Belize - Gil Wizen

Archive For: Belize

Little Transformers: This dung beetle has had enough of this bullshit

One of the things I have been focused on in the past two years, which is partially responsible for the long silence on this blog, is sorting through the backlog of photos in my archive. This is possibly the biggest curse of digital photography; you end up with hundreds of photos from each trip that eventually accumulate and often remain untouched for years. I made it a mission of mine to start going over this material in 2019, and unfortunately I misjudged how long the whole process was going to take. The good news is that most of the work is behind me. What I loved about this task was discovering many forgotten photos, as well as some hidden gems. One such treasure is photographs of a small dung beetle I encountered one night in Belize in 2014. On the surface it doesn’t look very special but its appearance was strange enough for me to decide I should photograph it. I thought its curved hind limbs were a malformation, but back then I did not know what I know today.
Oh, past Gil. You were so naïve and cute. But I’m happy you took those photos.

Dung beetle (Deltochilum acropyge), frontal view. Toledo District, Belize

This seemingly innocent dung beetle is a member of Deltochilum, a large neotropical genus that contains over a hundred species. What is special about this beetle in particular, and the reason it is included in the Little Transformers post series, is that it’s technically not a dung beetle. Or to be more accurate, it does not feed on dung or animal feces.
Not anymore.
Because enough is enough.
And if you are reading this post in 2021, while the world is still dealing with a global pandemic, social issues, and the effects of climate change, this small beetle may very well represent our collective mood.

Life is hard when you have to do this all day. Dung beetle (Canthon quadriguttatus) rolling a ball of fresh dung in the Ecuadorian Amazon

Generally speaking, dung beetles are famous for feeding on animal feces, from which they obtain the nutrients they need. Some beetles feed directly on top or dig under the dung, while others compress the dung into a tight sphere to feed on later and roll it to their nesting spot away from other beetles. Despite the unappealing dietary habits, the competition for dung is fierce, and often several dung beetle species fight each other for a piece of the hot pie. You can probably imagine how such a competition can cause a selective pressure towards a dietary change in some dung beetles, together with suitable morphological adaptations. One example is dung beetles that shifted into feeding on rotting fruits, mushrooms, or even animal carcasses. Other beetles took it even further and moved to predation. The latter is not a simple shift and it is considered quite rare in the animal kingdom, as it requires some conditions to be met: the beetle must be able to consume and digest the prey, not to mention it must also be able to capture it.

In 2009, a study of the predatory habits of Deltochilum valgum was published. This species preys on millipedes in the rainforests of Peru. It was discovered in a survey by laying pitfall traps with different types of baits, some of which contained millipedes and attracted the Deltochilum valgum dung beetles. The millipedes were chosen as bait for the traps because beetles have been recorded feeding on dead millipedes or carrying live millipedes in the past.
But how does this species fulfill the conditions mentioned above? The choice of millipedes as prey may seem surprising. After all, many of them are poisonous or deploy chemical defenses, and usually predators avoid them. However, this is exactly what makes millipedes an unexploited resource for which there is much less competition compared to dung. In addition, millipedes are detritivores feeding on decomposing plants and mushrooms, and therefore have a large amount of organic material stored in their body that makes a great source of nutrients for the beetles. Accessible food source – check.
Next on the list is the actual hunting and killing of millipedes. This is made possible thanks to small structural changes that have occurred in the beetle’s head and hind tibiae. Instead of rolling dung balls, the hind legs have curved tibiae as an adaptation for catching and holding millipedes tightly against the beetle’s pygidium. This allows the beetle to drag the millipede to a spot where it can kill it. After taking over and dragging the prey, the beetle inserts its serrated head between the millipede’s front segments, decapitating its head. This action paralyzes the millipede completely so the beetle can start consuming its juicy insides, leaving behind only disintegrated parts of the prey’s exoskeleton at the end of the process. So far there is only one video record of Deltochilum valgum hunting a live millipede. I wish there were more but nevertheless, hunting strategy – check.

Dung beetle (Deltochilum acropyge), dorsal view. The curved hind tibiae are an adaptation for grasping millipedes.

