THE POLLEN PLATES OF THE BUMBLE-BEE
(Bombus americanorum, Fab.)
If you will watch a bumble-bee closely as she crawls over the stamens of a wild rose, perhaps you can see that, although she covers the whole under part of her body with pollen, yet she scrapes off all she can with her feet and packs it in a yellow mass on the smooth, hairless segments of her large hind legs, the pollen plates as they are called. To make the pollen stick on these smooth plates and hang together during the flight to the nest, it is claimed by Muller that the bee mixes nectar with the pollen grains. The kind of pollen that she gathers is, however, not generally the dusty kind, like the pollen of the pines or grasses, but the sticky kind that comes from insect-fertilized flowers. When the bumble-bee reaches her nest, she scrapes the pollen from the pollen basket and with it feeds the young, for pollen is the solid food of baby bees.
There is one strange thing about these smooth pollen plate legs which, from our human, individualistic point of view, is hard to understand. It is only the workers, the undeveloped females, which have them; the legs of the males and of the queens are hairy and are not at all adapted for pollen gathering. Thus, since workers bear no children, we see a race of parents transmitting to certain of their offspring characters which neither they nor any of their ancestors have ever possessed.
THE BUMBLE-BEE AT WORK
This photograph shows the great hybridizer at work.
She is on one of the single roses, her hairy body spread over the stamens which, with their yellow anthers, look like a circular bed of tulips. In the middle of the circle, where her right foot rests, is the stigma.
If you will sometime take a hand lens and watch a bee at work (and if you don’t get too close she will pay no attention to you), you will notice the clumsy way she crawls about, knocking the pollen off the stamens and getting her body covered with the yellow dust. As you watch, any feeling of there being some mystery about cross fertilization will be dispelled. How this same bumble-bee could crawl across another rose blossom without leaving a trail of yellow pollen on its stigma would be the mystery!
Since the earliest days of the world of plants and insects, the bumble-bee and her ancestors have been at work mixing the pollen on hundreds of different plants and playing, doubtless, a perfectly gigantic role in the creation of the flowering plants which now cover vast areas of the globe.
It is perhaps an idle speculation, but it would be interesting to know how many plants would become extinct were some disease or parasite to exterminate the bees.
THE TELLTALE MILKWEED POLLEN
(Bombus sp.)
Although this bumble-bee was caught in flight across my meadow, her photograph shows beyond the shadow of a doubt that she had been a recent visitor to the blossom of some milkweed, for, projecting from her right hind leg and plainly visible, are the pollen masses of the milkweed flower. They look like little paddles and hang in pairs, although this you cannot see in the picture.
We know that flowers depend upon the bees to fertilize them, but somehow I do not think we grasp the completeness of this dependence, nor realize how many flowers there are which, unless they have their own pet insect visitors, would soon become extinct.
The milkweed lures its visitor with little cups of nectar, and beside each cup it sets a trap which is as carefully worked out as the steel traps which the modern trappers use. Across the top of a little slit, wide below and narrow above, lie the small ends of the paddles or pollen masses, firmly joined together. As the bee alights to sup the nectar, her foot slips into this crack, and in trying to extricate it she pulls up the pair of paddles which fasten themselves onto a hair of her leg like a clothespin on a line. In drying, the paddles clap together in such a way that by the time another milkweed flower is visited they can slip with the leg right into the little slit and are broken off and left there as the bee again pulls out her leg. Once inside, these pollen grains throw out a score or more of tiny, rootlike tubes which grow into the lining of the slit and carry to the ovary below the fertilizing germ plasm which makes the seed develop.
The bumble-bee, of course, is strong enough to slip into these traps and pull her legs out as a routine thing, but many small moths and butterflies are not, and these get caught and die upon the blossoms.
THE POOR MALE BUMBLE-BEE
(Bombus americanorum, Fab.)
It was late in October before I noticed, flying low here and there across the clover tops, large bumble-bees, which seemed to be more covered with golden hairs than those which I had watched throughout the summer time. At first I thought them queens, but as their number multiplied I felt I must be mistaken, and one of my insect-knowing friends explained that they were only males, and that with the approaching days of winter they were all doomed to death. Already, he pointed out, their wings were battered and frayed from flying against the autumn winds.
