Friday, May 23, 2008

Friday Sky

The weather gods have bestowed a freak cold snap on the Southwest, granting Phoenicians one last chance to indulge in sweaters, hot tea, and open windows. We went from a high of 110 deg. F to a high of 68 deg. F in about 48 hours. A lover of all things cold and cozy, I am in seventh heaven on the deck, shivering under a sweater with my hot tea.

Freak cold snap...Aaaaahhh, clouds.

It's old hat to other regions in the throws of spring, but a unique sight for the low desert in May. I snapped this in Scottsdale, near where I used to live. For some really neat sky photos, check out Sky Watch Friday.

Hel-lo Ricoh!

IT IS HERE!! My new Ricoh Caplio R7...









Ricoh Caplio R7


Thanks to Alex Wild (myrmecos blog), macrophotographer extraordinaire, for tipping me off to Ricoh in my search for a compact digital with good macrophotography capabilities. The Caplio R7 is perfect! It powers on in an instant, like an elf on speed, and boasts a 1 cm macro focus -- 1 cm!! From everything I've recently read, these cameras are known for quality. I went with the 8.2 megapixel R7 (2007 generation) after reading several reviews comparing it to the 10 megapixel R8 (this year's model). Bleh, who needs 10? Plus, it sounds like the upgrade came at a price to image quality.

I have no idea yet how to use half the features, but even without a clue it already blows my former 4 megapixel Sony drivel out of the water.

Organ Pipe cactus, Stenocereus therberi

{A note regarding the vendor: popflash.photo. After an hour of frustration with three other vendors, which included waiting on hold for 10 min and being forgotten about after I declined to buy an extra battery at $65, and having the camera price ridiculously jacked up by another as we spoke (they hung up on me when I asked what gives), it looked like I might not buy a camera after all. Crazy. I was begging -- begging -- for someone to take my money and honor their online price. I almost gave up, then came across popflash. They sold me the Ricoh for less than anyone else, it came tax-free due to their location (CA), and it even came with a nice Lowepro camera case and a surplus 2-hr. battery (ya, the same "$65" battery the other place was pushing). They also told me it was a load of bologne that I needed a "special" camera card for this particular camera (yet another lie by the previous vendor). Popflash was SO kind, and turned an icky experience into a really pleasant one. While they saved me money this time, I'd pay extra in the future just to do business with them.}

Monday, May 19, 2008

Monday Myth: Solpugids

I needed a DEAD solpugid to get a shot like this.
When alive, they're too busy running away.

I must be one lucky duck because the above critter -- a Solpugid (sol-pew-jid) -- was sitting freshly dead and perfectly intact at the bottom of my apartment stairs last night. I was headed back from an evening workout and came upon it posed as-is with the chelicerae displayed in all their glory -- score!! Bet a neighbor found and doused it with hairspray (or some such) moments earlier, then booted it out the front door to die. This individual is the third in two weeks, and they're much bigger than last year's. I figured they're vying for a Monday Myth feature. So I scooped the dead-but-still-imposing body up for a postmortem photo shoot.

Sun spiders, wind scorpions, and a host of other common names are used to describe Solpugids. So I just call them Solpugids. They belong to the class Arachnida, as do scorpions and spiders; however, Solpugids are distinct from both in several ways:
  • Solpugids have a segmented abdomen like a scorpion, but lack a tail of any kind.
  • Solpugids have pedipalps (modified mouthparts) that are held pincer-like (similar to scorpions), but are not actually pincers.
  • Solpugids have chelicerae that are forward-projecting and beak-like. This is a fairly unique feature.
One important distinction between solpugids and their scorpion/spider cousins: Solpugids have no venom. Crazy, I know. The terrifying and homely creature has no bark to back up its bite. Bacterial infection from fine "hairs" (setae, seen above) covering the body and chelicerae is thought to explain bite site agitation; however, a good washing may prevent that. Contrary to popular myth (and the common name "deer slayer" in certain foreign countries), Solpugids do not bring down large mammals, to say nothing of draining their blood. True, they might pack a wallop with those chelicerae if one was so inclined... But I've encountered more than a dozen in my apartment and find them to flee from human activity entirely.

Ollie likes to harass even the dead ones.

There are more than a dozen families containing around 900 species worldwide. Most live in arid climates and are nocturnal predators of various invertebrates or small vertebrates (lizards, etc.). The largest I saw in my apartment last year -- among more than a dozen -- were barely an inch in body length. The three so far this year: 1.25 - 2.5 in.!

Friday, May 9, 2008

The Sting

An adult Centruroides sculpturatus, Bark scorpion;
approx. 2" long

I am going to get stung by a Bark scorpion, Centruroides sculpturatus. I know this. And the reason I know this is because I am going to help it sting me.

