Ovipositing Blue-Ringed Dancer Damselflies

Species Argia sedula, according to BugGuide. This is a tough identification because there are so many blue-black damselflies that look so similar. I'm pretty confident with my conclusion because of the matching images (for instance, this one), the male's wings held high over the back, and distribution map showing the species in Los Angeles.

The confusing part is that the female does not look like the pictures I've seen (for instance, this one). However, I read here that female Argias can have one of two types of coloration (one being the tan or pale type and the other being like a modification of the male coloring).

Above:
Male in "sentinal" position during ovipositing (top), female sweeping her lower abdomen in the pond water while perched in the Water Rose plant (middle), and the "tandem oviposit "doesn't work at first when a lily pad is confused with the water's surface, another male stands by (immediately above). There are about a dozen male Blue-Ringed Dancers hanging around, but this is the only female I've seen. (Uh-oh.)

Below:
What I'm fairly certain is the shed skin from a damselfly nymph. It must have crawled out of the pond onto the lily pad and let the "incomplete metamorphosis" happen right there. Check out this YouTube video, Birth of a Damselfly. It has great photographic close-ups from the hour-long transformative process. You may find the dramatic musical score moving and/or hilarious.

Last:
Another male Blue-Ringed Dancer. On the leaf of a water Iris. Strangely foreshortened because the abdomen was angled out toward the camera.

Hooded Oriole

Icterus cucullatus. I've never seen any kind of Oriole before, so this was an exciting sighting for me. I was just sitting on the rock in my backyard talking to my dad on the phone, and all-of-a-sudden, there's this gorgeous bird, much bigger than I thought Orioles were (eight inches, according to Birds of the Los Angeles Region, which happens to feature the Hooded Oriole on its cover). When I ran to get my camera, I was so worried he'd fly away before I got a picture. A few minutes later, Bradley and I were checking him out through the binoculars when a couple of Ravens flew overhead, and the Oriole fled to my neighbor's giant Walnut tree, where we had trouble seeing him. (It's kind of funny to talk about Orioles and Ravens, since we're fans of both Baltimore teams.) If we start to see Orioles more frequently, I'm definitely going to put out some nectar or jam for them.

One Flame Skimmer, One Neon Skimmer

Okay, I've had some trouble distinguishing between the Flame and Neon Skimmers, but now that I know it's largely about the amount of amber on the wings, I'm pretty sure that the lower-left fellow is a Flame Skimmer while the upper-right is the Neon Skimmer. They're both male, I think. Today the two have mostly abided by their apparent agreement that the Neon perches on the Horsetail Reed while the Flame perches on the nearby Red Yucca plant. However, when I went out to feed the fish, I got lucky with this shot of both on the same reed. The Flame is larger/paler, has half-wings of amber, and is more hinky than the Neon. Check out the facial expression on the Neon here!

In a Disjunct, Montane Sky Island of the Southern Sagebrush Lizard

Sceloporus graciosus vandenburgianus. It's funny: I didn't know at first what species this lizard was, but I should have guessed since I found him in the Sage bush out front. He darted into the adjacent Rosemary, where I snapped these pictures. He's a tiny little guy, maybe about three to four inches long including the tail. Isn't he handsome, though?

I figured he was either the Southern Sagebrush Lizard or the Western Fence Lizard. Because there's no yellow or orange on the back of the hind legs but there is the blue/white throat, he's most likely the male Sagebrush. There's a great comparison of the two similar species at the California Herps site.

Okay, now I'm sure he's the Sagebrush Lizard. John Sullivan at the Wild Herps site notes the orange side stripe, which you can see in my picture above. It's settled, then!

To close, I must note that The San Diego Natural History Museum's description features some fantastic language: "The distribution of the Southern Sagebrush Lizard extends in a series of disjunct, montane sky islands from Los Angeles County, southward to...." Don't "disjunct, montane sky islands" sound like a half awesome, half really scary place to live?

San Diego Alligator Lizard

Elgaria multicarinata webbii seems to enjoy our garden. We often glimpse these San Diego Alligatory folks who seem to favor the patio-side Geranium patch (above and way below), the pergola woodpile (not pictured), and the succulents near the pond (below). They get pretty large, about 16 inches long including the tail.

