avoid conflict. This may give the moth a few seconds to escape. A good analysis of similar mimicry in other species is discussed here.

A different species of Petrophila, recorded from the same light trap. This one is smaller and seems to have a slightly different spider image.

A different species of Petrophila, recorded from the same light trap. This one is smaller and seems to have a slightly different spider image.

 

The same Petrophila species as above, here with a possible salticid model - female Thiodina sp. from the same location in Belize. What I find amazing is that the wings even show some of the iridescence seen in the spider's eyes.

The same Petrophila species as above, here with a possible salticid model – female Thiodina sp. from the same location in Belize. What I find amazing is that the wings even show some of the iridescence seen in the spider’s eyes.

 

Petrophila moths are unique among Lepidoptera for having aquatic caterpillars. They occupy running freshwater habitats, rivers and streams, where they feed on algae by scraping the surface of submerged rocks and stones. The genus has a wide distribution across the Americas and many species occur in temperate zones in addition to tropical regions.

You know the moths are successful in their mimicry when you find others deploying the same strategy: Nectopsyche is a genus of caddisflies (order Trichoptera) that shows a similar pattern – moth-like adults have four tiny black spots arranged in a row at the margin of their forewings, along with pale stripes.

You know the moths are successful in their mimicry when you find others deploying the same strategy: Nectopsyche is a genus of caddisflies (order Trichoptera) that shows a similar pattern – moth-like adults have four tiny black spots arranged in a row at the margin of their forewings, along with pale stripes.

 

Not only moths, but also many other insects orders were represented in our trap catch. I hope that Caves Branch continues to make good use of these sturdy light traps to record the insects surrounding the lodge. There is great potential for scientific work to be done here.

Light trap in Caves Branch, Belize

Light trap in Caves Branch, Belize

 

BugShot Belize: Treat yourself to something good

I have been meaning to write about BugShot Belize straight after my return, while I was still excited about it, but upcoming deadlines and a small entomological ordeal took most of the attention.
But don’t get me wrong – whenever I think about this trip to Belize I get a huge grin on my face. It was THAT good.

If you have some interest in macrophotography, you probably heard about the BugShot workshop series – a get-together of photography and arthropods enthusiasts, over the course of several days, led by some of the best macrophotographers out there.
The notice about an upcoming workshop in Belize caught me while I was conducting my research fieldwork in New Zealand. I was thrilled to hear there would be four instructors instead of three: Alex Wild, Thomas Shahan, John Abbott, and, joining them for the first time, Piotr Naskrecki. I knew I had to secure my place in that workshop.

By the way, do not mistake this for an in-depth review of BugShot. This post is not going to be a list of what we did during the workshop. If you search online, you will find several such reports. I believe that if you consider going to one of these workshops, you should stop reading about them online and start working on getting there yourself. I will, however, highlight a few things that made the whole experience worthwhile for me.

I came to BugShot Belize with three main goals: to improve in taking photos in high magnification, to learn more about wide-angle photography, and to hear about high-speed photography.

Leafcutter ants (Atta cephalotes) carrying a leaf as food source for mushrooms cultivated inside their nest. These ants almost never stand still, and require some concentration to photograph. In addition, some backlighting helps to make the leaf "pop out".

Leafcutter ants (Atta cephalotes) carrying a leaf as food source for mushrooms cultivated inside their nest. These ants almost never stand still, and require some concentration to photograph. In addition, some backlighting helps to make the leaf “pop out”.

 

We stayed at Caves Branch, a beautiful Lodge set in the middle of the Belizean jungle. The owner attended one of the earlier BugShots, so we were lucky to have the best host one can ask for. Although being acquainted with only one other person before the workshop, I immediately felt connected to everyone else.

One of the questions I was repeatedly asked during the workshop was “is any of this new to you?”, and I have to say I found it a bit odd at first. I am not known as a photographer and at that time I had only a handful of photos uploaded to this website. But then it hit me – I do have some experience in photography (I started the photography hobby when I was 14, so I must have learned a thing or two since then), and I do have background in Entomology. Nevertheless many things were new to me – every person brings his own approach to photography and for being out in nature. It was interesting to listen to both the instructors and the people attending the workshop. In fact, here I feel I need to apologize before my fellow BugShotees (and anyone else I might meet in the future) – Most of the time I am quiet and I do not strike as being a very talkative person. But once I “break-in” I do not cease talking, and unfortunately I can get a little annoying then. So I apologize if I never interacted with some of the people, or was simply impossible to shut up when talking with others.

We had a small light trap to attract flying insects at night, which proved quite promising in the first night when we had no clue what to expect. One of the moths that arrived was so adorable that it led to a collaborative post with Nash Turely, who recorded a hilarious video of the moth settling into its resting pose.

Periphoba arcaei (Hemileucinae) aka bunny moth. Cute furry legs!

Periphoba arcaei (Hemileucinae) aka bunny moth. Cute furry legs!