I've been working with and living amongst Bark scorpions in the desert southwest for four years now. During that time, I've changed their dirty cages in our lab, lovingly fed them hoards of stinky crickets, watched their babies being born, handled dozens of them -- carefully, and by the tail. And I have "rescued" countless individuals headed for the schmoosh by coworkers or neighbors. I've given several presentations to homeowners and school kids about the facts and fantastics of bark scorpions, and yet I cannot describe fully what it is like to be stung. I feel somehow deficient, like I'm not part of the club... Or half the scientist I could or should be by educating on a topic that in effect I have only read about or heard described: what it feels like to be stung by our nation's most poisonous scorpion. I'm a fraud. I must be stung.

So before I relocate for graduate school in the NW, I'm inducing a Bark scorpion sting (if I don't step on one in the night before then). My departing gift to myself. The sting set up will be in early August, a little sooner if I can get the guts up. Stay tuned!

{This isn't a ratings ploy. A surprising number of internet searches on concerns over Bark scorpions/stings are pulling up my blog, even though I've posted very little on scorpions. Clearly people are freaked out. So I decided to use this personal event to allay fears (anticipation of a sting is probably disproportionate to the sting itself). I'll post pictures and, most importantly, a full description of the sting and its after-effects.}

Monday, May 5, 2008

Monday Myth: Mosquitoes

Not all mosquitoes bite... Only female mosquitoes require a blood meal. The proteins in blood allow for development of her eggs, which she lays in rafts on the surface of calm water or moist edges. Males never take a blood meal; they feed only on nectar. Females also feed on nectar for their energy needs.

Females can detect carbon dioxide from more than a football field away. They zero in on it to find the source: a host. Female mosquitoes may vector diseases, including West Nile virus, malaria, etc. They may contract the virus or organism during the host of a first feeding, then transmit it during a later feeding to another host. The best ways to avoid mosquito bites include lightweight, long-sleeved shirts, pants, tight-fitting screens on windows and patio doors, citronella candles, and insect repellents. Electronic pulsing devices have never proven effective in repelling mosquitoes.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Southwest water: liquid gold

In a place where water is valued like gold, people have pretty strong opinions about what to do with it. In the case of central Arizona's Verde River, issues concerning quality and quantity of water are taking center stage.

The Verde River is "fed" by the Big Chino aquifer of central Arizona. The river is a perennial water source for which the year-round demands are many and growing. Recreation, wildlife habitat, Native American water rights, and drinking water for the Phoenix metropolis (among others downstream) create an eclectic bunch of vested interests. But these aren't the only fingers in the cookie jar. Explosive growth in Yavapai county (southwest of Flagstaff, near the river's headwaters) has prompted a proposal for pumping ground water from the aquifer to supply drinking water for new developments.

The proposed ground water pumping project landed the Verde River on America's Ten Most Endangered Rivers list in 2006. It's been stalled, fought, resisted ever since. But the continued growth and development of Yavapai county during that time seems to confidently say: lost cause.

What happens to a river who's source is sucked up for drinking water?
Pumping water from the aquifer will undermine the Verde River's flow, disrupt habitat, and may lead to squabbling over the remains among current users. What to do about the loss of water? Mitigate. A proposal calls for dumping reclaimed water into the Upper Verde River on an ongoing basis to replace what the aquifer would have provided. I dunno, it wouldn't be the first time it's been done, and there are undoubtedly some success stories from similar rivers. But the idea has a lot of recreationists, environmentalists, and downstream water drinkers expressing concern.

Management should be based on scientific data. That's the position of the local Sierra Club chapter. So they're coordinating with local interests to collect data on the Verde's water quality and flow before the pumping and dumping (my sarcasm, not theirs) begins. Baseline data will provide a frame of reference for "normal" levels of E. coli, nitrogen, phosphorous, arsenic, pH, dissolved solids, etc., and a gaggle of data on flow rate. Toward that end, I volunteered a day with the Sierra Club recently to help collect measurements on the river.

A dedicated volunteer scales a structure after
collecting water quality data


I was impressed with the use and appreciation of this river that we witnessed. I saw the bumper sticker at top prominently displayed on a farm truck along one of our river stops. I don't often see a rural blue collar citizen advocating for conservation... Not here, not usually anyway. A young country couple spending a day on the river with their babies seemed aware of the issues, and pumped us for the latest information on reclaimed water use. As their little ones dipped their toes in the river, it wasn't hard to see their point of concern. Though we managed to avoid them, I was told we may run (literally) into Kayakers who are weekend regulars on the river. There were plenty of fishermen, whom I eyed enviously...

A fisherman forgetting time along the river

Native American cliff dwellings sit unobtrusively above the banks of the Verde at a few points here and there. Apparently there is such a thing as "First Nation's water rights", which makes the Verde River a concern of the descendants of these dwellings as much as anyone's.

Native American cliff dwellings along the Verde River

Who knows... With all these forces working together, maybe the Verde River has a chance at avoiding ground water pumping and reclaimed water.

