Bug Eric

Whenever I discover a species new to me, I am compelled to illuminate the known biology of the organism for anyone who will listen, or read. This happened recently, when I encountered a little jumping spider on a sidewalk during a late afternoon walk here in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA, on August 20.

I managed to capture the creature in a plastic vial, to take home for closer observation. At the time, I anticipated that it would be an immature male in the genus Phidippus, as they are common, especially along this pathway through lawn and wannabe prairie that parallels a major street on the north end of town.

I am prone to neglecting or procrastinating in taking photos of captive specimens, so it was August 25th before I finally sat down for a spider photo shoot in the white casserole dish we have dedicated as a “studio” for insects and arachnids. I was fortunate the spider was still alive, albeit perhaps a little more slender than when I first found it.

Throughout the process of capture and photography, the spider was surprisingly slow, which is not at all like most of the fast, bouncy jumpers that I am familiar with. Viewing my photos, it became apparent that whatever this spider was, it was a mature male (fully formed terminal segment on each pedipalp); and it lacked the iridescent chelicerae (jaws) of most Phidippus species.

Puzzled, I uploaded some of the photos to my Facebook page in hopes that some of my friends who are spider experts might be able to point me in the proper direction. It was after posting that I tried looking in some of my books to see if there was anything remotely similar to my specimen. The family Salticidae is highly diverse, and not every book about spiders will include every genus, let alone species. This time I got lucky.

I soon received replies to my social media post, the first of which was from Sarah Rose, author of Spiders of North America from Princeton University Press. That field guide does not include the species she suggested: Ghelna canadensis, but I reached the same conclusion in perusing Common Spiders of North America by Richard A. Bradley. Ian Wright also suggested the genus in his comment on the Facebook post, and Alicia Lips and Dani Marie agreed. Alicia included images of a female of the species that she found on her front porch in June of this year.

Ok, more about the actual spider. The community science platform iNaturalist gives a common name of Three-lined Ground Jumping Spider for Ghelna canadensis. Somewhere I recall reading the name “Red Velvet Jumper,” but that could apply to many other species, even though it is appropriate to the color and texture of this one. Most sources offer no common name. Mature males measure 4-5 millimeters in body length, females 4.6-6.4 mm. Females are darker, gray or brownish, with indistinct markings.

This is a ground-dwelling species, unusual compared to the arboreal species in its cohort, the subtribe Dendryphantina. It occurs over much of the eastern United States, except for the southernmost tier. Data points on iNaturalist have it as far west as Minnesota in the north, and near Dallas, Texas in the south. The "Checklist of Kansas Jumping Spiders" mentions records in Douglas and Jefferson counties, but not Leavenworth. Older references may use the former name, Metaphidippus canadensis. There are also three other species in the genus Ghelna, at least one of which, G. barrowsi, also occurs in my area.

After I finished the photo session, I provided the spider with some water from the tip of a soaked cotton swab. He was thirsty! Then I took him back to where I found him, releasing him well off the sidewalk this time.

Sources: Bradley, Richard A. 2013. Common Spiders of North America. Berkeley: University of California Press. 271 pp.
Guarisco, Hank, Bruce Ctuler, and Kenneth E. Kinman. 2001. “Checklist of Kansas Jumping Spiders,” The Kansas School Naturalist 47(1): 1-13.
World Spider Catalog
GBIF
Bugguide

Recently, I asked my friends on a social media platform to express their opinions on the trend of anthropomorphism as applied to traditionally uncharismatic fauna such as spiders (“spooders”) and snakes (“noodles”). The topic received over one hundred comments, with few people commenting more than once. The responses were all over the map, including some uncharted places in my own mind when I decided to ask the question. Here is my loose appraisal of the landscape.

Overall, one’s personal stance on anthropomorphism and use of “cutesy names” fell into three broad camps:

• Acceptable, if not totally embraceable.
• At least tolerable, with qualifications.
• Utterly contemptible.

Those who held a view that anthropomorphism is acceptable seemed to be people who connect to animals in an emotional way, pet owners, and empathetic individuals who may have only a casual interest in wildlife.

The view that anthropomorphism is at least tolerable, but with defined caveats, was most frequently evident in people whom I know to be science communicators. Sci-comm professionals (and amateurs for that matter) deal with both the scientific community and the general public, serving as a diplomatic bridge between the two.

The individuals who responded negatively to the idea of anthropomorphism were overwhelmingly professional scientists, though it is even more telling that few of my scientist friends bothered responding at all.

