The Awards Are Out

The awards are out for Wildlife Photographer of the Year, and here is one of the entries. It's identified as a baboon, but I'm not convinced. Could it be a drill?

It could be my brother, but he doesn't like to go outdoors (no place to plug in his game consoles).

Thanks for the photo, Ida.

UPDATE: Christopher has identified this as a Sulawesi macaques-and he should know; he's working on his PhD. Thanks, Christopher. You're more qualified to run this blog than I am!

Photo source: Stefano Untherthiner via Telegraph.co.uk

Mantis Bonanza

Time for another mantis bonanza. I can't find who to credit for these photos, but I'm assuming they belong to the uber-talented Igor Siwanowicz.

Most of these specimens are of the exotic Asian variety. Asia gets all the cool mantids (even most of the ones you encounter in North America are Asian imports).

Zombie Spiders

Want to read an article that will have you leave you squirming? Then check out this link, brought to us by Casey. It shows how in nature there are parasites, and then there are parasites who up the ante. And the world is more zombie-rich for it.

Behold the alien beauty (I'm stretching here, for the sake of this post) of a Costa Rican orb weaver known as Plesiometa argyra. This spider is known for its perfectly symmetrical and round webs.



















Ah, but what happens when a parasitoid wasp comes along and stings the spider? The spider goes comatose for about 15 minutes and wakes up and resumes its normal routine. But the spider is unaware that the attack it just *survived* resulted in it being inject with a wasp egg.

A little while later, that same little waspling will hatch and begin dining on the spider. Typical parasite behavior--until it gets time for the little larvae to pupate. It enlists the spider's help in that, by making it a zombie. The larvae hijacks the spider's brain and induces it to ply its web-weaving skills at pupae making. The orb weaver literally spins a cocoon for the larvae and suspends it above the forest floor, safe and out of the way of would-be predators. See the photo below: the left is of a normal web, the right is a zombie web.














And what does the larvae do to show its appreciation? It drains the spider dry and tosses aside its shriveled carcass. I'm afraid that's what my kids will do when they've used me up. I've already got a head start on the zombie thing after a couple of weeks of sleep deprivation.

Almiqui

How does a creature pull off presumed-extinct status? Well, it of course helps to have limited numbers to begin with, and a low birth rate. Add to that residence on an island under international embargo, being nocturnal, and living in burrows, and well, you've got yourself a hard to spot little ugly. I've posted on it before, but it's time to come back for more.

Though of Cuban derivation, the once-thought-extinct almiqui finds its closest relatives in the wilds of Madagascar. Also known as the Cuban Solenodon (sounds more like a dinosaur name to me), this little mammal is shrew-like and only 37 have ever been officially captured (the first one back in the 19th century). But, recent studies have shown that there are still more out there. That's important for Cubans to know, because almiquis are rare among mammals in that they have venomous saliva. Watch out. ¡Un almiqui me mordió! ¡Quema!



















This second picture borders on cute, so I'll move on to the last one.

This specimen was found in the Fire Swamp in the Holguin province of Cuba. Sadly, it was killed after being engulfed in a gout of fire (its slayers were acting in self defense).






















Thanks for the solenodon, Jelo.

Vampire Moth

What better way to bring in November (and mark the day after Halloween) than with the vampire moth? I know, at first mention the vampire moth may not instill any dread in you. But, please, read on.

The vampire moth was recently discovered in Russia, in two separate populations. This moth has forsaken the traditional fruit in favor of the forbidden fruit: human blood. What's amazing about this moth is it is virtually indistinguishable from its fruit-eating cousins of the same species (Calyptra thalictri).

See that moth perched on that finger? See its tongue, how it has a nice red tint to it? That's because this researcher offered up his finger, and the moth obliged him by drilling into his finger with its hook-and-barb-lined tongue and tapping it for blood.

Photo source: National Geographic



















The vampire is virtually indistinguishable from the fruit-eating variety. Only minor variations in the wing pattern would give you any warning that the moth fluttering about the lamp post is sniffing you out for blood.

