Fire Starters

Place has defined my life. My desire for experience, adventure, for new ideas, new ways of thinking about and seeing life has dragged me around the world. Late in high school I became interested in foreign language, travel, and so during college I lived in Tuebingen, Germany for a year as an exchange student. Total immersion proved to be best way for me and suited my typically modern tendency towards overstimulation. Words cannot describe what that place (and its people) did to me. It changed everything: from the way I use my own native tongue, to how I think about language and culture, to how I see community infrastructure, rural landscapes, education, sustainable living, politics, etc. With Germany as a base I roamed most of Western Europe between 2005 and 2006, a wandering child, ignorant to history, in love with low and high culture, in love with a vague otherness that gave my life a sense of enormity and adventure. At a very young age, I remember, I had already made that determination: to live exceptionally. Apparently, I had also determined live broken-heartedly. Leaving the many friends, the language (now in my blood) and this, the main haunt of my late youth, was excruciating.

Dad, Jace (brother) and me fishing the salt marshes of Louisiana

The wanderlust convinced me later to learn French and spend a summer in Quebec, Canada as a camp counselor and English instructor. There I fell in love again: big skies, big rivers, dandelions and wheat fields, Amelie, Clemence, Cindy, canoes. And my heart was broken again.
These travels helped me to realize that Louisiana, as a place, was deep in my genetic make up. Everywhere I went, it resurfaced. In my dreams, in quiet moments alone, in songs and poetry I wrote. Food, for one, had turned to a great source of pride for me in Germany. I delighted in sharing recipes from home and a love for food and the “family” bonds it builds with others.  It was in Germany, after all, that I began to first learn the names of plants I remembered from childhood. I returned home with eyes wide open, transformed, and could hardly bare the sprawl, the lack of sidewalks and community spaces, the trash everywhere.  Though I finished my degree in creative writing with a focus on poetry, towards graduation in 2009 my writing focused more and more on the importance of place, of natural and cultural heritage, of learning and living through experience, through immersion. I did not want to be a mere spectator, a complacent commentator, an academic. I wanted to get my hands dirty. The first year after graduation, I volunteered for community gardens, coastal restoration, urban forestry, disadvantaged children mentoring, I taught as a substitute teacher.

The next year, after much reading and testing the waters in education and environment, I would leave again, this time to Ohio, to be a naturalist, a teacher. My father had cancer. My mother had passed away the year before.  My family was in shambles in too many ways to explain here. It felt selfish, but I convinced myself that it was necessary. To gather good ideas and bring them back, to make Baton Rouge (and somehow thereby the whole state) a more sustainable, livable and culured place to live. My time at Glen Helen was spent living in a nature preserve, outside everyday, sharing discoveries with children, in love with every little living thing, exploring nature as I never could before. I went to several conferences, workshops and educational programs. I became certified in environmental education through EECO. I soaked up all I could, with the hopes of founding some day a community education center.  Not long after committing to my second year as an administrative intern at Glen Helen, my father passed away.  My father. The man who gave this love of life to me, who dragged me across the south while he worked, camping in parks, swimming along sandbars, beaches, lakes. Though I had come to value living in one place, I had not been able to DO it yet. All my lofty hopes had been reduced by this simple reality. In my second year at Glen Helen, I realized that it was not just place, but relationships, that matter.  So when I say “place” I’m referring not just to land, or cultural and natural history, I’m referring to people. And to a journey shared across time. We are, like all other species, sculptures of the environment and the countless interactions with other living things.

Ohio, and its people, had its own way with me. That is a whole other novel I could not write here. Places get under your skin though, I tell you… into the fabric of who you are. The result, for me at least, has been a constant culture shock, wherever I go. I’ve been hopelessly hybridized. Perhaps you know the feeling? If you have lived in the South, this feeling is compounded tremendously.  More than anything, I miss the kindred spirit I met there, who shared many similar ideas about the importance of education, experience and the landscape.

