Okay, next post, dueling spiders. This post - this guy: http://www.beautifulbugs.com/beautifulbugs/allstar.htm
. . I need a better camera. Not that I don't love my present camera - a Pentax Optio S7 - it has served me very, very well, especially considering how economical it was to purchase and how compact it is to carry. I am not complaining, at all. It just . . can't really do what that guy's doing. And I have worked with an SLR before, but they're clunky and awkward and not conducive to being contorted at right angles to the ground under a bush while balanced on a wobbling rock, which is how I tend to take a lot of pictures. They're heavy, which puts them in increased danger of dropping, and also bulky, making them awkward for getting into tight little spaces.
'Course, that guy obviously worked all that out.
But really, what I want is a point-and-shoot digital with an optical zoom that operates in macro mode, 12.1 megapixel or higher, and no ridiculous shutter lag (really, no shutter lag. Shutter lag is bad when taking pictures of things that may not be terribly amused at being photographed.) There are a few cameras out there that fit the bill in everything but responsiveness. I figure in a few years they'll have that worked out, and in the mean time I'll keep on with the camera I have.
But *sigh*. Look at that. Me wants.
Monday, June 16, 2008
As promised, bug pics from the past couple weeks:
This is a newly-hatched baby preying mantis. I know it's knew-hatched, 'cause it was hanging out in the shrubbery by my front door along with about two dozen of its brothers and sisters. They were all climbing upwards, which is puzzling to me, considering they can't fly. They seem to be considerably more docile creatures at this age than they are when older - at least, this little guy (gal?) made no attempt to bite me.
This is a juvenile Buffalo Leafhopper. Yes, it's from this planet. How can you possibly not think that's cool?
It's waving! (Actually, I think it's saying, "Step off, enormous mammal-thing, or I keel you!")
(It's also reminding me that I have not posted the dueling spider series here. Next post: dueling spiders! With video!)
It's really hard to pick out which photos to post here; sometimes there's one that's a stand-out in terms of being just the best picture I've taken all week, and sometimes there's a stand-out in terms of being one of the neater things I've ever seen and OMG y'all must see it too! (See above re: baby Buffalo Leafhopper).
But anyway, I've decided the rest of this post should be devoted to milkweed borers. Because they're just cool.
. . I met a woman at the nature center, briefly, who pointed out a frog in the pond and insisted I take its picture (I did, though it was just sitting there being not terribly photogenic or disposed to creating a well-composed photograph). I then told her I was there to take pictures of bugs, and showed her a few bugs shots. She asked if I was going to be an entomologist. I said no, just a hobby, and wondered how old (or rather, how young) she thought I was. I know I don't look my age, but after having been mistaken for my sister's mother (she's only 8 years younger! I am not old enough to have a child her age!), I thought that perhaps I finally looked too old to be asked what I want to be when I grow up. I don't even get carded at the movies very much anymore.
I did, however, type "entomology degree" into Google this evening, just for the hell of it. I don't think it's for me . . there seems to be more emphasis on pest control than on appreciation of biodiversity, in the study of bugs. But maybe I could audit a class sometime? One that doesn't involve collecting. Maybe. If I get published and financially stable and all that fun stuff. At the least, I discovered there is in fact an entomology department at U of Penn (something I'd been wondering); I could look up graduate students and pester them when I have pictures of bugs I can't identify.
This is a newly-hatched baby preying mantis. I know it's knew-hatched, 'cause it was hanging out in the shrubbery by my front door along with about two dozen of its brothers and sisters. They were all climbing upwards, which is puzzling to me, considering they can't fly. They seem to be considerably more docile creatures at this age than they are when older - at least, this little guy (gal?) made no attempt to bite me.
This is a juvenile Buffalo Leafhopper. Yes, it's from this planet. How can you possibly not think that's cool?
It's waving! (Actually, I think it's saying, "Step off, enormous mammal-thing, or I keel you!")
(It's also reminding me that I have not posted the dueling spider series here. Next post: dueling spiders! With video!)It's really hard to pick out which photos to post here; sometimes there's one that's a stand-out in terms of being just the best picture I've taken all week, and sometimes there's a stand-out in terms of being one of the neater things I've ever seen and OMG y'all must see it too! (See above re: baby Buffalo Leafhopper).
But anyway, I've decided the rest of this post should be devoted to milkweed borers. Because they're just cool.
