Oklahoma Collecting Trip iReport

I’m back home after my week-long collecting trip to western Oklahoma, and at the risk of sounding hyperbolous I can only describe it as one of the most successful collecting trips I’ve ever had. Seriously! These kinds of trips don’t happen all that often for a variety of reasons—timing is off, rains didn’t happen, weather was uncooperative, etc. etc. Once in a while, though, everything comes together, and this was one of those times. The trip was also a return to my roots so to speak—I’ve been rather distracted in recent years with tiger beetles, but jewel beetles (family Buprestidae) and, to a lesser extent longhorned beetles (family Cerambycidae), are really the primary focus of my taxonomic studies. It had been several years since I’d had a good “jewel beetle trip,” so that was the focus of this trip. In planning the trip, I recalled seeing jewel beetle workings in several woody plant species in the same area during last September’s trip, and the occurrence of May rains seemed to bode well for my early June timing.

Gloss Mountains State Park, Major Co., Oklahoma

My instincts proved to be justified—in seven days in the field I collected an estimated 1000–1500 specimens representing at least two dozen species of Buprestidae and a dozen or more Cerambycidae. More important than the numbers, I collected a number of species in good series that I have either not or only rarely collected before, and in fact the second beetle that I collected turned out to be a new state record! Of course, I also brought along my full-sized camera and associated gear and photographed many of the species that I collected. I will feature these photos in future posts, but for this post I thought it might be fun to give a high level view of the trip illustrated only with photos taken with my iPhone (which I also carry religiously in the field with me). The iPhone is great for quick snaps of scenery and miscellaneous plants and animals for which I don’t feel like breaking out the big camera, or as a prelude to the big camera for something I’d like to share right away on Facebook. Moreover, there are some types of photos (landscapes and wide-angles) that iPhones actually do quite well (as long as there is sufficient light!).

Atop the main mesa at Gloss Mountains State Park, Major Co., Oklahoma

My first destination was Gloss Mountains State Park (Major Co.), a stunning system of gypsum-capped, red-clay mesas. I’ve already found a number of rare tiger beetles here such as Cylindera celeripes (Swift Tiger Beetle), Amblycheila cylindriformis (Great Plains Giant Tiger Beetle) and Dromochorus pruinina (Frosted Dromo Tiger Beetle), and in the past two falls I’ve found two interesting jewel beetle records: Chrysobothris octocola as a new state record, and Acmaeodera macra as a northern range extension. On this trip, I started out beating the mesquite  (Prosopis glandulosa) and immediately got the longhorned beetle Plionoma suturalis—a new state record! They were super abundant on the mesquite, and I collected several dozen specimens along with numerous C. octocola as well. I then moved over to the red-cedar (Juniperus virginiana), which was showing a high incidence of branch dieback, and collected nice series of several buprestids, including what I believe to be Chrysobothis ignicollis and C. texanus. Up on top of the mesa there are small stands of hackberry (Celtis laevigata) and soapberry (Sapindus saponaria), both of which are very good hosts for Buprestidae. Not much was on the soapberry, but I beat large series of several Buprestidae from the hackberry, including what I believe to be Chrysobothris caddo and—the real prize—Paratyndaris prosopis! My old friend C. celeripes was also out in abundance, so I collected a series to add to my previous vouchers from this site. Back down below, I marveled at a juvenile western diamondback rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) in the area where I found some more A. cylindriformis larval burrows. Daylight ran out before I could dig them up, and after 11 hours in the field I was exhausted, so I returned the next morning and got one 1st- and two 3rd-instar larvae and went back up on top of the mesa and beat several more P. prosopis from the hackberry.

Bullsnake (Pituophis catenifer sayi) | Alabaster Cavern State Park, Woodward Co., Oklahoma

My second stop was at Alabaster Cavern State Park (Woodward Co.), where C. celeripes was again abundant on the gypsum-clay exposures surrounding an impressive gorge thought to be a collapsed cave complex. I focused on beating hackberry because of the success with buprestids on this plant at Gloss Mountains SP, and although they were not quite as abundant here as at Gloss Mountains I still managed to end up with good series of C. caddo and several species of Agrilus. Because I had spent the morning at Gloss Mountains, I had only a partial day to explore Alabaster Caverns and, still getting used to the weight of the camera bag on my back, decided to leave the big camera in the car. This was a mistake, as I encountered my first ever bullsnake (Pituophis catenifer sayi) and had to settle for iPhone photos of this species—the photo above being the best of the bunch. An approaching storm put an end to my second day after another 10 hours in the field, and I drove an hour to Woodward.

Moneilema sp. on Opuntia phaecantha | Alabaster Cavern State Park, Woodward Co., Oklahoma

My third day started out at nearby Boiling Springs State Park, a riparian oasis on sandy alluvium alongside the nearby Cimarron River. The woodlands are dominated by hackberry and American elm, and although a few buprestids were beaten from hackberry and honey locust (Gleditisia triacanthos), the numbers and diversity were not enough to hold my interest in the spot. After lunch, I decided to return to Alabaster Caverns SP and explore some other areas I had not had a chance to explore during the previous partial day. It’s a good thing that I did, as I ended up finding a nice population of longhorned cactus beetles in the genus Moneilema associated with prickly pear cactus (Opuntia phaecantha). I collected a nice series of adults and also learned a few lessons in how to photograph these beetles on their viciously protective host plants. The photo above gives a taste of what will come in the photos that I took with the big camera. After eight hours in the field and darkness falling, I drove two hours to Forgan in Beaver Co.