I returned to Louisiana in June 2012, brokenhearted again, but this time to finally do the damn thing, I’ve been saying I would do. Instead of getting a fancy inter-disciplinary degree in some other part of the country (Lord knows how bad I wanted you, Vermont, Oregon, Minnesota!), I broke down and picked a small graduate program in sleepy Monroe, LA to build a base. I visit my brothers, grandmother, nephews and nieces every chance I get. Trying not to take ANYTHING for granted. I’m still crazy, though. I still want to do nothing less than transform the way we view community, the way we do education and natural heritage conservation. It’s a tall order but things have come together nicely so far. Technology is helping tremendously. As I write you, I have been invited on to the Louisiana Master Naturalist Program state-wide steering committee, the Louisiana Environmental Education Association board, the Baton Rouge Native Plant Society board, and founded the Louisiana Naturalist Network, a new online social-media group on Facebook for promoting a deeper knowledge of natural heritage in the state. At ULM, our Biology Department is on the verge of opening the first Biological Field Station of its kind in the whole state (one of few in the region), to be an outdoor classroom for students at ULM and across the state. This may all sound wonderful, but there is so much work to be done, it is unfathomable. Did I mention I’m studying plant ecology? At times I think of the loved ones who have gone their own ways after Glen Helen, of the places I have loved, and how easy it would be go elsewhere, where there is less foundational work to be done. But then I too would be part of the same vicious cycle of emigration that leaves Louisiana desolate of quality leadership. For those that have remained, cynicism, lethargy and complacency has spread like a zombie infection into most protected fortifications of scientific, non-profit and government programs. So you have to be feisty and agile to remain, making sure you don’t get bit, infected. But perhaps the apocalyptic imagery is not helping. There are in fact many interesting folks out there, most of them are young, and don’t realize how powerful they are. It has become my favorite past-time to find these people and ignite their passion, to tell them yes, you can do this—no, we can do this together. To be a fire starter. So I am glad to join you all around the digital fire. As we look into the flames we must remember how important a task it is to keep the fire alive: if not merely for the stories it incites in us, than for the vital warmth and hope it brings, in helping us survive even the coldest of winters.

This is a cross post of an essay I authored for http://campfiredialectic.wordpress.com, a blog by some dear friends of mine.

Today on a September wind

This is it. This is the day I remember from somewhere. The wind is too familiar, the air too perfect. Voices run through it, places, old love, old music. Today a miracle happens outside. Overhead, just above the people walking. The way the light touches down lightly before moving on, softening. The way the wind touches. A voice somewhere speaks. To me? An old voice in me churned up by this certain change, this weather. Today is the first day of cold to come. How do we show gratitude upon the arrival of old company? The chill wakens our sleepy flesh. Oak and pine leaves burn somewhere on a backyard altar recognized only by children. Cold nights will come, rain. Asters, goldenrod. Who else knows that this is sacred? Who else knows that this day must written? When I was just a boy, I wrote poems, tried to draw maps to get back to this place. The flat blue of sky, the wind coming down out of it, hushing the streets, the people, surrounding one body, one mind, a silk falling around me, a cocoon for overwintering. Where do I go? Where am I? I could as easily wander. Down the streets, back past apartment, through the fence to the field and along the edge of the forest. I could easily forget myself, an unknown prayer on my lips. Why, in all such imperfectness, this beauty remaining? Who am I? Perhaps, a wind came and took that away too.

Holding Back the Flood: the Flow of Information in Louisiana's Civic Landscape (draft 4)

Throughout Louisiana's history, we have built a reputation for holding back the nourishing, land-building waters of the Mighty Mississippi.

As you may know, the construction of the levee system in the 1930s has fundamentally changed the hydrology of our state and is one of the reasons we are considered the fastest disappearing land mass in the world, at an alarming rate of one football field per hour.  Natural, though some destructive process, floods are vital to the health of our states coastal wetlands. We are learning now that nature will find its way and that by working against natural processes we are doomed to spend billions of dollars. "What you gain at one end you lose at the other" as Mark Twain might say. 

Today, we come up against a different kind of levee that is impeding the flow of a mighty river called the Age of Information. Good information and innovative solutions exist here and now. We have all the tools we need to begin remedying many of the fundamental failures of local and state government.  Louisianians everywhere, regardless of political affiliation, will agree that our government is not as efficient or effective as it needs to be.

What is this barrier I am speaking of? In Dave Meslin's cathartic and spot-on TED Lecture he outlines 7 obstacles and barriers and invites the modern citizen to reject the popular myth that people are selfish, lazy and stupid. He asks us to redefine "apathy" in the light of barriers that reinforce cynicism and disengagement, identifying the obstacles and working together to dismantle those obstacles.

A barrier I've chosen to focus on recently is at the Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, where information regarding conservation and non-game species is difficult to find. If you look at other state wildlife agencies (as I did here in a previous post) you will find some frustrating contrasts between our website and most others. This is where I've noticed the best and brightest in Louisiana usually shrug and say something to the effect of, "Yeah, Louisiana is a little backwards." or "We're the last in the country to catch on when it comes to innovation."