Personally, I don't think so; Arizona has a track record of allowing rampant growth without adequate resources to support it. Ground water from the aquifer will be pumped. Reclaimed water will be used. People will be upset, and it will make headlines (again). But there is still success in this scenario: in the uniting of fishermen and farmers, scientists and recreational enthusiasts, Native Americans, and families spending a lolly gagging Sunday on the river.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Woo hoo!! (Tentatively)

This katydid looks as shocked as I feel

I'm going to graduate school!!! For entomology!! In the Pacific Northwest! Woohoo!!

I was offered a graduate research assistantship by some professors I've been coordinating with, and am expecting to begin in September (if all goes well). There are a few logistics to finalize. My work isn't yet over; I could still screw things up. But my faculty colleagues (down here) assure me that once a project, the funding and the committee are in place, and they've chosen you as the student, the rest is formality. If plans work out, soon I will be at work on a very cool applied ecology project that involves sustainability issues and invertebrates. Just what I've always wanted!!!

I'm still in shock. For two years now at two universities something has always been off and impeding my graduate hopes -- the faculty, the funding, or the project itself. But now it's come together, the whole damn package, at a completely different university, and I can hardly believe it. Since being offered the assistantship last week, I awake each morning with a "yippee...?" and a pause, waiting for the sky to fall in. But I am beginning to realize it won't; it's not another false start. And should things hiccup, I'm smart, stubborn, and patient enough to do fine. So...(deep breath)...YIPPEE!!!!!!!

What I really can't believe: that this great graduate package includes moving home. HOME!! A magic carpet ride to a number of wonderful new beginnings, which will undoubtedly exhaust and exhilarate me. For now this is still percolating, and I'm pinching myself all over with tentative glee.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

One city, two city, three city, four

Do you live in a Megalopolis? If you don't now, you likely will, according to Nancy B. Grimm, Arizona State University Urban Ecologist. In an article in Science, 8 Feb. 2008, titled "Global Change and the Ecology of Cities" Grimm et al. provide a review of our expanding urban landscapes. Five key areas of change are addressed: land use and cover, biogeochemical cycles, climate, hydrosystems, and biological diveristy.

Seattle marching south

What are expanding urban landscapes?
Nothing you or I haven't seen: a semi-rural or peri-urban area built into a bedroom community, for example. While existing cities get bigger by sprawling outward, small towns and even undeveloped areas are likewise being populated, built up, and eventually gobbled up by the nearest metropolitan area. A spattering of towns growing up betwixt expanding major metropolitan areas means they'll eventually meet up geographically -- it's inevitable. Connect the dots and you've drawn a burgeoning Megalopolis. It's not happening... It has happened. LA. The Bay area. The I-5 corridor from Seattle to Portland (which could be stretched from Vancouver, B.C., to Eugene, OR). Phoenix to Tucson along I-10 (even the local skeptics can't argue this one). Dozens more dots in the midwest and east are working their way together, too. That's just the U.S. -- as the article points out, and demographic statistics support, this is a global trend in the third & second world, and developed countries alike.

Planet-wide, this scene gives rise to a powerful trend: an inverse relationship between urban and rural population growth. More people living in bigger cities.

How are megalopolises beneficial and detrimental?
They may exacerbate the effects of global climate change locally with the heat island effect. This has and will likely continue resulting in increased energy demands for cooling; this energy use in turn contributes to the causes of global warming. Subverted, diverted and overly allocated waterways serve increasing demands of these mega cities, turning riparian habitats into non-functional ecological systems. Megalopolises serve as hot spots for the introduction of non-native species. And due to altered availability of resources, such as grains vs. insects as bird food, urban wildlife populations undergo radical population shifts.

On the bright(er) side, city dwellers often have a lighter ecological footprint per person given the more compact living style , shorter commutes to grocery stores and other goods, reduced-pollution forms of transit, etc. One caveat to this: rural developments often have no self-sustaining industry of their own, requiring inhabitants to commute by necessity for their work, services, or even goods.

One very neat idea this article mentions is the analogy of a city as an organism: "...takes in food and other required resources, and releases wastes into the environment." The continual grind of the "urban metabolism" -- consumption and waste -- is a potentially useful, though scientifically debated, tool for quantifying ecological impact of a metropolitan area. Pretty neat!

A megalopolis in the making

When I first arrived in Arizona, I was car-less and lived/worked at a research center between Phoenix and Tucson. It was more than a 25 minute drive from the nearest city; a nearby "town" sat two miles away, with maybe four buildings, a population of perhaps 1-2K, and one traffic light. I lived at the research center -- a secluded island surrounded by a sea of Native American reservations, agriculture, pecan orchards, and dormant land. That was 2003.

Today the surrounding land is covered in miles of homes. You've seen it: a sea of new developments provisioned with fire stations and pharmacies, mega-grocery stores, schools stocked with teachers and already overflowing with children. New strip malls boast a service for every amenity. You'd think it'd been there forever, marching as it does right up to the edge of the agricultural plots at our facility. It’s presence is a challenge.

No fewer than a dozen new traffic lights in the nearby town
now regulate tens of thousands of people, their cars, their needs.
In this short time, I've witnessed the birth of
an organism...with an urban metabolism.