Much has changed since that publication. It is now clear that not one, but several Deltochilum species prey on millipedes, and they are grouped together taxonomically. Most of the species in the group share the curved hind leg adaptation for manipulating the live millipede prey. Similarly to Deltochilum valgum, they were sampled by pitfall traps with millipede bait as well. If I worked my way through the key correctly, the beetle I photographed in Belize should be Deltochilum acropyge in the valgum group within subgenus Aganhyboma, which is recorded from several countries in Central America. It is important to note that we do not know much about the life cycle of these beetles. As of writing this post it remains unclear what the beetle larvae feed on, but I would not be surprised if they require millipede prey for the completion of their development, whether on its own or mixed with dung.

Deltochilum is not the only genus of dung beetle that has evolved to use millipedes as a food source. Sceliages dung beetles from Africa are attracted to freshly dead millipedes and their larvae feed on balls of crushed millipedes, collected and prepared by the mother. And in South America Canthon dung beetles have been observed to feed on injured live and dead millipedes, leafcutter ant queens (watch a video of this behavior here, narrated in Portuguese), as well as other live dung beetles (as can be seen in this amazing Facebook video by João Burini, or on his Instagram post).

I should also mention that only a handful of Deltochilum dung beetles are predators, and looks can be deceiving. As an interesting anecdote, here is one species that according to our current knowledge is not a predator.

Dung beetle (Deltochilum carinatum). Shaped like a dark knight.

Deltochilum carinatum, in my opinion, is one of the most striking species in the genus. There is something about this beetle that reminds me of TMNT’s Shredder. The sharp angles, clear cuts, and overall structure. As if this body shape was made to either cut through or lock onto something.

Dung beetle (Deltochilum carinatum), dorsal view

Dung beetle (Deltochilum carinatum). One of the most peculiar-looking dung beetles in the Ecuadorian Amazon

But, as evidence suggests, this is just an ordinary dung beetle that feeds normally on dung. Maybe this will change one day, when we discover more about its life cycle and interactions with other species. For now we should enjoy it for what it is – a cool looking dung beetle. Not as badass as its murderous cousins though.

UPDATE (23 Jul, 2021): Some new photos of Deltochilum dung beetles hunting millipedes have been shared on twitter, I recommend checking them out:

I was fortunate to witness this in the field. pic.twitter.com/QIHVCPtk4T

— Mountain meanderings (@Mountain_steps) July 23, 2021

Schizomids, the unstoppable arachnids

What if I told you that right under your nose there is an entire group of arachnids that hardly ever receives any attention? It contains many species and has a worldwide distribution, but you will not hear about them in the news or see them presented on mainstream media. A couple of months ago I gave a talk about minor arachnid orders (any arachnid that is not a spider, scorpion, mite or tick) at Nerd Nite Toronto, and while doing so it suddenly occurred to me that I have never written about shorttailed whip scorpions, or schizomids, on this blog. This is surprising, because it has been six years since I have encountered them in Belize, and I have been keeping a live captive colony of them all this time.

Schizomid or shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus peckorum) from the Footprint Cave, Belize

Members of order Schizomida are tiny soft-bodied arachnids that inhabit the top layer of soil in caves and under rocks. Some of them also live inside decomposing wood, and several species are myrmecophile, living in ant nests. In these humid habitats they actively search for their prey – tinier invertebrates. In fact we are not really sure what schizomids feed on in the wild, but records show that they will gladly take down Isopods, springtails, mites and other small arthropods. At first glance they look like a sac spider crawling on the ground. However, a closer inspection reveals that their body proportions are different from those of spiders.

Shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus pentalatus), a representative of the small arachnid order Schizomida. This species is found in rainforest habitat.

Their name comes from the structure of the cephalothorax, which is split into several plates unlike in any other arachnid. Schizomids also have no eyes, which means their perception of the world is mostly tactile- and chemical-based. Their front pair of legs evolved into a sensory organ that can smell and taste as well as provide information on what is lying in front of the arachnid. These legs are called antenniform legs and they are very similar to those found in other arachnids, like whip spiders, vinegaroons, palpigrades, and even some mites, all of which walk on six legs only. The schizomid pedipalps are sturdy and built for grabbing, assisting in prey capture. Interestingly, their hind legs are modified and look very similar to those of crickets, and indeed it is reported that some species can jump to safety when threatened.

Schizomids look like a strange spider with grabby hands and cricket legs!

The thick setae on the schizomid pedipalps are used for sensing as well as a catching basket for prey.

