Twice the Wings, Triple the Legs: Get to Know Our Multitudinous Insect Neighbors

Firefly, tentatively Common Eastern

Firefly (Photinus pyralis)

For as long as I can remember, birds have been present in my life, from my granny’s cockatiels to the first bird I identified on my own as part of a high school biology class (a Common Grackle) to the gorgeous Sandhill Cranes and other birds that frequent the wetlands and areas around the Sycamore Greenway.

They are a gateway animal that help many people connect with nature, charismatic and highly visible (not to mention audible!) reminders that we are not alone in this world. We feed them, we watch them, hopefully we garden for them and advocate for them. It’s very easy to be captured by avian magic!

But as I spend more time on the trail, I find myself drawn to those small, often overlooked lives: our insect neighbors. Like birds (only with twice as many wings, and three times the legs!), they have their charismatic ambassadors in pollinators: colorful butterflies, industrious bees…insects that are useful, or at least not harmful to our interests. Yet they are such a tiny fragment of that class Insecta.

Variegated Fritillary

A massive — and tiny — universe

For as little attention as they receive from humans in day to day life, insects are a reminder that the world is both vastly more massive and infinitely smaller than we imagine. There are 433 species of birds that can be found in Iowa. There are 300-400 species of bees and wasps alone in our state…and thousands of moths! Add ants and grasshoppers, dragonflies and damselflies, ladybugs and lightning bugs, aphids and ambush bugs, mayflies and mosquitoes and mantids…and those are just a few of the big and…charismatic? groups of insects that most people have heard of.

Blue Dasher

How many others live unnoticed in the grass and under ground, under tree bark and high in treetops? iNaturalist lists almost 4000 species of insects documented in our state on the site…but again, that number certainly omits countless small, drab, inaccessible, and otherwise not-so-obvious little lives that aren’t easy to photograph.

Beyond simply identifying the insects that share our space, what do we really know about them? What do they eat? What do their lives look like? Do they undergo complete metamorphosis like butterflies and bees, or incomplete metamorphosis like crickets and cockroaches? What do they do in winter?

Seven-spotted Lady Beetle

For many people, the answer is, “Who cares? They’re [gross/creepy/pests/scary/etc.]”. Sure, I’ll admit that some insects — or even some life phases of insects — are a little bit each of those things. But they’re also fascinating, and there is so much to explore, especially when you’re starting from a knowledge base as minuscule as most of us have.

They are so different from everything we know! The way they experience the world, through compound eyes and simple ocelli and antennae. They have so many limbs! Six legs, usually two pairs of wings; some of them have highly specialized legs for running quickly, leaping far, grasping prey, digging in dirt. Some have mouthparts for piercing and sucking like cicadas, some for chewing like grasshoppers, some for mopping up pre-digested material like flies.

The diversity of insects is fantastic, and you’ll never run out of things to learn.

The mystery bonker strikes

I had thought I understood grasshoppers, confidently declaring that they overwinter as eggs, hatching in spring and early summer as tiny nymphs, then spending a several weeks growing through a series of four to six instars until they reached adulthood.

Until one balmy February afternoon, lurking in the grass while creeping on the cranes, a hefty insect bonked off the brim of my cap and landed, clinging to a blade of dry grass nearby. I wasn’t surprised at an insect in February, as I’d been seeing small winter craneflies out and about. But when I turned my camera lens on the mystery bonker, I was in for a surprise.

I saw a familiar body shape, with strong hind legs for jumping, a heavy pronotum behind its rounded head. A grasshopper? In February? How in the world could an egg have hatched and a nymph developed into an adult so quickly when most grasshoppers aren’t noticeable until June or July?

Not even knowing the species in order to investigate its lifecycle, I turned to a few trusty resources for insect identification: BugGuide, iNaturalist, and Insects of Iowa. iNaturalist and Insects of Iowa both use AI to suggest identifications, with BugGuide going a step further and offering a probability for its suggested IDs. Both pointed in the direction of genus Tetrix, but disagrees on the species (iNaturalist preferred Tetrix arenosa, Ornate Pygmy Grasshopper, whereas Insects of Iowa recommended Awl-shaped Pygmy Grasshopper, Tetrix subulate).

The mystery bonker, Tetrix sp.

The experts at BugGuide confirmed Tetrix, and also explained that grasshoppers in this family often overwinter as nymphs or adults. They also noted another common grasshopper, the Green-striped Grasshopper, in our area also spends the winter as an adult (or near-adult) and may be seen very early as well.

