Last week I gave you this largely amorphous blob to have a go at identifying:
Perhaps unsurprisingly it proved quite tricky, with most people opting for a brain, heart or gland of some kind. However, believe it or not, this is actually a whole animal.
In the comments a close suggestion came from palfreyman1414 who said:
“…invasive crab lip parasitical crustacean isolated…”
Tony Irwin clearly knew the actual answer with a nicely crafted cryptic link to the two common sequential hosts of this animal, the Flounder and the Cod. Meanwhile, on Twitter there were another couple of suggestions – one was a good general biological principle:
The other was a straight-up correct answer from Dr Ross Piper, an old zoological buddy from postgrad days and an aficionado of odd animals:
This is indeed a Codworm or Lernaeocera branchialis (Linnaeus, 1767) a type of copepod parasite that has a life history in which they spend part of their mobile larval stage parasitising flounders (and similar fish that sit around a lot) until they’re able to mate, at which point the fertilised female seeks out one of the mobile gadoid fish (the Cod family), where she gets into the gills and plumbs herself in to the Cod’s blood supply right at the heart, with her egg sacs at the gills and protected by the operculum (gill covers). She then spends the rest of her life sustained by fish blood, releasing eggs into the water and looking like a black pudding being eaten by maggots. Now those are life goals.
Adult female Codworm in Whiting gills. Image by Hans Hillewaert, 2006
This week I have something a bit weird to have a go at identifying:
Any idea what this zoological object might be?
No need for cryptic clues and subtle hints for this one methinks… Enjoy the challenge!
Last week I gave you this impressive beetle to try your hand at identifying:
Now although it’s big and showy, beetles can be hard to identify because there are just so many of them and closely related species can be very hard to tell apart.
This one has distinctive elongated jaws that mark it as being one of the stag beetles (family Lucanidae), which narrows it down, although there are well over a thousand species in the family. This one is a little bigger than most and the jaws are relatively unbranched, with a cleft at the end of a relatively squared-off and downward deflected ‘antler’.
Those ‘antlers’ are used by the males to wrestle for access to females, who have much more sensibly sized jaws and are smaller. Effectively they’re doing the same thing as deer and this is a good example of how evolution can lead to similar trends in behaviour and even sexual dimorphism across very different animal groups.
I think this is Mesotopus tarandus Swederus, 1787 which is a species from West Africa that is becoming increasingly popular in the pet trade. It has slightly shorter ‘antlers’ than the other species (or possibly subspecies) in the same genus, M. regius.
As you probably know, I’m more familiar with vertebrate identification than insects, so I was fortunate to have my intern Esmeralda, who is a keen coleopterist helping narrow this down, although I’m pleased to congratulate jennifermacaire who was on the same track with her identification.
Another mystery next week!
This week I have a mystery insect that some of you will know immediately and others may need a bit of time to pin down:
This mini-beast is around 7cm long – so it’s a not really all that mini.
Let me know what you think in the comments section below. Have fun!
Last week I gave you this insect from Suffolk/Norfolk to have a go at identifying:
I thought that some of you would have a pretty good idea about what it might be, and I wasn’t mistaken.
Chris got in quickly with this cryptic clue:
I don’t want to be a snob but this entomological servant is much more common than the butler.
This was absolutely spot-on, so for those of you who don’t know what it relates to I’ll explain. The reference to a servant was an allusion to a Footman, which is the common name for this type of moth. Chris also narrowed it down to the species by explaining that it was common – so the Common Footman Eilema lurideola (Zincken, 1817).
There are a variety of similar looking Footman moths, but the Common Footman can be distinguished by its slightly greenish grey first pair of wings that have a yellow edge, but a yellow second pair of wings, that you can just make out in the photograph showing the underside.
Well done to everyone who worked it out – more mysteries next week!
Every summer, museums get a flurry of requests for invertebrate identifications as the heat brings forth all things many-legged and winged. Here’s a specimen I found on a train in Suffolk (although it may have boarded in Norfolk) on the 1st July this year:
Apologies for the slightly rubbish photos – they were the best I could manage with my phone while on a moving train. Its total length was around 15mm or so.
I’m sure that some of the keen lepidopterists out there will know what it is, so perhaps you could make your suggestion with a cryptic clue in the comments below?
Last week I gave you this unwelcome visitor to have a go at identifying:
It’s a type of beetle – so a member of the Coleoptera or “sheathe wing” as palfreyman1414 pointed out) – in the family Dermestidae (as Wouter van Gestel intimated) and the species is Reesa vespulae (Milliron, 1939) as Tony Irwin hinted at with his cryptic clue:
Sometimes attached to a mogg, this seems to belong to a diminutive scooter
There were several other nice cryptic suggestions in the comments section, plus some on Twitter, so very well done to everyone who worked out what this was.
The species gets the name vespulae from its affinity with wasp nests, where it feeds on dead wasps and the scraps of insects that the adult wasps feed their larvae, so they’re sometimes called the Wasp-nest dermestid.
The natural target of Reesa vespulae
These tiny beetles can strikes terror into the heart of a museum curator, since they are well adapted to feed on dried insect remains (of which we have huge numbers making up our collections) and they are parthenogenic – meaning that they reproduce without mating (only females of the species are known) and just one individual is all it takes to create a full-blown infestation.
Damage caused by a Reesa vespulae infestation
You can tell them apart from some of the other dermestid beetles (many of which are also museum pests) because they have ‘hairy’ elytra (or wingcases) with a lighter coloured patch on each of their ‘shoulders’ (they’re not shoulders, but you probably get what I mean).
If you find one of these wee beasts in your collection, be afraid – be very afraid!