Bittacus chlorostigma

Hanging flies are unusual insects that often get overlooked. They aren't really flies at all. In fact they don't even look like flies. They are about an inch long and thin, and look a bit like large crane flies but they have four very obvious wings. Flies, of course (including crane flies), only have two wings.

Hanging flies are members of the Mecoptera, an order of insects commonly known as scorpion flies. This name is derived from certain species (in the genus Panorpa) where the males bear what looks like a stinger at the end of the abdomen. Hanging flies, however, do not have this threatening terminus and very often go undetected by even well-informed naturalists. This is unfortunate. They are fascinating insects to watch.


One easy way to tell them apart from crane flies or even damsel flies is to look at the head. Hanging flies (like most other mecopterans) have a pointed head. This picture is of Bittacus chlorostigma that I took earlier this year (in April) along the Merced River in California. It is a fairly common insect (if you know what to look for) in the spring throughout the open oak woodlands of the Sierra Nevada foothills. I have found them most commonly when the California poppies are in full bloom. This particular individual was out when a redbud was flowering a few feet away. The yellow spots (stigmata) at the end of the wings are very diagnostic, even if you can't get a good look at the head.


Hanging flies are best known for their unusual mating ritual where the males capture a prey item (usually a fly or small moth), hang from a small branch (or long blade of grass) with their forelegs, and then release a pheromone that attracts females. This is unusual among insects that use pheromones in that it is the male and not the female that sends the signal. Once a female finds the gift and accepts it, the insects couple. If the gift is too small the female looks elsewhere.


Most of the research that has been done on this interesting behavior comes from the Eastern and Midwestern species of Bittacus. The common California species (B. chlorostigma) is largely un-represented in these kinds of studies. A paper published in 1977 suggested that it was a nocturnal species because so little was known about it. This is certainly not true. I saw a pair exchanging gifts in April of last year above Pine Flat Reservoir. It was mid-morning and the pair was very approachable (unfortunately, I didn't have a good camera with me at the time). Some enterprising student might take this species on as a research project. They shouldn't be hard to find and they are quite attractive.

Hoplia Beetles

There's a reddish brown beetle about the size of a large lady bug that you may have noticed on your roses or other flowers in the spring. Here in the Central Valley it shows up toward the end of April or the beginning of May and enjoys resting on velvety petals. If there are a lot of them, the flowers will end up with large areas of feeding damage, but this usually isn't the case. These insects only come out for a single generation a year and their first thought has nothing to do with eating, they are looking for mates.


These interesting insects are called Hoplia beetles. Their name is italicized because it is a generic Latin name – no American species in the genus Hoplia have common names. We have several species in the US and all of them can be recognized by the single large claw at the end of their hind legs. Other beetles have two claws (or occasionally none).


This is a picture of a mating pair of Hoplia dispar, on a blackberry blossom. It’s a common species in California. It is different from other Hoplia species in the shape of the fine white ornamental scales, which are strongly elliptical to almost round. Most other species have more elongate scales or no scales at all.


This side image of also of H. dispar. If you look closely, you can see that some of the scales are partially blue. This is an unusual color for insects but for some reason Hoplia beetles are sometimes colored this way. One very striking beetle is Hoplia caerulea from Spain that has its entire body covered with these pale blue scales (it’s worth doing an image search to see). It looks like a morpho butterfly version of a scarab.

So don’t be too alarmed if you find these beetles on your house plants. You can pick them off by hand and dispose of them if they become a problem. They do have the general appearance of Japanese beetles (though less colorful) but don’t do nearly the damage. One species (Hoplia philanthus) from Europe is known to be a pest in turf and pastures and may require a more aggressive control program. Here in the US, however, our species are much less of a problem.


This last image is Hoplia mucorea which is common in the mid-Atlantic states in the spring. It is less common than H. dispar but can be found in forested areas just as the leaves are starting to break out – around the time of the dogwood blooms. Watch for a small insect flying a foot or two above the forest floor. If you’re jogging or walking fast, you may miss them. They have a ponderous flight pattern because they only use one pair of wings to fly. The other wings (actually the forewings) are only wing covers (called elytra) and are held upright and out of the way of the flying wings. This makes for a slower flight, and in fact, you can often catch up with them and grab them with your hand. Don’t worry, they don’t bite. The worst the will do is give you a stout tickle you as they try and burrow between your fingers. Take a close look, they’re quite interesting and they’re out because it’s spring.

California Condors up Close

Twenty Five years ago, I sat at a museum table and read the sad story of North America's largest bird, the California condor. It was doomed for extinction, or so I imagined and many beleived. The few remaining wild birds had no chance to survive given the environmental hazards that confronted them. The last condors were being taken into a captive breeding program in hopes of saving the species but I had no confidence that this would work. My memory of this has remained clear all these years because of the inevitable loss I felt at that time.