Beaver Dunes State Park, Beaver Co., Oklahoma

Day 4 in the field started out cold and ominous, having stormed heavily during the previous night and with thick clouds still hanging in the sky. I feared the day might be a wash but decided to venture to Beaver Dunes State Park anyway and take my chances (beating can still be productive even in cold weather as long as the foliage is not wet). It’s a good thing that I did, as the buprestids were as numerous as I’ve ever seen them. The park’s central feature is a system of barren sand dunes that are frequented by ORV enthusiasts and surrounded by hackberry woodlands. The park also has a reservoir and campground, around which are growing a number of cottonwoods (Populus deltoides).

Hackberry Bend Campground, Beaver Dunes State Park, Beaver Co., Oklahoma

These hackberrys and cottonwoods proved to be extraordinarily productive. On the former I collected large series of several species of Chrysobothris and Agrilus, and while I collected fewer Buprestidae on the latter, these included Agrilus quadriguttatus and Poecilonota cyanipes! The latter species I had never collected until last year (from Cerceris fumipennis wasps), and beating the lower branches of the declining cottonwoods produced a series of about a dozen specimens. I also got one specimen on black willow (Salix nigra), along with a few Chrysobothris sp. and what I take to be Agrilus politus. Also in a low branch of one of the cottonwoods was a bird’s nest with a single egg that, according to Facebook comments, either represents the American Robin or a Gray Catbird. (I returned the next day and saw two eggs in the same nest.)

American Robin or Gray Catbird nest w/ egg | Beaver Dunes State Park, Beaver Co., Oklahoma

As the day drew to a close, I found two interesting longhorned beetle species at the edge of the dunes: one large, powdery gray Tetraopes sp. on milkweed (Asclepias sp.), and huge numbers of Batyle ignicollis evidently perched on the yellow spiked inflorescence of an as yet undetermined plant. I have seen this species on many occasions, but always in low numbers, yet here were literally hundreds of individuals on the plants, all having assumed a characteristic pose on the inflorescence suggesting that they had bedded down for the night. I only spent eight hours in the field on this day because of the late start, and as darkness approached I began the two-hour drive to Boise City.

Sculpted sandstone landscape in the vicinity of Black Mesa State Park, Cimarron Co., Oklahoma

The final two days in the field were supposed to be spent exploring the area around Black Mesa in the extreme northwest corner of Oklahoma, and another hour of driving was needed to get to the area from Boise City. I first went to Black Mesa State Park, and while the landscape was stunning (see above) the area was extremely dry. I feared the collecting would not be at all productive in this area but wanted to give the area a good effort before making a call. As I approached the entrance to the park, I saw a jeep parked by the side of the road with a license plate that read “Schinia,” which I recognized as a genus of noctuid moths that are very popular with collectors. I pulled over and talked to the driver, who was indeed a lepidopterist from Denver and had just arrived himself. We talked and exchanged contact information, and learning of my interest in beetles he directed me to a small stand of Gambel oak (Quercus gambelii) and one-seed juniper (Juniperus monosperma) on a sculpted sandstone escarpment not far from the park. I found the spot, and although I beat three Chrysobothris sp. from the first juniper tree that I whacked, another hour of beating produced only one more beetle from the juniper and nothing from the oak. I returned to the spot where we had met and encountered him again on his way out! We stopped and chatted again and found a few specimens of what I take to be Typocerus confluens on the yellow asters, but by then I was having my doubts about staying in the area. I told him I was going to check out a ravine in the park and then decide.

Petrified forest | Black Mesa State Park, Cimarron Co., Oklahoma

The petrified forest ended up being the only interesting thing I found in the ravine—the area was so dry that I think even the real trees were almost petrified! At any rate, it was clear that I was not going to have much success in this area. I looked at my watch, knowing that it would take three hours to drive back to Beaver Dunes, and estimated that if I left now I could get in about three hours of collecting at Beaver Dunes where I’d had so much success the previous day. Thus, I did what I rarely do on a collecting trip—drive during the afternoon!

The main dune at Beaver Dunes State Park, Beaver Co., Oklahoma.

A chunky grasshopper nymph inhabiting the main dune.

I arrived back at Beaver Dunes with several hours of daylight still remaining, so I decided to take a look around the main dunes before heading towards the woody plants. I’ve actually visited Beaver Dunes previously, on the tail end of a fall tiger beetle trip in 2011. At that time I had seen only the rather common and widespread species Cicindela formosa (Big Sand Tiger Beetle) and C. scutellaris (Festive Tiger Beetle), but I thought there could still be a chance to see the much less common C. lengi (Blowout Tiger Beetle). Early June, however, is a little late to see the spring tigers, and in fact I saw only a single C. formosa. Nevertheless, I find dune habitats irresistible—alien habitats occupied by strange plants and animals, and I spent a bit of time exploring the main dune before heading back towards where I had collected so many Buprestidae the previous day.

Low water levels in the reservoir at Beaver Dunes are a result of three years of drought.