The schizomid fang-like mouthparts (chelicerae) are found under the pedipalps

Another important character of schizomids is their short tail or flagellum (as opposed to the long flagellum in other tailed arachnids like vinegaroons and palpigrades). The tail is used for sensing but in males it has a unique structure, and it is possible that it plays a role in courtship or mating. In fact male tails are so different from species to species, that they are often used as an identification character in taxonomy.

Male shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus peckorum). Note the modified tail or flagellum.

Female shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus peckorum) with a modest tail

The Schizomida order contains about 350 species globally, with new species still being discovered. There are two existing families; Most of the known species belong to Hubbardiidae, while some Southern North American species comprise the smaller family Protoschizomidae. As a group they are closely related to the vinegaroons (or whip scorpions), and might even share some of their chemical defense against predators – there are reports of at least two species secreting odorous compounds when disturbed.

I encountered schizomids during Bugshot Belize in 2013. Piotr Naskrecki noted that the caves in the area are home to a species of ricinulei (another fascinating group of arachnids that are on my bucket list) and we should keep our eyes open. So I did. Already in the first few meters into the Footprint Cave I found a new species of whip spider, that I would later describe and name Charinus reddelli. But I also found a small arachnid that I have never seen before. Since I have seen very few ricinulei in my life I asked Piotr if this was one. “No” he replied, “but this is something just as good”. It was Belicenochrus peckorum, one of two species of schizomids found in Belize. Later, while dissecting a decomposing log, I found the other species B. pentalatus, which is a little smaller. The latter is the species I am currently keeping in captivity, and it has been fascinating to observe and learn from.

Shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus pentalatus) lives inside decomposing wood

One of the surprising things about schizomids is their reproduction. When conditions are favorable, they reproduce sexually like most animals. However, in times of stress and when males are scarce, females can switch on an asexual reproductive mode and lay fertilized eggs that will hatch into clones of the mother. This is very similar to other arthropods like stick insects and aphids, but quite unusual for arachnids. This type of reproduction is called facultative parthenogenesis. In the Belizean species I have been keeping, males were never present. In fact I remember coming home with only one live female, and this female gave birth to the entire colony.

Shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus pentalatus), possibly a gravid female. Being small does not make them immune to parasites – this one is carrying a few mites.

Similarly to whip spiders and vinegaroons, the females lay their eggs in a sac that they carry until the babies hatch. In small species like B. pentalatus the sac contains only 5-6 eggs, but the eggs are relatively large, which means the hatching babies are born at a size that allows them to hunt small arthropods. Once hatched, the babies climb on the mother’s back and stay there for two weeks before dropping off and starting their independent lives. Brooding females are very skittish; they will drop the babies at any disturbance.

A baby shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus pentalatus) in ambush for prey

A baby shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus pentalatus). Believe it or not, this animal is only 1mm long.

A juvenile shorttailed whip scorpion (Belicenochrus pentalatus) fresh after molting. The green abdomen is only temporary; it takes a few hours for the yellow-brown pigments to set in.

One of my memories from the encounter with B. peckorum in Belize was a photo session in which Piotr and I were taking turns trying to photograph one of the males. After a good 30mins of chasing the animal at a close distance with the lens, Piotr looked at me frustrated and said it’s impossible. If you follow my posts here then you know that nothing is really impossible when it comes to photography if you are willing to invest the time in it, but I understood him completely. Schizomids are some of the most active arachnids out there, especially if they are exposed (as would be the case when photographing them). Very rarely have I seen them stop to rest. Add their minute size to this equation, and it becomes clear why photographing them can be extremely unrewarding. However with patience and perseverance, you can come up with some decent shots. I hope to encounter more species of schizomids in the future, with their wide distribution there is so much to discover.

Lyssomanes – the spider from the upside down

Out of all the different microhabitats plants provide for organisms, the living leaf is arguably the most underrated one. On the surface it seems that it pales in comparison to the rich leaf litter of the forest understory, or to the complex bark of trees that provide hiding and hunting spots for many animals. However, although the green leaf may look innocent, it in fact holds many stories of deception and survival. The upper surface of the leaf offers exposure to sunlight and water, as well as additional nutrients coming from above. It can serve as a solid base for the growth of ferns, mosses, lichens, and fungi. It can also be folded and glued to create a nest or shelter for an animal or its eggs. Not to mention that in many plants the entire leaf comprises of edible material available for herbivores. But there is another plane of existence, a much darker reality. It is located in a parallel dimension – an inverted copy of the leaf upper surface. This is the upside down world of the leaf underside. Many organisms live here; some only take shelter during the day and resume activity on the upside world at night, others prefer to feed under the leaf to avoid predators. But one of the most fascinating examples is a group of predators that learned to utilize the leafy upside down for ambushing prey. I have already written about two of those, and today I would like to present another member of this guild: Lyssomanes, the green jumping spider.

