The Christmas Beetle

I was reading on the veranda late the other night when I was suddenly bombarded by what could have been empty walnut shells. I actually thought someone was throwing things at me - some drunk neighbor, not an uncommon thing - then I saw beetle in a planter:

I picked it up and got some shots, most of which did not come out because it was too dark. One good one:

Look at those claws!

Here's a beetle butt:

I put the beetle back into the planter, and in thirty seconds or so it was gone—dug down into the soil. Ah, I thought, "it" is a "she," and she's gone to lay some eggs. Research must be done...

Christine's sister Shannon said she thought it was a Christmas Beetle. They show up every summer, and, she said, look like our friend here.

She's right, no doubt about it. And I was right that she was going to lay eggs. Photo here; life cycle description here:

The life cycle of a Christmas beetle is from one to two years. The larvae of Christmas beetles live and develop in the soil for about a year, eating decaying organic matter and plant roots of mainly native grasses and other vegetation. In agricultural land larvae can feed on the roots of crops and pasture. In urban areas larvae often feed on the roots of turf. This feeding can cause plants to turn yellow and wither. 

Toward the end of winter the larvae move closer to the soil surface and pupate. The adults emerge several weeks later and dig their way out of the soil. They then fly to the nearest food plant to feed. And of course their other main duty at this stage is to mate. They then lay eggs in the soil close to their food source.

There are 35 different species, 8 in the Sydney area. And I may have to dig up those eggs, put them in soil in a glass jar, and watch them. Stay tuned...

Stick Cocoon Creature, Banksia Man, and Singing Tree

Update: Fresh news: New case moth news from May 31, 2014!

**

The eagle-eyed Christine stopped us yesterday on our hike in Ku-Ring-gai National Park, saying, "Thom, look at this."

I looked at this:

It was about four inches long. It was soft: you could squeeze it, like it was an empty sac. It smelled resiny.

"It's a cocoon," Christine said. "I remember them from when I was little."

I've just looked it up, and I quickly found a remarkably similar photo—even down to the way those outer sticks are configured: it's the cocoon (empty, pretty sure) of the caterpillar of a case moth, possibly the Saunders' Case Moth, Metura elongatus. Oh, you have to go here, too. And holy crap, here, too. (I've just realized, this is related to the "Walking Turd" from December, but a different species, clearly.)

Good eye, Christine.

Now here's Christine and a scary Banksia  Man. (Guess which ones which.)

Aren't she perty?

And a tree:

Oh, Vienna!

***

Christine suddenly burst out in song on the way home, singing along with a song on the radio that I'd never heard in my life.

Something Bit Me in Bed Last Night

No, that's not the title of my latest country song, it's a too-true story with a happy, if a bit disgusting, end.

I woke up last night to a slight stinging sensation right about in the center of my back. I then felt the unmistakable, almost not there—but definitely there—feeling of tiny legs crawling slowly on my skin.

I live in Australia now, as you may have noticed from the title of this blog and whatnot.

Australia Reptile Park

I hate and love zoos. Some I just hate, I guess. But many are very good at what zoos are supposed to be good at: fascinating humans while educating them about animals while being exceptionally mindful of the care of those animals. On that note, Christine and I went for a drive up north yesterday and came across the Australia Reptile Park. We were tired of driving and said What the hell and paid the $24 (!) to get in.

We will be going back. Possibly to work as volunteers.

First, a sign we saw in the park, helpfully illustrating the life cycle of the tasmanian devil (click to enlarge):

In case you didn't get that, kids:

Australia's Deadly Jack Jumper Ants

I was sitting on a trail in a very thick wild area north of Sydney last week when I noticed large, kind of iridescent, blue-green ants around me. A closer look revealed some impressive yellow mandibles (jaws, or pincers):

Here's a short video of one washing its pincers:

Bug [updated III]

Christine found a very cool bug on the veranda. Even cooler close up:

Closer upper:

Click to enlarge the photos and really see the amazing patterns, especially in the one exposed wing.

And a little video, to show the brilliant orange, if just for a second, under its wings:

St. Andrew's Cross Spider

These are very common spiders around Sydney, and throughout eastern Australia. They're named for the pattern they weave into their webs:

St Andrew's Cross Spiders are named for their bright web decorations - zig-zag ribbons of bluish-white silk that form a full or partial cross through the centre of the orb web.

I don't know who gave it the name "St. Andrew's Cross"; although you can see why it got the name. As you can see in the photo, these spiders arrange their legs in pairs, so it almost looks like they have four, and they commonly position themselves in the center of their webs, holding their legs aligned with the white cross in their webs. Which is just cool.

As with most spider species, female St. Andrew's Cross spiders are larger and more colorful than the males. This one, which I came across in Ku-ring-gai Chase National Park, is the largest one I've seen. She seems to have been a bit lazy, as only one leg of the cross is present.

Scientific name: Argiope keyserlingi, in honor of German arachnologist Eugene von Keyserling.

The Garden Orb Weaver

A quite large Australian spider I saw bushwalking with Hans in Kur-ring-gai Chase yesterday:

What you're seeing is the back of the upside-down spider's abdomen - with the white stripe - as it feeds on a cicada. A rather large cicada. The abdomen is not as big around as a golf ball, but it's not a whole lot smaller either. It's a garden orb weaver.

Australia: Where Even the Turds Are Alive [update]

I was sitting in my office on a sidewalk table at a coffee shop this morning around 6:30 when I noticed a small turd on the sidewalk crawling toward me. I thought, "Of course. It's not strange enough to have just kangaroos and platypi in Australia—they even have walking turds." Here's a photo:

I touched the thing, turned it over, and second-guessed myself: maybe I didn't see it crawling. Surely this thing can't be alive—it looks like a dried up turd, or some sort of detritus from a tree: