Icky Sawfly Larvae

This is from a forestry website – full info and more photos can be seen there.

I thought I would ~~delight~~ ~~bore~~ ~~educate~~ enlighten you with some information about the grubs I pictured yesterday: Spitfire caterpillars, larvae of our Australian native Steel Blue Sawfly (Order Hymenoptera). I’ve gathered information from Museum Victoria, Wikipedia, CSIRO, a Forestry site, and a South Australian Government website.

The sawfly is a wasp, related to the Cherry and Pear Slug. It has a stocky body, usually a dark metallic blue, and does not sting. It has a double pair of wings with a span of about four centimetres. The adults are rarely seen, and spend their time hanging around their host tree. The sawfly gets its name from the saw-like ovipositor of the female. She opens holes in the underside of the leaf and lays her eggs.

The Spitfire larvae, about 8 centimetres long, love their tucker. Mainly active around late winter and spring, they sprawl around enmasse during the day, but at night they disport around the tree chomping gum leaves. They can gather into groups of as many as two hundred.When threatened, they raise their heads and exude a yellow-green liquid, strongly flavoured by eucalyptus oil extracted from the gum leaves.

Crossing Concrete at Brisbane 2012: By Tzedragon (Captured on iPhone) [GFDL or CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

They did this to me, the other day. About ten of them all jerked their heads up at the same instant. Needless to say, I leapt back and didn’t bother them again. I have no idea if they do actually do spit the stuff, and I didn’t want to take the risk of anything nasty dropping in my face.

Eventually, about mid spring, the larvae are ready to pupate. Still enmasse, they make their way into the ground, burrow in several centimetres, and make themselves a strong paper-like cocoon. It might take two or three years before the adult emerges.

I intended to take fresh photos today, but the bunch had moved up the branch overnight (featured photo). I think they are fascinating, and it will be interesting to see if they do survive to pupate. Small groups of twenty or so do not always survive. A few birds, currawongs and cuckoo-shrikes will eat them. Good luck to them!

Currawong

By D. Gordon E. Robertson (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 or GFDL], via Wikimedia Commons

Other Stuff

A sunset & I have changed my theme.

Hello people. This sunset is from the other night. We’ve had heat, we’ve had rain, and a coldish day while Sydney sweltered.

I’ve changed my theme back to Twenty Fourteen, but ditched that nasty black sidebar. I found myself missing my ‘in-your-face’ photos, and still scrolling to the top of the post to click-through to comments, so I figured everyone else probably is used to doing that, too.

I’ve managed to add a few words to my novel. I know how it is to end, just having a few problems getting from A to B.

I’m still catching up on my other blog – way behind on writing up my online learning experiences. A few of the classes have fizzled out, just not enough to hold my attention.

Back on the treadmill. I’m not doing much there, having a bit of bother with either numbness or pains in the feet and legs. Time to talk to the doc about it, I suppose. It’s happened before, years ago.

Aren’t these revolting things! Seen on my daily morning walk. I missed three or four days last week when Vika was sick. It was like having a baby – but without the nappy. She chewed on an old bone, I think, and ended up leaving little puddles of mess (from both ends) all over the lounge room, including the rugs! Talk about stink!

Are they ‘spit-fires’?

❤

Bite Size Memoir

Bite Size Memoir: Crazy!

Belatedly, this is for Lisa’s Bite Size Memoir: Crazy! (in 150 words). I thought of some really crazy stuff, but decided to play crazy-happy – instead of crazy-stupid or simply crazy-crazy!

As the Footloose Bus approached Queenstown, New Zealand, I rashly declared my intention to Bungee Jump. Only a few weeks before, at home, I’d scoffed, said I wasn’t that crazy. Apparently I was.

Lined up on the platform to the right … try again, shall we? 5 – 4- 3 – 2 – 1 … …

The waiting was the worst, queuing seemed hours of being deaf and denture-less.

Eventually I moved into place; my ankles wrapped in towels. I didn’t like the way the little frayed hat-elastic ends swirled in the breeze on the sides of the elastic they bound around my ankles. When I spoke, the attendant laughed and said he would be expecting a huge Australian scream from me. He counted backwards, twice, before I found courage to launch myself into space.

Jumping off

Heading straight down

Jumping off that bridge, 143 feet above the river, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I heard my scream echoing off the sides of the ravine.