Another issue I have had difficulty with is learning about the different officials responsible for LDWF programs and administration. A list of foresters I needed to contact once before were not linked anywhere under Forestry. Many other state employees responsible for essential programs in the conservation and management of public resources are not represented online by a photograph, email, mailing address or office number. If these people were easier to find and contact, people could more easily give them feedback on the work they do.

I made an exciting first step today concerning my hopes to be heard about the website issue. The conversation was encouraging. I spoke with Joel Courtney, a gentleman who has worked in the LDWF Public Information Office for 14 years, who says LDWF is eager to get more feedback about the website. I encourage you to contact him with suggestions for improving the educational value of the LDWF page. If you value quality non-game species information, intuitive web design and navigability that encourages learning, you can contact others in the department and let them know. (If you don't know what your missing, please visit my previous post here)

Public Information Office

Public Information Director, Marianne Burke, 225/765-2917, mburke@wlf.la.gov
Public Information Assistant Director, Joel Courtney, 225/765-2927, jcourtney@wlf.la.gov
Audio/Visual, Joel Courtney, 225/765-2927, jcourtney@wlf.la.gov
Publications/Graphic Design, Becky Redmond, 225/765-2618, bredmond@wlf.la.gov
Web master, Cassandra Washington, 225/765-2842, cwashington@wlf.la.gov
Public Information Officer, Gabe Giffin, 225/765-2496, ggiffin@wlf.la.gov
Louisiana Conservationist magazine, Gabe Giffin, 225/765-2496, ggiffin@wlf.la.gov
Office Manager & Coordinator, Janice Slaughter, 225/765-2925, jslaughter@wlf.la.gov
Receptionist, Pat Wilson, 225/765-2800, pawilson@wlf.la.gov


(Oddly I found the above information on an external site, not the LDWF site!) 

Improvement will ultimately depend on the input of the many educators, researchers, naturalists, citizen scientists and everyday people willing to break through that barrier. People who love information and are willing to work for it will be the ones to break the levees and allow the natural process of "nutrient" exchange to take place.

LDWF (and many other Louisiana departments and commissions) surely has accumulate a great wealth of information that could be could inform and empower the public to become more invested in its mission. This information has to be "curated" or mediated

Ultimately, the deluge of the Information Age will overpower the "levees" that hold it back. LDWF and other government websites in Louisiana will have to adapt to the new expectations for online materials: websites should be representative of a diverse audience, clean and clearly designed, rich with information yet simply organized. I say "No online information, without representation" Government websites, furthermore, should encourage the input of the community at large and empower them to become involved in the civic process that shapes our conservation laws, management plans and land use. It is a matter of openness that, for people my age, is second nature, common sense.

I imagine a high price will be paid in the after math of this "catastrophic flood" (the paradigmatic shift). You can expect the laws of self-preservation to apply to state employees for whom such changes constitute a threat. Perhaps the time is upon us to demand certain policies of online transparency, so that the work (budgets, projects, etc) of our government can be seen and appreciated and so folks who are not performing can be held accountable. There could be many entry points for contributing to and enhancing the efforts of government programs that are responsible for shaping our natural and human communities. A single "Contact" feature creates an unnecessary bottleneck that slows down the machine for individuals who know what they want to say and who they want to say it to. 

It is foolish to think that government will take care of all of our needs. This is especially the case if we are not directly involved in shaping its policies and infrastructure. But how can we become more involved if not through the most basic means we understand: people talking to other people. Government will continue to be the enemy so long as we are not invited into it at the human level, so long as partisan macropolitics distract us from the real local challenge of fundamentally transforming the mechanisms of civic engagement.

The innovators and ideas are here and I'm excited to continue my search to identify the obstacles and work with public officials and fellow citizens to dismantle them, for the benefit of education, communities and civic life.

The Cajun Prairie: a place worth caring about

The Cajun Prairie is a miraculous and fabled place.  Though only "remnants" remain of the original coastal grasslands of Louisiana (of what once was a vast wild acreage), there are a few plots that have been restored by a small group of dedicated and mighty stewards. They had a meeting recently last weekend August 11, 2012 and I made a point go meet the people and see their work. The list of attendees was a veritable Who's Who of Louisiana botany and plant conservation.

I couldn't possibly aspire to tell the whole story of this landscape tonight. And a book has been written and published recently that does that all too well.

Get a copy!