All this to say...you will never run out of things to learn if you spend some time with our insect neighbors! And though it is daunting, you can ease into their world by focusing on just one small part of it this spring and summer, maybe join a citizen science program dedicated to a small group. Butterflies and bumble bees are both easy to spot and have abundant resources to help you identify them and learn more about their lifecycles. There are also programs and resources for ladybugs and fireflies.

You don’t need to identify every insect down to species. Heck, you don’t have to identify them at all to observe their activity and appreciate their unique place in our neighborhood (though it helps to have a name, at least a genus, to learn about their lifecycle). Why not have a goal this year to make five new arthropod friends?

Sources/Additional Reading:

• Field Guide to Common Western Grasshoppers: Life Cycles
• A Guide to Grasshopper Control in Yards and Gardens
• Reiman Gardens: Insects
• Xerces Society

A Pocket-sized Oasis

Sidling along the gravelly Lehman Ave. extension, just south of where it intersects with the trail, I hear a something moving not too far off in the grass. Whatever it is seems to be less concerned with stealth than I, and its progress in my direction can be tracked via both the regular rustling of dry stems as well as occasional motion transmitted up the stems from the mover below. 

Breathing shallowly, I strain to keep track and hope vaguely that whatever it is might even emerge into the open area long enough to snap a photo. What, though? A cat? Closer...and closer....

clickclickclickclick

A cyclist just up the hill chose that unfortunate moment passing to stop pedaling and coast, and the rustler in the grass beat a quick and clumsy retreat upon hearing this mechanical announcement of humanity. Darn!

I stayed put, and thought I could see a slight movement down towards the ponded water below. A long, dark shape slipped under the inky surface. Could it be? Moments later it emerged on the opposite side, sleek brown body, followed by a brushy brown tail. A mink! It was fast, moving with purpose, and I was fumbly, and no photos were managed. 

But the encounter made me more aware of these little pieces along the trail that I often pass by without a thought: two low basins on either side of the gravel extension not far from the Sycamore Apartments, each usually filled with water and surrounded by small trees and dense grass. They are little secret habitats, like the hidden stream near Birds in Flight: sometimes a pair of mallards might be lurking quietly, or a small flock of chickadees, juncos, and occasional cardinals will be foraging in the gravel, and chasing each other across the trail from tree to tree. Hawks can occasionally be seen perched nearby, casting their eyes down at those low-lying areas and whatever may be moving below.

These little fragments may not look like much to us; they're just low-lying areas flanking a planned road, or drainage from nearby development. They're often surrounded by ag fields and subject to whatever blows or runs off them in the air and water--hardly high quality wilderness. Yet they can support mink and other wildlife as long as we give them the space. 

How many of these pocket-sized oases like this do we have in our city, in our neighborhoods, neglected spaces providing homes for animals we don't even know are there?  

Those aren't Christmas decorations....

Apologies for two posts in a row about trash, but 'tis the season! As grasses and forbs die back, the accumulated litter from summer and fall is revealed in all its trashy glory near the stormwater outlets.

On a recent free morning, I grabbed a heavy black trash bag, my gloves, and trusty trash grabber and headed to the Greenway for a quick impromptu cleanup. I was expecting the usual mix of beverage containers (would that an effective, comprehensive Bottle Bill could be implemented....), fast food and convenience store litter, and assorted plastic miscellanies washed into the basins from the surrounding gutters.

What I did NOT expect was 40+ bags of dog poop, seemingly from a single dog given the uniform bag style and, let's say, heft of the contents, within the space of a few meters. 

Please, friends and neighbors...don't do this. It's been previously noted that there is no poop fairy to clean up your dog's waste, but that's not accurate.

It's me. I'm the poop fairy. I, and other volunteers, spend our limited free time picking up other people's trash, to make our environment more pleasant for humans and wildlife. It's already kind of a gross job, and unnecessary dog's excrement magnifies the grossness exponentially. 

I get it. It's nice to walk with your dog, unencumbered. But throwing trash in our shared greenspace is not the answer. And don't take my (admittedly biased) word for it. According to the EPA:

Pet waste in waterbodies can make people and animals sick, promote weed and algae growth, and damage the health of the ecosystem in and around the water. Pet waste is a leading source of nutrient and bacteria pollution in urban streams and waterways.

So let's take care of our natural spaces and waterways the same way we take care of our beloved pets: do what's best for them, even if it's a little inconvenient.