With the ailing economy, at least one of the developers has gone bankrupt -- boom and bust, just like in the gold rush days of the nearby hills. To sell the homes, I understand free swimming pools or granite counter tops are being thrown in as a perk. Meanwhile, perfectly good inner-city re-sale homes continue to sit empty. Do we really need the superfluous developments? Will anyone go homeless if they aren’t built? When the economy rebounds, when new homes are once again created like card houses overnight, one thing seems certain: if you build it, they will come.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Earth Day

Procession of the Species
Olympia, WA 2003

Today is Earth Day, an annual event which historically marked the launch of the "environmental movement" in 1970. Earth Day has become an international celebration, but was originally presented as an idea by a Wisconsin senator while visiting Seattle, WA, in 1969. Its significance remains much the same as when it was introduced: a day for which each person celebrates our natural environment and -- hopefully -- contemplates his or her role in its preservation.

The Pacific Northwest is known by most to be a "hotbed" of environmental justice activities as well as cultural awareness. It is no coincidence then, that the unveiling of Earth Day there 38 years ago was followed up with a wholly unique form of celebrating it. The event is called Procession of the Species, and it originated in my hometown (one of them, anyway) of Olympia, WA. "The Procession" is essentially a parade, marked by costumes that capture the essence of actual and occasionally mythical species. Self-made and astoundingly impressive, the costumes run from individual to multi-person creations a half a city block long. Cultural heritage is celebrated in many PacNW community events, and The Procession is no exception; it weaves elements of culture and dance into this celebration of life, as well. A few simple rules guide The Procession:
      • No written words
      • No live pets
      • No motorized vehicles
The Procession has inspired numerous similar processions and parades around the country, which is pretty neat. I think it would make for an interesting documentary to follow the spread of the event's influence. Undoubtedly, each city adds its own unique artistic spin to make it something special for them.

When I was attending college in Olympia, I lived downtown. My boyfriend and I would walk the few short blocks to a convenient corner on the parade route and delight in the beauty and creativity of not just our natural environment, but of those celebrating it as well. After all, we humans are a part of the procession of species, too...

Sunday, April 20, 2008

International Migratory Bird Day

Cliff swallow nests attached to a bridge over the Salt River

Last weekend marked International Migratory Bird day. IMBD is celebrated by federal and state Fish and Wildlife agencies, non-profits, and citizens as a way of highlighting the unique and ever-changing challenges faced by birds migrating to and from their wintering (Central and South America) and breeding (North America) grounds. Challenges migratory birds face include :
  • the exotic pet trade
  • pesticides (a recent example at bootstrap analysis blog)
  • introduced and invasive species (including snakes, feral and domestic cats, rats, and non-native birds which can displace our native ones)
  • and the biggy: habitat loss and degradation
The good news? There are always things people can do that are impactful and relatively simple. As the fulcrum of the challenges faced by migrating birds (ahem, human activities), no one has to look far. A few ways you can get involved, even as you sip your morning coffee:

  1. Create backyard habitat -- even modest shrubs, hedgerows, etc., create food sources, shelter, and nesting substrate; find out who your native visitors are and put up a bird box appropriate for them; provide water (change it out twice weekly, and give it a wipe down a few times monthly); provide bird seed.
  2. Buy shade-grown coffee. A comprehensive blog dedicated to this topic already exists: Coffee & Conservation.
  3. Keep your kitties inside (all the time), and contribute to spaying/neutering of homeless kitties (stray umbers are at an all-time urban high).
  4. Contribute as a citizen scientist. It's easy to get involved in the Great Backyard Bird Count (you needn't be an "expert"), the Christmas Bird Count, or Breeding Bird Count. Volunteer an afternoon at a local refuge or bird conservation area with habitat restoration and enhancement projects, or simply donate your old binoculars to your local Audubon chapter.
I honored the IMBD with a morning at the Rio Salado Habitat Restoration Area on the Salt River . I used to be quite active locally with volunteering and birdwatching. This winter I have so deviated from that, it's embarrassing. I needed a little rejuvination -- don't we all at times? -- and used the day as an impetus for just that.

The Cliff swallows were quite entertaining. The feeding parents looked "frazzled" as parents of demanding young do. I tried to track a few from their nest through the aerial loop-de-loops and back again... Forget it. They are just too quick. One was nice enough to pause for me just before exiting the nest, though.

The prickly pear cactus are in bloom. It was nice to see these bursts of orange just as the Mexican poppies are winding down throughout the Sonoran desert. It doesn't have to be all about the birds, after all...


A Great egret perched in a tree on the River's edge wrapped up the morning nicely. Egrets embody citizen activism and conservation that dates back more than 100 years to the advent of the Audubon Society. A brief explanation: in the late 1800's Great egrets were one of many birds threatened by prolific market hunting for their snowy-white plumes, used in lady's hats. A group of forward-thinking society ladies in Boston, essentially disgusted and concerned about the trend, launched the first Audubon chapter (see Hats off to Audubon, Audubon Magazine, 12/2004).