Green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.). The spider’s pale color helps it to blend in with the leaf it is sitting on.

At first glance Lyssomanes doesn’t look like a typical jumping spider. It has very long and slender legs, and prefers to move by running and using short leaps as opposed to the jumps that characterize most members of the salticid spider family. In addition, the spider is almost completely hairless, sporting a pale body color, usually (but not always) green, and occasionally semi-translucent. Unlike other jumping spiders, the only scales covering the body are clustered as a crown on its head. Those can be white, yellow, orange, red, or any combination of these colors, depending on the species and developmental stage. Sometimes dark banding is present on the legs, usually in adult males.

Green jumping spiders (Lyssomanes sp.) often have a glossy, semi-translucent body, with a crown of colorful scales on their head.

The genus Lyssomanes contains around 90 species, all distributed in the Americas. Many species have similar external appearance. The type species from which the genus was described is named Lyssomanes viridis (from Latin – green jumping spider), but if I want to be completely honest, almost every species I encounter looks ‘viridis’ to me. They are just so green!

Not all Lyssomanes jumping spiders are green. Some are lemon yellow like this species from Belize.

One of the most noticeable features of Lyssomanes jumping spiders is their enormous anterior median eyes. Because of the spider’s pale color, it is also very easy to observe the internal retinal movements as the spider angles and focuses its field of view. The eyes may appear black at times, or pale green, crossed, or alternating (here’s a fantastic video showing this, and watch what happens when an ant passes by!).

Green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) staring straight back with its huge eyes. If you don’t think it is cute you might want to check your pulse.

Female Lyssomanes are very modest in their appearance. Males on the other hand, are impressive beasts with long pedipalps and elaborate chelicerae, often armed with thick setae and teeth. The latter are used in male fights for mates. Males also have extremely long legs, which they use for pushing an opponent and waving to females as a part of the courtship process.

Male Lyssomanes spiders have long legs and pedipalps for signalling conspecifics, and often sport impressive chelicerae for fighting other males.

Closeup on a male Lyssomanes spider. Notice the teeth on the long chelicera.

Portrait of a male green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) with his long chelicerae

Similarly to other predatory dwellers of the leafy upside down, Lyssomanes spiders deploy an ingenious hunting technique. The spider’s huge eyes are a good indication of its hunting method – it uses its excellent vision to locate prey. Lyssomanes jumping spiders are diurnal sit-and-wait predators of dipterans and other soft-bodied arthropods. They prefer to sit on leaves that are exposed to the sun, waiting in ambush for a visitor on the upper surface to cast a dark shadow. If the shadow is of the right size and shape the spider will shoot itself from the underside to the upper leaf surface and snatch the unsuspecting prey.

Male green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) ambushing prey on the underside of a leaf backlit by the sun

Occasionally, if sunlight is obstructed, the spider will explore the leaf and actively search for passing insects. It does not, however, stay loyal to one leaf. Once spotted, the spider usually does not take any chances and relocates to a nearby leaf.

Snap! When startled, the green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) swiftly moves to the other side of the leaf.

Although jumping spiders rarely use silk for hunting, most of them build a small silky sleeping bag inside a crevice or a folded leaf for resting at night and molting. Lyssomanes is unique in that it does not construct such a shelter. Instead, it lines the underside of the leaf with a thin carpet of silk, and rests on it completely exposed.

Green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) spinning silk on the underside of a leaf

Gravid females construct a similar web for their eggs. Passing insects often trample the sheet, which triggers a predation response from the spider.

Female green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) protecting her eggs

Cannibalism is common in salticids. Here, a green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) is preying on a smaller spider that happened to walk on its leaf.

Unfortunately, this habit of Lyssomanes to sit exposed also means that they are sitting ducks for other predators, usually other species of jumping spiders. Remember – it is a harsh world out there and it’s not easy being green!

The grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence – a green jumping spider (Lyssomanes sp.) has fallen prey to another jumping spider!

Little Transformers: Forcipomyia, the midge that turns into a balloon

It is time to introduce another Little Transformer! I know what you are thinking. Am I ever going to run out material for these blog posts? Maybe. Probably not. As long as there are arthropods around, their life history and morphological diversity guarantees that I will always find examples for interesting deceptions and transformations. Up until now I mostly focused on animals that can change form quickly, assuming the appearance of something else as a defense response against predators and to avoid detection. The case presented in this post is a little different because it does not follow a quick change of form, but rather a slow one, over the course of a life stage. I should be cautious here, because under this definition every insect that goes through complete metamorphosis from larva to adult can be considered a Little Transformer (butterflies, beetles etc’). Even amphibians fall under this loose definition. And to some extent they ARE transformers, because the changes they go through during development are extreme. But this is not the topic for this series of posts. When I talk about a big change happening within a life stage, I mean that the animal starts as one thing, and by the end of the stage its appearance and function has changed into something else completely. And no example is better to show this than the parasitic midges of the genus Forcipomyia.

Biting midge (Forcipomyia sp.) feeding on the hemolymph of a moth caterpillar. Photographed in Belize

Here is the Forcipomyia midge with the whole caterpillar to give a better sense of scale

Forcipomyia is a large genus in the midge family Ceratopogonidae, with a worldwide distribution and diverse habitat preferences. There are now over 1,000 described species of Forcipomyia. The adults of some species are known as important pollinators of cacao and other plants of economic importance in tropical and subtropical areas. However, many species in the genus are blood-feeders, somewhat characteristic to ceratopogonids as the common name to the family suggests (biting midges). These parasites have interesting relationships with different insect hosts, and they can be found feeding on the hemolymph (insect blood) of grasshoppers, katydids, stick insects, butterflies, true bugs, and even skittish dragonflies. In fact, these interactions are so fascinating and overlooked, that only after spending some time in the field one can notice the midges have a preference for certain host species to feed from.

Sometimes the biting midges sneak into the photo without me noticing. I photographed these mating grasshoppers (Cloephoracris festae), but they have an accompanying Forcipomyia. Can you spot it?

But let’s go back to the transformation they go through, because in one group of species, subgenus Microhelea, it is truly remarkable. The female Forcipomyia midge begins her adult stage with an active lifestyle. She flies about in the forest, feeding on nectar from small flowers. As days go by, she starts craving for blood and search for insects to bite. When she locates her preferred host, using her serrated mouthparts she proceeds to bite it in an area that has soft tissue: antennae, legs joints, wing veins, or between body segments. Once she found the right spot that will fulfill her dietary needs, the female midge attaches to it firmly, and… doesn’t let go, thanks to specialized claws on her feet. She sucks and gulps the insect’s blood, filtering the nutrients and secreting the excess fluids as clear droplets.

Tick fly (Forcipomyia sp.) feeding on the hemolymph of a walking stick

The midge stays attached like this for quite a while, and soon this sessile lifestyle starts taking its toll on the small parasite. She starts to put on weight. Then, she usually loses her wings – she will not need them anymore because the added mass from the developing eggs prevents her from taking off.

Female Forcipomyia swelling while feeding. She lost her wings but can still use her legs to hold firmly onto the host

Forcipomyia getting fatter… but not quite there yet

As she continues to swell like a grapefruit, the Forcipomyia midge also losses the ability to use her legs. She does not need to leave anyway, but she is so bloated that she cannot even hold onto the body of the host, and the only thing keeping the two connected are the midge’s mouthparts.

Female tick fly (Forcipomyia sp.) at the final stage of feeding. Her legs released their grip on the host and at this point the midge has fully transformed into a passive parasite that looks like a balloon.

Stick insect (Pseudophasma bispinosum) carrying tick flies (Forcipomyia sp.) at different stages of feeding. Photographed in Ecuador

At this point, the engorged biting midge is no different than a tick, and indeed many refer to these parasitic Forcipomyia as tick-flies. Sometimes I like to imagine these fat dipterans disconnecting from their host and floating upwards like a balloon filled with helium, reaching above the forest canopy and flying into space. In reality, the exact opposite happens. The Forcipomyia female eventually leaves the host and drops to the ground, where she lays her eggs and finishes her role. And the male Forcipomyia? They are mostly unknown. Because males are never found feeding on insect hosts, it is safe to assume that they do not feed on blood, and prefer to keep a vegan diet of sweet nectar.

