Newsflash: Manipulation of Monarch Butterflies.

It's almost March. That means Spring will be coming soon. This also means that several other animals, such as monarch butterflies, will soon be flourishing in our lawns. 

For those of you who know nothing about monarch butterflies aside from what they look like, you are missing out. Monarchs migrate from the cooler parts of North America down to Mexico as soon as winter hits. They give birth there, then die. The new monarchs that result then fly their way back up north when things get warmer. They are the only insects that migrate 2,500 miles a year. One of the classic butterflies happens to be one of the most impressive in several regards.

One mechanism has been found to play a tole in this intense migration: monarch butterflies have an uncanny genetic instinct to migrate to the exact same spot every year. The monarchs mate, then die, leaving their offspring to navigate the exact same path. That's 2,500 miles, all wrapped into genes like the world's finest GPS. Beat that, Google Maps.

Now, scientists have found what makes these butterflies tick. Here's the deal:

"Until now, researchers didn’t know what triggered the trek north. They suspected environmental factors such as temperature or changing day length could cue the monarchs. To find out, Reppert’s team studied southward-migrating monarchs captured in the eastern United States. The scientists housed one group of migrants in an incubator for 24 days and turned down the temperature to 4° Celsius during dark “night” periods and 11° C during light “day” periods — the average temperatures in the wintertime butterfly roosts. The team exposed a second group of butterflies to the same temperatures while also simulating the subtle increase in daylight that monarchs see over the winter while in Mexico.

Then the researchers took the two groups outside and tethered them one by one inside a flight simulator — a white plastic barrel that gauges flight bearings. In both experimental groups, the lab-wintered butterflies flew north. In fact, Reppert says, “the data were identical.”
Also, southern-migrating monarchs that had been captured in Texas and kept in the lab under fall conditions — with no pulse of nightly cold temperature — continued to head south when hooked up to the flight simulator.

“It’s astounding,” says ecologist Karen Oberhauser of the University of Minnesota, who supplied captured butterflies to Reppert’s team. She’s convinced that just 24 days of cold temperature is enough to switch butterflies’ flight direction from south to north. But she’s also curious about the effects of day length alone.

Reppert says the direction trigger might be modified by changes in day length, but “clearly coldness is the main factor.” Next, his team hopes to figure out exactly how the monarchs sense temperature."


Source + more here. 

This is neat stuff.A lot of people don't really think about seasonal cycles in wild animals. We're kinda used to animals, including humans, mating all the time. In reality, animal mating cycles are fine-tuned such that mommy only gives birth when there is an abundance of food available. Humans and domestic animals usually don't have to worry about that.

More importantly, however, this revelation on the impact of temperature may mean that the monarch is in trouble. If global climate change messes with their migration patterns, the species could die out. Enjoy the magnificent butterflies while we have them; if these findings are any indication, we might not have them around much longer.

Creature Feature: Mexican Jumping Beans.

In Texas, every souvenir shop has something made out of a weird, dead animal. Hotlix are everywhere. Quite a few places had longhorn cow skulls. Leather exists there- very good leather. One of the most bizarre, however, just so happens to be quite common: the Mexican jumping beans. 

The beans actually 'jump' thanks to the larva of a moth called Cydia deshaisiana, or the "Mexican jumping bean moth." As per the name, they are native to Mexico and the southwestern United States. There are actually a number of shrubs, and a number of moths, that can make "jumping beans," but for now we will focus on the kind sold in random tourist junk shops.

The larval moth spends its entire life in the seed capsule (not bean) of a Sebastiana plant. An adult  C. deshiasana lays an egg on the seed, and the larva burrows in shortly after. If the seed is cracked, the little creature uses silk to repair it. The bean, if nothing else, is a source of food and shelter all at once. Not a bad home if you happen to be a caterpillar.

The "jumping" in jumping beans happens when the larva has eaten all of the inside of the bean. Then, for no explicable reason, they begin pulling silk around the inside of the bean, causing it to roll and fidget if not jump. They jump as an attempt to regulate their body temperatures - it's hot down south!