The importance of the males! Could there be a weaker argument against woman’s suffrage than the one which has been brought forward that throughout nature the duty and the right of protection rests with the male? Perhaps the drones do fight among themselves; but, as in most other fighting of the males, it is not to protect the nest or young from perishing, but merely to determine which one of them shall win the queen’s attention. The males are stingless.
In this world of the clover field all the work of the society is done by the queen herself, or by the workers, which are infertile females. Apparently few males are wanted in the colony until late in the season, when, for a brief period, they are tolerated in considerable numbers as the necessary courtiers who accompany the young queens of late summer in their marriage flight. This takes place before the winter comes to kill all but a few fortunate queens, which find safe shelter in some crevice in the rocks or underneath some old, decaying log.
SOLITARY LEAF-CUTTING BEE
(Megachile brevis, Say)
Unlike the social honey and bumble-bees, this bee leads a solitary life.
With her strong, saw-like jaws, the female makes her burrow in soft wood and lines it with bits of leaf which she has cut from some plant. When the leaves of plants in the garden have large round holes in them, in nine cases out of ten you may be sure that they have been cut by some solitary bee.
When the burrow is complete she makes a ball of pollen and nectar, puts it in the bottom of the burrow, lays an egg upon it, and, with a wad of leaves, securely shuts it in; over this she lays down another food ball with its corresponding egg, and so on, until the burrow is full.
THE STINGER OF THE LEAF-CUTTING BEE
(Megachile brevis, Say)
The sting or “stinger” of a bee is indeed a most wonderful piece of mechanism. At the base, inside the body of the bee, lie bars or levers, operated by muscles, which push the darts out and draw them in. The poison sac lies just behind this mechanism and pours the poison into a set of cup-like valves, from which it escapes into the wound along longitudinal grooves in the sting like grease along the piston of an engine.
The sting itself is not, then, hollow, like the spider’s poison fang, but is a poisoned stiletto as long as the bee’s foreleg which she can thrust in and out with incredible rapidity, and which, as everyone knows, can inflict a painful wound on creatures millions of times her size.
A COMMON RED ANT
(Formica sp.)
Ants are undoubtedly the highest, structurally and mechanically, of all insects, and at the same time the most efficient. Their social organization has been the admiration of human beings from the earliest times, because the interest of the individual is merged so completely into that of the colony; but, as Wheeler remarks, their organization must strike the individualist with horror.
It is an organization of females, too. The workers are females, the soldiers are females, the nurses are females, and there is one queen mother for them all, who lays all the eggs of the colony. Where are the males, those representatives of society, those voters of our human colonies? They do not exist as such, for the males of ant colonies are but mates for the young queens. Together with them they leave the nest on their marriage day and together make the marriage flight, but as soon as this is over they die, and the colony gets on easily without them.
To man, who is the most rapidly evolving organism on the earth today, it is a strange thought that the most highly developed insect which the world has produced, and which has not changed materially since the Tertiary epoch, has relegated the males to the short-lived function of reproduction, leaving him no work to perform and getting rid of him as quickly as possible. Why did the ants, with their marvelous instincts, fail to conquer the world? Why have they stood still for thousands of years after they had perfected their social organization? Did they go as far as evolution could go when it leaves the male out of account? It is perhaps a comfort to think that, after all, they have failed and the man-guided organization of human beings has surpassed them in its development!
A BLACK ANT
It is strange to think that just because the sunlight which poured upon this little creature’s shiny body was reflected back against a photographic plate, its rays being made to diverge widely in so doing, we can get an image of this tiny ant as large as though it were a mouse.
What a world this would be to us had we microscopic vision! A thousand times as many beasts to look at, a thousand times as many things to see and understand!
ANT GATHERING NECTAR FROM LEAF NECTARIES OF THE CHINESE WOOD-OIL TREE
A year ago I planted in my garden in Maryland three young wood-oil trees from the Yangtse valley of China, broad-leaved trees something like the catalpa. Just where the leaf stem joined the leaf blade there were two curious, dark red, oval glands. The use of these I did not understand until one morning I discovered a big black ant on each leaf, and each ant was stationed at the base of its leaf near these glands and evidently was lapping up from them small drops of nectar which kept oozing out from the center of each gland.
