Fall’s settling in for its run in southern Colorado and with it, a flurry of activity from the resident insects. Most are looking for ways to ensure there’s a new generation in place come next spring. Others are just trying to exploit autumn’s bounty for more basic ends.
During summer I don’t see a lot of bumblebees in the yard. When our Russian sage blooms, honeybees swarm to them. But not the bumblebee. But when the helianthus begins to bloom in September, those gigantic, furry bees are sure to follow.
Seemingly solitary, most Colorado bumblebees live in underground hives. But I can’t say I’ve seen more than one at any given time. Another fun fact: their stinger has no barb, and like a wasp, can sting multiple times (note to self: always shoot bumblebees with a long lens).
Tarantulas are another bug that rears its ugly head in the fall (yes, I know, they’re arachnids, not insects). They both mesmerised and scare the shit of me when I stumble across one. I’m fairly certain most of the tarantulas I see are Colorado Browns. They’re not aggressive toward humans, so if one is so inclined, you can get close to them.
Along Colorado Highway 109 south of La Junta there’s something of an annual march featuring what I’m guessing are male tarantulas. The highway is littered with big, hairy spiders in the depths of their rut. It’s surprising the species endures given the number of spiders on the highway squished (squashed?) by traffic. It’s quite a sight.
Then there are the katydids. Actually, they’re more of a summer bug. Known best for their distinctive click and nifty camouflage (think of a grasshopper crossed with a leaf), they ran amok in our yard this year, feasting on the leaves of our grape. Of all the insects in our yard, they’re my least favorite, save the aforementioned wasp. But more than once I found myself taking in some of their late-September slow-motion territorial battles amid the grapevine.
If truth be known, if an enterprising predator, say a bird or a cat, came along and did to the katydids what the katydids did to the grape, I’d be okay with that.
Finally, there’s my favorite bug, the praying mantis. Perhaps they’re a bit lackadaisical whereas katydids are concerned, but I captivated by them nonetheless. And while mantises are active throughout the spring and summer–they hatch out beginning in May–autumn’s probably the time of the year they’re most mobile and the easiest time to spot them.
In a span of a month, they’ll molt, and then they’ll mate, and then females lay their egg sacs, hiding them in all sorts of places: eaves, under railings and awnings or any other place they deem is out of harm’s way.
By that point, Pueblo flirts with its first frosts. The cold makes quick work of most of the insects (and arachnids) in southern Colorado, or forces them deep into their burrows. A sad end, yes, but in five or six months, the sage and helianthus and grape will start leafing out and the cycle will crank up yet again.
