Supersonic snails

Well, fast ones, anyway. A cute video at The Other 95% shows snails emerging after the garden sprinklers are switched off. Obviously, this wasn't filmed in Melbourne, where the drought has made sprinklers a thing of the past.

Note the Morse code of mucus left by the snails. They don't leave a uninterrupted trail as they slime around.

New phasmid field guide

Brock, Paul D. and Hasenpusch, Jack W. (2009). The complete field guide to stick and leaf insects of Australia. CSIRO Publishing. Pbk. AU$45.

Field guides are an obsession with me. The idea of having everything categorized and labeled and gathered together in one place has huge appeal. (If you saw my office, you'd understand why.) So when CSIRO published 'The complete field guide to stick and leaf insects of Australia', I had to buy it. Of course, until I find a phasmid, I won't be able to test the book's effectiveness as an aid to identification but that's beside the point. My Collins 'Field guide to the larger mammals of Africa' is of even more limited utility but that didn't stop me sticking it on my mammal shelf. It's a field guide. That's good enough for me.

The phasmid book covers all of the 101 species known from Australia (including those from Lord Howe and Norfolk Islands). Entries give information about the size, identification features and habitat and is accompanied by a distribution map and one or more photographs. Each species is given one page, except for some of the better known or more spectacular stick insects. Dryococelus australis of Lord Howe Island, the little known Eurycantha calcarata from Far North Queensland, Eurycnema osiris from northern Australia and several others are treated to double page spreads. Many of the photos are of live animals, whereas some are represented only by pinned museum specimens. Eggs are included wherever possible. With a group so understudied and cryptic, you take what you can get.

The photos are excellent. Unfortunately, the mismatch between the shape of the insects and that of the pages means that sometimes details are lost. But that's the trade off in producing a well-illustrated, moderately-priced field guide that can be carried around in your pocket. A larger format might have done greater justice to the photographs but (I suspect) would have cost rather more than $45. The pictures of the lichen form of the Macleay's spectre (Extatosoma tiaratum bufonium) and the turquoise-and-green peppermint stick insects (Megacrania batesii) are great but would have been stunning at a larger size.

There's a good introduction to phasmid life cycles and anatomy, which points out key features used in identification. Other sections cover habitat and ecology; and collecting, preserving, photographing and rearing.

Tucked away in the appendices is the serious stuff. Appendix 1 contains keys to species and genera, divvied up by subfamily. Easy-to-follow tables summarize the diagnostic features for each taxon. These are supplemented by detailed information on each genus. It seems to me that this information might have been better placed between subfamily descriptions (pp 34 – 38) and species descriptions (pp 39 – 148) but it's no real problem. Appendix 2 contains a list of significant literature on phasmid classification. Appendix 3 is a checklist of the Australian species.

I'm glad I bought it. It has inspired me to set up egg traps under trees in the garden of my next house, just to see what might be lurking in the canopy. And then this book will really come into its own.

________

I was tempted to call this post 'sticks and leaves' but the potential for confusion between nouns and verbs was too much for me.

Frantic here with so many things to organise over the next few weeks. I've outlined a mob of posts but have got no further with them. One of the advantages to being in charge of my day is that I can set aside time to muse and ponder.

Here are some things I've been musing and pondering on.

• The sender names in the spam filter are so entertaining that I'm thinking of using them for story characters. Here's the list from this month (right). Darwin Searl, Margarette Satomba, Buford Crump. Creative gold, every one of 'em.

• Spam subject lines as potential haikus. This takes a bit more work. So far, the best has been:

Empower your sweet night experience
Heave your darling bed adventures

[Performs Jedi mind trick]. Don't count the syllables.

• Collecting one liners, some of which are more than one line, from Chris Addison's Twitter Feed.

Finally found an online gun and banjo shop that does free deliverance.

It was me all along - I've got the bees. And if you want them back, you're going to have to do exactly as I say ...

And so on. Perhaps I shouldn't be left to organise my own day.

The Hecks Files

During WW2, the Brothers Heck attempted to recreate the extinct aurochs (Bos primigenius), a 2 m tall wild ox that had roamed Europe and Asia until the early 17th century. What they got was a breed of bad-tempered, shaggy-haired, spear-horned cattle that resemble the aurochs in all but size and genetic composition. Apparently, near enough was good enough for the Hecks and their patron Goering.