Western Oklahoma, like many parts of the central U.S., has suffered rather severe drought conditions for the past several years. This was evident not only in the large amount of branch dieback seen in the woody vegetation of the area (and probably a contributor to my success at collecting Buprestidae) but also the very low water level in the park reservoir. In the photo above the small cottonwood saplings in the foreground and large cottonwood trees in the left background indicate the normal water level. Cottonwoods, of course, like to keep their feet wet, and the trees around this reservoir—left high and dry by the drought—have responded with major branch dieback and lots of subsequent adventitious sprouting at the bases of the main branches. It was from this adventitious growth that I had beaten most of the Poecilonota cyanipes that I collected the previous day, so I repeated the cottonwood circuit in the hopes of collecting more. Not only did I collect more, but I collected twice as many as the previous day, so I ended up with a very nice series of more than two dozen individuals of the species from the two days collecting. I also did a little more beating of the hackberry trees which had produced well the previous day and collected several more Chrysobothris caddo, C. purpureovittata, and Agrilus spp. such as A. lecontei, A. paracelti, and perhaps others. When I arrived I was unsure whether I would stay here the following day, but eventually I decided I had sampled the area about as well as I could and that I would go back to the Gloss Mountains for my last day in Oklahoma. Thus, as the day began to wane I began hiking back to the car and spent the next two hours driving back to Woodward to spend the night.

Steep slope below the main mesa | Gloss Mountains State Park, Major Co., Oklahoma

Echinocereus sp. | Gloss Mountains State Park, Major Co., Oklahoma

Arriving at the Gloss Mountains the next morning was like coming home! I’ve spent so much time at this place and found so many great insects, yet every time I come here I find something new. Today, however, my goals were more modest—I wanted to improve on my series of Paratyndaris prosopis and Chrysobothris texanus, so I focused most of my time beating the hackberry and juniper on top of the mesa and continued beating the juniper down below as well. Success! I collected four more Paratyndaris off of the hackberry, but the C. texanus were far more abundant on this day than they were earlier in the week—I probably got another two dozen individuals of this species. Of course, I also got distracted taking photographs of a number of things, so the day went far more quickly than I realized. I wanted to leave around 6 pm and get in about three hours of driving so that I would have time to make it into Missouri the next morning and have a nice chunk of time to collect before finishing the drive and arriving home on Saturday night. It was actually closer to 7:30 pm before I hit the road, the reason for the delay being the subject of a future post (I will say that BioQuip’s extendable net handle comes in handy for much more than collecting tiger beetles!).

Dolomite glades | Hercules Glades Wilderness, Taney Co., Missouri

Long Creek | Hercules Glades Wilderness, Taney Co., Missouri

For my last day of collecting, I decided to stop by at one of my favorite spots in the White River Hills of extreme southwestern Missouri—Hercules Glades Wilderness in the Mark Twain National Forest. I’ve been to this place a number of times over the years, but in recent years my visits have usually been late in the season to look for the always thrilling to see Cicindelidia obsoleta vulturina (Prairie Tiger Beetle). It had actually been about 25 years since I’d visited these glades during the spring, and because of the success I’d had collecting in Oklahoma I was really optimistic that I would find the same here. Sadly (and inexplicably), insect activity was very low, and it didn’t take long for this to become apparent as branch after branch that I beat along the trail through the dry-mesic forest down to Long Creek yielded nothing. By the time I got to the creek I still had not collected a single beetle. A consolation prize was found along the creek, as beating the ninebark (Physocarpos opulifolius) produced a few specimens of the pretty little Dicerca pugionata, and a couple more consolation prizes were found further up the trail approaching the main glade when I saw a Cylindera unipunctata (One-spotted Tiger Beetle) run across the trail and then beat a single Agrilus fuscipennis from a small persimmon (Diospyros virginiana) tree at the edge of the glades. It had been about 25 years since I last collected the latter species, so I was very happy to see it, but no more were seen despite beating every persimmon tree that I saw during the rest of the day. At the end of the day, I had hiked seven miles and collected only six beetles—a rather inauspicious ending to what was otherwise a wonderfully successful trip.

The author takes a rare ”selfie” at Gloss Mountains State Park.

Arriving back at the car at the end of the day on the last day of an extended collecting trip is always a little depressing—despite the vagaries of travel, cheap hotel beds, meals on the go, and general exhaustion, I’m never happier than I am when I am in the field. Still, the success that I’d had during this trip did much to ease my depression, and arriving home late that night and seeing my girls again (who waited up for me!) finished off any remaining depression.

© Ted C. MacRae 2013

Western Diamondback Rattlesnake

Western Diamondback Rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) | Gloss Mountains, Major Co., Oklahoma

I’m always delighted to see snakes, even venomous species, and whenever my collecting takes me west I know my chances of seeing snakes are good. My first stop during the current collecting trip was the Gloss Mountains of northwestern Oklahoma, and although I have visited this place several times since “discovering” it in June 2009, I have seen only a single snake during all of my previous visits—a charming little Western Pygmy Rattlesnake (Sistrurus miliarius streckeri). I’m a little surprised by this, as the habitat looks perfect for the one snake that truly don’t look forward to encountering—the Prairie Rattlesnake (Crotalus viridis). As I roam the surrounding mixed grass prairies (by both day and night) I am ever on the watch for these terrifyingly aggressive snakes, having learned my lesson with this species a few years ago in South Dakota’s Black Hills. I spent two days in the area during this trip, and I still have not seen one, but I did see a young (just over 2 feet in length) Western Diamondback Rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox)—my first for this species. Although he was lying in an eroded ravine in the red clay talus slopes and partially hidden by an overhanging clump of grass, the diamond pattern immediately drew my eye as something out of the ordinary, and I was able to move the grasses aside (with my net handle!) and get this shot before he even flinched. After the first flash he started getting agitated, and I was only able to get two more (not as good) shots before he’d had enough and began retreating into the thicker grass above the ravine—rattle buzzing vigorously as he left. Comparatively speaking, he was one of the most docile rattlesnakes I’ve encountered, but since this is the only Western Diamondback I’ve seen I don’t know if that is a hallmark of the species or more due to his young age.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

