2025 – The BugLady has been seeing her first firefly around the 4^th of July. She stands on the riprap, enjoying the fireworks shows launched by her neighbors and the more distant municipal displays while the fireflies fly around her, putting on their own, equally magical shows. 

Fireflies are one of the BugLady’s “nemesis groups” – they refuse to be in focus when she photographs them. Like sowbug/roly-poly/pill bug/woodlouse, your choice of lightning beetle/bug or firefly is a regional thing. 

Enjoy this rerun – a few new words (because who can resist rewriting?) and new pictures. Genus IDs are tentative.

2018  OK – this is a love story of sorts. It’s an episode that originated in 2009, and it has already been rerun once and now rewritten again. But…..the BugLady just returned from southern Ohio, where she co-led a workshop about Bugs and Wonder (Wonder – an unappreciated, sometimes suspect, and insufficiently-entertained state of mind) (and mostly we could say that about the bugs, too). We trawled the prairies and woods for bugs during the day, and at dusk and into the night, we hunted for fireflies. 

Do you call them lightning bugs or fireflies? Carl Linnaeus coined the latter term in 1767. The more arid, western parts of North America are either “firefly-lite” or their fireflies are day-flying and therefore “mute,” as evidenced by the lack of names for them.

Lightning bugs float silently (but brilliantly) over the dark fields, woods, and wetlands of June and July, inspiring poets and children of all ages. They are neither flies nor true bugs; they are members of the Order Coleoptera and the family Lampyridae and are more correctly called Lightning beetles. And yes, their ethereal light show is all about sex. 

Their path to the skies starts in late summer of the previous year. Mid-summer eggs hatch into carnivorous larvae that eat insects, snails, and other small critters (the BugLady thinks that the larvae look like tiny pangolins). They like damp conditions (remember –a thatch of grasses, especially tall grasses, creates a microclimate that’s generally moister than the air five feet above it), and there are even a few species whose larvae are aquatic. 

They overwinter as larvae, buried in the soil, and when spring comes, they wake up and keep on eating (the natural history of firefly larvae needs more study). They pupate in early summer, also in the earth, before emerging for their brief-but-dazzling stint as adults. 

Larvae subdue their much larger prey by injecting a paralyzing fluid, and they are considered important controls on snails and slugs. According to the Field Guide to Insects of North America, the larvae of the common genus Photinus are subterranean and “may hunt earthworms in packs.” The diet of adults varies by species – there are carnivores, omnivores, and non-eaters.

Most threats to their populations tend to be man-made – wetland loss, pesticides, light pollution that dims their displays, paving, and mowing (many adults, after all, are resting in the grass, waiting for sundown and setting lawn mowers at “scalp” cuts down fireflies, too). Populations of some species are shrinking, and more eyes are needed. For some Firefly Citizen/Community Science projects, see .

Light production is an uncommon talent in insects. There are semitropical click beetles that can (some of these, called cucujos, are worn as luminous decorations by partygoers south of the border, and their eggs and larvae also glow). Luminescence is achieved by others (including some springtails) (try to imagine a springtail, glowing green except for its ) because they harbor photogenic bacteria (here meaning that the bacteria are light-generating, not that they are picturesque, though the BugLady thinks they are both). 

Firefly light is a “cold” light. An incandescent light bulb is an inefficient energy-user, wasting 90% of its energy as heat. Less than 8% (some say less than 3%) of the energy that a lightning beetle expends on light is lost as heat. Light is produced at the south end of the abdomen, in a photogenic layer that is located beneath a white, reflecting layer. Chemical energy is converted to light energy by the action of an enzyme called luciferase on a chemical called luciferin (history buffs please note: some old friction matches were called Lucifers). 

Day-flying members of the Lampyridae like the Black firefly or Woodland Lucy (Lucidota atra) don’t glow – producing light would be a waste of energy for a diurnal insect. All lightning beetle larvae, some pupae, and even some eggs also glow, for reasons that are not fully understood. But lightning beetles don’t just gleam, they produce controlled flashes of light – strobes, aerial “J’s,” three-second horizontal dashes, and more. The various species of fireflies divide the landscape by altitude, habitat, light color and intensity, time of evening, and duration of flight. Each species has its own particular “Morse Code,” though male and female “codes” may be different. 

Males signal from the air, and females, which in some species are wingless, respond from on or near the ground (females and luminescent larvae are called glowworms). The signals continue until they find each other and romance ensues. Females of some species of lightning beetles resume flashing after mating, adopting the code of a different species. If she is successful in luring a male, this femme fatale will eat him (she, it seems, does eat as an adult!); this practice is called “aggressive mimicry,” but females generally do not eat males of their own species.

Lightning beetle family members have poisonous blood (they ooze toxic droplets from the base of the wing covers). Besides being an invitation to party, their light is probably also an advertisement to predators that the firefly is toxic (though apparently better-tolerated by some than by others) . In Discovering Nature at Sundown, a good source of lightning beetle information, Elizabeth Lawlor relates that a frog that eats enough LBs may glow temporarily but seems otherwise unaffected. 