Derek Gow has now bought a small herd to run on his property in Devon. The Times has the story.

Here's the Independent's view.

Oddstralia

The ABC has the better quotes but the Warrnambool Standard has the best headline:

Shark dumped on a doorstep goes home in a divvy van

Wot I've been doing in my free time

Some time back in the Jurassic Period, I made a comment about George Burns to a colleague. I can't remember the context. Probably something about age. Not important.

Anyway, my colleague claimed that he'd never heard of Burns. Disbelieving, I attempted to jog his memory.

'He's an American comedian.'

'Oh,' he said. 'If he's an American comedian, I'm sure I've heard of him but just put it out of my memory.'

'Really? Your life must be like Groundhog Day.'

'What's that?'

'It's an American comed … Oh, never mind.' I stopped before we entered a recursive loop.

The question raised by this potentially libelous anecdote is how did he know he'd forgotten? Surely it's impossible to distinguish between the states of knowing but forgetting and never having known. (The other question is why would anyone prefer to look like a pretentious git rather than admitting they've got no idea?)

So here's something I didn't know. I'm confessing up front.

Bagheera kiplingi is a jumping spider. George and Elizabeth Peckham described it in 1896, a couple of years after the publication of Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book. Bagheera, you'll recall, is the courageous and cunning melanistic leopard that escaped from the Rajah of Oodeypore's* menagerie and is living wild. He helps raise Mowgli before the boy returns to village life.

The Peckhams named three other salticid genera after Kipling's work — Akela, Messua and Nagaina. But none of these has the cachet of Bagheera, probably because they weren't voiced by Sebastian Cabot**. I have no idea*** why they chose those three monikers and eschewed Baloo, Mowgli and Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. And Shere Khan****. Awesome names all.

But it doesn't stop there with Bagheera kiplingi. This jumping spider named after a fictional black leopard is actually a vegetarian. It's known that many spiders will sup on nectar from time to time. They're liquid feeders and nectar is a liquid packed with sugars and proteins — an arachnid energy shake to supplement the bugs. What makes this species unusual is that plant food is the largest part of its diet. It feeds on the protein- and fat-rich Beltian bodies on Central American acacias. Oh, and that's the other thing about Bagheera the jumping spider. It isn't found in India.

It's a fascinating world. If only I could remember ...

________
* Udaipur

** The actor not the explorer

*** Or did have an idea but forgot

**** Just wait until I get back into taxonomy

Swarm weather

'Tis the season for the next generation of queen ants to leave the nest and found new colonies. Small species may pass unnoticed but bulldog ants (Myrmecia) are big enough to make their presence felt. Duncan at Ben Cruachan Blog and Boobook at Bushranger have encountered them. I haven't seen any here but friends near the Brisbane Ranges were inundated by a mass emergence a few days ago.

A message from the front line. (Names changed to protect the ant-afflicted)

... yipes!! Hundreds of these inch-long bruisers are climbing a native eucalypt in our garden. Heard (yes, heard) them dropping on to the washing and then under Quentin's tee shirt. Response spineless to say the least. I had my slippers on when I noticed that they seem to be coming out of large holes in the ground. Do they climb so that they can get a bit of breeze under their wings? They seem too large to get far off the ground hence under Quentin's tee shirt, on my slippers and PJs and our washing.

Must be the warm weather has induced a hatching. I expect some biffo between them and my buzzers as they are only a couple of feet from the hive.

Bulldog ants bite and sting, which explains Henrietta and Quentin's reluctance to tangle with them. The toxics contained in the sting may cause severe reactions in anyone allergic to them. Even if you're not sensitive, those stings are bloody painful. It's best not to muck around with bulldog ants.



On emergence, the young queens climb or fly to vantage points to attract males, which is what they were probably up to on tee shirt, slippers and laundry. After mating, they set off to locate suitable sites for their new colonies. At some point, they shed or snip off the wings and become wholly terrestrial. I'm not sure how far they can travel but everyone's hoping they're enthusiastic fliers.

(Belated) carnival round up

A bonanza of blog carnivals:

The Moth and Me
I and the Bird
Carnival of the Spineless

Enjoy!