These rapidly-walking little creatures, which spend their time roaming everywhere, had discovered the use of these nectar glands although they were on the leaves of a plant which they had never seen before.
Whenever I touched a leaf the ant upon it ran about as if to frighten an intruder away, and I could not help but wonder if in China, where the wood-oil tree is at home, there might not be some stinging ant which takes upon itself to protect the foliage from the attacks of caterpillars, and gets, in payment for its labor, the nectar from these glands. The tropics are full of such agreements between the plants and the ants, and very effective ones they are, too.
The photograph shows a black ant with antennæ extended, reaching over one of these big glands for the drop of nectar which glistens just below its head. On the other gland, just back of the ant’s left antenna, a second drop of nectar can be seen.
First one and then the other of these nectaries is licked clean by the ant, and so well was the work done that throughout the summer it was only when I visited the leaves in early morning, before the ants were out, that I could find the beads of nectar in their places in slight depressions in the glands.
THE ICHNEUMON FLY: ENEMY OF THE SPIDER
(Crypturopsis sp.)
It would seem as though the spider ought to be able to protect itself from such a beautiful creature as this, but she is said to be one of the spider’s worst enemies. With the long ovipositors which may be seen in the photograph and might almost be mistaken for her sting, she lays her eggs inside those of the spider and the larvæ hatching from them eat up the spider’s eggs. It is, so to say, an insect cuckoo, or worse than that, for the bird cuckoo only crowds the real children out of the nest, whereas the ichneumon fly devours them.
From man’s point of view, however, many of the tribe to which this so-called fly belongs are his good friends, for they hold in check some of the pests which molest the plants he lives upon.
THE WORLD OF MYRIAPODS AND A LAND CRUSTACEAN
Every one who has turned over a rotten log has seen these thousand-legged worms, and yet I wonder if many of us have known that these weird wandering things resemble, and are the direct living descendants of some of the first animals which crept up out of the sea to live upon the land.
Long ages before the warm-blooded, lung-breathing beasts came into existence, they worked their way up out of their water life among the corals, sponges, worms, shellfish, and fishes, onto the dry land.
This was in the great transition time when all sorts of amphibian monsters came into existence, monsters which have long since passed away. These myriapods deserve respect if for no other reason than because their forefathers crept across the fresh footprints and mud wallows of the prehistoric monsters.
How comes it that these forms of life have changed so little in a million years?
A MILLIPEDE, ONE OF THE VEGETARIAN MYRIAPODS
Slow moving ringed creature with four legs to each ring or segment of its body! Watch its legs move in ripples as it finds its way over the ground! Unlike its distant relative, the centipede, which has but two legs to each body ring and darts about with most surprising rapidity, this millipede lives mainly on plant food and seldom eats, as does its savage relative, the bodies of small animals which make their home beneath old rotten logs.
A CENTIPEDE, ONE OF THE CARNIVEROUS MYRIAPODS
(Scolopendra sp.)
Perhaps no photograph in the collection serves better to illustrate the vastness of the back yard jungle than this one, for myriapods are the only representatives of a gigantic branch of the animal kingdom, the individuals of which are no more insects than they are lobsters. They live their lives altogether on or in the ground, they do not mind the cold as insects do. Some of them have poison fangs and are reputed to inflict fatal wounds. Their matrimonial habits are strange beyond belief.
They compose a vast neglected assemblage of creatures which some of their admirers believe have a value which we do not yet understand nor appreciate; just as we did not appreciate the role of the mosquito or the earth worm until the researches of modern science taught us of their importance.
A great untouched field for exploration lies here among the Myriapods.
TWO PILL BUGS
(Armadillidium vulgare, Fab.)
Down from the time of the prehistoric monsters comes the armadillidium, the last survivor of the great land crustaceans. As the serpents and the lizards are all that remain to remind us of the monsters which swarmed and fought in the tertiary swamps and oceans, so this strange creature, no larger than a pea, which rolls itself into a ball when you startle it as you turn over a stone in the meadow, is the survivor of the land crustacea which at one time, in countless forms, abounded everywhere in the then young world.