The egret is the prominent logo of the National Audubon Society to this day. Each time I see one, I am reminded of the power of citizen conservationists.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Snakes About


It was a pretty full week, this past one. The highlight: I got to handle a Gopher snake (Pituophis sp.) found outside of the building where I work. It was late afternoon on a not-particularly-hot sort of day (low 80's). Someone came and got me from the drudgery that comes with writer's block during the 4 O'Clock lull... They knew it'd make my day (they were right). I'm no reptile biologist, but right away you can see that the head is small and narrow, and lacking venom glands; he's a constrictor. The snake was incredibly docile, given the small audience of humans close by. He remained unmoved with his "chin" resting on a rock. So I got right up close, laid on the ground and snapped photos to my heart's content.

The staff wanted him relocated, though, so I touched his tail to test the waters -- he didn't respond at all. Goody. There is nothing like the feel of a snake. Or even the presence of a snake. I suspect a lot of people would agree with that, but perhaps for differing reasons (!).

I gently, respectfully picked his 3' long body up by the tail region and placed him in a waiting bucket. He remained perfectly calm before suddenly launching himself right back out, a feat he made look effortless. I was happy to get to hold him again, and with minor protesting back in he went (with a lid this time). In moments he was relocated to an area of our facility with less foot traffic and plenty of prey. Being a constrictor, most everyone was glad to keep him around. I didn't get peed on, the snake got a nice home. Great day all around.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Monday Myth: Africanized Honey Bees


I'm trying to use other people's photos/art as little as possible on this blog. Mainly because I want to give proper credit, which, as I've found out, involves more than sticking their name beneath a picture I've lifted off the internet. And because I don't have a personal photo of something akin to the above -- and glad for that -- I'm stuck with microsoft clipart. (Have mercy, Bill Gates.)

Africanized honey bees (AHB) are not the "killers" our media so loves to hype them as. True, they can be dangerous and require a bit more caution.

AHBs, Apis mellifera scutella, are a subspecies of their more docile cousin, the European honey bee (EHB), Apis mellifera. The two look virtually alike. Only a trained entomological eye (not mine) can tell the two bees apart by measuring certain body parts (never let it be said entomologists aren't voyeurs). DNA tests also distinguish them. As AHBs have made their way north from Brazil, where they were introduced in the late '50s, they've hybridized with EHBs. ALL southwestern honey bees are now presumed to be a hybridized EHB/AHB sort. This simply means folks in the southwest need to approach all honey bees with greater caution and respect. For an example of the wrong approach to take, see the home owner's comments in my transcribed phone call below.

Underreported fact: AHB venom is not any more toxic than EHB venom. Rather, more people die in the attempt to escape AHBs than from actual toxic envenomation (which doesn't include deaths from allergic reaction, which can occur with a single sting). People run off cliffs, run into traffic, etc. Often times, people will flap and flail their arms, swatting the bees, such that if the colony wasn't interested in chasing them before, it may well have changed its collective mind.

AHBs maintain smaller colonies, so the break apart (also called fission or budding) more often. Budding involves "swarming" -- when the new queen takes a portion of the hive and sets out to find a suitable location to establish a colony. During this flight, she gives off an intoxicating cocktail of pheromones that the bees are drawn to. When the queen needs to rest -- be it on a tree branch or in an irrigation box -- the other bees surround her, fanning her with their wings to keep her cool if necessary. This can go on for 1-3 days. There is no hive to protect, no young to guard. So the bees in this situation are as disinterested in humans as they're ever likely to be. And yet, it is not unusual to see people committing desperate acts of fear, leading to injury or death, to escape what is, sadly, a swarm of bees...high on pheromone...just passing through.

In other instances, people encounter AHBs in their homes or yards after a hive has been established. In this scenario AHBs are likely to be more defensive than EHBs. When defending a hive, AHBs tend to react more quickly to intruders, and they have a broader definition of what an intruder is. It's like personal space, and AHBs need more of it. When one stings, it sets off a chain reaction via pheromone, as with other honey bees, except that more AHBs give chase compared to EHBs, and will chase farther. AHBs stay ticked off a little longer than EHBs, too. Running the length of two football fields to escape an agitated AHB hive is the general rule of thumb. So AHBs defending hives certainly can be dangerous, depending on the level of threat they perceive.

A 56-kilogram (125 lb) adult can sustain 728 honey bee stings and still survive (assuming good cardiopulmonary health).
(source: Justin O. Schmidt)

I noted this while at a presentation by Dr. Schmidt last year. It was again at the forefront of my mind while hiking down a steep slope recently. I was zoning and suddenly found myself standing amidst dozens of bees. They were zestfully circling in the sun as far out as 10 feet from the nest, which, as far as I could tell, was right where I stood. Quite a few were coming and going from the nest -- somewhere near my knees -- with clear intention. I figured I was a goner. Surely I had violated the boundaries of an AHB hive's space. I kept my head down, quickened my pace, tucked my arms into my sides so as not to flail, and bristled for the "attack". There wasn't one. I stopped 30 feet away and turned to face the scene. The nest was recessed in a 5-inch crack of a rock formation, just a few inches to the side of the trail. I watched the "killer" bees for a while, fascinated and thankful.