I really like the different kinds of markings. The California Herps site says that males have more triangular heads than females, so I surmise that the light colored lizard above is a female, while below is a male. (Don't quote me on that, though. I'm an amateur. Obviously!)

There are at least two other kinds of lizard in the garden. I have lots of rock piles for lizards to hide in, I avoid pesticides and herbicides, and their population has definitely been growing. I'll try to get more pictures soon, but it could take a while. They generally don't pose for long. Our mockingbirds are always on the prowl, dive-bombing and what-not.

The Second Neon Skimmer

Above: This is the newcomer, brighter than the first, a male Neon Skimmer, Libellula croceipennis.

I had to go back and change my earlier post, in which I misidentified the first dragonfly as a Flame Skimmer. The main difference, which I had overlooked at first, is the amount of amber coloring on the wings. Male Flame Skimmers have 50% of the wing colored amber while Neon Skimmers have 25% or less. Females of each type have faded (Flame) to almost no (Neon) amber.

As you can see in the pictures above (the second dragonfly) and below (the first dragonfly), the amount of amber is consistent with the Neon Skimmer, even though the first doesn't seem pale enough to be a female and the second's abdomen doesn't seem bright red enough to be a male. (???) For now, I'm going to stick with the thought that I have a female (below) and a male (above), but I'm kind of uncertain now. At least I know they're both Neon, not Flame.

Longlegged Sac Spider (A Bitey Thing)

Genus Cheiracanthium. I've decided I don't like this spider. After hopping around on the web (get it?), I believe that these pale flesh colored s.o.b.s bite people at whim (without provocation). Somebody claimed that bites my Sac Spiders are often misdiagnosed as Brown Recluse bites because of their severity. I've still have this dime-sized scar on my leg from a 1992 Recluse bite. That bit! (Get it?)

Therefore, I do not like you, Longlegged Sac Spider. But let's make a pact: you stay outdoors and leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone.

Whenever we get spiders in the house — and we get them a lot here in SoCal — Bradley is usually kind enough to trap them and release them outside. The night before last, though, this scary fellow (like this guy) dropped from the bedroom ceiling and landed right on my bare side. I have insomnia, so I was awake to detect the unwelcome presence. I jumped up, turned on the light, waking Bradley, who smashed the spider, which was then on my pillow, with a shoe. The thing is, I knew it was going to happen. At bedtime, I saw the spider up there, right above my side of the bed. Since the ceiling is highest at that point, he'd be hard to get, so I convinced myself he'd just stay up there. Wrong-o! Much to my dismay and his demise. (The end.)

Jack Tripper & The Flapper

Season 7, Episode 12 (1983) "Larry's Sister"
A misunderstanding challenges Jack's friendship with Larry.

Speaking of butterflies, I've always wondered about that "Life" poster in Jack, Janet, and Chrissy/Cindy/Terri's apartment on Three's Company (a series I have enjoyed for many years). For the longest time, I never noticed that the butterfly's body was a woman. Above: a picture of the episode that was (obviously) on TV Land last night. I missed by chance for a clearer shot of the poster because I was charging my camera battery, but if you've seen the show, you've surely noticed the poster.

F.X. Leyendecker (1922)

Here's what I've found. The image is (or is based on) the October 2, 1922 cover of Life magazine, a painting called The Flapper (pun intended, I'm sure) by F.X. Leyendecker. He's an interesting figure — and tragic. According to the Field Guide of American Pulp Artists, "Frank Leyendecker was depressed and in ill health from his ongoing drug addiction, when he most likely committed suicide by morphine overdose on April 18, 1924. Although he was only 47 the police report listed his apparent age as '60.'" Yikes.

Sadly, John Ritter only lived until age 54 despite his apparent lack of severe depression and morphine addiction. He died of an aortic dissection that was initially misdiagnosed.

Neon Skimmer Dragonfly & Nymph Shell

I spotted the thing pictured above in the Dwarf Papyrus, a.k.a. Cyperus haspens, that grows in my pond. Thinking it was a live bug, I left it alone. The next day, it hadn't budged a millimeter, so I started taking pictures. Once I moved some stems aside for a better look (above), I could see it was a shed skin or exoskeleton of some kind. Neato! said I. 

J. Hensen

Above right: striking a pose after I carefully extracted the exoskeleton from the plant. This facial expression reminds me of Kermit the Frog.