. . I met a woman at the nature center, briefly, who pointed out a frog in the pond and insisted I take its picture (I did, though it was just sitting there being not terribly photogenic or disposed to creating a well-composed photograph). I then told her I was there to take pictures of bugs, and showed her a few bugs shots. She asked if I was going to be an entomologist. I said no, just a hobby, and wondered how old (or rather, how young) she thought I was. I know I don't look my age, but after having been mistaken for my sister's mother (she's only 8 years younger! I am not old enough to have a child her age!), I thought that perhaps I finally looked too old to be asked what I want to be when I grow up. I don't even get carded at the movies very much anymore.
I did, however, type "entomology degree" into Google this evening, just for the hell of it. I don't think it's for me . . there seems to be more emphasis on pest control than on appreciation of biodiversity, in the study of bugs. But maybe I could audit a class sometime? One that doesn't involve collecting. Maybe. If I get published and financially stable and all that fun stuff. At the least, I discovered there is in fact an entomology department at U of Penn (something I'd been wondering); I could look up graduate students and pester them when I have pictures of bugs I can't identify.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
You know that show 'Dirty Jobs'?
. . well I should have been on it, this weekend.
I think I've mentioned previously living at my parents' house. Well, eight years or so ago, my parents had an above-ground pool. I say "had" not because the pool went anywhere, but because it's no longer a pool. After not being opened or chemically treated for years on end, it's more of an above-ground pond. Kind of zombie-of-pool.
After many years of disagreement re: what to do with the pool that no one is using, last year I just decided heck, okay, so we're gonna have an above-ground pond, fine - and put some floating water-weeds in it. They took off and looked quite pretty, if bizarre in context, for the duration of last summer.
. . . this summer, the pretty little floating leafy things have largely been eaten alive by the rather virulent strain of algae that seems to have come with them. Whatever exists in actual ponds that keeps said algae under control? We apparently don't have any of those. And I'm getting eaten alive every time I venture into the back yard, by the mosquitoes. The mosquitoes were previously controlled nicely by the dragon-fly larva that also made the pool-pond home, but it seems that dragonflies don't think the three inch thick layer of vaguely greenish sludge on top of the water looks like a good place to raise a family. Who can blame them? But the mosquitoes, it seems, have no such standards (figures).
So Wednesday, I went out to pick some strawberries, got four mosquito bites in ten minutes, and decided that's it, pool is coming down.
So most of yesterday and today was spent draining the pool, which involved sticking big long piece of tubing into the aforementioned sludge, covering one end, hauling it over the side, and hoping the laws of physics decide to play nice and the water drains. My experience is that in a grudge match between the Algae of Doom and the laws of physics, algae wins. Either that or I've just pissed off some higher power that is amused by seeing me hanging over the side of the pool with my rear in the air sticking my arms elbow-deep into murky sludge, over and over and over again, in ninety degree weather. I looked like swamp thing and smelled like bog after about an hour. This took considerably longer than an hour.
But, at the end of two days, the pool has about 10" of semi-liquid sludge left in the bottom and is otherwise drained. Disassembly should commence next weekend - though not Friday, when I'll be celebrating the summer Solstice. I refuse to celebrate the start of summer by wading through sludge. There is nothing remotely celebratory about pond slime, really. I suppose it could make one spiritual, though - you know, it could inspire prayer. "Please let me not catch something bizarre and antibiotic-resistant from sticking my hands into this."
When I was not elbow-deep in sludge I was, of course, taking pictures of bugs. There will be a picture post later.
I think I've mentioned previously living at my parents' house. Well, eight years or so ago, my parents had an above-ground pool. I say "had" not because the pool went anywhere, but because it's no longer a pool. After not being opened or chemically treated for years on end, it's more of an above-ground pond. Kind of zombie-of-pool.
After many years of disagreement re: what to do with the pool that no one is using, last year I just decided heck, okay, so we're gonna have an above-ground pond, fine - and put some floating water-weeds in it. They took off and looked quite pretty, if bizarre in context, for the duration of last summer.
. . . this summer, the pretty little floating leafy things have largely been eaten alive by the rather virulent strain of algae that seems to have come with them. Whatever exists in actual ponds that keeps said algae under control? We apparently don't have any of those. And I'm getting eaten alive every time I venture into the back yard, by the mosquitoes. The mosquitoes were previously controlled nicely by the dragon-fly larva that also made the pool-pond home, but it seems that dragonflies don't think the three inch thick layer of vaguely greenish sludge on top of the water looks like a good place to raise a family. Who can blame them? But the mosquitoes, it seems, have no such standards (figures).
So Wednesday, I went out to pick some strawberries, got four mosquito bites in ten minutes, and decided that's it, pool is coming down.