Many comments in the thread sparked by my post were highly specific, and we would do well to visit these viewpoints to illuminate the future direction of sci-comm, and improve relations between the scientific community and the general public.

• Several responses indicated that endearing or comical names for creatures that most of the population considers scary or repulsive were fine, provided that those epithets painted the animal in a positive light. For instance, “noodle” is fine for a snake, but “danger noodle” or “nope rope” was not ok. Those names suggest that the organism warrants disrespect, if not lethal dispatching.
• Some respondents on the phobia end of the spectrum have found that assigning a name to an individual spider or other creature inhabiting their home, yard, or garden, made the creature less frightening. It is harder to kill, or even hate, “Fred” or “Bertha” than a nameless arachnid.
• At least one respondent indicated that cutesy names were for plush toys, not the real, living creature. This is interesting, if only because “Lucas the Spider,” an animated plush character created by Joshua Slice, became incredibly popular for a time, between 2017 and 2021. There was a total of thirty-two episodes on YouTube, in fact. Lucas remains a great ambassador for jumping spiders, at least.
• Several people expressed reservations about the unintended consequences of anthropomorphism, such as turning some species into villains (“nope rope” again), or drawing too much focus to one species while neglecting others (the “Panda Effect?”).
• A number of people strayed slightly off topic and expressed dismay at the use of the term “bug” for all insects. This included may well-educated non-entomologists who appear to have adopted a stricter scientific view.
• Turning the “stranger” into the “familiar” seems to be at the heart of many anthropomorphic tendencies.
• Names that spread disinformation were resoundingly condemned. “Skeeter eater” for harmless crane flies that do not eat anything, let alone mosquitoes, was one example. Using “babies” to indicate small (or “smol”) adult insects is another deal-breaker for those who know otherwise.
• The most objectionable result of anthropomorphism occurs when emotional attachment or assignment results in irresponsible behavior. An example might be taking an animal out of the wild because it appears to be abandoned by its parent, herd, or flock. You truly can love an animal to death.
• Giving a pet name to an individual animal, or to a species or category risks devaluing other life forms. This even carries over into human social interaction in the workplace and other settings.
• On the other hand, assigning a pet name can translate to improved care of, and reverence for, that individual or species.
• Extra-cute names like “spooder” inappropriately infantilize organisms. It reinforces existing tendencies to find the most human-like faces in baby animals as the most deserving of positive sentiment, leaving all others out in the proverbial cold.
• The use of novel names may not be the same thing as anthropomorphism. It represents the evolution of language, especially in the digital age. Introverts, the neurodivergent, and others who lacked the anonymous outlet of the internet in previous generations, are now able to contribute a new perspective. That should not be threatening to those of us who grew up with “rules” of grammar and spelling. Accepting these changes is the healthier path for both human society and the other species we share the planet with.
• Ideally, acceptance and appreciation of other species should not hinge on the introduction of an endearing moniker, but if it helps change attitudes, then what is the harm? There has been, and continues to be, too much of a kill-it-now, ask-questions-later attitude among the general public.
• Taking a hard line against affectionate expressions risks alienating entire generations of currently young people who could otherwise be the most effective influencers for positive behaviors and views related to the rest of the animal kingdom. You appear elitist, sitting in your academic ivory tower, trying to preserve your privilege and power, demanding that everyone relate to other species on your (scientific) terms, literally and figuratively.
• ”Anthropomorphism is generally more helpful than Anthropocentrism. I think it’s better to project our understanding of our own existence onto creatures than to treat them like they’re inanimate objects. Our perspectives will always be biased and imperfect through our own eyes, even through a scientific lens.”
• Use of cute names and anthropomorphism should be done judiciously by science communicators and scientists. Much depends on the audience and the setting. Students in a classroom are expected to be taught, and to learn, proper terminology. With a casual audience, it might be more helpful to achieve connection through the language those people are using, instead of immediately imposing scientific convention. The intent should always be to advance appreciation and understanding.
• ”I didn’t chastise/degrade/make fun of my coworker who named her yard-Argiope “Big Booty Bertha.” I loved it! She went from a wreck-the-vehicle kinda person (over spiders) to nicknaming one in her yard. I’ll take it as a huge win….I fully believe your audience may need some anthropomorphism to begin the journey of gaining helpful knowledge.”
• ”From a conservation….perspective, it gets people ‘in the door,’ so to speak….In regards to jumping spiders, it’s amazing how many people have gone from ‘kill it with fire’ to ‘Aww, jumpy boi!’ just in the last few years. Even if this generation doesn’t become entomologists or arachnologists, their children will be more inclined to due to the change in perceptions.”
• ”I also make the animals relatable (ex: describing a wolf spider with young on her back as a hard-working momma who has several hundred mouths to feed). Treading lightly, you can connect with audiences on even the most hated creatures.”
• ”I am in support of using them playfully, but prefer that it’s kept to banter and meme pages and to raise awareness and create a good image.”
• ”Danger noodle” can be an opportunity for a teachable moment, especially if someone in the audience uses the term.
• ”As the reptile and invertebrate [pet] hobby becomes more mainstream, this [trend in novel names and anthropomorphism] will also become more mainstream.”
• ”We fear what we don’t understand. If giving an animal a name that appropriately promotes curiosity or endearment happens, great. Then we’re a step closer to being able to educate about the animal’s behavior, benefits, perspective. If that name promotes more fear, revulsion, or misunderstandings, then we’re doing it all wrong.”
• "I guess in the end, for me, it’s a matter of adapting my filter to my intended audience. As others have also mentioned here, I see the intent, and value, in using ‘cute’ names when attempting, for example, to help a friend reconcile their distaste for certain critters. I also, in these circumstances, offer educational and fun/trivial facts to blend the informal with the formal….And if calling a spider a ‘spood’ helps initially disarm them, which in turn results in their being a more receptive audience for additional information, that’s a win.”
• ”I refer to the colony of great golden digger wasps [in my yard] as the ‘Golden Girls.’…Anything to make them less scary to people.”
• ”In my educational communication I like to mix some of the newer cutesy vernacular with descriptive terms, common names, and scientific names – often all in the same piece. My goal….is to provide a point of connection for a diverse audience, sure, but also to enhance storytelling.”
• I think our fear of anthropomorphizing creatures stems from our anthropocentrism….We are such a strange species in our great interest in setting ourselves apart from (and above) other species, and I think we do our planet a disservice each time we do so.”
• ”Anthropomorphism has been a part of Indigenous cultures for centuries and builds respect and understanding for all living things, establishing animals as family members or revered elders.”