It wasn't obvious to me at first what this was, but minutes later, I spotted a dragonfly, the first of the season. As soon as I saw her face, I knew the shell must have been a dragonfly nymph. Neato! said I, again.

Above: This female Libellula croceipennis, a.k.a. Neon Skimmer, is perhaps the same individual who left the exoskeleton in my papyrus. Dragonflies, especially the males, love to perch on tall, skinny things overlooking the pond, so I've planted Horsetail Reed, a.k.a. Cape Rush or Equisetum hyemale, there. (It's doing really well since I took it out of the pot and planted it in the ground, but I'm afraid it's soon going to pop up everywhere I don't want it to.) She perches on the Horsetail Reed in this picture.

Doesn't it look like she's smiling?

backyardbugs

I found this crazy YouTube video about dragonfly life cycles. You have to see it. It shows an awesome time-elapsed sequence of a dragonfly emerging from the nymph shell! It shows super-close ups of all kinds of stuff, including the weird feature some dragonfly nymphs have in order to breathe while living underwater, rectal gills!

Big & Little Legs: A Bullfrog Tadpole Update

You may have seen my March 11 post about bringing home three bullfrog tadpoles? Here's an update...

Above: Look closely and you'll see that this tadpole now has BIG legs and HONKER webbed feet! (Click image for larger view.)

It's fairly unusual for me to see these guys active during the day, but lately it seems like they're coming to the surface more often to catch some rays or to hunt for food. The weather's been warmer the last two or three days. I don't know if that has anything to do with it. There are lots of bugs hanging around the pond, especially damselflies. Maybe the tads are tempted by the promise of tasty daytime snacks?

Anyway, the tadpole above caught my eye when he/she swam to the surface, kicking all four newly developed appendages as well as undulating its tail. If you asked me, I'd say this guy looks fifty-fifty froglike and tadpole-ish. It's supposed to be a year-and-a-half or so before these guys are full-fledged bullfrogs. (?)

Above: This tadpole has small hind legs and no arms that I could make out. It's funny: like the goldfish, the tadpoles seem to think they're hidden from view as long as their eyes are concealed under a plant. You see how much effort this tadpole put into hiding when he/she saw me coming!

Cabbage White & Why Gross Was Good

Maybe I like butterflies more than I thought I did. Maybe they're kind of like the color pink, which I detested as a girl because girls are supposed to like pink. There was something I had against girly things all along, and maybe I saw butterflies as girly? As a kid, I was busy looking under rocks for bugs to feed to my turtles or searching where we kept the garden hose for slugs. Caterpillars were neat, cocoons were cool, the cicadapocalypse was exciting, and in general, gross was good.

Maybe it was because most of my early childhood friends were boys. The other little girl in my neighborhood, Laura Lee, wasn't much into wearing dresses and acting prissy, either. Neither of us wanted to be Daisy when we played Dukes of Hazzard down by "the red bridge," a once red-painted three by five foot sheet of metal thrown across the muddy part of the ditch between Laura Lee's and Shawn's houses. Many of our exploits took place in one of three ditches. Maybe it sounds kind of impoverished, but it wasn't.

Image from Endolith's flickr

Maybe it was my early exposure to the LIFE Science and Nature Libraries that whet my appetite for, uh, science and nature. I remember my then sister-in-law Mary, who is now a scientist at Rice, going through my favorites (below) with me, over and over again. There's an audio cassette of our discussing The Universe when I was four or five. I pronounced it like "yoo-nee-vuhws." The series constituted much of my literary infancy, Richard Scarry and Dr. Seuss being the other strong presences.

Speaking of Seuss, I called my sister Kim "Goo-goo" for about ten years because she would read me Fox in Sox, which I'd request by referring to its Goo-Goose passage: "Here is lots of new blue goo now. New goo. Blue goo. Gooey. Gooey. Blue goo. New goo. Gluey. Gluey. Gooey goo for chewy chewing! That's what that Goo-Goose is doing." My word for the book became, in my mind, her proper name. But I'm not here to talk Seuss right now. (However, Goo is gross. And if gross is good, as I claim, then Goo is good. And everything's relevant somehow!)