I have followed the story of the condor ever since and have been alternately hopeful and doubtful that the impressive bird would ultimately survive. This changed for me two weeks ago when my friend Steve and I took a couple of days to travel along the coastal highway south of Monterey, California. We knew that the birds were spotted occasionally in the area and hoped to see one, but we were also realistically aware of our slim chances. Our tentative hope changed suddenly, however, when we stopped at one of the many pull-offs to look for marine mammals (we did see harbor seals, sea otters and sea lions throughout the day). Steve glanced up and spotted a pair of the magnificent birds soaring overhead. We watched them for maybe a minute before they disappeared behind the hills of the Santa Lucia Range.


This was quite a thrill, but, as it turned out, we were to see several more at much closer range. A few miles south of Big Sur, we noticed several vultures (turkey vultures at first) swirling around a point just off the road. As we got closer it became obvious that several of them had white patches in the wrong place to be turkey vultures. We hurriedly pulled-off the road for a better look and watched for several minutes as a group of about eight condors flew back and forth near the cliffs where we stood. My attempts to photograph them met with mixed success and then the birds moved on. We walked north around a turn in the road and saw a couple resting on a ledge some distance away. Then we got particularly lucky. There was a heavy flapping sound and a group of five landed on a rocky ledge less than 30 feet below us. Then two other birds landed just a few yards away from them. It was truly a magnificent moment for me. The birds I never expected to see were now right in front of me. We could clearly see their wing tags and even the unique color patterns of their heads. They seemed to be posing for a picture and so I obliged them. Then to put a final touch to the moment, a peregrine falcon soared by, just above their perch, and several hundred feet below a raft of sea lions rolled over to take in more sun.

Cardiophorus aeneus

Here is a picture of a small click beetle (just under a centimeter long) that you don't see very often. It's Cardiophorus aeneus, a Western species that shows up infrequently in collections. I came across a population a couple of weeks ago just west of Kerman (Fresno County) California in the tall grass of an alkali meadow. I was actually out looking for another species and just happened to find it. It's pretty distinctive as far as Cardiophorus goes. It has a metallic bronze luster to it although this is hard to see through the thick gray matte of setae. The elytra are also a bit uneven on top, bearing a few broad elevated areas. this is different than most related species where the elytra are fairly flat, or at least evenly convex. It's a nice find.

Cabbage Aphids on Wild Mustard

Right now there is a lot of wild mustard in bloom around the Central Valley. It's a pretty plant but it's also a bit of a nuisance for anybody growing cabbage, collards, bok choi, or other cole crops. It's a nuisance not so much because it's hard to get rid of. The bigger problem is that it's a great over-wintering host for cabbage aphids.

I recently found one plant with over a thousand aphids on it. This image will give you an idea of what to look for. Compare this with what you can expect on your cabbage plants if you don't take care of the problem. Cabbage aphids are not just another aphid species that can be treated with the standard aphicides. They're a lot harder to get rid of than say green peach aphids or melon aphids. It's definitely worthwhile taking precautions to avoid this kind of damage. This is particularly true for growers that have their cole crops in the ground early.

This is the time of year when the aphids can jump from wild mustard to your crops. Some of the worst damage can happen early in the year before the aphids' natural enemies become effective. So enjoy the pretty yellow flowers - but preferably at a distance (and down-wind) from your farm.

Gibbifer guatemalae

Here are a few images I took this morning after playing around with the lighting on my camera set-up. I'm much happier with these images than I am with earlier images that I have taken with virtually the same equipment. I use a Sony Cyber-shot camera with a built-in macro lens (which cost me about $350). I have intentionally wanted a smaller and less expensive camera because when I am in the field, my equipment can get bumped around a bit in my backpack. So I have been motivated to figure out how to take reasonably good images of small insects with the same camera.

Some time ago I created a lighted platform to take pictures of pinned specimens. It is a 4-inch bottom of a 5-gallon plastic bucket (the top part cut away) with a circular hole cut out of the bottom through which I take pictures. Around the inside of the modified bucket I have secured small shelving lights (halogen lamps). I place this bottom-side up (with the hole now on top) and place the specimens to be photographed inside the lighted bucket on a white foam base.

This has been OK but the problem has been that the lighting contrast was too great between the bright white background and the specimens. These pictures are different in that I placed a black cloth around the specimens to damped the contrast. I think the coloring of these images is much better.

The Gibbifer specimen is from Honduras. It is an erotylid beetle that is just under an inch long - quite impressive. Central America is famous for its impressive erotylid beetles. The Phymaphora male has one of its antenna knocked off. The female image has both still attached. They are only about 3 mm long and were found in North Carolina near the Eno River feeding on a small fungus under the bark of a dead tree (in the middle of the winter). Phymaphora is an endomychid genus.

Haliplus eremicus

Here's an image of Haliplus eremicus. It is a crawling water beetle that is endemic to the Southwest and occurs only (so far as we know) in Clark County, Nevada. It is of particular interest to me because it is the first insect that I described. I named it H. eremicus because the name reflects a dry desert habitat, where it occurs. This species should be listed as a species of concern on state and national lists. As is well known, water habitats in the southwestern US are under constant pressure to supply urban demands - in this case to Los Angeles and outlying areas. It's hard to tell from this image but in live individuals, the color is more of a cinnamon, or even a salmon, color. It is really quite attractive for a small insect.