For more information on Africanized honey bees visit the Carl Hayden Bee Research Center.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Please Remove Bees

A frustrated receptionist hands me the telephone as I pass her desk en route to retrieve my mail. I quickly understood why...

Him: ...Hello?

Me: ...Hello, this is [me].

Him: Yes, I have a problem. There are bees. Please will you come remove them?

Me: You have some bees and you want me to come out and remove them for you -- did I understand you correctly?

Him: Yes.

Me: I don't do that. We don't do that sort of thing here. ...Sir is this an emergency?

Him: No, I just have bees here and I would like for you to remove them. Thank you.

Me: We don't provide bee removal services. We are not a pest control company, we're a research facility. Tell me, where are the bees EXACTLY? Are they in a tight grouping, like a ball -- say, hanging from a tree?

Him: They are outside near some storage boxes, coming and going from these boxes. And I would like you to please come to remove them.

Me: Sir, we don't remove bees. You will need to contact a pest control company for that service. We conduct research and provide education.

Him: Oh. So you cannot remove them?

Me: No. I can tell you all about the bees, and give you safety information as to what you should and shouldn't do. But I cannot suit up and come to your home and remove them. You need to contact a licensed pest control company for that service.

Him: But they will charge for this, yes?

[Ah, now we're getting to it]

Me: Yes, they will charge.

Him: Eh, how much they charge?

Me: I don't know, you'll have to compare prices on your own. But it sounds like you may have a hive setting up, as opposed to a swarm passing through, so the bees may be apt to sting in defense of their colony. You definitely should have a licensed pest control company come out to assess the situation.

Him: And what if I just... Just spray some little bit of poisons into the box?

Me: Sir, these are most likely Africanized honey bees. They can respond aggressively, and they will chase you. So unless you're prepared to run the length of at least two football fields, I wouldn't attempt spraying them with anything or agitating the boxes at all.

Him: So spraying a little something onto them and running fast away would not be safe...?

Me [incredulous]: No! It would be very UNsafe to do that, to say nothing of endangering people in the area who could also get stung. And don't even think about jumping into a swimming pool. These bees will wait for you to come out. You need professional help.

I certainly hope he got it.

Monday, April 7, 2008

Beware of Bird

Gila woodpeckers do a number on the stucco walls at times here in the desert southwest. They're a cavity nester, typically drilling their holes in the Saguaro cactus. But when we bulldozed the cacti to build homes, offices and schools, it left the local Gila kinda high and dry. Secretly, I'm rooting for them. And if it weren't for that darned chicken wire beneath the stucco, they'd be in business. Other than that these holes create a potential habitat for Africanized honey bees, it's no biggy (home owners might disagree!).
A local male Gila regularly drums on my chimney. It's thunderous, and sounds as if a commercial airliner is about to shoot out of the fireplace into my living room. My two cats go frantic amidst the roar, I laugh, and the Gila keeps right at it. Such sass.

In light of the recent Red-tailed hawk encounter at Fenway Park, "beware of bird" signs might be in order!

{"Monday Myth" will be back next week on the many misconceptions about Africanized honey bees.}

Sunday, April 6, 2008

One Down...Two To Go!

As anyone who's visited this blog more than once already knows, I'm working on getting into grad school for my M.S. in entomology. I received some news along those lines this week and decided the catharsis of blogging might save me from burning another hole in my athletic shoes.

Between my prospective faculty's efforts and mine, we have three funding options in the works. I just heard back about one this week -- a fellowship. Didn't get it.

It was by far the more competitive of the fellowships I applied for: a national fellowship open to students in a broad spectrum of the sciences. Having learned of it last fall just five days in advance of the due date, I knew it'd be a long shot. My application was good, but it couldn't possibly compete with the other's, who began their essays weeks before me and perhaps even attended one of the workshops on how to apply (again, as a non-student and not someone based on a main university campus, I learned about all this after the fact). But I decided to give it my best go, and managed to receive "Honorable Mention" nonetheless (approx. 17% among more than 9,000 were recognized). Honorable mention doesn't mean a whole lot in terms of funding, but it's a nice rudder and lets me know I'm on track.

While this is all a pretty big deal -- my future, after all -- it's hard not to see it as the game it is. The game of life. Writing grants at work for implementing projects is one thing, writing fellowships for conducting research is another (apparently). I welcome the learning curve, so long as I don't fall flat on my face.