I picked up a bunch of the oldies-but-goodies from this series at a local thrift store, and I often use images from them in collage (visual or verbal) and as drawing references. For instance, the wasps' nest in my drawing Landscape with Wasps' Nest (below) was informed by a LIFE Nature Series picture.

by Karri Paul

Maybe my enduring interest in "the gross" and my early distaste for "the girly" were inborn, part of my personality — the result of nature as much as nurture. According to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which I took in 1991, I'm INTJ (Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, Judging), a type referred to as "The Scientist." When I read the description now, it largely rings true. One part says:

"An INTJ scientist gives a gift to society by putting their ideas into a useful form for others to follow. It is not easy for the INTJ to express their internal images, insights, and abstractions. The internal form of the INTJ's thoughts and concepts is highly individualized, and is not readily translatable into a form that others will understand. However, the INTJ is driven to translate their ideas into a plan or system that is usually readily explainable, rather than to do a direct translation of their thoughts. They usually don't see the value of a direct transaction, and will also have difficulty expressing their ideas, which are non-linear. However, their extreme respect of knowledge and intelligence will motivate them to explain themselves to another person who they feel is deserving of the effort."

I wonder why I didn't pursue science. Making the non-linear and hard-to-translate image/insight/abstraction into an understandable form sounds a lot like what I'm working on via writing and making art.

At a recent Otis faculty meeting, a colleague quoted Frederick Buechner, "The vocation for you is the one in which your deep gladness and the world's deep need meet — something that not only makes you happy but that the world needs to have done." Actually, my colleague said it more like this, "Vocation is where your passion meets the world's hunger." I prefer his version. Whichever way you put it, a vocation of that sort is what I've sought — is what I seek. Maybe the seeking itself is my vocation? Maybe the world's deep need will soon find my deep gladness?

Okay, back on track. I think I like butterflies more than I thought I did because I'm suddenly interested in taking a picture of all eight butterflies and moths on the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles's page. It's not as ambitious as spotting everything on their checklist (at the bottom of the page), but still, it takes a long time to get close enough to a butterfly, once spotted, for a halfway decent picture.

So, this (top of post) is the Cabbage White butterfly, a.k.a.  Pieris rapae, European Cabbage Butterfly, Imported Cabbageworm, and Small White. Non-native to North America, it's the most commonly seen butterfly in Los Angeles. It flies over or through my yard a lot, but it seldom lands. Here, you see it on my Sweet Alyssum, where it was still for, like, one second. Then a second one came along and they frolicked off together (below).

As for my butterfly checklist, so far I have: Fiery Skipper, Red Admiral, Mourning Cloak, Painted Lady, and now Cabbage White. These remain to be photographed by moi: White Lined Sphinx, Gulf Fritillary, Monarch, and Western Tiger Swallowtail.

Below: This moth is not on the list, and I'm not sure what kind he is. It flew out of another plant when I was watering and landed on the lime tree. (See the baby limes?) I've been through hundreds of images at this, this, this, and especially this site, but no luck. If you have an idea, please share!

Orb Weavers, Webs, & the World

Above: A little picture-in-picture action for you. Different views of this spider who has attached herself to my patio umbrella.

This is a female Neoscona spider, most likely Neoscona arabesca. (The second link has an awesome close-up of all the eyes!) Orb Weavers are known as such because they weave in the kind of concentric design most of us picture when we think of spider webs.

When I think of the prototypical spider's web, I think of three things, all of which are depictions of webs (one, verbal, one verbal/visual, one just visual) as much as any actual spider's web. The first is a Whitman poem, the second is E.B. White's Charlotte's Web, and the third is a series of works on paper by Vija Celmins.

①

A NOISELESS, PATIENT SPIDER

A noiseless, patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated;
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launched forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres, to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

— Walt Whitman

I feel ya, Walt! O my soul, "the vacant vast surrounding"!

②

"Stretched across the upper part of the doorway was a big spiderweb, and hanging from the top of the web, head down, was a large grey spider. She was about the size of a gumdrop. She had eight legs, and she was waving one of them at Wilbur in friendly greeting. 'See me now?' she asked." (page 36-7)

Charlotte is an Araneus cavaticus or Barn Spider, another Orb Weaver. My spider is much smaller than a gumdrop. She's about a quarter-inch across.