 Of course, the jumping bean larva cannot stay inside the bean forever. It pupates inside bean, meaning that the frail adult moth will have a hard time getting out. To escape, the larva forms a "trap door" in the bean- a small, round hole that it can push its way out of. This small hole is sometimes marketed as well, even though it defies the point of a jumping bean.

The adult moth is a small, gray, unimpressive creature. It's one of those bugs that reaches maturity only to mate; it doesn't even have jaws. In the span of a few days, it must mate, find an immature Sebastiana seed, and lay eggs. Thus the cycle of touristy crap begins again...but look on the bright side: other, related moths do this to seeds we actually eat.

Creature Feature: Mourning Cloak.

It definitely feels like fall here in Chicago. Things are getting colder. Leaves are falling. Halloween stuff is available in stores everywhere. I can't hate fall because I really hate winter, but it is when things start to get depressing.

Then I see one of these, and still can't help but wow. That's a Mourning Cloak (Nymphalis antiopa), a large butterfly native to North America and northern Europe. There have been some reports of them in Britain, but they are few and far between.They can be found far outside of their range during migration.

A flutter-by look does not do this butterfly justice. Not only are Mourning Cloaks big with distinct markings, but they're part of a group of butterflies called "brushfoot butterflies." If you look at a Mourning Cloak in detail, it looks like they have only four feet. The last two are there, but so vestigial that they have been reduced to brushes. Don't worry, nobody plucked them off.

From Thebutterflysite.com

If you don't think the butterfly is impressive, the caterpillar certainly is. It is also called the "spiny elm caterpillar." Like many caterpillars, the spiny elm puts all Hot Topic customers to shame with its spikes and outlandish orange spots. They often feed in groups, defoliating whole leaves before moving on to the next. Although, hey, nobody likes having their trees nibbled, these caterpillars are rarely problematic enough to warrant pest control. Just remember that they become awesome butterflies.

Winter does not do a thing to Mourning Cloaks. Like less-masculine bears, they enter diapause (i.e. hibernate, effectively) until spring warms things up. They are literally among the few insects to survive winter in the Midwest. Instead of flower sap, they feed on tree sap after awakening. Clever butterfly is clever and has found a niche all its own. Good going, Mourning Cloak; now keep impressing me until winter hits!

Bio-Art: Asymmetrical Butterflies.

Well, that was a stressful weekend. So let's ease our minds with a look at some nice, pretty butterflies...

...Wait a minute! This butterfly is not perfectly symmetrical! What's going on, here?

In 1999-2000, Portuguese artist Marta de Menezes began working with butterflies of the genera Heliconius and Bicyclus. After presumably mastering their breeding habits, she began manipulating the wing patterns of one wing only while they were still metamorphosing. The pieces were collectively called Nature? They now reside in the artist's home.

Her motivation?  To create a butterfly just as natural as it was man-made. Think about it: One wing was the only thing altered on these butterflies. The same cannot be said of, say, the GFP Bunny. The butterfly's unique metamorphose allowed it to be manipulated differently from every other animal. Neat, huh?

Each butterfly is also 100% unique. Since these patterns are made during the butterfly's life, it was certainly not inherited.  Every butterfly lovingly has its very own pattern on its wing. No two are exactly alike. We could totally market this, but we aren't allowed to do that.

Thing is, these wing patterns aren't permanent. Menezes did not breed the butterflies to be asymmetrical. She went in there in the chrysalis stage and made little designs with a hot wire. The traits thus applied will not be passed on to the offspring. Unlike most genetic art, this piece is impermanent. It's about as permanent as a tattoo, in other words.

Creature Feature: Alpine Black Swallowtail Butterfly.

Raise your hand if you are interested in Japanese literature. I do not mean manga. I mean actual literature. There is a short story called The Lady Who Loved Insects. Read it. It describes the author of this post to a T.  Want my life story? Read that. The main character keeps snakes and caterpillars. My kinda girl, there.

