Tag Archives: plant hopper

The Boneheaded Ecologist and the Zombie Fly

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Last summer, while working on my square meter photography project, I made a lot of discoveries, including quite a few species I’d never seen before. Only one made me briefly question my understanding of life and death.

I was peering into my little square meter plot one morning in August when I spotted something light-colored sitting motionless on top of a dewy leaf of grass. It was small enough that I had to train my macro lens on it to get a better look. What I saw through the lens appeared to be the exoskeleton of a small fly. It was pale and appeared to be just an empty shell.

Now, tt’s been long enough ago that I don’t remember exactly WHY I thought it might be the exoskeleton of a fly; it seems pretty far fetched in hindsight. There are two ways I could have been right. First, the “fly” could have been dead. Maybe it was killed and eaten by a spider or assassin bug, both of which feed by liquefying and then sucking the insides out of their prey. I might have been looking at a discarded husk of something a creature like that had eaten. However, the fact that the insect was perched upright on a piece of grass makes that seem pretty unlikely.

The second possibility is that the “fly” had molted out of its previous exoskeleton after outgrowing it. This happens with the nymphs of various species that go through incomplete metamorphosis. However, flies don’t go through incomplete metamorphosis – they transform from larva to adult via a pupal stage. Because of that, there’s no way I could have been looking at the shed skin of a fly. I’m such a chucklehead.

Nevertheless, at that particular moment, my brain was telling me that I was looking through a macro lens at a fly’s exoskeleton. Even if it wasn’t an empty fly, it sure looked like the dried and hollowed out body of SOMETHING. Picture my shocked face, then, when that dead empty shell started to slowly walk up the leaf…

Now, I want you to study the above photo. That’s a dead creature, right? Of course it is. Except that it wasn’t. I’m not the brightest bulb, but even I know that zombie flies, or any kind of zombie insect, aren’t a real thing. (Don’t you dare steal my movie idea, though – it’s MINE!) Clearly, I was looking at some kind of living creature. I just couldn’t imagine what it might be.

Later, I discovered that my “zombie fly” was really a derbid plant hopper. According to bugguide.com, “Derbids generally can be recognized by having the row of spines on the second hind tarsal segment and having the apical segment of the beak short.” Oh. Well, now I feel silly… I completely missed that row of spines on the second hind tarsal segment, and I didn’t even think to look for the apical segment of the beak!

Look at the gorgeous blue and red coloring on the wings of this derbid planthopper. This photograph is from September, but is the same species as the one I photographed in August. I found another in early October, and all three were within my square meter plot. I’ve not yet seen one elsewhere (but I’m sure they exist).

Derbid planthoppers are a very diverse group of insects with almost 1,700 species found around the world. According to a couple online sources, derbid nymphs feed on fungi. Adults feed on plants, and at least some are host-specific, meaning that they feed only on a single plant species or group of species. I would love to know if the derbid I photographed was a specialist feeder on one of the plants in my little plot. I would also love to know if the derbids I found in the plot in September and October were actually the same individual as the one from August. It seems unlikely – but probably more likely than a zombie fly.

In Celebration of Black-Eyed Susans

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Before I begin this post, let me say thank you to all of you who voted on the photo choices offered up in last Friday’s post.  This time, there was no difficulty in determining the winners.  About 90% of the voters chose A over B and C over D, and about 75% chose E over F.  I appreciate both the votes and the very thoughtful explanations many of you included along with your choices.  Thank you.

The black-eyed Susan may be the quintessential wildflower species.  If you asked a young student to draw a picture of a wildflower, chances are the result would look something like a black-eyed Susan – a ring of petals around a dark circular center.  As a photographer, I certainly appreciate the flower’s aesthetic appeal, and find myself drawn to photograph it frequently.  This July was no different, and I ended up with quite a few black-eyed Susan photos, some of which are included below.

What is more wildflowery than the black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta)?

What is more wildflowery than the black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta)?  The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies, Nebraska.

This inchworm is apparently attracted more by the forage value than the aesthetic value of this flower.

This inchworm is apparently attracted more by the forage value than the aesthetic value of this flower.

I don't think this plant hopper was feeding on black-eyed Susans - it flew in and landed while I was admiring the flower, so i photographed it.

I don’t think this plant hopper was feeding on black-eyed Susans – it flew in and landed while I was admiring the flower, so I photographed it.

As with the plant hopper, I think this grasshopper nymph simply used the flower as a landing pad when I flushed it as I walked up.

I think this grasshopper nymph simply used the flower as a landing pad after I flushed it as I walked up; I don’t think it was feeding on it.

This crab spider would be glad to have a meal while on the flower, but it's hoping for more protein than the flower can provide. Flower visitors beware!

This crab spider was definitely looking for a meal on this flower, but it was hoping for more protein than the flower can provide.  I believe this is one of the crab spider species that can change color (white to yellow and vice versa) to match flower color.  Watch out pollinators!

Even before they bloom, black-eyed Susans are attractive. (They're also very attractive when they're done blooming - especially in the early fall when their brown dried petals are still hanging on.

Black-eyed Susans are attractive even before they bloom.  (They’re also very attractive when they’re done blooming – especially in the early fall when their brown dried petals are still hanging on.)

As with many of our showiest wildflowers, black-eyed Susans are most abundant a year or two after an event that weakens competition from dominant grasses.  Drought and grazing are both good candidates for that kind of event, and many of the black-eyed Susans we’re seeing this summer benefited from the 2012 drought and the grazing we used as a management tool that year.  As short-lived perennials, they can germinate and bloom quickly when provided with a little open space, light, and moisture.  They are also an easy flower to grow in my yard, and they generally produce enough seed and new plants that I don’t ever have to replant them.

Most of the black-eyed susan flowers in our prairies will be done blooming within the next couple of weeks, though some stragglers will probably continue on through the end of the month.  When they’re done, we’ll venture out to harvest seed from them (wearing gloves to protect the thinner-skinned sides of our fingers from the sharp hairs on the stems) and spread them in some of our degraded prairies where we’ve weakened grasses with this year’s grazing.  Many species we overseed in that manner take a few years to bloom, but black-eyed Susans usually don’t make us wait very long.  I look forward to seeing an abundance of them next year!