"A spider's web is stronger than it looks. Although it is made of thin, delicate strands, the web is not easily broken. However, a web gets torn every day by the insects that kick around in it, and a spider must rebuild it when it gets full of holes." (page 55)

Oh, the continual rebuilding!

Here's what else I love that E.B White said:

"If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."  — E.B. White quoted by Israel Shenker in  The New York Times, July 11, 1969

"All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world. I guess you can find it in there if you dig around."  — E.B. White quoted in LIFE magazine, December 11, 1964.

I feel ya, E.B.!

③

“Maybe I identify with the spider. I'm the kind of person who works on something forever and then works on the same image again the next day."— Vija Celmins

"I found some scientific images of webs at the natural history museum. Very exciting. I thought these webs described the space I always wanted to describe — a surface that has small facets that rigorously account for and record every intersection; a lived on surface. Also, it was an emotional image that would draw people in, so the carefully accounted for space was contrasted with an emotional melacholic image. You know I like that combination of contrasts — a sort of double reality." —Vija Celmins (interview with Simon Grant)

I feel ya, too, Vija! That repetition, the tedious crafting! That seductive "double reality" of combining contrasts!

✷

So, to close, another pic of my little lady octoped:

Painted Lady, A Wish, & Worthwhile Efforts

This is Vanessa cardui (Linnaeus, 1758). According the Los Angeles Butterfly Survey page, "I [the Painted Lady] am the most widespread butterfly in the world. I am very often seen flying in massive numbers throughout the L.A. area, on my emigration from Mexico." However, one, and only one, such creature has been flitting around my back yard over the last few days, mostly near the Curry Plant and Blue Agave (both pictured here), but also around the Rhubarb, Tomatoes, and Fennel.

I've had a heck of a time taking a picture because this Painted Lady is so, so flitty and/or fluttery. There's been sitting and waiting, then more sitting and waiting. Meanwhile, this butterfly has been all over the place, almost never landing or perching for more than a second, and always nowhere near me.

But today, perhaps in celebration of Fathers' Day and the burning off of this morning's June-gloomy marine layer, the Painted Lady came and landed about a foot from me, right at knee level. A little reward.

It's funny, this reminds me of two fortune cookie fortunes I was happy to receive a couple days ago:

While these are, perhaps, applicable to (a.) my wish to take a picture of the Painted Lady and (b.) my efforts to be still enough and patient enough to do so, I hope I haven't used up my fortunateness on butterfly photography. I have a really super-important going-on going on tomorrow, and I definitely need every possible wish granting and effort worthwhilery in relation to that — a situation involving serious, prolonged efforts as well as a truly long delay. Maybe the Painted Lady's visitation is another good omen?

Fiery Skipper Butterfly

This little guy is Hylephila phyleus (Drury, 1773). According to the L.A. County Natural History Museum's Los Angeles Butterfly Survery, the Fiery Skipper is one of the most common butterflies to see in these here parts. He/she must have felt threatened that I was in his/her face (above, on the very properly named Butterfly Bush), so he/she moved to the nearby cactus (below), which was pretty intelligent for the obvious reason that a lot of potential harm-doers, including myself, would have to risk getting stuck pretty badly to mess with him/her there.

Later, June 22, 2011:

I'm finding more and more Fiery Skippers in the yard, frolicking about. At any time, there are four or five visible. Here's a view I didn't catch before:

Suspended Bower Vine Flower

Caught in a web, it appeared to hang in midair.

Columbine Flowering

When I planted my new Columbine plant this spring, it was immediately eaten to the ground by, I presume, Cutworms. It took a long time, but the plant eventually rebounded. Now it's flowering, and I'm surprised what the bloom looks like. I picked it out based on the label, which said dark purple or burgandy (I can't remember which, but I'm always into those.) This doesn't look at all like what I expected, but I love it. What a nice surprise!

More Red Admiral Butterfly (Better Pics)

Closer this time, on the shriveled iris flower. Wow, what a beautiful creature, right?

Red Admiral Butterfly

Vanessa atalanta (Linnaeus, 1758) is another fan of rotting fruit and, therefore, another friend of our Loquat tree. Information about this wide ranging fellow at Butterflies and Moths of North America.

 I was surprised to see that the dorsal (above) and ventral (below) coloring are so different.