Showing posts with label ant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ant. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Going to make it...




It's the middle of the week--a week, moreover, during which gorgeous spring weather Mr. Hyde-d itself into a bitter wintry purgatory; don't tell me you don't feel the same way.

{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}

Monday, August 13, 2012

Undomesticated Peeves Part 2



“Oh, no, he’s crawling on the fruit salad!”

“Watch out—he’ll sting you!”

I have complained before—quite eloquently, I believe, and at length—about people’s deeply irritating tendency to refer to any animal they see as “he,” regardless of the fact that they’re likely to be wrong at least half the time. This is bad enough.

What’s even worse is when people refer to individuals of social-insect species—like most common bees and ants—as “he,” because in this case they’re virtually guaranteed to be wrong.

All those scurrying ants transporting bits of smushed candy bar or lifting huge beetles or biting each other’s limbs off? Female.

All those bees rolling with orgiastic ecstasy in the nectar-filled bowls of flower blossoms? Female.

Those wasps circling your picnic table with alarmingly predatory glints in their faceted eyes? Female.

Among most of the true “eusocial” animals—species that live in colonies and whose members have divisions of labor based on reproductive ability or function—a male’s only role is as a sex object. (Considering that, it’s a shame that they’re called “drones” rather than, say, “gigolos.”) There are definitely exceptions to this rule—that’s what’s so great about animal behavior and ecology: there are always exceptions to rules—but by and large, that’s the case. You’ll have one (sometimes more) reproductive female, and then a bunch of (often sterile) females that do all the work of cleaning, caring for offspring, gathering food, and defending the nest/hive/colony.


Eusociality is a fascinating set-up (for more detail, read Nicola Plowe’s Introduction to Eusociality), most common among bees, wasps, ants, termites, and aphids. Researchers have (so far) found only a very few non-insect species that are eusocial: sponge-dwelling snapping shrimp (Synalpheus spp.) and naked mole rats.

But back to my point: the ant heading towards that puddle of Coke, the bee thrumming with excitement among the wild roses, the wasp that stung you three times on the arm—don’t call them “he.”


Now, don’t feel too bad about not having known this. Practically any movie (or commercial) with anthropomorphized social insects has gotten this wrong, thus ingraining erroneous information into our collective consciousness. Nevertheless, it is wrong—not just half-wrong-tinged-with-chauvinism, as is the case with most “he” attributions—but almost completely wrong.

There are exceptions: if you spot a male bee mating with a female, for example, then you can say “he,” as in, “Oh my god! His penis broke off inside her and now he’s falling to his death?!?” (Trust me, I’m not making this up.)

Otherwise, though, for the bees and ants, stick with “she.” It’s safer all around.





{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Wild Wildlife: How to Distinguish a Naturalist from a Normal Person



Leaving the house, they:

A. Assess the temperature and decide whether they need a jacket.

B. Pause to chat with a neighbor.

C. Stop to photograph an interesting fungus that has sprouted up near a neighbor’s front steps.


When entering Rock Creek Park, they:

A. Bike or jog along the trail, pleased to be able to exercise outside.

B. Stroll along the trail, enjoying bird-calls and the play of light on leaves.

C. Identify types of trees and wish they’d brought their Sibley’s guide to better determine the species of a particularly tricky oak.


[note: the tree pictured is a beech,
not an oak, tricky or otherwise]

Upon seeing a heron, they:

A. Glance at it but keep moving.

B. Stop for a minute to admire it.

C. Stand stock-still for a good 15 minutes, trying to get a good picture of it plunging its head into the water as it catches fish.



Encountering a wide tree-stump covered with moss about 10 feet from the path, they:

A. Pass it without a second thought.

B. Think, “What a pretty stump.”

C. Tramp over to the stump to investigate and then spend another 10-15 minutes kneeling against decaying bark in order to take pictures of a group of ants maneuvering a dead worm over a leaf.



I think we can dispense with an answer key, don’t you?



{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}
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