But I found this USGS/USFWS document which you can download for free: "Paradise Lost?" that tells some of the story and contains lists and pictures of different plants and animals found there. Oddly, I found it while searching the net for an ID on a wildflower. Who would ever find these jewels of information floating around on the net? They seem to me like messages in a bottle, adrift in a large and indiscriminate sea.

The following is a kind of photo essay on the prairie. I will try to write more on the prairie after I finish Dr. Vidrine's book and have some time to absorb the immensity of the history (and tragedy and comeback) of Louisiana's first meadows.

Eryngium yuccifolia "Rattlesnake Master"

Solidago sp. "Goldenrod"

Silphium laciniatum "Compass Plant" and Gaura lindheimeri "Lindheimer's Beeblosom"

Helianthus mollis "Ashy Sunflower"

Liatris spp. "Blazing Star"

Rhexia sp. "Meadowbeauty"

Hydrolea ovata "Blue Waterleaf"

Agraulis vanillae "Gulf Fritillary"

Hibiscus sp. "Native Hibiscus"

Passiflora incarnata "Purple Passionflower"

Centrosema virginianum "Butterfly Pea"

Malcom Vidrine, the author of Cajun Prairie, a man who has spent much of his life working to restore Louisiana prairie, invited me to his house.

Needless to say, the man loves prairies. He has turned most of his yard into one and propagates milkweed species to plant around his house for the monarchs and other butterflies.

Asclepias spp. - Many varieties of milkweed

Asclepisa tuberosa "Butterfly Weed"

Bidens sp. "Tickseed"

He made a point to show us the wild ancestor of cultivated corn, Eastern Gamagrass.

Tripsacum dactyloides "Eastern Gamagrass"

Monarda punctata "Horsebalm" and Chamaecrista fasciculata "Partridge Pea"

On my way out of town I noticed a National Park Service building: Prairie Acadian Cultural Center. Strange, I thought. I'm used to seeing these kind of interpretive centers in natural areas. The National Parks does a good job telling the story of people through the lens of the land and I've been a big fan of their interpretive programs for some time. I watched a wonderful presentation  by a very expressive man on how to make authentic cracklins. Afterwards I searched the museum for prairie remnants. There was a little bit of it mixed throughout, but no contiguous blocks of information on the natural communities. Certainly, I am not blaming anyone for this. The center was amazingly curated and stuck to its cultural purposes. But how wonderful would it be to marry the two, wholeheartedly? To visualize the deep connection the Cajuns must have had with the land, living so close to it? To see the land as they saw it, flower by flower?

*

O beautiful for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain...

The Louisiana Naturalist Network: a vision

The need for a sense of community is important, yet sometimes taken for granted. Groups formed under localized, circumstancial conditions always run the risk of extinction when not replenished with a diversity of ideas and members. Alas, human communities, like their wild counterparts, are subject to the same threats of fragmentation, isolation and genetic degradation.

Aldo Leopold's land ethic " enlarges the boundaries of the community to include soils, waters, plants, and animals; or collectively: the land." In that sense, I feel that a naturalist community can, by seeking place-based knowledge, actively pursue the land ethic. Through direct interaction and learning about natural communities, we are granted that singular sense familiarity and belonging that is the hallmark of the naturalist experience, what E.O Wilson calls the "naturalist's trance." But what does a human community look like?

As in a healthy forest, I like to think a healthy community has a distinct structure and composition. The analogy can be applied elsewhere, but a regional naturalist community, I think, is significantly "forest-like."

Consider their diversity first: there are birders, wildflower watchers, log flippers and snake wranglers, entomologists,  mycologists, geologists, paddlers and waders, lovers of streams and lakes, cloud gazers and star gazers, edible/useful plant gatherers, herbalists,   edible/useful plant gatherers, ethnobotanists, hunters/sportsmen and more. There are also many generalists that seem to get into everything. Considering the above list, the naturalist community as a whole is a large and powerful force to be reckoned with. They are spread across the state and working in a variety of capacities, some of them as professional biologists, others as computer programmers, with a compulsion for the The naturalist diversity is unique in that it parallels the diversity of the natural communities.

But there is structure to consider. In the forest there are old and triumphant trees. These have stood the test of time and witnessed the many changes over the years: storms, droughts, floods. I see these grandfather trees in the likes of legendary Charles Allen, Malcom Vidrine and Kelby Ouchley (to name a few). They loom tall and hold many stories of the past and present. Canopy trees protect the forest floor from the harsh heat and dessication and provide the seeds that are the bounty of diverse lifeforms. They also provide genetic information that is the germ of the future. Yet a community cannot thrive with the giants alone. There is an understory: maturing trees to take the place of the elders when the canopy opens up once more. Then there are the young recruits near the forest floor, thin and meager in the dappled light of all that waves above them.

