The Enigmatic Stick Insect

I’m pretty good at spotting insects.  When I walk around prairies with a camera, I’m usually looking down, scanning for small creatures.  Just as I imagine a building inspector develops search images for signs of mold, fire hazards, and shoddy construction, my search images help me pick out grasshoppers, spiders, caterpillars, and stink bugs.  Despite that, I rarely see stick insects (aka walking sticks).

Although not extremely obvious, this stick insect (walking stick) is more visible than it usually is because I put it on this plant so I could photograph it. Garden County, Nebraska.

This stick insect (walking stick) is more visible than usual because I put it on that plant so I could photograph it. Garden County, Nebraska.

I don’t think stick insects are all that uncommon.  In fact, about 12 years or so ago, I was using a pull-behind seed stripper to harvest seed from lemon scurfpea (Psoralidium lanceolatum) in one of our Platte River Prairies.  The machine essentially uses a street sweeper brush to strip seeds from plants into a hopper.  Of course, the brush often captures insects along with the seed.  After maybe 10-15 minutes of running the machine, I stopped to check the harvest and was astonished to see hundreds of stick insects swarming about in the hopper.  As the machine was harvesting seeds, I had been constantly scanning ahead of it to be sure there were no seed heads of invasive plants and to pick out the best patches to harvest.  Regardless, I didn’t see a single stick insect until they ended up in the hopper.  I’ve not seen that phenomenon again, but I often wonder if there are hundreds of stick insects hidden all around me as I walk through prairies.  That may be true, but I feel lucky every time I actually see one.

Earlier this year, I was photographing bison and saw a couple stick insects riding on the back of one of those big furry animals.  Later in the summer, I found one riding along on my own back. I gently put it on a nearby plant and photographed it for a while, grateful for the unexpected opportunity.

A close up of the head of the stick insect, showing the palps around the mouthparts that I assume help to maneuver leaves into position to be eaten.

A closer view of the head of the stick insect, showing the palps around the mouthparts that I assume help to maneuver leaves into position to be eaten.  Also, even the eye is striped, contributing to the camouflage.

Stick insects are in the order Phasmida, along with leaf insects, and there are about 3,000 species of Phasmids worldwide.  There is a lot of general information about stick and leaf insects, but I found it hard to know which details fit the stick insects I see in Nebraska prairies.  I’d love to hear from others who know more about the ecology and behavior of these creatures.

Here are a few basic facts:

Stick insects are leaf eaters.  In some cases, they can cause widespread defoliation of trees, making them pests to those who like those trees.  (Or potential heroes to those of us working to limit the number of trees in our prairies!)

Like praying mantids, stick insects can often be seen swaying back and forth on their legs.  Some scientists think this might help with their camouflage, giving the impression that they are moving in the breeze.  Others think it’s a strategy to help them pick out objects against their background (they are triangulating).

The other major information presented by most sources is that at least some species of stick insects are known for copulating – or at least staying in that position – for days, weeks, or even months at a time.  It may be that the female benefits from having the smaller male on her back to act as a shield from predators, or maybe the two of them are just more cumbersome for a predator to deal with.  There are other theories about the behavior as well, but I don’t feel qualified to sort through them for you.

One last photo of the stick insect before I left it alone to go find something to eat and a place to be better hidden.

One last photo of the stick insect before I left it alone to go find something to eat and a place to be better hidden.

As I’ve said numerous times, I’m not an expert on insects and other small invertebrates – I’m just an enthusiast.  If there are experts out there who can tell us about the stick insects of prairies, or the one specifically featured in the above photos, please chime in.  I’m sure there are fascinating stories to learn.

That Predator Just Killed My Predator!

I spent last week in the Nebraska Sandhills, possibly the greatest grassland in the world.  Last week’s trip was one of several I’ve gotten to make around that landscape this summer.  It’s been great to see a much wider swath of the Sandhills than I have in previous years, and my appreciation for the area has grown even stronger than before.

The big sand tiger beetle (Cicindela formosa) has been eluding me this summer, but I finally get a good set of photos of one eating a recently captured ant.

The big sand tiger beetle (Cicindela formosa) has been eluding me most of this summer, but I finally got a good set of photos of one eating an ant.  Clicking on this and other photos from this post will give you a larger and more clear image to look at.  It’s worth it.

In a previous post, I wrote about the importance of Sandhills blowouts as habitat for species that thrive in bare sand.  I’ve been trying to document and photograph as many of those creatures as I can this summer.  Some of the most difficult to photograph have been tiger beetles.  These incredible predators run very quickly along the sand in search of small insect prey, but can also fly easily when they see me or other scary things approaching.  It’s been fun to chase them around, but the vast majority of attempts to photograph them end in them flying away just before I’m close enough.

One of the species I’ve been unable to photograph so far is a beautiful metallic blue tiger beetle called the sandy tiger beetle, aka Cicindela limbata.  You can read more about this critter in a great blog post by Ted MacRae.  I had seen and admired the beetle, but was running out of time to photograph it before my trip ended.  Finally, I spotted it again, and started stalking it.  (I should mention that I was doing this while 7 other people were watching and waiting for me, semi-patiently, so we could move to another location.)

I edged close to the beetle, but (as usual) just as I got almost within photo range, it took off and flew about 15 feet away.  I let out a small sigh and starting creeping toward its new location.  This time, it took off when I was still five feet away.  However, just as the tiger beetle left the earth, a big gray robber fly streaked up from the ground nearby and knocked the beetle right out of the air.  It was like a ground-to-air missile attack, but much faster.  The two tumbled back to the sand together, the tiger beetle firmly in the clutches of the robber fly.

The robber fly and tiger beetle landed upside down right after the initial attack.

The robber fly and tiger beetle landed upside down after the initial attack.  For scale, the tiger beetle is about 1/2 inch long.

As I watched, the robber fly got back to its feet and struggled to keep a hold on the beetle.  Though I couldn’t see it happening, I knew the fly was also injecting the beetle with toxic saliva to immobilize it.  Eventually, the saliva would also liquefy the innards of the beetle so fly could consume the resulting beetle soup.

Upright again, the robber fly tried to hang on to the beetle while injecting it with toxic saliva.

Upright again, the robber fly tried to hang on to the beetle while injecting it with toxic saliva.

The robber fly had to periodically readjust its grip as the tiger beetle struggled to escape.

The robber fly had to periodically readjust its grip as the tiger beetle struggled to escape.

Within a few minutes, the beetle seemed to stop moving.  Having taken approximately 10,000 photos of the scene (from the perspective of my waiting colleagues), I grudgingly got up off the sand and backed slowly away to move on to our next site.  I still don’t have a stand alone photo of C. limbata, but I’ll get one someday.  In the meantime, I feel like I had a front row seat for a miniature version of the kind of predator/prey attack usually seen in nature documentaries from the Serengeti.  I can live with that.  As I’ve said numerous times before, I’ve got a pretty good job…

A final look at these two magnificent predators.

A final look at these two magnificent and beautiful predators.