How to collect larvae of Amblycheila cylindriformis

Amblycheila cylindriformis larval burrow | Major Co., Oklahoma

Step 1. Go to your favorite grassland habitat in the western half of the Great Plains anywhere from Texas north to South Dakota and look for barren soil amongst the vegetation. Clay banks near streams or in ravines and even vertical clay bluff faces are also good (although I have not myself observed the latter). “My” spot is in the Glass Mountains of northwestern Oklahoma, where talus slopes in mixed-grass prairie beneath flat-topped mesas and the ravines that cut through them provide just enough slope for this species’ liking.

Burrow diameter of ~8mm identifies this as a 3rd instar larva.

Step 2. Look for large, almost perfectly round burrow entrances that go straight down from the surface. By large, I mean approximately 6–8 mm in diameter—as large a burrow as any tiger beetle in North America will make. Many other insects create burrows, but tiger beetle burrows are generally recognizable by their almost perfectly circular shape and clean, beveled edge. Look closely, and the burrow will be seen to actually be slightly D-shaped to match the shape of the tiger beetle larva’s head—the large, sickle-shaped, upward-facing jaws resting against the flat part of the D. In the case of this species, they tend to be found in clusters of several burrows in close proximity to each other. The burrow in these photos was found at the upper edge of a drainage ravine on the upper part of the talus slopes (see diagram in this post).

Dig around the burrow, carefully excavating along the grass stem, until the larva is reached.

Step 3. Try this first—chew the end of a long, narrow grass stem (frayed and sticky will be easier for the larva to grab hold of) and stick it down the burrow until it hits bottom, tap lightly a few times to entice a bite, then yank (and I mean yank!) the stem out. With luck, the larva will come flying out of the burrow and land somewhere on the ground in front of you. (By the way, if you have never done this, you are missing one of the greatest treats that insect collecting has to offer. If you have done it, you owe it to yourself to show this to somebody else who has not ever seen it—their shocked reaction at the sight of the flying larva is beyond priceless!) Larvae are not always in the mood to bite, however, so if the so-called “fishing” technique does not work then you will have to dig. Stick the grass stem back down the burrow and begin excavating around the burrow, carefully prying away the soil adjacent to the burrow to prevent it from falling into and obscuring the burrow. Keep excavating as you follow the grass stem down until, at least, you reach the larva. In the photo above you can see in the lower right-center area the burrow with the grass stem protruding from it and the larva placed on a clump of soil in front of the shovel (for sense of scale). It seems I had an easy time of it with this larva, as literature sources report larval burrows extending down to depths of a meter or more.

Amblycheila cylindriformis 3rd instar larva.

Step 4. Behold the beast! There is nothing more that can be said—these larvae are ginormous! This particular larva measured a full 62 mm from the tips of its mandibles to the tip of its abdomen—that’s 2½ inches! No other tiger beetle larva in North America reaches this size, except perhaps the related A. hoversoni (South Texas Giant Tiger Beetle).

The distinctly smaller 2nd pair of eyes confirm this is not Tetracha or Cicindela (sensu lato)…

Step 5. If size alone isn’t enough, you can confirm that the larvae does indeed belong to the genus Amblycheila by looking at its eyes—their are two pairs, and the 1st pair (closest to the mandibles) are distinctly larger than the 2nd pair. This isn’t clearly visible in the photo above because I doused the larva with water to remove the mud and dirt that encrusted it upon removal from its burrow.

…and the distinctly separated hooks on the 5th abdominal segment confirm it is Amblycheila.

Step 6. Another way to distinguish larvae of the genus Amblycheila is by looking at the hooks on the hump of the 5th abdominal segment, best done with a hand lens (or, even better, with an MP-E65 lens!). All tiger beetle larvae have several pairs of large hooks that the larva uses to brace itself against the wall of its burrow when capturing prey to prevent the struggling prey from pulling the tiger beetle larva out of its burrow. Larvae in the genus Omus, restricted to the Pacific region of North America, have three pairs of hooks (referred to as the outer, middle, and inner hooks), while all other North American tiger beetle genera have two (having lost the outer pair). In Amblycheila and Tetracha the hooks are simple and thornlike, while larvae of all other North American genera have much longer middle hooks that are curved and sickle-shaped (e.g., Cylindera celeripes in this post). Amblycheila larvae can be distinguished from Tetracha larvae by the middle and inner hooks on each side being distinctly separated rather than touching at the base (e.g., Tetracha floridana in this post). There is also a cluster of short, stout hairs around the base of each hook in Amblycheila that is missing in Tetracha (e.g., Tetracha virginica in this post).

The numerous stout setae are also characteristic of the genus.