So most of yesterday and today was spent draining the pool, which involved sticking big long piece of tubing into the aforementioned sludge, covering one end, hauling it over the side, and hoping the laws of physics decide to play nice and the water drains. My experience is that in a grudge match between the Algae of Doom and the laws of physics, algae wins. Either that or I've just pissed off some higher power that is amused by seeing me hanging over the side of the pool with my rear in the air sticking my arms elbow-deep into murky sludge, over and over and over again, in ninety degree weather. I looked like swamp thing and smelled like bog after about an hour. This took considerably longer than an hour.
But, at the end of two days, the pool has about 10" of semi-liquid sludge left in the bottom and is otherwise drained. Disassembly should commence next weekend - though not Friday, when I'll be celebrating the summer Solstice. I refuse to celebrate the start of summer by wading through sludge. There is nothing remotely celebratory about pond slime, really. I suppose it could make one spiritual, though - you know, it could inspire prayer. "Please let me not catch something bizarre and antibiotic-resistant from sticking my hands into this."
When I was not elbow-deep in sludge I was, of course, taking pictures of bugs. There will be a picture post later.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Very occasionally, I do things other than take pictures of bugs, believe it or not!
(Actually, I do things other than take pictures of bugs a lot, but you couldn't tell from this blog up until now, could you?)
For example, I also sew. I splurged on fabric a bit this weekend - there were things that were on sale! And they were pretty. The following garments resulted:
This was pretty simple to make, despite being partially lined, due to the wonders of bias tape. I have recently discovered that I love bias tape - they should make it in more colors, though.
You can't tell from the picture, but that fabric has an all-over floral eyelet pattern (hence the need for lining). It's really pretty, and it's very fine, lightweight material, nicely cool and summery. You can really see where the lining ends in this picture, thanks to the back-lighting; it's not so obvious in more natural light.
What I Learned From Making This Skirt:
a.) Invisible zippers are an invention of the devil.
b.) Bias-cut linen is stretchier than you think.
c.) Invisible zippers are of Satan, seriously.
d.) Human beings are not symmetrical from front to back; it would be good to remember this when determining the length of front and back pieces of skirt.
e.) Invisible zippers? Pure evil.
. . . I did get the invisible zipper to work, after ripping out and re-stitching the lower-most portion of it three times, use of a few presser feet (not the invisible-zipper-installing presser foot) in ways not intended by their manufacturers, re-cutting the waistband, and signing something in blood that I
think may have involved giving away my firstborn. But the zipper now works!
. . nearly-circular hems are also a little bit evil, but really, compared to the invisible zippers, they're small potatoes. The hem issue was solved by immoderate application of bias tape (did I mention I love bias tape?). The bias tape, sadly, was no match for the evil of the zipper. It could do nothing where the zipper was
concerned.
(But you can't see that zipper, can you? It's at the top of the center back. And it's all invisible and classy. But evil.)
The shirt being worn in the skirt picture was store-bought, not made by me. I can take no credit for the pretty curtains, either, which were picked out (and hemmed) by my mother (aka the person who taught me to sew - though she likes to use patterns, and I generally don't.) The person wearing the garments is me, and the various green things you see in the background are my collection of African Violets.
(Actually, I do things other than take pictures of bugs a lot, but you couldn't tell from this blog up until now, could you?)
For example, I also sew. I splurged on fabric a bit this weekend - there were things that were on sale! And they were pretty. The following garments resulted:
This was pretty simple to make, despite being partially lined, due to the wonders of bias tape. I have recently discovered that I love bias tape - they should make it in more colors, though.You can't tell from the picture, but that fabric has an all-over floral eyelet pattern (hence the need for lining). It's really pretty, and it's very fine, lightweight material, nicely cool and summery. You can really see where the lining ends in this picture, thanks to the back-lighting; it's not so obvious in more natural light.
What I Learned From Making This Skirt:a.) Invisible zippers are an invention of the devil.
b.) Bias-cut linen is stretchier than you think.
c.) Invisible zippers are of Satan, seriously.
d.) Human beings are not symmetrical from front to back; it would be good to remember this when determining the length of front and back pieces of skirt.
e.) Invisible zippers? Pure evil.
. . . I did get the invisible zipper to work, after ripping out and re-stitching the lower-most portion of it three times, use of a few presser feet (not the invisible-zipper-installing presser foot) in ways not intended by their manufacturers, re-cutting the waistband, and signing something in blood that I
think may have involved giving away my firstborn. But the zipper now works! . . nearly-circular hems are also a little bit evil, but really, compared to the invisible zippers, they're small potatoes. The hem issue was solved by immoderate application of bias tape (did I mention I love bias tape?). The bias tape, sadly, was no match for the evil of the zipper. It could do nothing where the zipper was
concerned.