For now, more waiting... The remaining two funding possibilities include a fellowship from me and a big-deal grant (narrow chance of funding) submitted by my prospective advisors. Of course, it wouldn't be a good game without strategy, so I have innovated a secret back-up plan should there be any flat face-falling in the near future.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Hit the Road

I finally got my DVD of the documentary 10 mph in the mail today. It features a couple of guys who are disenchanted with their corporate jobs and metropolitan lifestyle, so they quit and launch a career in the indie film industry, and begin by documenting their zany cross-country trip from Seattle to Boston... On a Seqway. They have more obstacles than answers, and don't try to romanticize the cliche of “carpe diem”. Where they'll sleep, how they'll fill up their gas tank, and other financial concerns mount in the face of growing personal debt. Whether they can afford to finish their trip is as much a part of the story as their encounters with the kindness of strangers. They really captured the heart of rural America, especially in the West. Wish they'd shown more of it.


It stirred up a longing. Every spring the urge swells to revisit seasonal field employment. A little voice makes it sound so simple... Randomly pick a state on the map, look at the seasonal job ads on TAMU, plop everything into storage and go! It was easier to do back then, fresh out of college. Hopping on a plane or passenger train every few months to a new state, a new job, a new adventure, where I didn't know a soul. You’re put up in hotels, homes, fifth wheels, trailers, tents, etc. It’s intense…And then it’s over, and you’re off on another adventure of your choosing. That kind of freedom has a powerful pull. As a kid from Washington who mostly worked her way through school, I'd hardly ever left the Pacific Northwest. So after college when I began to apply for seasonal wildlife jobs -- rule #4 of the hobo code -- I picked places on the map as far from home as I could get. I wound up in areas even more remote than the foothills I grew up in. It scared the hell out of my mom.


The jobs were like something from a National Geographic assignment. Lots of open land, daily immersion in the natural comings and goings of wildlife; plenty of sitting, waiting, watching, recording, or hiking, paddling, wading -- during sunrises, sunsets, and all hours in between. It was endlessly amazing for an animal and bug-lover such as my crew mates and me. America's regional cultures were no less interesting. I fell fully into each one and often wrote home with stories. I quickly learned: you can expect to find fresh barbeque sandwiches in every east Kentucky gas station, hushpuppies in Mississippi's, and in North Dakota... well, mainly lots of abandoned grain elevators that Gazetteers list as towns. In spite of all the neatness of it, I learned that no place is as special (to me) as the Pac NW. Before long all I wanted was to go back. So of course I wound up in Arizona.

I was readying for a return to grad school in wildlife, unsure of that major, when someone offered me a job in entomology. I’d fallen in love with it as an undergrad. It's a great job (my current job). I write grants, educate the public, do a lot of publishing, dabble in research, and coordinate much more than most in my position are allowed. Occasionally, I even get to play with the arthropods. I like my line of work. Love it, even. It scratches that itch that tromping through marshes and forests and prairies all day didn’t. Still, I'd be lying not to admit that the seasonal gig calls to my inner hobo.

A little over a hundred years ago, the American hobo emerged as our nation underwent the change from an agrarian society to an industrial one (Beesley, The American Hobo). Perhaps as we transition from an industrial society to the indoor isolation of the Information Age, we'll be seeing a re-emergence of the hobo. How better to connect with our own nature, or witness our vanishing landscapes than as a working wanderer...?

Monday, March 31, 2008

Monday Myth: Crane Flies

Adult Crane flies mating
(family Tipulidae)

Crane flies belong to the family Tipulidae, and are not "giant mosquitoes", or even mosquito-eaters ("skeeter eaters" is their common name where I come from). Adult Crane flies don't suck blood, they don't bite, pierce, or sting. In fact, the adult life stage lasts just long enough to breed, so many species forego feeding altogether (those that don't are nectar feeders). You can't get any more benign that that.

They are similar to mosquitoes with their long legs and snout-like head. A minority number of Crane fly species are even small enough to mistake for a mosquito at first blush. But the majority of Crane flies are 1-2". They belong to the Diptera order of insects (flies), and as such their second pair of wings is modified into little navigational nubbins called "halteres". The halteres act as a rudder of sorts, and are easier to see in Crane flies than other smaller flies. They're located behind the front wings, and are short with a club-like tip.

Crane flies are a floppy flier, and if one happens to fly into your ear or something (which they do pretty often because, with all due respect to nature, they seem pretty stupid), then you might hear their wings give off a faint, low buzz. But most of the time they're a quiet flyer, just looking for a dark, undisturbed place in your home to hang out (on walls, in closets, bathrooms, last week I found one resting in my cat's litter box -- kinda gross).

The larvae aren't well described. They're small, and either soil-dwelling or aquatic (freshwater). Some of the aquatic species of Crane fly larvae eat mosquito larvae. The soil-dwelling larvae sometimes feed on the roots of plants, and are maligned as turf pests when they do. Golf courses really don't like them.

The adults may be nuisance pests, but they don't pose a significant health threat. They're pretty fragile and squash easily. Keeping screen doors closed is the best way to prevent them from coming inside. We've had a ton of Crane fly activity here in the southwest for about a month. By May the rest of the country should be enjoying their floppy-flying fun.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Insect Haiku!