An engorged female tick fly (Forcipomyia sp.) after dropping from its host

Tick fly (Forcipomyia sp.) engorged with hemolymph viewed from above

What about the larvae, are they parasites too? The majority of the research on biting midges has focused on the adults, due to their economic and medical significance, as well as their important role in aquatic ecosystems. Larvae of most ceratopogonids are unknown because finding them in their natural habitats can be challenging. They usually inhabit aquatic and semiaquatic habitats, but in the case of Forcipomyia the larvae are terrestrial and prefer to feed on moist detritus and organic matter under bark or in moss. In some species they feed on algae.

This stick insect is staring at me with tired eyes. I wonder if it is aware of the two hitchhikers it is carrying?

With so many aspects of their life history still unknown, and especially due to their ecological and economical importance, you would expect to see more active research on Forcipomyia. The bad news is that there is not enough research going on. A few years ago, I approached Dr. Stephen Marshall, a dipterologist from University of Guelph, and suggested doing a PhD study about Forcipomyia’s biology, phylogenetics, and their relationships with their hosts. I was politely refused, unfortunately. I still believe there is potential for a cool project involving Forcipomyia, maybe someone will pursue it in the future.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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)

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!

2014 in review: traveling, wide-angle macro and great finds!

As the clock counting towards the end of 2014, it is time for another year-in-review post. This was a good year. What a refreshing change from 2013. The main element this year seems to be traveling – I did lots of it. I think I broke my own record for traveling by air, sometimes squeezing multiple destinations into the same month, all thanks to the leave of absence I took from the university. It does not necessarily mean I visited new places; there is still a ton I want to see. The surprising thing is that I do not feel like I photographed enough this year. Many of these trips relied heavily on research, and very occasionally I found myself in a conflict between collecting data and photographing.

Here are my best of 2014. I tried to keep the same categories as last year.

The most unpleasant subject

Portrait of human botfly (Dermatobia hominis) larva

Well, botfly again in this category, just like last year. I actually had a human botfly (Dermatobia hominis) in my own body last year as well as this year (there is a scientific publication about it on the way – a topic for a future blog post!). Although I have to say this year’s cute parasite was not at all unpleasant, on the contrary! For this reason I decided to go all the way through and have it complete its larval development inside my body, and now I am eagerly waiting for it to emerge as an adult fly.

The best landscape shots

Bromelia swamp, Toledo District, Belize

Waterfall cave, Cayo District, Belize

I’m afraid I did not take too many landscape photographs this year. I was more concentrated in other methods (see below) that I completely neglected this photography sytle. In fact, I have just sold my trustworthy Tokina AT-X Pro 17mm lens, because I found that I am not using it anymore. I did have a chance to visit some breathtaking places this year, and chose two shots from Belize as my favorite landscapes for 2014.

The most perfectly timed photo

Pinktoe tarantula (Avicularia huriana) on painted wall, Ecuador

This photo is not exactly “perfectly timed” in the sense that I had to wait in order to capture the right moment. As I was walking to my cabin in the Ecuadorian Amazon I saw this pinktoe tarantula (Avicularia huriana) resting on a wall that was painted to show a scene from the rainforest. To my amazement the spider picked the “correct” spot in the painting to rest on, a palm leaf, just as it would be in the real vegetation. The cutesy ants painted marching nearby add a nice twist to this photo.

Best behavior shot

Whip spider (Euphrynuchus bacillifer) molting

This molting amblypygid (Euphrynichus bacillifer) takes this category. I like how it looks like a version of Alien’s Facehugger from this angle.

The best non-animal photo

Caladium bicolor inflorescence

I regard this as one of my best super-macro shots. I have already written a short post about how this unique inflorescence sent me 20 years back in time for a trip down memory lane. What I love about this photo is that I managed to produce exactly what I envisioned.

The most cooperative dangerous subjects

A wandering spider (Phoneutria boliviensis) in “threat posture”. Amazon Basin, Ecuador

You can read more about my scary encounter with the huge Phoneutria spider here. I admit that my hands were shaking as I was getting closer and closer to take a photo. These spiders are fast. And usually quite aggressive too. In the end this female turned out to be very docile, and she also kindly warned me when I was getting too close.