Japan would know about people with an avid interest in nature. Apparently, even when that short story was written, people had an amazing interest in biology. The Heian lady there was very well aware that all of her fuzzy caterpillars would turn into butterflies, and even went so far as to let them outside and sit on a fan decorated with Chinese poetry. Given that Japan has one of the most beautiful butterflies in the world, however, one can hardly blame her for liking caterpillars.



The Alpine Black Swallowtail (Papilio maackii) is native to Japan, China, and Korea, even peeking into Russia. As caterpillars, they eat prickly ash and Amur cork leaves. Their favorite nectar as adults comes from various orange trees. Most importantly, however, they are drop-dead gorgeous as butterflies. (The caterpillars don't seem to be particularly impressive. Someone prove me wrong.)

Unlike in many species of...well, animals in general, the female is more brightly colored than the male. The women have more blue in their scales while the males are a duller green. Both sexes still look iridescent and worthy of the name "peacock." Unfortunately, that belongs to another butterfly (Inachus io).



Swallowtails in general have some weird mating habits. Large groups of females will form around one male in hills.  They're mostly virgins, although how entomologists figure this out I have no idea. Anyhow, they perform a courtship dance. The male, once he has picked his favorite, literally plugs her with his sperm inside so that no other man may have her. Shame mammals are not that efficient; sperm plugs could put Jerry Springer out of business.



Feel like you've heard of this one before? If you've ever played Animal Crossing, the "peacock butterfly" is in that game. Don't get confused; they mean this one, not the one with "Io" in its species name. (Not that I mind the Greek references.)

Creature Feature: Clearwing Butterfly.

Ah, butterflies. To most people, they're the epitome of innocence. In literature, they almost always symbolize change. There's nothing strange about most butterflies. Then, well, there are those...other...butterflies.

It may take you a bit to see precisely what is wrong with this butterfly. Then you realize that, woah, most butterflies have opaque wings. Congrats; you have just met your first clearwing/glasswing butterfly.

There are over 300 species and 43 genera of clearwing butterflies. No, they do not eat the flesh of small children, but dying flowers are fair game. They are native to the Amazon, a major biodiversity hotspot, as well as Mexico and Central America. We knew they were pretty, but there are videos on YouTube advertising them as the work of Jehovah.



As the name implies, the wings of clearwings lack the scales that makes other butterfly wings so colorful. Some clearwings have almost no scales on their wings; others have 'windows' of clear skin scattered between the scales like stained glass. If you think about it, no matter how good those scales are at camouflage, they will never be able to measure up to the ultimate camouflage of being transparent.

But wait, there's more! Along with being translucent, some clearwings (remember: this is a very big tribe) have a taste to them that is so bad that the scent is noticeable by humans. One scientist named Thomas Belt proved exactly how effective it was by feeding clearwings to almost everything that ate them - monkeys, spiders, birds, you name it - and every time, they were rejected. The secret was in the adult butterflies' diets. The chemicals from, I kid you not, dead plants and daisies are enough to repel most predators. Crazy.



Some species of clearwing, most notably Greta oto, have been observed mating in leks. This means that, just like certain birds and bats, the males 'fight' with each other. In any other type of butterfly, this would be a sight to see. With clearwings, however, it must look a little less spectacular in the air. Then again, it would probably be the only time one could ever see fairies fight.

"They Actually Eat That:" Silkworms.

It's official: China (with trade partners in Korea) is the king of strange food. Sure, everything in America is processed to hell, but they have zombie jellyfish salad. Nothing says "we're willing to turn ANYTHING into food" quite like zombie jellyfish salad. (Disclaimer: I've had jellyfish salad. It was interesting.)  Silkworms have also got to be pretty high on the list of creepy foods for most people.

The world's only domesticated moth has been caught by China's habit of eating anything that so much as twitches. These little silkworms are sold at night markets as fast food and in supermarkets boiled and canned. They can be found roasted, fried, or just boiled. Hey, want worms with that?




Actually, this is one of the more practical, yet still weird, things China eats. After silk is made, there are a lot of half-metamorphosed larvae left to deal with. The silk-making process requires that one boils the cocoons anyways; half of the cooking is done to make qipao and other lovely silk items regardless of whether the boiled insects were eaten or not. May as well make use of those bodies!