Dang, this'll teach me to lapse in my blogroll reading... NC State University Museum sponsored one of the coolest things I've ever heard of, right up there with wormholes and peach pancakes: Hexapod Haiku. And I missed it! The entries were entertaining and impressive, especially the kids'.

Well, over peach pancakes this morning I decided to cop my own Haiku fix. (Wormholes will just have to wait.)

The mud is free
The leaves are sturdy
Eagerly I await your pot

Dwindling Araneae for
Policing Polistes
Fair trade

The busy thatch is
Never lacking
A high roof

{Photo: Thatch ant mound. Washington state. Tom Green. Help me. I can't stop typing in Haiku.}

Pneumonic Plague II

{Continuation from previous post}


So what killed Eric York, Grand Canyon National Park wildlife biologist, were aerosolized droplets of primary pneumonic plague that he breathed (through his unmasked mouth and nose) while doing a necropsy on an infected mountain lion. The photos he took while doing this -- with ungloved hands -- serve as sort of a morbid documentation of his infection, which resulted in his untimely death just days later. As I sat in a conference listening to the details, viewing the photos this week, I got squirmy. Oh to go back and warn him...


It has to hit home for anyone who works/ed in field wildlife biology, since they are at greater risk of contracting any of the three forms of plague in plague-endemic areas. I've been there, too. The warnings, the cautions, the Personal Protective Equipment (when they’re there) quickly get lost in the long hours, inclement weather, rough terrain, and blind determination necessary to accomplish field work. I think working with wildlife in the field draws a certain sort of person, too -- often with noble ideals and a strong conservation ethic. It sort of predisposes such folks to losing site of caution, even when it's most needed. It’s a little disconcerting to think back on the daily dangers and near-misses I (and so many others I knew) experienced in the field -- malfunctioning equipment, dangerous weather, whacko’s in the woods, to say nothing of the presence of bear and cougar while in these remote locations alone... Who has time to worry about zoonotic diseases?!


Individuals have to take responsibility for their own health precautions – that is true. But when you're exhausted and everything is going wrong (and in the field everything regularly goes wrong), it’s the path of least resistance to let your own safety slide in favor of accomplishing the work. It's especially true when education and awareness about protecting one’s self isn’t properly addressed (or addressed at all, perhaps) by one’s employer. Being encouraged to tuck a wild animal into my shirt to keep it warm while it crapped and bled all over me wasn't something I thought twice about at the time, given the circumstances. I guess we'll never know where Eric York stood on the continuum of exhaustion, things going wrong, and the slippery slope of relinquishing caution, or what role any of that played in his mind.


The preventability of York’s case during fall 2007 launched a shake-up in wildlife/field biology protocols. The National Park System is taking a comprehensive, honest look at what went wrong and already implementing preventative changes. They’re collaborating with CDC and others to update their training and education of both visitors and staff on zoonotic diseases, increasing surveillance of potential exposure incidents, and tracking “signs” of disease among park staff (absenteeism, tick exposures, ranger incident reports, etc… this is being bundled into a pilot project at Yellowstone National Park). I’m impressed that they have the fortitude to self-question why no “red flag” was raised when a field biologist called in to work sick just a few days after performing a necropsy on a mammal… in a plague-endemic area.


Ironically, York’s incredible dedication to his research – which included long, odd hours and a limited social life – turned out to be instrumental in curbing direct (primary) transmission of pneumonic plague to other humans at Grand Canyon National Park. While he never knew it, he probably saved a lot of lives. It was nice to hear the U.S. Public Health Service medical doctor honor him during the conference this week, while admitting "we got lucky" that no outbreak occurred. By all other accounts as well, it sounds like his passing is a recognized loss to international research for the study and protection of wild cats.


If you’d like to honor the life or passing of wildlife biologist Eric York, apparently you can donate to the Felidae Conservation Fund -- an organization with whom he collaborated on domestic and international research projects toward the protection of wild cats.


Felidae Conservation Fund
14 Cove Road
Belvedere, CA 94920
www.felidaefund.org/about_us/memorial

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Pneumonic Plague

Eric York


Plague is endemic to certain parts of the desert southwest. 10-15 people in the U.S. die of some form of plague each year, most of them in that region -- my region.

Primary pneumonic plague (PPP), in particular, is unsettling. While attending a 2-day public health conference this week, I learned all about the loveliness that this organism isn't. No flea vector is needed to transmit PPP (fleas vector the bubonic plague, the one that's well-known for widespread death in Europe during the middle ages). PPP jumps directly from one mammal to the next. It's high on the bio-terrorism list, with a near 100% mortality (w/in 6 days) if untreated, and transmission via aerosolized droplets from a sneeze, a cough, or... a necropsy


One of the conference talks by a U.S. Public Health Service medical doctor yesterday provided new details on a plague case that was widely publicized last fall. It was on the wildlife biologist, Eric York, working in the