 

Periphoba arcaei (Hemileucinae) employs a defense posture when camouflage fails, revealing aposematic colors to scare off predators.

Periphoba arcaei (Hemileucinae) employs a defense posture when camouflage fails, revealing aposematic colors to scare off predators.

 

But the main highlight for me was not waiting for the insects to come, but being able to go on night walks in a tropical jungle and actively search for whatever I could find. Man, how I missed doing this! If you like nature but have never done it, I highly recommend! Just be aware of all the possible dangers lying ahead and care for you own safety. And DO NOT do this alone, especially at night (speaking from personal experience, you can easily get lost).

A juvenile whipspider (possibly Phrynus parvulus) feeding on a caterpillar, found during a night walk.

A juvenile whipspider (possibly Phrynus parvulus) feeding on a caterpillar, found during a night walk.

 

Let’s get back to my goals though. Unfortunately, I did not give myself too many opportunities to photograph in high magnification. There were so many things to see and photograph in the jungle, that very often I found myself making the mistake of sticking with one lens throughout most of the day just for the sake of not missing a subject. In addition, the intense humidity made it very annoying to switch lenses because they would fog up very quickly.

Portrait of an assassin bug (Reduviidae) in the rain

Portrait of an assassin bug (Reduviidae) in the rain

 

Scales on hindwing of an owl butterfly (Caligo sp.) - it reminded me of a tiger!

Scales on hindwing of an owl butterfly (Caligo sp.) – it reminded me of a tiger!

 

One of the techniques I was eager to know more about was wide-angle macrophotography, and you can image my excitement when I realized I could learn it from one of the best. Good thing I was not lazy and decided to bring my tripod.

Piotr Naskrecki explaining about wide-angle macrophotography

Piotr Naskrecki explaining about wide-angle macrophotography

 

This was my first attempt to shoot wide-angle macro in BugShot:

Female canopy katydid (Tettigoniidae) resting on a Heliconia leaf

Female canopy katydid (Tettigoniidae) resting on a Heliconia leaf

 

It is OK, but could be better. Apparently I was doing a few things incorrectly, which led to a poor composition and lighting in the photos.
And below is the photograph I took while learning from the master, Piotr Naskrecki. Some people might actually prefer the previous photo. I like this one much better.

Leaf-mimicking katydid (Mimetica sp.)

Leaf-mimicking katydid (Mimetica sp.)

 

Of course, in these techniques, practice makes perfect. There is still plenty of room to improve. But I am slowly getting there.

Apart from some interesting arachnids that we found, the best find in my opinion was a tiny scarab beetle (Ceratocanthinae, identified as Ceratocanthus sp. by Dr. Alberto Ballerio) that can roll into a ball. Unfortunately, I did not take a photo while the beetle was open and moving about. If anything, this is a good reason to go back to Belize, I think this animal is incredible. I have known rolling isopods, pill millipedes, pill roaches, even some flies and wasps evolved to roll up into the shape of a sphere for protection from enemies, but this animal was something that was completely new to me. This beetle is so tightly packed when rolled-up, every leg is inserted into a dedicated slot, that it almost looks like a transformer.

Pill scarab beetle (Ceratocanthus sp.)

Pill scarab beetle (Ceratocanthus sp.)

 

But my all-time favorite photo from the workshop was not of an insect (well, not entirely). One of the people who attended the workshop was Roy Dunn, an acclaimed photographer specializing in high-speed photography (and an avid arachnophile). I enjoyed listening to his and John Abbott’s comments about this technique, and we were lucky to have the opportunity to get a hand-on experience with it. While I was impressed with Cognisys demonstration, I was more interested in controlling the light using few accessories as possible while taking high-speed photos. When we visited a nearby butterfly farm we could not take our eyes off the stunning hummingbirds coming to feed on sugar water. Many people tried to photograph them from up close using a flash (to whom Roy remarked: “That’s not how you do it!”). Although macro shots of hummingbirds can be amazing, the flash created a harsh light. So I tried to photograph in ambient light using my telephoto lens (Canon 500mm) with no flash, playing with the settings in the camera. Carefully framing to get the light reflected behind the birds, I ended up with some impressive shots, one of them is clearly my favorite of all my BugShot portfolio. Actually, I consider it to be my best photo from 2013. And it even has an insect in it.

Rufous-tailed Hummingbirds (Amazilia tzacatl) and a paper wasp passing by

Rufous-tailed Hummingbirds (Amazilia tzacatl) and a paper wasp passing by

 

So my tip to you: if you have any interest in small creatures (they do not have to be insects!), and you like to photograph, go to one of these workshops. It does not matter if you are an amateur or a professional. Even if you think you have enough photography experience I still recommend attending – just being around people who share similar interests might spark you to try something new. There is already a new BugShot Belize workshop planned with similar content and instructors. If you read this far, you probably want to be there.