(But you can't see that zipper, can you? It's at the top of the center back. And it's all invisible and classy. But evil.)
The shirt being worn in the skirt picture was store-bought, not made by me. I can take no credit for the pretty curtains, either, which were picked out (and hemmed) by my mother (aka the person who taught me to sew - though she likes to use patterns, and I generally don't.) The person wearing the garments is me, and the various green things you see in the background are my collection of African Violets.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
More bug pictures! I think this is going to turn into a photography blog for the duration of the summer. Other topics may be addressed, but mostly there will be bugs.
. . . and I need a hand-held light thingie - like you can get to attach to an SLR? Except I have a point-and-shoot, which has no means to attach thingies. So, hand-held. And no, a flashlight would not work as well . . well, it could, if it were a particularly nice flashlight . . but generally speaking, flashlights produce concentric rings of yellow light. Not particularly conducive to the taking of well-lit pictures of nocturnal bugs. I'm just using the built-in flash at the moment, but even in "soft flash" mode it's really a little bright.
So, pictures, some daytime (mostly from the nature center), some nighttime (mostly from my yard). I did hang around the nature center for maybe half an hour after dark once last year . . . technically a no-no . . but it made me a little nervous to be someplace I was not supposed to be, alone, after dark. Even in the name of art and all that.
. . these are still all un-cropped. That policy may not last much longer, as some of them would really benefit from cropping.
. . . and I need a hand-held light thingie - like you can get to attach to an SLR? Except I have a point-and-shoot, which has no means to attach thingies. So, hand-held. And no, a flashlight would not work as well . . well, it could, if it were a particularly nice flashlight . . but generally speaking, flashlights produce concentric rings of yellow light. Not particularly conducive to the taking of well-lit pictures of nocturnal bugs. I'm just using the built-in flash at the moment, but even in "soft flash" mode it's really a little bright.
So, pictures, some daytime (mostly from the nature center), some nighttime (mostly from my yard). I did hang around the nature center for maybe half an hour after dark once last year . . . technically a no-no . . but it made me a little nervous to be someplace I was not supposed to be, alone, after dark. Even in the name of art and all that.
(This picture came out highly cool, but I can't take complete credit for it, because the bug's upper left wing is broken. You can sorta see that if you look closely - that's why it was holding still and posing so well. Poor bug. If you're looking closely enough in general, you see more "imperfect" critters than you might expect - this guy was still clearly trying to figure out what to do with three wings, but you see critters short an appendage getting around fine. See below re: bug with malformed foot. There's something sorta sobering and yet hopeful about the idea that it's not just us whose lives sometimes suck, and yet have to carry on - the whole world is struggling just like that. And from what I can see, a bigger percentage than you'd think do okay.)
This little dude (or dudette, as the case may be - I'm not sure) wins the award for sheer awesome. I mean - striped antennae. There's no way you can go wrong with striped antennae. I really must find out what the heck he-or-she is.
Look too long into the abyss . . .
(I suddenly want to make LOL - bugs. "Existentialist bug . . looks into abyss.")
(I suddenly want to make LOL - bugs. "Existentialist bug . . looks into abyss.")
This little guy (or gal) had a malformed right rear-most foot. See how it looks like all curly? It shouldn't; it should look like the left one. But, I didn't even realize this until I uploaded the pictures, because a.) bug was tiny, and b.) bug was moving completely normally. Used it just like the other foot. I find that sorta cool. Yay, little adversity-overcoming bug!
. . these are still all un-cropped. That policy may not last much longer, as some of them would really benefit from cropping.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
I told you that you should be frightened about this video thing, didn't I? Well, here you go . . video, taken last fall, of the spider by my garage. (This entry is NOT ARACHNOPHOBIC FRIENDLY.)
I'd read that spiders groomed themselves like little bitty many-legged cats, but had never actually seen this. Well, this particular spider, who I'd been trying to photograph all summer without much success (it built its web in front of the overhead light at the corner of the garage, which was awesome to look at but a bit much for my camera to handle), apparently got so accustomed to my harassing it that it felt comfortable letting me watch it clean up. And I had my camera. Sometimes life is cool like that.