The one thing that does strike me, that was not overtly acknowledged, is the impact of novel language and anthropomorphism on interactions between people. One respondent used the term “pedestrian audience.” I know what they meant, but my first thought was that this was condescending and not helpful. We are never going to get anywhere in advancing scientific literacy if we invalidate the standing of others, reduce them to an amorphous, dismissible group, or ignore their personal experiences.

Shoot, we have to be honest with ourselves, and where we are at, where we are coming from. It might not be pretty, and that is ok. My own affinity for “unlovable” animals definitely stemmed initially from feelings of disconnection from my peers as an elementary school student. Our first priority as scientific communicators, maybe communicators in general, should probably be to listen to people who are not like us, to assert that our conversations are in a safe space, and that their experiential reality is valid.

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I had not attended the annual Bug Fair at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County (California) since about 2011, so I was overdue in seeing old friends and making new ones. Heidi and I had a wonderful time, and stayed in the area for the week afterwards to enjoy some of the natural areas in the greater Los Angeles region, as well as spend time socializing. The fair itself is a major event, one that regularly sets museum attendance records for the year. During the global pandemic, there was no Bug Fair until 2022, and even then it was a scaled-down version. This year it was back to full strength.

Bug Fair happens the weekend before the Memorial Day weekend every year, and takes over two halls, plus the rotunda, and various outdoor extensions of the museum. It includes vendors of entomological supplies, live specimens, and preserved specimens. Many organizations and government agencies have tables as well, and there are a fair number of artists. I was the only author with a dedicated table.

Lisa Gonzalez, one of my friends from prior Bug Fairs, is now the Program Manager of Invertebrates. Among her multiple talents is macro photography. Her images of museum specimens, taken with a focus stacking camera apparaatus, were on exhibit during the fair. I love that the interpretive text was in both English and Spanish.

I grossly underestimated the enduring popularity of the printed word, and sold out of some of my books the first day. The following day, we were taking prepaid orders and promising free shipping. I will know better next time, but when that will be is anyone's guess. I am currently working on another book, for which I do not yet have a publisher. An agent is reviewing the proposal, and hopefully we can begin shopping it around to various houses in the near future.