It is not an insect, but a last survivor, related to the crabs more closely than to any other branch of the animal kingdom.
INDEX
Ant Lion, Winged, 207.
Ants—Black, 247.
Common Red, 245.
Gathering Nectar, 249.
Aphis Lion, 205.
Bee-flies 157, 159.
Bee, Solitary Leaf-cutting, 241.
Stinger of the Leaf-cutting, 243.
See Bumble-bee.
Beetle, 111.
Blister, 127.
Chafer. Spotted Vine, 125.
Cucumber, Twelve-spotted, 135.
Hippopotamus among the Insects, 129.
June, 113.
“June Bug,” 117.
June, Larva of, 105.
Longicorn, 151.
May, 117.
Predaceous Ground, 121.
Sawyer, 137.
Scarab, An American, 133.
Twig-pruner, 119.
Weevil, Clover Leaf, 123.
Bugs, The Order of, 87.
Always Walking Around, 105.
Ambush, 103.
Assassin, 97.
Assassination, 99.
Cicada, 101.
Lantern Fly. 109.
Monster, Queer, Unworldly, 93.
Pill, 261.
Squash, 89.
Strange Shaped, 91.
Tarnished Plant, 107.
Thread Legged, 95.
Bumble-bee, at Work, 235.
Male, the Poor, 239.
Pollen Plates, 233.
Pollen, Telltale Milkweed, 237.
Worker, 231.
Butterfly,—Baby of the Skipper, 177.
Forepart of a Brown, 173.
Swallow-tail of the Spice-bush, Larva of, 171.
Mummy Case, 179.
Yellow, 175.
Caterpillar—Devoured by a Fungus, 189.
Unknown, 187.
Centipede, 259.
Cicada, 101.
Cockroach, 83.
Cowkiller, 229.
Crickets—Camel or Stone, 79.
Ground, 77.
On the Hearth, 75.
Mole, 81.
Stone or Camel, 79.
Crustacean, 261.
Daddy-long-legs, 49.
Dragon-fly, 193.
Case, an Abandoned, 201.
And Its Victim, 195.
Nymph Masked, 197.
Nymph Unmasked, 199.
Fig Insect, see Wasp.
Fly, Bee, 157, 159.
Crane, 141.
Damsel, 203.
Horsefly, 165.
Horsefly, Green Headed, 167.
Ichneumon, 251.
Lace-winged, 205.
Not a House Fly, 168.
Robber, 143, 145, 147, 149, 151.
Scorpion, 209.
Syrphid, Large, 161.
Grasshopper—Baby, 57.
Ear Under its Wing, 63.
Good to Eat, 61.
Hearing Organ, 65.
King, 55.
Skeleton, 59.
Harvestman, 49.
Hornet—Bald-faced, 215.
Queen, 217.
Yellow Jacket, 219.
Insects, Feathered, 169.
Insects, Nerve Winged, 191.
Insects, Stinging, 213.
Insects, Straight-winged, 53.
Insects, Two-winged, 139.
Katydid, 69.
Narrow-winged, 71.
Young, 73.
Locust, Short-winged Green, 67.
Mantis, Praying, 85.
Mosquito, Anopheles, 155.
Culex, 153.
Millipede, 257.
Moth, 181.
Not Good to Eat, 183.
Spectacle, Hairy, 185.
Myriapods, 255.
Spider World, 16.
Spider—Bird-dropping, 31.
Crab, 45.
Daddy-long-legs or Harvestman, 49.
From a Fly’s Point of View, 37.
Grass, The Male, 43.
Harvestman, or Daddy-long-legs, 49.
Jumping, 19, 21, 23.
Male, a Mature, 47.
Mother Spider and Nest, 39.
Orb-weaver with Eggs, 35.
Orb-weaving, 33.
Spiny-bellied, 29.
Vagabond, 41.
Wolf-spider, 25.
Wolf-spider, Skeleton of, 27.
Termite, Soldier, 211.