So, what does silkworm taste like? Most foreigners mention the strange smell before the taste, but after they pluck up the courage to put one in their mouths, the insects are tolerable. One person visiting Shanghai described the taste as being similar to lobster brain. I have also seen someone saying they'd be "better with a little crunch to them. " It's probably an acquired taste; once you can stomach the little buggers, they really aren't that bad. Should you be in China or Korea, give silkworm a try.



Why eat the worms? Why not eat them? Insects are little sacks of protein, and these particular sacks are farmed en masse anyways. Bon appetit!

Bio-Art: Tara Galanti's Flying Silk Moths.

As I said waaayyy back when in my silkworm entry, silkworms make cattle look good in terms of how well they can survive in the wild. They can't fly, are really, really slow, and do not even eat without human assistance. The most they can do is occasionally interbreed with their wild counterparts. It's a pretty sad life, especially since so many silkworms die young.

Well, except the silkworms in Tera Galanti's "Wings" project.  The silk moths there are capable of flying farther than, say, the moths found in China. They have been deliberately bred to fly instead of produce silk. Although their flight is not monarch butterfly-level inspiring, it is still very cool to see some of the moths retaining wild characteristics after generations of breeding without it.

Tera Galanti originally began breeding silkworms to get over her fear of moths. After a moth distracted her into a traffic accident, she eventually decided to confront her fear in the form of breeding the silk moth- the world's only thoroughly domesticated moth. Even before her project,  she noticed that a few of her moths were capable of fluttering. Flying moths were the next logical step.

The moths were selectively bred by first isolating the cocoons. Then, she made sure that the females were all high up, guaranteeing that only the males who could get that high would make babies. She also put them in cute little setups like this. Feel free to click around there, by the way.

The next step in the project would naturally be releasing the moths outside. Where would such moths go after being unable to fly for so long? Who knows! The question is the same for domestic chickens bred to fly, and, in an extreme case, Heck aurochs. How would nature react to suddenly having these old species back? (Note: The Indian Jungle Fowl is darn close to a chicken, and it's not dead yet.) We don't know, but it would be fun to find out.

Creature Feature: Silkworms.

After all the bashing I do at China's expense, one would think that there was nothing good about the place. It's poor, communist, censors its interwebs, and eats anything that moves. A lot of our stuff comes from China, so maybe we have no right to complain. Tofu is awesome, too.

Also, China invented silk. Since some of us are allergic to wool and nylon took a few centuries to invent, we should be eternally grateful that cute little caterpillars make soft nests for themselves while they metamorphose. Then we're rude enough to interrupt them while they're changing.


(By the way, the worms can also be food.)

Silk is created by a fully captive-bred moth called Bombyx mori, or the domesticated silkmoth. About 5,000 years ago, people in China figured out that the cocoons of certain moths (specifiaclly Bombyx mandarina) could be woven into thread just like sheep wool. After presumably figuring out how moths reproduced, the little bugs were domesticated to hell and back.

Silk has been around in China since at least the 27th century B.C. Legend has it that silk was discovered when a silkworm cocoon dropped into the teacup of Lei Zu, the wife of the Yellow Emperor. After figuring out that the thread could be woven and a larva was making it, the Chinese began cultivating the little worms to be extra-fertile and have soft, plushy cocoons. The Chinese guarded the little maggots well until the 500's A.D. when a Byzantine missionary smuggled a few out. Whoops.



The silkworm is the most genetically altered domesticated animal. Domesticated silkworms make cows look competent. A cow, if turned loose, can still become feral if it is not executed for being a still-living hamburger. These silkworms are so bred down that the adult moths cannot fly. (A certain artist has succeeded in bringing back their wings, but her spot will be after the (book) Dr. Moreau.) The most they can do is breed with their extant relatives into strange hybrid moths. Otherwise, they are entirely dependent on humans for survival.



Besides China, silkworm breeding has also taken wing (ha ha) in South Africa. The silkworms there are hardier than the Chinese silkworms because they are treated as pets. The exposure to different conditions make them welcome additions to the silkworm gene pool, which can be decimated by disease at any given time. There are over 400 strains of silkworms, however, and science is always creating more. There will always be plenty of cocoons for everybody...except the worms, of course.

Creature Feature: Woolly Bears.

Oh! Look at that. It's a piece of somebody's Halloween costume that got left out in the woods. And...it's...moving?!

That moving chenille stem is actually a caterpillar of the Isabella tiger moth (Pyrrharctia isabella). Tiger moths are found all over the world, as are their animate pipecleaner larvae. Their fuzzy larvae, called banded woolly bears, are usually out in fall, which is somewhat rare for caterpillars. They are America's most recognizable caterpillar, enough so that Ohio gave them a festival.

Like all caterpillars, woolly bears eat vegetation. They can eat any and all kinds of vegetation. They may ingest certain plants to prevent flies from laying eggs in them, but these things are not monarch larvae. They will not hurt you if you pick them up - if anything, they will play dead, acting even more like a craft project leftover than they were before.

 

Woolly bears hatch during the fall. Just like real bears, they have evolved to hibernate during winter: their skin contains natural antifreeze that prevents the little caterpillar from dying. Come springtime, they wake up and eat any plants they can find while they are abundant. They become moths and mate during the summer.

Much like how groundhogs have Groundhog Day, the woolly bear has a weather-related superstition. Depending on the measurement of the red band, there may be more or less severe winter for the year. (It makes more sense to do this in Fall than in February - sorry, groundhog.) If the red-brown band on a woolly bear is thick, the winter will be mild. If not, well...happy Halloween.


From Flickr.

Creature Feature: Vampire Moths.

"I'd come back as a butterfly."

"Why?"

"Because nobody ever suspects the butterfly. Mwahahaha!" - Bart Simpson.

Indeed, who would suspect a butterfly of doing anything sinister? Moths are slightly more suspicious and annoying, but still nothing to worry about unless you have a precious wool sweater. All of Lepidoptera seems pretty innocent; even the moth with a skull on its back is harmless. They are hardly frightening creatures.

Oh, wait. Except that moth.

Moths of the genus Calyptra have a sinister secret hiding beneath that demure, brown coloration: Their proboscises have evolved to become sharp enough to pierce mammalian flesh. While pulsating their bifurcated mouth parts into a mammal's (that means your) body, they slowly suck up some vital fluid. (By the way, the case is opposite with these moths and mosquitoes; the males bite.) Expect the bite to hurt for 2-3 hours after the moth has left. They are not disease vectors like mosquitoes, so you will definitely live to say that you got bitten by a vampire moth.

 

Nobody is sure exactly how these moths became dusty, fluttering nosferatu, but the current theory is that related moths first evolved those strange mouth parts to suck fruits juice out of fruit. Sucking human blood is just an extension of that talent. Umm, wow, science; does this mean that we should all start fearing vegans?


Yes. No good can come of an image like this.

Oh, and by the way, Calyptra moths are native to southeast Asia, Japan, China, the Urals, and southern Europe...or they were. They have now spread as far as Finland; a few have also been spotted in Sweden, a little further West. If this keeps up, they will get to America and have terrible literature written about them within the next few decades.

At least they don't sparkle.


Tomorrow: The parts of the pig that you never thought would have a use DO have a use; also, see how awesome pigs used to be!

Who's That Pokemon? - Pineco and Burmy lines.

Whatever this thing is, its eyes are staring into my soul.

Instead of being a "pine cone," Pineco is classified as a bagworm Pokemon. Again, one must ask Nintendo exactly what a bagworm is, especially since Generation IV came up with a far more elaborate bagworm line of its own.


Now in...know what? I'm not making flavor jokes about these.

Bagworms are lepidopterans of the family Psychidae. They live pretty much everywhere in the world, feeding on various plants and causing a fair amount of crop damage. As one would expect, pine trees are among the plants they eat; wattle and oranges are also common foods.