Since this episode originally appeared, the BugLady has become increasingly aware of (and confused by) firefly look-alikes in the form of soldier beetles . Some net-winged beetles and click beetles are also mimics – BugFan Mary emailed the BugLady about a firefly on her window screen that had two lights in the front of its body – turned out to be a click beetle (), a far Southern specialty. Most lightning beetles have a shield-shaped thorax that covers most or all of their head, and a bunch of soldier beetles also have a widened and colorful thoracic shield, though a soldier beetle’s head may protrude from under the shield significantly more than a firefly’s. Every time she looks into this matter, the BugLady ends up relabeling a few pictures. For other glowy insects, .

Accounts abound of certain species of lightning beetles in Southeast Asia that gather by the thousands on specific trees. As dark falls, they begin to blink – first randomly, and then in complete synchronicity, illuminating the trees for hours. The cast reassembles nightly for months to produce a spectacular light show. Do you have to buy a steamer ticket to witness a similar spectacle? You do not – synchronous firefly displays occur in the Appalachians, but you’ll need to enter a lottery to see them . Here are two similar but different videos: and .

Just out is a book by Lynn Frierson Faust. In Fireflies, Glow-worms, and Lightning Bugs, she offers descriptions, ranges, photos, flash patterns, habitats, and terrific common names, names like the Woodland Lucy, Little gray, Big dipper, and Chinese lantern.

At the other end of this love story is (shameless plug) the Arc of Appalachia, the organization that ran the Wonder Workshop, an organization that has been buying and providing stewardship for chunks of prairie, gorge and rich eastern forest, with its old growth beech and maple, sycamore, tulip tree, sassafras, and gum. Find their story at . 

The Lightning Beetle is a poster child for why the BugLady loves BOTW – the research begins innocently enough, and then WHAM! Cucujos! Glowing eggs! Glowing frogs! Glowing trees! Poisonous blood! Ravenous packs of LB larvae! Luciferase! 

Excellent!

The BugLady

The post Lightning Beetle Again and Again appeared first on Field Station.

The BugLady and her camera have been out scouring the uplands and wetlands for insects that will sit still long enough to have their portrait made. Many of today’s bugs have starred in their own BOTWs over the years, and you can find them by Googling “51���� Field Station followed by the name of the insect. Her gut continues to tell her that there simply aren’t as many insects to point her camera at as there were a decade ago. 

What did she find in April and May?

Woodland Lucy (Lucidota atra), aka the Black firefly (atra means black). If a lightning bug doesn’t light, is it still a Lightning bug? Yup. Most lightning bugs flash their species-specific light signals at females by night, but some, like the Woodland Lucy, are day flyers (the BugLady starts seeing them in swamps in May, but she usually doesn’t see a light show by their nocturnal relatives until the very end of June). It would be a waste of energy to try to produce a light that competes with the sun, so diurnal lightning bugs communicate via pheromones (perfumes). But, all fireflies make light at some point in their lives, and always as a larva (and even the adult Woodland Lucy makes a weak light for a brief time after emerging as an adult).   

Who says “lightning bug” and who says “firefly?” Lightning bug is heard most often in the South and Midwest, and firefly belongs to New England and the West (and Southeastern Wisconsin is close to the border of the two). Someone did a study and hypothesized that people who live in wildfire country prefer firefly, and people who live in thunderstorm country say lightning beetle. The BugLady likes the alternate theory – that you call them whatever your Grandmother called them.

Disonycha Beetle – isn’t this a neat beetle! The BugLady photographed another member of the genus years ago when she was photographing visitors to her pussy willow shrub. It’s in the (huge) leaf beetle family Chrysomelidae, many of whose members are pretty specific about the host plants for their larvae. This one is (probably) a member of the confusing Smartweed Disonycha bunch.  

Grouse Locusts are in the family Tetrigidae (the pygmy grasshoppers), and at a half-inch and less when full grown, pygmy they are! The BugLady usually sees them in wetlands, and some are actually known to swim. They feed on tiny diatoms and algae and aquatic vegetation at the water’s edge.

A Centipede works the boardwalk at Spruce Lake Bog in April.

Ground Beetle Larva – Ground beetles (family Carabidae) are a bunch of mainly nocturnal, sometimes-sizeable, mostly predaceous beetles. Some of the big ones have no-nonsense names like Fiery Searcher and Caterpillar Hunter, and although they are called Ground beetles, they may climb trees to find their prey. They’re long-lived, spending a year or two as larvae and then two or three more as adults. No – the BugLady was not inclined to pick this one up.   

The White-Striped Black Moth (Trichodezia albovittata) is a small (1” wingspan) day-flying moth that’s often mistaken for a butterfly. It’s found in wetlands because its caterpillar’s food is Impatiens/Jewelweed/Touch-me-not. Like other members of the moth family Geometridae, it has tympanal organs (ears) at the base of its abdomen so that it can hear the echolocation calls of bats.  Since it’s diurnal, its ears are superfluous, but it can hear ultrasound (which suggests to evolutionary biologists that its day-flying habit is a recent one). 