Some researchers see this adaptation as a means of getting greater insight into how insects move from eating nectar to eating blood. Here's one possible progression: lapping at nectar to behaviors that result in drilling into fruit to eating tears and dung and pus-filled wounds to using that same drilling technique to dine on blood.

Not the most wholesome progression, but progress none the less. I can imagine grandpa moth saying, "Ah, back in my day we didn't eat puss and blood like the rascals these days. We ate fruit! That's the way it was, and that's the way we liked it!"

On the positive side, though you may not be able to distinguish the vampire from its benign form, you can protect yourself. They can't enter your home without your permission, they're allergic to sunlight and garlic, and they can't cross running water. It's unknown if they have any other forms (gaseous, wolf, bat, etc.), though the moth below does have a bat-like quality to it.




















Thanks for the vampire moth, Tanya and Ida.

Cryptid Squid(s)

You're looking at a screenshot from a video taken of what's been dubbed the long-arm squid. But you also might be looking at the adult version of a bigfin squid.

The bigfin squid (Magnapinna s.) is a cryptid, meaning it is an animal for which we have a dearth of information. Specifically, we have only *officially* seen its larval, paralarval, and juvenile stages. No one can confirm that they've seen the adult stage. But we *think* we have.

Photo source: ToLweb.org


























Magnapinna is Latin for 'great fin'. This squid earned it because the fins on its head are very large, with distinctive morphology. So when researchers encountered this squid seen above (and in the video below), they saw the fins and thought, hey, we just might have found an adult Magnapinna.

They hadn't expected the long arms (elastic, and reaching a length of 15-20 times the mantle length). That's why the young ones have the name bigfin, and the adults the name long-arm. But the 'adults' have only ever been captured on film, and so have never been studied beneath the scalpel and microscope. Not until then can we confirm any link between the two cryptids.

Watch out for this video; it's flickery, has the feel of the beginnings of a horror film, and the squid reminds me at first glance of the queen alien from Alien.

Thanks for the squid, Christopher. And Happy Halloween.

Makes My Day

Once again I'm going heavy on the spider posts. But this one might have some redemptive qualities to it. A short while ago we read about an orb weaver dining on a bird, and then about a spider that jumps on people and bites them. But how do you feel about a vegetarian spider? Quite a bit better, I imagine (unless you're a plant).

Photo source: GreenUpgrader.com


















It turns out that a certain population of Bagheera kiplingi (yes, named after the black panther in Kipling's Jungle Book), a species of Mexican jumping spider, dines on the Mexican Acacia tree almost exclusively. Scientists documented their eating habits and found that out of 140 meals, 136 of them were plant-based. What were the other four meals? Well, they snatched ant larvae from passing ants. Okay, that's not so charming.

But still. This is the only known group of spiders to have an almost completely vegetarian diet. I love jumping spiders since they don't trigger my arachnophobia. And finding one that eats tree bits, well, that just makes my day. Thanks, Peter.

Polyextremophile

Time for a new word: polyextremophile. This means, in quasi-Greek, one who likes several extremes. I stumbled across this word while researching the water bear (Tardigrades).

Water bears are not only worthy of their own plush toy, but are marvels of biological engineering. They are microscopic (some species, of which more than a thousand have been described, can reach 1.5mm) plant or bacteria eaters. But what makes them stand out is their tolerance of extreme environments. They are unique in the animal world for being able to tolerate and sometimes even thrive under such conditions as: 303 degrees F (151 degrees C), altitudes of over 6000 meters, oceanic depths below 4000 meters, both poles, the equator, cold approaching absolute zero, 1,000 times more radiation than any other animal, and even the vacuum of space (a very useful trait for those water bear cosmonauts). They are found everywhere.

We can all learn a good lesson in tolerance from the water bear, my friends.

Is it just my twisted mind, or does all this talk of water bear toughness trigger thoughts in you about how you might go about killing one? Poor little water bear, you pose no threat, are invisible to the human eye, and were even endowed with an endearing name, and yet still you have at least one human contemplating your destruction.

Thanks for the new critter, Morgan.