Variable coral snake (Micrurus diastema), Belize

Never in my wildest dreams I imagined I would be photographing a coral snake from a close distance, not to mention doing it alone with no assistance. These snakes have extremely potent venom and should be left alone when encountered. However, in my case an opportunity presented itself and I could not pass on the chance to photograph this beautiful creature. It was carefully released back to the rainforest immediately after the shoot.

The best photo of an elusive subject

Sabethes sp., female in mid-biting

There is almost nothing I can say about Sabethes that I haven’t already said in this post. This mosquito is nothing short of amazing, and for some insect photographers it is a distant dream to photograph one in action. Too bad they are tiny, super-fast, and oh yes – transmit tropical diseases that can kill you. So I guess it fits the previous category as well.

The best natural phenomenon observed

Army ants (Eciton burchellii parvispinum) in their bivouac. Toledo District, Belize

I have seen army ants in the past but this year I was happy to walk upon a bivouac (a temporary camp in which they spend the night). It is such an impressive sight. It is also quite painful if you are standing a bit too close. Taking close ups of the bivouac’s “ant wall” was an unpleasant process, to say the least.
I also love this scene where a small roach watches by while the ants form their crawling “rivers”.

A small roach watches by while an army ant (Eciton burchellii parvispinum) raid takes place. Toledo District, Belize

The best focus-stacked shot

Spectacular male jumping spider (Sidusa unicolor), Cayo District, Belize

I rarely take deep focus stacks. The reason is that I like to photograph live animals and this method requires an almost perfectly still subject. This stack of nine images shows one of the most impressive jumping spiders I had the fortune of finding. You can tell I went all “Thomas Shahan-y” here.

The best wide-angle macro

If there is one style I was obsessive about this year, it is wide-angle macro. I decided to dive in, and experimented with different setups and compositions. I have now gathered enough experience and information to write a long post (most likely split in two) about this method. Stay tuned. In the meantime, here are my favorites from this year.

Leaf-mimicking Katydid (Cycloptera sp.), Amazon Basin, Ecuador

Long-faced grasshopper (Truxalis grandis), Central Coastal Plain, Israel

The next photo comes with its own story: On the way to the 700-Feet Waterfalls in Belize for an Epiphytes survey, Ella Baron (manager of Caves Branch Botanical Gardens), Alex Wild and I joked that it would be cool to take a wide-angle macro shot of a frog against the background of the waterfalls, and to use this “postcard shot” to promote future BugShot Belize workshops. 15 minutes after that, I had the shot on my memory card… This is probably my favorite photo from 2014.

Mexican tree frog (Smilisca sp.), at 700-Feet Waterfalls. Cayo District, Belize

Mexican tree frog (Smilisca sp.), at the beautiful 700-Feet Waterfalls. Cayo District, Belize

The best Meet Your Neighbours photos

Tadpole shrimp (Lepidurus apus). Center District, Israel

Along with wide-angle macro photography, I also photographed intensively against a white background, as a contributor for Meet Your Neighbours project. This technique is easy and produces stunning results that it is difficult to choose favorites. I think I like best the photos that still incorporate some part of the habitat, such as the ones below.

Caterpillar of the crimson-speckled Flunkey (Utetheisa pulchella) on Round-leaved Heliotrope (Heliotropium rotundifolium). Central Coastal Plain, Israel

Stick-mimic mantis (Empusa fasciata), Central Coastal Plain, Israel

Mediterranean Chameleon (Chamaeleo chamaeleon rectricrista). Central Coastal Plain, Israel

Memes

Shooting for Meet Your Neighbours not only gives a chance to appreciate organisms out of the context of their surroundings, but also makes it super easy to use the images in creative ways. I do not consider myself a competent meme creator, but there are times that I have no better way for expressing myself.

One of those mornings.

Sometimes I feel like…

And the most exciting subject…

Ah, where to start? There were so many great finds this year: timber flies, fringed tree frogs, velvet worms, freshly molted whip spiders, eyelid geckos, tadpole shrimps and more. I cannot simply pick one favorite subject. They were all my favorites, so I decided not to end this post with a trail of random photos. I cannot wait to see what I will encounter next year. Have a good 2015!

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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”.

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) 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.

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

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

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

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.)

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.)

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

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.

Entomologist and Photographer