Step 7. Lastly, don’t forget to look at the hump in lateral profile—it is as alien a structure as any in the insect world. In the case of Amblycheila larvae, the bed of hairs posterior to the hooks is comprised of much shorter, stouter, and more densely placed hairs than larvae of Tetracha.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2013

Black olives with legs

While searching the open red-cedar woodland at Oklahoma’s Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge back in September, I rather regularly encountered these darkling beetles (family Tenebrionidae) that I recognized as the species Eleodes tricostata. I really wanted to photograph the first several that I found, but I soon abandoned this idea because they just… wouldn’t… stop… crawling! Not that I’m impatient and couldn’t wait one out if I put my mind to it, but what I was really after was more photos of the beautifully black Cicindelidia obsoleta vulturina (Prairie Tiger Beetle) population that I had just found there. It would take most of the afternoon before I finally got the nice, closeup photos of the tiger beetle that I wanted, and as I started to leave the site I found yet another of these darkling beetles… just sitting there! The beetle didn’t move at all as I took first a few lateral profiles, then moved around to the front for the face shots that I so love, and finally back to the side for even more profiles. I was even able to remove the stick that the beetle had siddled up against to improve the composition of the profile shot and then place it behind the beetle as a backdrop in the frontal shot. Another lesson in why it pays not to waste too much time with uncooperative subjects when others are available.

I already knew about this species because I have encountered it several times before in my travels across the western states, but most memorably during my first visit to the Great Plains back in 1986 when I saw large numbers of this species and the related E. suturalis crossing the highway in front of us during the early evening hours in south-central Kansas. I’d never seen such en masse movement by large beetles, and although I’ve seen both of these species numerous times since I’ve not seen another such migration. Eleodes is the largest genus in the family in North America but occurs exclusively in the western states. Famous for their skunk-like head-stand when disturbed, Triplehorn et al. (2009) note the genus name is derived from Greek and means “olive-like.” This is certainly the case for most of the other members of the genus—mostly black and shiny, the larger species resemble “black olives with legs”; however, this species has not quite such aspect. Rather, its dull color, depressed fusiform shape and elytra with distinct, tuberculate costae (Triplehorn et al. 2009, Bernett 2008) make it immediately recognizable amongst the dozens of congeners that are likely to be found co-occurring with it in the different parts of its wide range.

Not quite a head stand, but he wants to do it.

Although the normal range of this species covers the Great Plains from Canada to Mexico, its eastern limit of distribution is still incompletely known. There are some historical records from western and central Iowa, but it was only recently that Maxwell & Young (1998) reported the species for the first time from east of the Mississippi River in Wisconsin. Seeing this report made me wonder if I might be able to find the species in Missouri also; however, those authors noted that the Wisconsin population was encountered exclusively in open habitats with exposed soil surfaces and sandy soil in close proximity to shrub and tree cover. No such habitat exists in western Missouri, and although tiny remnants of sand prairie  habitat remain in the southeastern lowlands of the state they lack significant shrub and tree cover and are instead vegetated primarily by grasses and forbs.

REFERENCES:

Bernett, A. 2008. The genus Eleodes Eschscholtz (Coleoptera: Tenebrionidae) of eastern Colorado. Journal of the Kansas Entomological Society 81(4):377-391.

Maxwell, J. A. & D. K. Young. 1998. A significant eastern range extension for Eleodes tricostatus (Say) (Coleoptera: Tenebrionidae). The Coleopterists Bulletin 52(1):90–92.

Triplehorn, C. A., D. B. Thomas, and E. G. Riley. 2009. The genus Eleodes Eschscholtz (Coleoptera: Tenebrionidae) in Texas. The Coleopterists Bulletin 63(4):413-437.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2012

Why are this beetle’s elytra outstretched?

Toposcopus wrightii on dead branch Juniperus virginiana | Major Co., Oklahoma

I’ve puzzled over the beetle in the above photo since I first saw it back in September on Day 2 of this year’s Annual Fall Tiger Beetle Trip. I encountered it on a dead branch of eastern red-cedar (Juniperus virginiana) on top of the main mesa at Gloss Mountain State Park in northwestern Oklahoma. At about 8 mm in length, it immediately struck me as possibly something in the family Ripiphoridae (wedge-shaped beetles). Still, the full-length elytra covering the abdomen made me doubt that identification, so I collected the specimen to get a better look at it when I returned home. Later that same day, while scanning the base of another mesa across the highway from the park at night, I came upon another individual that seemed to represent the same species—this time on a dead branch of fragrant sumac (Rhus aromatica). That individual is seen in the photo below, and two things are immediately apparent: 1) the beetle is a female in the act of oviposition, and 2) it is holding its elytra outstretched in a most curious way.

Another female oviposits on a dead branch of Rhus aromatica.

A quick browse through BugGuide’s ripiphorid images quickly showed a likely match with the genus Toposcopus, and consulting the original description of both the genus and its only included species—T. wrightii (LeConte 1868) showed agreement with the key diagnostic character (eyes divided into two lobes connected by a slender line of smooth, non-faceted corneous membrane). These two females differ from the male by their much less flabellate antennae (presumably the male uses these organs to detect female-emitted pheromones). LeConte described this species from New Mexico, and Rivnay (1929) also saw specimens from Texas and Arizona when he reviewed the North and Central American species of the family. Although the species is listed on Don Arnold’s Checklist of the Coleoptera of Oklahoma, the listing seems to be based only on the presence of specimens in the Oklahoma State University insect collection, while published records of its occurrence in the state are, as far as I can tell, still lacking. This species, thus, seems to be, along with Acmaeodera macra and Chrysobothris octocola (both family Buprestidae), an example of a typically southwestern U.S. species whose distribution extends northeast into the Red Hills Region of northwestern Oklahoma. Considering that Cylindera celeripes (Swift Tiger Beetle) and Amblycheila cylindriformis (Great Plains Giant Tiger Beetle) also have only recently been discovered in this area, it would seem that this part of the state is still undersampled and has the potential to yield additional interesting southwestern U.S. species.