Chalk-Fronted Corpals are one of our earliest dragonflies – the BugLady recalls seeing recently-emerged corporals by the hundreds over a dirt road on warm, spring days.

Daddy Longlegs (aka Harvestmen) are not true spiders, though they do have eight legs. The best description that the BugLady has read is that lacking a sharp division between their two body parts (cephalothorax and abdomen), they look like Rice Krispies with legs. This one is well-camouflaged on the fertile stalk of a cinnamon fern.

The BugLady may have to have this engraved on her gravestone (oh wait, she’s being scattered) – Daddy Longlegs Do No Bite People! Also, counter to both urban and rural legend, they are NOT the most venomous animal on earth!!! The BugLady does not care what your cousin told you, or the person who claims to be allergic to their bite. They have tiny jaws, and unlike the true spiders, they do not pierce their prey and then pump in chemicals from venom glands (no venom glands) (and they have no stinging apparatus). They just sit there and chew off tiny (tiny) pieces. Got it?

The Beautify Bee Fly (Bombylius pulchellus) truly is (pulchellos means “little beauty”)! This small fly (maybe ¼”) was photographed in a wetland in mid-May. Bee fly larvae are parasitoids of a variety of insect eggs and larvae – this one targets the sweat bees, which are among our earliest pollinators (not to worry – the system is in balance).

Crane Fly – there are a number of families of crane flies, plus some near-relatives, and they are often collectively called daddy longlegs (though they’re not spiders) and mosquito hawks and skeeter-eaters (though they don’t catch or eat mosquitoes). What they do, is when they land on the other side of your window screen at night, but they’re completely harmless. The “crane” in crane fly reflects their long, long legs – they’re somewhat awkward flyers and even more awkward landers. Like the Daddy longlegs, they’re reputedly extremely venomous (and now it’s time to introduce the third member of our “daddy longlegs trio,” the cellar spider. , but, alas, cellar spiders only have very weak venom). 

How do these things get started, anyway?

Soldier Fly – it’s always a little startling to come across a lime-green fly! 

This Virginia Ctenucha Moth Caterpillar was photographed in April, but the BugLady has found them walking around on mild winter days. The cute caterpillar will morph into a  that looks butterfly-ish until it lands on a leaf and immediately crawls underneath. Despite its name, it’s a moth with more northerly affiliations. 

The (great) Minnesota Seasons website lists three defense strategies:

• Aposematism: The metallic blue color of the thorax and abdomen mimics wasps which may be noxious to predators.
• Sound production: A specialized (tymbal), corrugated region on the third section of the thorax (metathorax) produces ultrasonic sounds which interfere with (“jam”) the sonar of moth-eating bats.
• Pyrrolizidine alkaloid sequestration: Caterpillars acquire and retain naturally produced toxic chemicals (pyrrolizidine alkaloids) from the plants they eat.

Red-Spotted Purple Caterpillars are hard to distinguish from those of the very-closely-related Viceroy and White Admiral caterpillars, and their food plants overlap, too. The caterpillars overwinter in a leaf that’s still attached to the tree, rolled up and fastened with silk. 

Red-spotted Purple? The , and the .

Hobomok Skippers (once called the Northern Golden Skipper) are an early butterfly, often decorating the wild geraniums that bloom by the bushel in May. One source says that they are strong flyers that take off quickly when startled. Amen! They are a butterfly of woodland, wetland and grassland edges, where males perch in the sun and fly out to chase intruders.

“Hobomok” is a nod to an early Wampanoag chief.    

Crab Spider on White trillium – as we all know, the BugLady has a thing for crab spiders because of their ability to hide in plain sight.  This one was photographed in early May. 

Go outside – Look for Bugs!

The BugLady

The post Slices of Spring appeared first on Field Station.

Howdy, BugFans,

The BugLady is getting ready for the annual firefly show (for BugFan Tom in the Deep South, the show’s almost over). She has been seeing day-flying fireflies in the air in the wetlands she visits – for more about day-flying fireflies and about firefly natural history (after 5 years, not all of the links work).

Most important question first – are they fireflies or lightning bugs? This is, of course, a question of great scholarly debate, and it was one of the questions on the wonderful, interactive Harvard American dialect survey of a decade ago. Turns out that the “firefly” of the West, Western Upper Great Lakes, and New England is the “” of the South and much of the Midwest.

Purists, of course, know that these are neither bugs nor flies, and that the term “lightning beetle” is more appropriate. They’re in the family Lampyridae.

Here are two articles about lightning beetles: “” and ““

Identifying fireflies isn’t quite as much fun as watching them. Not everything with a colorful, shield-shaped thorax is a lightning beetle – there are some species in the closely-related Soldier beetle family (Cantharidae) that do a pretty impressive job of mimicking fireflies [, , ] and every time the BugLady looks through her firefly pictures, she finds a ringer. She recommends Fireflies, Glow-worms and Lightning Bugs by Lynn Frierson Faust. The BugLady tried to ID these to genus – fingers crossed.

Go outside. Look for fireflies (and if you catch them, release them in a timely fashion).

The BugLady

The post Closed for June IV — Fireflies appeared first on Field Station.