My search for a hill station continues. In the meantime, the Snail Shell crumbles and splinters around me. But I'm not the only one with house maintenance problems.

We shared a late breakfast of tea and teacakes with Barry, Gerald and his wife in the kitchen up at the farmhouse, an old wooden homestead now leaning at a precarious angle at one end. Its wooden piers were sinking unevenly into the ground. Every now and then, said Barry, there was a loud report like a gun as one of the roof spars or a structural beam sprang clear of its fixings and poked through the outside wall like a broken collarbone. They then had to jack up the house four inches at a time, straighten it up and ease it back on to supporting chocks. The little homestead was on the move, inching crabwise across the Pilliga.

Roger Deakin, Wildwood

Red

It was inevitable. Now that I've sold the Snail Shell, two things are happening:

1. The house is self-destructing. (A two-metre length of cornice fell off the wall the other day. Luckily, not while anyone was standing under it.)


2. Some plants are flowering for the first time.

The dwarf coral tree (Erythrina humeana) has put out its first inflorescences. And they're very impressive. White-plumed honeyeaters have been visiting, attracted by the reddest of red blossoms. They haven't had much success in drinking the nectar, though, because the flowers are so close to the ground. Unlike New Holland honeyeaters, which will perch on correas an inch above the soil, the white-plumes seem unwilling to get down so low. (Very sensible attitude in my garden, because the neighbours' cats are killing machines.)

Dwarf coral tree is a native of South Africa. It grows well in Melbourne (now that we have no rain) but would probably struggle in a wetter area. Still, if this plant produces seeds before I leave, I'll take them to my new place and try to grow them in pots. This is a non-invasive Erythrina so shouldn't cause any problems. (Except to the honeyeaters.) And there's always the native species, should E. humeana not thrive.

Just one thing … If the firewheel tree (Stenocarpus sinuatus) also flowers before I leave, I'll be having some words with Mother Nature.

Twittering

I've been introduced to 2009 by my friend D. I'm now on Twitter. Signing up was a lot less painless than I'd thought.

My students would be proud of me. I hope I remember to tweet.

The rain in Spain ...

My friend D put me on to this instructional video that demonstrates why it's important to enunciate clearly.

Emergent

I found this caterpillar some months ago, while I was cutting back the black coral pea. I'm no moth expert but I think it's either Anthela addita or A. acuta. (Correction or confirmation welcomed.)




Anthelidae is restricted to Australia and New Guinea. The caterpillars feed on a range of plants, including grasses, wattles and eucalypts, as well as several introduced species. This one chomped happily on Kennedia leaves, which aren't favoured by many other species in my garden.

The hairs are reported to cause irritation on contact. I didn't experiment.





It pupated on 21 January, not long after I accidentally dropped a plastic container on it. I don't know if the two events were related but I was nonetheless wracked with guilt.




My shame continued until this evening, when the moth emerged from its cocoon. In these photos, the wings are still drying. Once they were functional, I released the moth into the back garden. (Or what passes for a back garden, nowadays.)





Adult anthelids have short life spans. Females emerge from the cocoon with abdomens already filled with eggs. Males emerge looking for the females. I hope this individual finds another during its brief existence as an adult. (At least it doesn't seem too badly affected by the dropped container.)

House hunting

I've been poring over the real estate listings for the Atherton Tablelands and ringing agents with my requirements:

• Enough room for my library
• Large garden
• Copious wildlife
• Good internet connection

Okay, that last one was greeted with hearty chortles when I mentioned it. But there's always satellite broadband. If it's not raining. Which it usually is. Oh, sod it. Semaphore, anyone?

Anyhoo, I thought it might be useful to give an idea of where I'll be heading in June. (Which is only … weeks … away now.) The next Snail Shell will be in the central/southern Atherton Tablelands. (I've used Malanda as a marker on this Google Earth image, although that might not be exactly where I settle.)

Why move to the Tablelands?

They're in the middle of the Wet Tropics World Heritage Area, which is pretty much a zoological El Dorado. They're also at a high elevation, so are cooler than the coastal lowlands. Don't underestimate the importance of climate. In winter (the drier season), you have to wear long sleeves at night. You might also have to stoke up the combustion heater. Sounds good, doesn't it?

And just look what's within a 150km radius ...