Jenny Taylier
It is a line that many budding entomologists fear to cross. Even some of the established figures in British entomology are not prepared to go there. I’m talking about dissection, gen-detting, whipping their nadgers out … genitalia dissection.
True, most of the time it’s just a bit of a chore. But it makes identification of many beetles much quicker and much more accurate than making difficult judgements about, say, the relative breadth of the pronotum.
Occasionally, dissection reveals structures that really are a marvel to behold. I well remember a lunchtime conversation in a busy pub nearly 20 years ago with Brian Eversham and an aleocharine staphylinid expert: let’s call him “Mike”. I think I was probably expressing disbelief that anyone could find the will to try and identify such horrible little beetles, let alone dissect them. Mike’s response, delivered for all in the bar to hear, was “But under the microscope THE FEMALE GENITALIA ARE ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS!!” The next few moments were mortifying but gradually the hubbub of bar conversation returned.
Gyrophaena is a genus of 19 British species of small aleocharine staphylinids that breed in rotting fungi. The male genitalia are truly extraordinary in this genus. I look at these and wonder why all these hooks, corkscrews and knobbles have evolved and what function they perform? I guess they must make it difficult or impossible for a male of one species to mate with a female of another, like trying to fit a key into the wrong lock. All four of the Gyrophaena species pictured below were found in a single tuft of oyster mushrooms.
Gyrophaena joyioides aedeagus
Gyrophaena manca aedeagus
Gyrophaena gentilis aedeagus
Gyrophaena affinis aedeagus
Oh yes, and in case you’re wondering about the title of this blog … when I told my wife I was writing a blog about genitalia, she said “Jenny who?”
Barbies in Beds
Natural history takes you to some strange places. I spent several hours underground on Saturday, carrying out licenced monitoring of bats in various hibernacula in Bedfordshire with Bob Cornes and members of the Beds Bat Group. Our first site, an old icehouse, had no bats on this occasion but two Buttoned Snouts were hibernating on the walls – a new moth for me and the first hibernation record of this species for Beds (VC30).
Buttoned Snout hibernating in an icehouse
We saw a few hibernating Heralds during the day too.
Herald in hibernation
We found five species of bat, a typical result for these sites. Two Pipistrelle sp. which I didn’t photograph, numerous Natterer’s Bats, several Daubenton’s Bats and Brown Long-eared Bats and, best of all, Barbastelle. I think there were 6 Barbies in total, a new bat for me. About 90 individual bats in total!
Daubenton's Bat, typically well-concealed.
Natterer's Bat, sleeping hammock-fashion!
Brown Long-eared Bat: my favourite photo of the day.
Barbastelle: it's unusual for them to hang free on the ceiling like this. Which is a shame as they look really cool - I like the shadow too.
Barbastelle: note the ears touching in the middle of the head, a diagnostic feature of this species.
Barbastelle, showing the peculiar and distinctive semicircular flap of skin protruding from just behind the outer margin of the ear.
Many thanks to Bob for the opportunity to see these bats, and to Andy and Melissa Banthorpe for identifying Buttoned Snout from the photo.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and a Jersey Tiger are dead
male Jersey Tiger
This male Jersey Tiger was fatally attracted to the bright lights of London’s West End. I found it last night, dead, in the foyer of the Theatre Royal, Haymarket. Although it was appropriate to the existentialist theme of the night’s performance, it seemed an unlikely place to find one. It is a new 10-km square according to the Atlas but, as this map shows, it’s not far for a moth to fly from the extensive green space of St. James’ Park/ Green Park/ Buckingham Palace Gardens.