This was . . either the very last or second-to-last time I ever saw this spider; I suspect it left this world shortly thereafter, hopefully having left an egg sac somewhere . . not that the world is particularly lacking in this species of spider, I see tons of them around, but I grew fond of it over the course of the summer and I'd like to think it got to have a meaningful little spidey life and pass on its genetic code and all. (Also, I am presently doing that starving-artist thing and living with family, my younger sister hates spiders, and my dad would probably have killed the spider if my sister happened to see it and freak. I'm unsure of the odds of him telling me about it if that occurred, as I'd mentioned being fond of the spider, and he'd told me not to tell him where it was if that was the case, etc., etc. . . hopefully he didn't kill it. Hopefully it just died of naturally causes on account of it being fall.)
Anyway, funny story, to do with baby-making spiders . . sometime around August I was outside in the evening trying to photograph this spider, when I see a smaller spidey of the same species trying to climb into its web. Now, I know that spiders will be cannibals given the opportunity and I'm a bleeding-heart sucker for creatures trying to win Darwin awards, so of course, I shoo the smaller spider away.
Few nights later, it's back. I shoo it away again, noticing as I do so that "my" spider is behaving very oddly for a creature whose web is being invaded - it's not pouncing. Huh, I think.
I'm unsure how many times this repeats - two or three at least, I think - before a little light bulb goes on over my head.
. . . males are smaller than females.
And suddenly the smaller spider's persistence, "my" spider's lack of aggressiveness, etc., made a great deal more sense. So I let them be, poor things - I'd been repeatedly ruining their romantic evening. (Of course, she may very well have eaten him afterwards, I'm unsure if this particular sort of spider does that - I know some of them do - but oh well, he was clearly willing.)
So now that I've rambled at length about the life and times of the following spider . . . I present the spider, grooming itself like a little cat:
(Sorry about the few seconds of blank blackness; the garage light went out. It's on a motion sensor; apparently moving spiders are not enough to keep it on, and I need to learn to wave my other arm around while keeping a video camera steady if I want to rely on said light.)
I'd read that spiders groomed themselves like little bitty many-legged cats, but had never actually seen this. Well, this particular spider, who I'd been trying to photograph all summer without much success (it built its web in front of the overhead light at the corner of the garage, which was awesome to look at but a bit much for my camera to handle), apparently got so accustomed to my harassing it that it felt comfortable letting me watch it clean up. And I had my camera. Sometimes life is cool like that.
This was . . either the very last or second-to-last time I ever saw this spider; I suspect it left this world shortly thereafter, hopefully having left an egg sac somewhere . . not that the world is particularly lacking in this species of spider, I see tons of them around, but I grew fond of it over the course of the summer and I'd like to think it got to have a meaningful little spidey life and pass on its genetic code and all. (Also, I am presently doing that starving-artist thing and living with family, my younger sister hates spiders, and my dad would probably have killed the spider if my sister happened to see it and freak. I'm unsure of the odds of him telling me about it if that occurred, as I'd mentioned being fond of the spider, and he'd told me not to tell him where it was if that was the case, etc., etc. . . hopefully he didn't kill it. Hopefully it just died of naturally causes on account of it being fall.)
Anyway, funny story, to do with baby-making spiders . . sometime around August I was outside in the evening trying to photograph this spider, when I see a smaller spidey of the same species trying to climb into its web. Now, I know that spiders will be cannibals given the opportunity and I'm a bleeding-heart sucker for creatures trying to win Darwin awards, so of course, I shoo the smaller spider away.
Few nights later, it's back. I shoo it away again, noticing as I do so that "my" spider is behaving very oddly for a creature whose web is being invaded - it's not pouncing. Huh, I think.
I'm unsure how many times this repeats - two or three at least, I think - before a little light bulb goes on over my head.
. . . males are smaller than females.
And suddenly the smaller spider's persistence, "my" spider's lack of aggressiveness, etc., made a great deal more sense. So I let them be, poor things - I'd been repeatedly ruining their romantic evening. (Of course, she may very well have eaten him afterwards, I'm unsure if this particular sort of spider does that - I know some of them do - but oh well, he was clearly willing.)
So now that I've rambled at length about the life and times of the following spider . . . I present the spider, grooming itself like a little cat:
(Sorry about the few seconds of blank blackness; the garage light went out. It's on a motion sensor; apparently moving spiders are not enough to keep it on, and I need to learn to wave my other arm around while keeping a video camera steady if I want to rely on said light.)
I just figured out that I can put videos on here. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
. . but for now, something benign (unless you're prone to motion sickness; if so, sorry!); a walking tour of the gardens at Churchville Nature Center, a place I go often to take pictures of bugs . It's gorgeous there. Here's their website: Churchville Nature Center. They don't seem to have a make-a-donation link, which they should. Hrmm. Should mention that to somebody.
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