Why is this female holding her elytra outstretched while ovipositing?

Regarding the outstretched elytra, I’ve not seen this type of behavior before with a beetle in the act of oviposition. While several groups of insects in other orders may hold their forewings outstretched as part of threat displays, I’ve not seen a beetle hold its elytra outstretched for any reason at all other than flight and don’t recall seeing such behavior mentioned in the literature either. Thus, I’m at a loss to explain why the beetle is doing this. If you have any ideas I would love to hear them.

One thing that I enjoy immensely about 19th Century taxonomic literature is the rich, often effusive prose that frequently accompanies the descriptive portions of the text. (I also lament that such colorful writings are nearly universally frowned upon my modern editors. Perhaps as taxonomy advances more fully into electronic-only publishing the concerns about space will dissipate and taxonomic authors will no longer be constrained to such sterile, uniform, precisely formatted writings.) The naming of this species provides an especially colorful example of the embellishments permitted to 19th Century authors:

I desire in the name of this beautiful and interesting addition to our fauna, to commemorate the ability of Gen. W. W. Wright, the Chief Engineer and Commander of the Survey in which the species in the present memoir were collected. His attention to the comfort and safety of the party while traveling through a hostile Indian country will not soon be forgotten by any of his companions; while the skill with which the more difficult portions of the route were examined, and the labors of his assistants directed to the most easy methods of surmounting the difficulties, will commend itself to every admirer of correct engineering.

John L. LeConte is widely regarded as the father of North American coleopterology. I don’t think there is anybody from the 19th Century, save perhaps Charles Darwin, that I would have more liked to meet.

REFERENCES: 

LeConte, J. L. 1868. New Coleoptera collected on the survey for the extension of the Union Pacific Railway, E. D. from Kansas to Fort Craig, New Mexico. Transactions of the American Entomological Society 2:49–59.

Rivnay, E. 1929. Revision of the Rhipiphoridae of North and Central America (Coleoptera). Memoirs of the American Entomological Society 6:1–67, 3 plates.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2012

Consolation Crossidius

Rewind back to Day 2 of this year’s Annual Fall Tiger Beetle Trip at Gloss Mountain State Park in northwestern Oklahoma—these were actually the first non-Missouri beetles that I photographed on the trip. Crossidius pulchellus is a longhorned beetle (family Cerambycidae) that occurs commonly on flowers of broom snakeweed (Gutierrezia sarothrae) and relatives throughout the Great Plains and southern Rocky Mountains.

Crossidius pulchellus on flowers of Gutierrezia sarothrae | Major Co., Oklahoma. The dense vestiture (covering of hairs) of the beetles is made more conspicuous by backlighting the beetles with the sun.

I find it rather ironic that Crossidius pulchellus was the first western beetle that I encountered, since my original plans for this year’s late-season trip centered on looking specifically for longhorned beetles in the genus Crossidius (see last year’s Crossidius coralinus fulgidus for an extraordinarily beautiful representative of this genus). Unlike the vast majority of the family that develop as larvae in dead wood, species in this diverse, exclusively western North American genus bore through the roots living, perennial shrubs belonging to the genera Gutierrezia, Chrysothamnus/Ericameria, and Haplopappus (family Asteraceae)—the “goldenrods” of the west, they bloom in widespread, yellow-flowered profusion as summer turns to fall. A wide variety of insects are attracted to these blooms, most of which—bees, flies, wasps, moths, etc.—are opportunistic pollinators. Crossidius beetles, however, are intimately associated with the plants, seemingly spending their entire, brief adult lives either perched, feeding, or mating upon the flowers. Even at night, rather than leaving the plants to search for protected hiding spots, they simply bury themselves deeper amongst the flowers and await the next morning’s first, warming rays of sunlight.

Sampling the diversity of Crossidius that springs forth each year across the west requires carefully timed travel to multiple localities spread widely across rough terrain. As longhorned beetles go, the genus exhibits an astounding level of polytopism (geographically-based variation) that in many respects resembles that exhibited by North American tiger beetles. This has resulted in the description of a relatively large number of species, most of which can be further divided into numerous recognizable subspecies and even local morphs. The discontinuous distribution of their host plants across the broken western topography and resulting isolation of local populations have contributed to this variability, further complicated by hybridization among species occurring together in a given locality (Linsley & Chemsak 1961). I got a taste of the diversity of these beetles during last year’s fall tiger beetle trip as I looped through Colorado, Idaho, and Utah. Although my plans to look for them this year didn’t work out, my appetite remains whetted. There is always next year!

REFERENCE:

Linsley, E. G. & J. A. Chemsak. 1961. A distributional and taxonomic study of the genus Crossidius (Coleoptera, Cerambycidae). Miscellaneous Publications of the Entomological Society of America 3(2):26–64, 3 color plates.

An uncommon fall-active Acmaeodera

During last week’s visit to Alabaster Caverns State Park in northeastern Oklahoma (Woodward Co.), I saw a fair number of jewel beetles (family Buprestidae) representing a then-unidentified species of Acmaeodera. All of the individuals that I saw were visiting flowers of Heterotheca stenophylla (family Asteraceae), and had it not been fall I wouldn’t have thought much about it. However, fall activity is unusual among North American jewel beetles, particularly in the genus Acmaeodera. An occasional straggler from earlier in the season is one thing, but the numbers seen (perhaps close to two dozen) over the course of a couple hours left no doubt in my mind that these were newly active adults. In North America, most species of Acmaeodera are active during the spring and early summer months, during which time they visit a wide variety of flowers (but especially asteraceous species) to feed on pollen. They can also be found in late summer in southeast Arizona, but in that area nearly all jewel beetles (and a large number of other insect groups as well) occur in synchrony with the monsoonal season that begins in July. Only in southern Texas (and further south in México) have I seen truly fall-active jewel beetles, including several species of Acmaeodera.

