"What a thousand acres of Silphiums looked like when they tickled the bellies of the buffalo is a question never again to be answered, and perhaps not even asked." -Aldo Leopold
Photographed in April, this Agapostemon (either sericeus or splendens) bee is seen visiting blooms of Claytonia virginica (spring beauty). Agapostemon comes from two Greek words – agapetos, meaning beloved, and stemon, for stamen – these referring to their obvious fondness and attraction to flowers, particularly those in the Asteraceae. We can tell this bee is female because males of this genus have yellow and black striped abdomens.
A little late for a Halloween post, my apologies, but I wanted to share what is probably the best-preserved example of a Gibellula-infected spider I have found to date. Gibellula is a genus of endoparasitic Cordyceps fungi that primarily infect spiders. Although the nicely preserved jumping spider (Salticidae) and the fruiting branches of the fungus is what grabs the eye, it wasn’t until I finished processing the photos that a question came to mind for me.
See the white fibers that surround the spider? I see two possible options for the origin of these. First, I should explain a little of what I have read about the life history of these parasitic fungi. Similar to the Cordyceps that infect insects, Gibellula-infected spiders become “zombies” and will typically position themselves on the undersides of leaves, as the one pictured here was found. Here the fungus finally kills its host and sends out spores that are now nicely positioned to fall upon potential new spider hosts. Back to that bed of white threads. I see one function and two possible origin ideas of these. I believe the function of these is to keep the spider anchored to the leaf so that it does not fall to the ground and greatly hinder the ability of the fungi to infect new hosts. For the potential origin, these could be mycelia of the infecting fungus, or, even better, these could be silk created by the spider, induced by the fungus to anchor itself as the last act before its death.
If you have other ideas as to the potential origin or function of this bead of threads, please let me know!
Both the common and genus names refer to the supposed resemblance of the flowers to the simian face. I don’t readily see it but they are fantastic blooms.
One of two Buprestidae family members I was fortunate to photograph this year. This guy was found at Bush Wildlife Conservation Area in St. Charles County, MO on 01/AUG/21.
All three of the Salvia azurea I planted in the front bed did very well this year and even played host to an equally gorgeous moth, Pyrausta inornatalis.
Thalia dealbata, or powdery thalia, is a fascinating plant that I was introduced to this past August while on a botany trip with Pete Kozich and Stephen Dilks. A member of the mostly tropical arrowroot family (Marantaceae), T. dealbata is the only member of this family to be found in Missouri and only in the low and wet areas of the southeastern portion of the state. We found these plants a little late in their flowering season but with a few blooms in prime condition remaining at Otter Slough Conservation Area.
The leaves of Thalia are what the plants are primarily known for, looking very reminiscent of the cannas and very tropical in appearance. However, doing a little research after seeing these guys for the first time, I have become fascinated with the flowers and the pollination mechanism they developed. First of all, what appears to be a single flower in the image posted here is actually a pair of blooms in mirror image of each other. Additionally, the gorgeous purple petals are not petals at all but highly modified and sterile stamens (staminodes). This is just the beginning of the weird story of these flowers. These staminodes are key to a pollination strategy that literally throws pollen in the face of and often ends in the demise of all but the strongest of would-be insect pollinators. I was going to attempt to try and describe the pollination biology of this system, but this has been expertly described by Price and Rogers in a 1987 article published in Missouriensis. I highly recommend you give this a read!
Agalinis fasciculata, known as the fasciculate false foxglove and beach false foxglove was one of the more fascinating and unexpected plants I became acquainted with this year. A member of the Orobanchaceae family, this species is an annual hemiparasitic plant that does well in poor and sandy soils. I photographed these plants at the Missouri Mines State Historic Site in St. Francois County.
The genus Agalinis comes from the Greek – agan, meaning ‘very’ and linon, refering to ‘flax’, apparently in reference to the similarity of the flowers to those of flax. The species and common names refer to the fasciculate, or bundled manner in which the leaves are attached to the stem – something I failed to take any photos of this year. In my defense, much of the stem and leaves of these plants in mid-September were beginning to senesce and were not very photogenic.
More from Sand Prairie Conservation Area. These members of the bee fly family (Bombyliidae) were owning this patch of blooming Stylisma pickeringii (Convolvulaceae). Be sure to check out the image of a male coming in to spit game at a female that was not giving him the slightest bit of attention.
This summer I finally got to spend a little quality time wandering through Sand Prairie Conservation Area in Scott County, MO. Within and bordering the dunes one walks by large numbers of Stylisma pickeringii (Convolvulaceae) and Polygonum americanum (Polygonaceae), the later called American jointweed. If you arrive at or near sunrise there does not seem to be a lot of interest in regards to pollinators. Wait until the day heats up, say around 9 or 10 am, and then things get hopping. I saw all sorts of insects I had never seen before, mostly in the Hymenoptera. One of these was the green-eyed wasp (Tachytes sp.). Of course, when everything is warmed up, getting the photographs you want of these small and active insects becomes an epic story of frustration. But, try and try again and you might get something you’re happy with. The following pics aren’t as nice as I had hoped but I think they show this splendid little wasp as you might find them in situ.
I finally got to spend some time at Roaring River C.A. this past spring when Casey and I made a trip to the southwest of the state. This location is easily seen driving to and from Roaring River State Park. At this time, the Castilleja coccinea (Indian paintbrush) and Camassia scilloides (wild hyacinth) were the stars of the show, accenting the hilly glades and savannahs.
A Thousand Acres of Silphiums 