Me, I am a sapling at best and a generalist among many experts in the conservation movement of Louisiana.

But as an ecology-minded person, I take great interest in the structure and diversity of our Louisiana community. The experience and generosity of the "grandfather trees" through the years has given us great books and restored natural areas. I am anxious to identify all of them, thank them and celebrate their life's work. But I also take great interest in recruitment of the young. The future of the forest lies in the seeds that germinate and thrive. Ecologists today know that a forest ecosystem is at its best when it sustains the largest variety of age classes and species. So I wonder today: What is our forest made of? How deep, how wide do these roots go?

After much thought, I've decided to create an informal group known as the Louisiana Naturalist Network (LNN) to see if I can't get at the heart of these questions and more. I've begun with a new facebook group that I hope can collect the many faces of this burgeoning community, the young and the old alike.

Louisiana Naturalist Network

The idea is to help people with a variety of nature interests find and recognize each other and share information. Ideally, the group could organize outings and collectively support conservation initiatives--a sort of carrot mob for biodiversity. Yet I would be happy if this group only succeeded in matching one person with one new resource they did not know previously existed. I do think, however, that there is potential for much more and I look forward to seeing what becomes of this simple idea.

When the Louisiana Master Naturalist Program comes into full swing and is ready to give its first classes, I hope naturalists around the state will already know about LMNP and be ready to take advantage of their training. This program, if it succeeds, has the potential to unlock a powerful force in Louisiana because it opens the doors of conservation and place-based education to the average citizen, who may or may not care to ever have a degree in the biological sciences. We need alternative routes to outdoor learning and conservation. We need alternative routes to meeting each other.

Please share your thoughts on this essay below. Where do you work? What is your passion?

Insect Day at the Arboretum

Insect Day at the Arboretum was on July 14th, 2012:

This kind of thing really deserves everyone's attention, because it is one of very few family-oriented biodiversity events in Louisiana. Insects are very charismatic, photogenic and accessible animals when it comes to education. They happen to also be the most abundant and diverse group of animals on earth. There are more than 750,000 insect species described, but new ones are discovered all the time. Some scientists estimate there are at least 1.5 million more species to be discovered.

The event took place at the magnificent Louisiana State Arboretum, a beautiful piece of land with mature Beech-Magnolia forests and Cypress-Tupelo Swamps. The place is a botanical wonderland with a very interesting history. I went on a field trip with The Naturalist Club at LSU in 2010 and immediately fell in love with the place. They have regular interpretive programming and extensive trails that connect with Chicot State Park.

Here Linda Auld aka The Bug Lady shows off her backyard residents: live caterpillars munching on their host plants.

Here one had emerged just a few hours before I arrived. A Gulf Fritillary whose host plant is the beautiful Purple Passion Flower.

Agraulis vanillae "Gulf Fritillary"

Left to Right: Gulf Fritillary munching on Passion Flower and Black Swallowtail on fennel.

Here are the Barney brother's behind the table, two of the head organizers.

I met Michael Barney while volunteering for an amazing group of people at the Bayou Vermilion District's Bayou Operations in Lafayette (please check them out!). He invited me to a special event they have for all their entomology friends every year, called Bugstock. There I met his brother, Steve Barney and many other amazing characters as we hunted the woods and meadows for robberflies, swamp darner dragonflies and spiny micrathena spiders.  I have been a little buggy every since. 

Andrew Barron, a primitive skills enthusiast, happens to be part of the bug gang and so tags along at many of their events, adding lagniappe in the form of basket making, flint knapping, fire starting and ethnobotany.

  Here, Andrew starts a fire with a few pieces of wood, some tender and his hands in under two minutes.

He used very specific types of wood for each part of this bow and drill method, which I found really interesting. 

Later I went for a hike and found this newly emerged Luna Moth, a true giant.

After noticing a katydid, I couldn't help but point it out to a kid and her father who were hiking the trails.

Microcentrum sp. "Anglewing Katydid"

I told them the story of the katydid males forming choruses at night, in two separate groups, each with their own synchronized stridulations. The cumulative affect of both the choruses gives us the staggered, repetitive three-syllable ka-ty-did, recognized in the group's namesake, the Common True Katydid. (Click here to listen) You can hear them at night throughout the south, even in older neighborhood's of  large cities in Louisiana. There are, however, several different kinds of katydids, each with its own unique sound. The one above is some kind of Anglewing.