As larvae, these moths take whatever happens to be around them and create a shell (or bag, if you will) out of it. Pine needles, bark bits and soil all get made into clothing for bagworm larvae, either at rest or as an actual cocoon before metamorphose. This makes them a bitch to identify for more than one reason.


There's a worm in there, we swear.

The Burmy line's evolution portrays the bizarre sexual dimorphism in these insects: The males get to become free-flying moths; the females do not. The female stays in her bag, waiting for the free-flying male to come along and impregnate her. The bagworm is, in short, this guy's spirit animal:


Your name is Dick. You had this coming.

Creature Feature: Hummingbird Moths.

Look, up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a bee!

Actually, it is not any of the above. It's a hummingbird moth (genus Hemaris). Moths like that are also called "Clearwing" (US) or "Bee" (UK) moths, depending on where you are.

Hummingbird moths are related to the death's-head moth (which is one of the in-progress entries from when I was in Europe). The group is collectively called 'sphinx moths' or 'hawkmoths.' Sphinx/hawk moths are the only moths capable of hovering, like, well...like hummingbirds.



Unlike most lepidopterans, hummingbird moths have very few, if any, scaly patches on their clear wings. This plus their diurnal habits and coloration make them resemble bees. Their hovering flight patterns and flower choices, however, are more akin to hummingbirds. They look like bees until you realize that they do not fly like bees or resemble tiny hummingbirds until you see their clear wings. In short, the hummingbird moth is convergent evolution on speed.


Hummingbird + bee = this.

A while back in August, I encountered one of these charming little creatures. The Mexican guy working there said that these moths sting worse than bees and was stunned that I managed to watch the moth without a single injury. Hummingbird moths do not sting at all. (If memory serves, no lepidopterans do.)

Hummingbird moths are native to North America, South America, Europe and Asia. Look for them in a backyard near you.


This one's from Vietnam and I cannot tell.

(For fun, these guys were probably the basis for the wings of the Ikran species in Avatar.)

Creature Feature: Comet Moth.

Wow. This is the first thing I've done from Madagascar, isn't it? Expect a lot more; that little island is/was home to a million unique species that all deserve a moment in the spotlight. Most of you are probably well-aware of lemurs - the primates that look kind of like crosses between monkeys and raccoons. Perhaps a few of you also know of fossas, Dumeril's boas, and day geckos. Yes, the little Geico gecko has some cousins on an island dangling beneath the African continent.

Just like us, he refuses to talk about his in-laws. Shame; that could be a GREAT conservation plug!

Why, of all things, did I decide to pick on a moth? A friend of mine wanted me to identify a strange brown moth from the Amazon region. This led to a crash course in Lepidoptera, the order containing butterflies and moths. I want to say that I have narrowed it into the order Saturniidae, but cannot say for sure. I still have not found what it really is, but am definitely not giving up.

This moth was found in the course of my search. The moth in question had the tails typical of American luna moths, so that was one of the places I looked. I had no idea that the luna moth was related to so many other moth species that I had taken a liking to in my bug-studying days, and encountered quite a few new favorites (including, of all things, a moth with bright pink and yellow coloration. Sparklemoth!).

So, if this moth looks an awful lot like one you may have seen near your hometown, it should come as no surprise. Besides the name 'comet moth,' Argema mittrei is also called the 'African moon moth.' It is one of the largest moths in the world, with male moths sporting a wingspan of 20 centimeters and tails of 15. Males are larger and brighter than females.

Both sexes look pretty damn trippy, but the male is up top.

Sadly, the comet/African moon moth is highly endangered. The caterpillars of the comet moth feed only on fresh eucalyptus leaves, so deforestation is a big problem. Furthermore, their cocoons are not solid, but meshed to keep the metamorphosing caterpillars from drowning in their humid rain forest climate. As soon as the moth emerges, it has to go mate; it has a short lifespan of 4-5 days, and is only fertile the first day out of the cocoon.

Here's a moth that we do not want to exterminate. Appreciate its beauty while it lasts!