This actually was not the first time I had seen this species during fall in Oklahoma. Last year I made a brief stop at Gloss Mountain State Park (about 30 miles southeast of Alabaster Caverns in Major Co.) on my way back from a late September collecting trip to Colorado/Utah/Idaho (still convinced that the Beautiful Tiger Beetle, Cicindela pulchra, might be there). Then, as now, I found more than a handful of adults (also visiting flowers of H. stenophylla), suggesting this was true fall activity and causing me to think, “Hmm, that’s weird.” I was pressed for time, however, and didn’t even grab my camera bag for the short hour or so that I had to look around, and once I returned home I quickly resumed my routine and forgot about trying to identify the beetles.

Acmaeodera macra | Woodward Co., Oklahoma

Returning home after this year’s trip I was not so inclined to forget, and when I mentioned it to my friend Chuck Bellamy he suggested that it might be the fall-active species, Acmaeodera macra (MCZ type specimen). Immediately I knew this was correct, as I had actually seen this species once before—a single specimen that I collected nearly 30 years ago  in south Texas at Bentsen-Rio Grandy Valley State Park on a Helianthus annuus flower (MacRae 2006). I don’t know why I didn’t think of that species when I saw it this time, other than perhaps I was still under the impression that this uncommonly encountered species was limited to the Rio Grande Valley and adjacent areas as stated by Vogt (1949) and Westcott et al. (1979). Recently, however, Westcott (2001) provided the first records of this species from outside of Texas—from Oklahoma!—and later recorded it also from Nuevo León, México (Westcott 2008).¹

¹ Nelson et al. (2008), in their North American catalogue of Buprestidae, also list Arizona in the distribution of this species. However, I am unaware of any supporting references for its occurrence there, and the catalogue is known to be frustratingly rife with errors and omissions. 

Bathed in pollen!

The Oklahoma records for this species given by Westcott (2001) include localities in Blaine, Cleveland, Greer, and Oklahoma Counties (with the latter taken on Grindelia sp., presumably flowers). Interestingly, with the exception of Greer Co. all of these counties lie along the Blaine Escarpment that separates the Gypsum Hills and Red Hills physiographic regions, and the two additional counties that I have now recorded for the species in Oklahoma (Major and Woodward) lie further to the north along this escarpment as well. With these new records, Alabaster Caverns now becomes the northernmost known outpost for A. macra. However, since Woodward Co. lies along the northern tier of counties in Oklahoma and the Blaine Escarpment extends further into south-central Kansas, it is possible that an even more northern outpost might eventually be found for the species. Little is known about the biology of this species—the only host records are for adults and include my sunflower record (MacRae 2006), Vogt’s (1949) mention of the species’ preference for “composite flowers” and records of adults on Acacia berlandieri and visiting flowers of Verbesina encelioides (Westcott et al. 1979). It’s anybody’s guess as to what the larval host is, but my guess is that in Oklahoma it’s restricted to vertical walls and talus slopes, since I never saw individuals outside of these specific situations despite the widespread occurrence of its H. stenophylla flower host.

REFERENCES:

MacRae, T. C. 2006. Distributional and biological notes on North American Buprestidae (Coleoptera), with comments on variation in Anthaxia (Haplanthaxia) viridicornis (Say) and A. (H.) viridfrons Gory. The Pan-Pacific Entomologist 82(2):166–199.

Nelson, G. H., G. C. Walters, Jr., R. D. Haines, & C. L. Bellamy.  2008.  A Catalogue and Bibliography of the Buprestoidea of American North of Mexico.  Coleopterists Society Special Publication No. 4, The Coleopterists Society, North Potomac, Maryland, 274 pp.

Vogt, G. H. 1949. A biologically annotated list of the Buprestidae of the Lower Rio Grande Valley, Texas. Annals of the Entomological Society of America 42(2): 192–202.

Westcott, R. L. 2001.  An interspecific hybrid in the genus Acmaeodera Eschscholta, a taxonomic note on Chrysobothris kelloggi Knull, and new distribution and host records for United States and Canadian species in these and other genera (Coleoptera: Buprestidae).  Jewel Beetles, 10:76-81.

Westcott, R. L., W. F. Barr, G. H. Nelson, & D. S. Verity.  1979.  Distributional and biological notes notes on North and Central American species of Acmaeodera (Coleoptera: Buprestidae).  The Coleopterists Bulletin, 33(2):169-181.