One of my favorite finds on this hike was a uniquely bright orange spider.

I later found out that this was a kind of ant mimic spider in the family Corinnidae that lacks a common name. 

Castianeira amoena

This spider apparently mimics what is commonly called the Velvet Ant or Cow Killer (Dasymutilla occidentalis) which is actually not an ant but a wasp that mimics an ant. So it is a multi-tiered mimicry: spider-wasp-ant mimic! Ant mimics do not make webs like the typical spiders do, but hunt on the ground in the leaf litter, seeking refuge in specially built silken retreats. Some find protection among ants, others prey on them, some both. This spider may not look like an ant to you, but there is a lot more to ant mimicry than mere appearance. Ant mimics also behave like ants and hold up their front legs like antennae or have dark coloration on tips of their front legs that make their limbs appear not to touch the ground, like antennae.(Click here for more science on ant mimicry or "myrmecomorphy")

*

Back at the nature center there were many things to see, including collections from LSU's Museum of Natural History, showing a small sample of the thousands of species of insects native to Louisiana.

 The Barney brothers had some beautiful live specimens, all of them Louisiana natives and collected recently.

Aphonopelma hentzi Texas Brown Tarantula

 Some others that I wish I had taken pictures of that really surprised me were native Striped Bark Scorpions and the Giant Red-headed Centipedes.

In the early evening we watch a documentary about beekeeping and the colony collapse syndrome. It was a quirky but informative film: Queen of the Sun, sponsored by LSU at Eunice's Continuing Education. A sweet old Cajun beekeeper was there to share his story and passion for local honey. It was really inspiring to see a man of his age with such a young fighting attitude against the status quo. Everyone was in love with honey and wanted to get their own colony. Needless to say, the man sold out of the few jars of honey he brought and I eat delicious Peanut Butter and Honey sandwiches almost everyday for lunch!

After dark, light sheets were put out to look for nocturnal creatures.

We found a number of exciting things, but most unusual were the animals of the order Neuroptera. Many of these are fairly common, but mostly likely misunderstood for their striking similarity to other groups of insects. Many neuropterans are good examples of convergent evolution, where two species evolve similar characteristics despite descending from separate lineages. Take this guy for example:

Ululodes sp. "Owlfly"

You may be thinking to yourself, that is a dragonfly! But look closer. Dragonflies do not have those long antennae, nor the fuzzy faces.  

 

Owlflies are nocturnal too, unlike dragonflies. The are probably more commonly known for their pugnacious larvae, some of which are called antlions, because they make funnels in sand and fine dry soil to form pit fall traps for trapping ants. Click here to watch videos of antlions making their tunnels and learn more. Here is a picture of an antlion I saw on a trip to the Indiana Dunes in 2011:

The next guy you might think was a preying mantis but they are not in the order of mantids (Mantodea) at all but once again Neuroptera.

Leptomantispa pulchella "Brown Mantidfly"

Michael Ferro, the coauthor of Dragonflies and Damselflies of Louisiana was there to tell us all about them.

  

Mike served as a nice encyclopedic reference and share the interesting life history of the Brown Mantidfly with us. The larvae begin their lives hitchhiking on spiders and feeding on their blood ("hemolymph" as its called in arthropods). Here they wait and transform, shedding exoskeletons and maturing, until the spider lays eggs, which they eat fresh, before undergoing further transformation to adulthood. (See this paper for more science.)

Zeugomantispa minuta "Green Mantisfly"

This ravenous Green Mantisfly also has a fondness for spiders but the larvae dwell inside the spider egg case as a parasitoid of the burgeoning colony. The species of spider tends to be very specific so it is interesting to think of the complicated life cycles these creatures live.

The entomologists there had many things to say about the smaller insects too, but much of that has drifted out of memory. We found this guy, a beautiful longhorn beetle. There was a group of kids there collecting these larger beetles for their "beetle tank", a place where the apparently try to keep these animal alive in a beetle city.

The collected Ox Beetles, Stag Beetles and Predaceous Diving Beetles too. It was nice to see the kids out having a good time and interacting with real scientists. It was nice to see the scientists struggling also to explain complicated things in simple ways. Seeing those kinds of bridges form was very satisfying and tells me that this event is a real success.