It was rejuvenating to see old friends like the Beetlelady, Dr. Stephanie Dole, who has built a pop-up insect museum she deploys at various venues upstate. She is also a gifted artist, cosplay enthusiast, and mother to two wonderful children.

I would highly recommend Bug Fair as an event worth planning a vacation around. The greater Los Angeles region has a surprising number of parks with unique flora and fauna, a perfect complement to the exotic specimens to be found at the fair. There are plenty of cultural experiences, too. Shoot, I'd go back for the churro cart in Long Beach alone.

Here, in our neck of the woods in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA, the 2023 City Nature Challenge was, well, challenging. Our county is part of the Greater Kansas City Metro as defined for the City Nature Challenge. Besides unseasonably cool temperatures, and viciously windy weather, there was the competition of the National Football League draft in downtown Kansas City, Missouri. Despite those circumstances, the results were excellent.

There were 294 "observers," or people who recorded observations of flora and fauna, making a total of 3,640 sightings, beginning Friday, April 28, and ending May 1 (Friday through Monday). Currently, the observations represent 807 species, and climbing, thanks to the work of more than 300 "identifiers," people proficient in the identification of various organisms. This is an increase over last year's totals of 239 observers making 1,944 observations of 651 species.

Personally, I ventured out only Friday, April 28, and Monday, May 1, both very windy days. We also put out a blacklight and sheet in the back yard the night of May 1 to see what night-flying insects we could attract. We had an invitation to make observations in Topeka, a non-participating city, on Saturday, April 29, which was of course the best weather day in the span of the event.

Plants and fungi accounted for about half the total observations. Over half the animal observations were insects and arachnids.

Most of my own observations were in Havens Park, the only "wild" park within walking distance of our home. My partner, Heidi, needs our car for work. Havens has lawns with a few trees, plus extensive oak-hickory forests, and glades dominated by Eastern Red Cedar at the summit of the park. The area has been abused by illegal dumping, and was notorious as a place for drug deals, but these crimes have subsided drastically. Illegal off-road vehicle traffic remains a problem, with the resulting erosion and gouging of the landscape. I see few people on any of the trails, including paved biking and walking trails, but I am usually there on weekdays.

I found a surprising diversity of butterflies in spite of the periodic strong wind gusts. It helped that a few flowers were blooming, and there were some mud puddles persisting from previous rain.

Few moths were seen, though turning on our porch light on one night, and deploying a blacklight on another, helped to reveal them.

The most diverse and conspicuous insects were flies, with several families represented.

Root maggot fly, Eutrichota sp

Beetles were disappointingly scarce for the most part. Even lady beetles were mostly absent. Next year, I might try putting out pitfall traps.

Springtime is bee season, and they did not disappoint. Most families were present, representing several genera. Some, like large carpenter bees, I was unable to get images of.

Mining bee, Andrena sp.

Nomad cuckoo bee, Nomada sp.

Sawflies and wasps were more challenging to find, and photograph, but I was happy to see any at all.

Mason wasp, Ancistrocerus sp.

Eastern Yellowjacket queen, Vespula maculifrons

Ichneumon wasp, Erigorgus sp.

Spider wasp, Priocnemis minorata

Unidentified sawfly, family Tenthredinidae

Nocturnal ichneumon wasp, Netelia sp.

I only managed to find two kinds of grasshoppers, representing pygmy grasshoppers and short-horned grasshoppers.

Pygmy grasshopper, family Tetrigidae

Green-striped Grasshopper, Chortophaga viridifasciata

Did you know that cockroaches and termites are now classified in the same order? I uncovered both kinds of insects by turning over boards and chunks of wood from logs and limbs.

Eastern Subterranean Termite, Reticulitermes flavipes

Wood cockroach nymph, Parcoblatta sp.

Spiders were surprisingly abundant and diverse, representing several families of web-weavers, ambush hunters, and active predators.

Antmimic spider, Castianeira sp.

Orbweaver, Gea heptagon

Triangulate Cobweb Weaver, Steatoda triangulosa

Brown Recluse, male, Loxosceles reclusa

Crab spider, Mecaphesa sp.

Hammock weaver, Pityohyphantes sp.

Overall, this year's City Nature Challenge was an exciting exercise in discovery and sharing. Thanks to all who participated, in every city, and to iNaturalist (my observations in the hyperlink) for providing the platform to register individual projects and record the observations. I'm already looking forward to the 2024 edition.