Wasp—Cow Killer, 229.
Fig Insect, 227.
Food of a Mud Dauber’s Baby, 225.
Mud Dauber, 223.
Social, 221.
Velvet Ant or Cow Killer, 229.
Wingless, 229.
Yellow Jacket, 219.
INDEX TO LATIN NAMES
Acrosoma gracile, Walck., 29.
Agelina nævia, Walck., 43.
Agrion maculatum, Beauvois, 203.
Agrynnis cybele, Fab., 173.
Allorhina nitida, Linn., 113, 115.
Anasa tristis, De G., 89.
Anopheles punctipennis, Say, 155.
Apantesis nais attacked by Empusa, sp., Dru., 189.
Archytas aterrima, Des., 163.
Armadillidium vulgare, Fab., 261.
Blastophaga grossorum, Grav., 227.
Blatella germanica, Linn., 83.
Bombus americanorum, Fab., 233, 239.
sp., 237.
vagans, Sm., 231.
Brochymena arborea, Say, 105.
Ceuthophilus uhleri, Scudd., 79.
Chlænius æstivus, Say, 121.
Chrysopa sp., 205.
Cicada sayi, Grossb., 101.
Coleoptera, 111.
Colias philodice, Gdt., 175.
Copris carolina, Linn., 133.
Corynocoris distinctus, Dallas, 93.
Crypturopsis sp., 251.
Culex sp., 153.
Dasyllis grossa, Fab., 145, 147.
Deromyia, 151.
Diabrotica duodecim punctata, Oliv., 135.
Dicromorpha viridis, Scudd., 67.
Diptera, 139.
Dissosteira carolina, Linn., 63, 65.
Dolomedes tenebrosus, Hentz, 37.
Elaphidion atomaricum, Dru., 119.
Emesa longipes, De G., 95.
Epeira domiciliorum, Hentz, 35.
trivittata, Keys., 33.
verrucosa, Hentz, 31.
Epicanta marginata, Fab., 127.
Erax æstuans, Linn., 143.
Euchætes egle, Dru., 185.
Eudamus tityrus, Fab., 177.
Euschistus tristigmus, Say, 91.
Formica sp., 245.
Gryllotalpa borealis, Burm., 81.
Gryllus pennsylvanicus, Burm., 75.
Helicoptera variegata, Van D., 109.
Hemiptera, 87.
Hippiscus sp., 55.
Hymenoptera, 213.
Lachnosterna quercus, Knoch, 117.
Leiobunum grande, Weed, 49.
Lepidoptera, 169.
Libellulid, 197, 199, 201.
Limnobia sp., 141.
Lycosa carolinensis, Walck, 25.
punctulata, Hentz, 27.
Lygus pratensis, Linn., 107.
Macromia sp., 195.
Mallophora sp., 149.
Megachile brevis, Say, 241, 243.
Melesia virginiensis, Dru., 161.
Monohammus titilator, Fab., 137.
Mutilla simillima, Sm., 229.
Myriapods, 255.
Myrmeleon immaculatus, De G., 207.
Neuroptera, 191.
Orthoptera, 53.
Orthosoma brunneum, Forst., 131.
Panorpa confusa, Westw., 209.
Papilio troilus, Linn., 171.
Paratenodera sinensis, Sauss., 85.
Pardosa milvina, Hentz, 41.
Pelidnota punctata, Linn., 125.
Phidippus audax, Hentz, 19.
togatus, Koch, 23.
Phymata pennsylvanica, Handl., 103.
Phytonomus punctatus, Fab., 123.
Polistes metrica, Say, 221.
Prionus, sp., 129.
Pselliopus cinctus, Fab., 97, 99.
Sceliphron cementarium, Klug, 223.
Scolopendra sp., 259.
Scudderia sp., 69, 71, 73.
Sparnopolius fulvus, Wied., 157.
Spogostylum simson, Fab., 159.
Tabanus atratus, Forst., 165.
punctifer, O. S., 167.
Termes flavipes, Koll., 211.
Vespula maculata, Linn., 215, 217.
Vespa carolina, Dru., 219.
Xysticus gulosus, Keys., 45.