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2012

Dressed in black

The first three days of this year’s Fall Tiger Beetle Trip had been fun, and finding a new state record jewel beetle and an unusual seasonal activity record for another were definitely icing on the cake. Still, tiger beetles (at least adults) had been notably absent, with my hunch that Cicindela pulchra (Beautiful Tiger Beetle) might occur in the Red Hills of northwestern Oklahoma not playing out. My next goal was to go down to northern Texas and look for Cicindelidia politula (Limestone Tiger Beetle)—a species I have not yet encountered in the field. When I saw that the route south took me through the Wichita Mountains of southwestern Oklahoma, I recalled seeing this photo of Cicindelidia obsoleta vulturina (Prairie Tiger Beetle) on BugGuide taken in these very mountains during the fall. I have seen on many occasions the greenish Missouri / Arkansas disjunct population of this subspecies, but I had not yet seen the main population and its decidedly black individuals, so this became my quarry for Day 4 of the trip. I had nothing more to go on for a locality than “Wichita Mountains NWR” and a sense of its habitat preferences based on my own experience with the MO/AR disjuncts, so after arriving at the refuge I began to look for access to a 2-track leading to higher, unforested ground (reminiscent of the dolomite glades of southwestern Missouri). I quickly found a parking lot with a 2-track leading from it, so I pulled off, geared up, and set out on what I figured was surely a wild goose chase. The track looked good, but no beetles were seen, and after walking about a half-mile I happened to look up and see this not too far ahead:

American bison | Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge, Oklahoma

Call me chicken, but bison can and will charge without warning. Even though they seemed unconcerned by my presence, I wasn’t with anybody that I knew I could outrun and decided that a cautious, tip-toeing retreat would the best course of action (even taking the above photo—uncropped, I might add—made me nervous). What now? I was quickly back at the car and not sure what to do next when I saw a foot path leading into a cedar woods, behind which the land rose up to treeless heights. I decided that might be a good place to explore—as long as I didn’t run into any bison along the way! As I was hiking through the woodland—an open, obviously long ago planted grove of eastern red cedar (Juniperus virginiana)—I passed by a small opening and almost by instinct veered into the opening to have a look. As soon as I stepped into the opening I saw the unmistakable escape flight of two large tiger beetles—what the…?! No doubt about it, they were C. o. vulturina, and they had been hanging out by a fairly fresh bovid chip (bison or cow, I don’t know). (I have seen this behavior also with the MO/AR disjuncts.) I watched them land and decided which one I would try to photograph. I guess I picked right, because the following photo was among the first few that I got:

Cicindelidia obsoleta vulturina (prairie tiger beetle) | Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge, Oklahoma

Despite the jet-black dorsal surface (which contrasts with the green to greenish-black to bronzy dorsal surface of the MO/AR disjuncts), these were colorful beetles with gorgeous metallic blue genae (cheeks) and intense violaceous tibia (lower legs). This first individual was quite cooperative (usually it’s the tenth or more beetle that I try to photograph that actually allows me to do so), so I spent a bit of time trying to coax it back to the bovid chip from which it flew. Eventually I succeeded in this and took a few more photos, the following of which I liked the best:

Shade seeking next to a bovid chip.

I’m still a bit puzzled about the habitat in which I found these beetles. I would have considered it an anomaly had I not seen two beetles at the same time and then subsequently seen a mating pair in almost the exact same spot. Prairie tiger beetles are known for their preference of open grassland habitats rather than woodlands, and indeed I saw more individuals back along the 2-track that I had abandoned earlier (once I got the courage to stray down it again later in the day). The photo below shows almost the entirety of the opening where I found the beetles, with the bovid chip located on the ground in the lower center of the photo:

An unusually wooded habitat for Cicindelidia obsoleta vulturina.

Seeing these two individuals in the small woodland opening gave me greater optimism that I would be able to find more on the grassy higher slopes above the cedar grove. I crossed the creek and climbed to the top of the first ridge, passing through what seemed to be ideal habitat for the beetle but seeing none. Although igneous in origin, the rocky landscape reminded me very much of the dolomite glades that lace through the White River Hills of southwestern Missouri and that harbour robust populations of this beetle (but occurring nowhere else in the state).

Rocky grasslands extend towards Mt. Scott.

After posting one of these landscape photos on my Facebook page, I got a comment from Thomas Shahan saying he had been to the area recently and seen a “dark Cicindela” atop nearby Elk Mountain. Low and behold, the beetle in the photo that he included was none other than this subspecies, so at least now I know they do occur in this more expected habitat despite my not having seen them on this day.

Failing to find the beetle on higher ground, and wanting to try for even closer photographs, I returned to “the opening” and immediately found another individual to photograph. A female, she may (or may not) have been the partner to the male I photographed earlier, but at any rate she was not nearly as cooperative. I chased her back and forth through the opening for about a half-hour before I finally got close enough to get a shot (my use of tube extensions required that I get even closer than before). As typically happens, however, she gradually became more and more accustomed to my presence, and eventually I was able to get a few photos with the beetle in fairly relaxed, candid poses. The following are my favorites:

A less trusting individual relunctantly allows herself to be photographed.

She looks angry, but in reality I caught her mandibles half open in the midst of chewing movements.

After photographing these individuals, I returned to the car and decided to wander (tentatively) down the 2-track that I had to abandon earlier in the day. This time I fouund the beetles easily, seeing perhaps half a dozen individuals in just the first quarter-mile. My wanderings, however, were once again cut short when I came around a tree bank and saw those same two bison, much closer to the road this time. I really wanted to get a better photograph than the one above, but common sense at first prevented me from getting any closer. I studied the two magnificent behemoths looking for any sign of annoyance, and seeing none I began to creep ever so tiny a bit closer. Eventually my heart rose too high in my throat to approach any closer, and I snapped the following photo and began a hasty, horse-eyed retreat—not even knowing for sure if the shot was good but feeling a little too proud of myself and my stupidity courage!

A little too close for comfort!

Copyright © Ted C. MacRae 2012