Ladybird, ladybug or Alder warbler

Insects with common names are usually those that are notable in some way, be that because they are causing us harm or are beautiful, brightly coloured and give us joy.  Vernacular names for agricultural pest insects usually refer to the crop they are harming, such as the grain aphid, the apple moth, the large pine weevil.  For non-pests however, names appear more arbitrary.  One of the most well-known and loved insect, is the ladybird, or if you are from North America, the ladybug.  These are not, however, the only names that these useful animals have acquired since they first attracted human attention.  They have, over the centuries, acquired a wonderful variety of names around the world.o start with, you may well ask why they have the prefix lady.  In England they were originally called “Our Lady’s bird”.  Leaving aside the mystery of why they were called birds, the first part of the name referred to the fact that the most commonly noticed ladybirds are red (albeit with white or black spots), and in the Middle ages images of the Virgin Mary usually showed her in a red dress.  Another linkage to the Virgin Mary is that the most commonly seen ladybird is the seven spot ladybird (Coccinella septempunctata), and this was associated with the Seven Joys and the Seven Sorrows of Mary.

 

The association with Mary is also seen in Spanish, mariquita, meaning little Mary and in German Marienkäfer, Mary’s beetle.  The reference to the colour red is reflected in the fact that ladybirds belong to the family Coccinellidae which comes from the Latin for scarlet, coccineus, see also cochineal.

Other languages also make reference to the Virgin Mary, in Bosnian, as in German, they are called Mary’s beetle, bubamara.  The Basques, as far as I can make out with the help of Google Translate, refer to them as Mary’s yolk, marigorringoa. The religious association is also seen in Dutch, lieveheersbeestje which means  the Lord’s sweet little creature.  The Russians call ladybirds Божья коровка [bozhya korovka] which translates to God’s little cow. Lithuanians have two names for ladybirds, Dievo karvytė  God’s cow  but also call them boružė .  The Welsh have lost the religious reference and instead refer to ladybirds as red cows, buwch goch gota. The Greeks make a religious link with a reference to Easter, pashalitsa (Easter is Pasha), but also refer to it as “kind of beetle with fine plumage (feathers)”, είδος κάνθαρου με ωραία πτερά.  The Portuguese have opted for joaninha (ninha means baby), whereas the Slovenians and Slovaks have homed in on the spots, ladybird being pikapolonica (pika is dot) and slunéčko sedmitečné  (sedmit is seven) respectively. The Bulgarians call them калинка (kalinka) but the Finns take the prize for the most obscure name, with Leppäkerttu, which literally translated means alder warbler 🙂

It seems apposite, that as in Finnish they apparently sing,  I should include these two rhymes; one that most of us have come across in some form or other

 

and one from Sweden that will probably be less familiar to English speakers, but which similarly exhorts the ladybird to fly away and at the same time introduces yet another feathered name for the ladybird.

Guld-höna, guld-ko!
Flyg öster, flyg vester,
Dit du flyger der bor din älskade!

Gold-hen, gold-cow!
Fly east, fly west,
You’ll fly to where your sweetheart lives.

 

A gold cow with wings – Kamadhenu  a wish-fulfilling Hindu goddess

In Hindi, ladybirds are called sonapankhi, or golden wings and are associated with passing or failing exams, depending on whether it stays on your hand long enough for you to count the spots or not.

And finally, to prove that not all verse about ladybirds is doggerel, this poem by the poet Clive Sansom captures both the beauty and fragility of nature.

The Ladybird

Tiniest of turtles!
Your shining back
Is a shell of orange
With spots of black.

How trustingly you walk
Across this land
Of hairgrass and hollows
That is my hand.

Your small wire legs,
So frail, so thin,
Their touch is swansdown
Upon my skin.

There! break out
Your wings and fly:
No tenderer creature
Beneath the sky.

Have you read The Origin of the Species?

As biologists we all acknowledge the influence that Charles Darwin has had on our professional lives but how many of us have actually read On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection in its entirety?  The importance of The Origin has long been recognised by universities, even we agricultural zoology students at Leeds University back in 1973 had The Origin on our first year recommended reading list.  How many of my classmates bought it, let alone actually read it, is anyone’s guess.  I suspect not many.  I was somewhat odd, in that I had already read it, as far as I can remember when I was about 16 and just starting in the Lower 6^th  (Year 12 in today’s parlance).  I was helped by the fact that both my parents were biologists and my Dad’s copy of The Origin was readily available. I was, and still am, a prodigious reader, although I must confess that I now find it much more difficult to read ‘hard’ books than I did then.

Finally, here is my question.  If as a professional biologist, of whatever ilk, does not having read The Origin make you any less of a biologist?  Should you be outed and castigated as an incomplete biologist?  Probably not.  What do you think?  I asked how many people had read  The Origin using a Twitter survey last week as a simple yes/no question.  The survey generated 53 responses, of  which 57% said yes.  The survey below is slightly more nuanced, taking into account the one respondent who tweeted “partially?”  🙂 Just realised that I managed to miss out the less than 18 category, my apologies.  If you are such a prodigy please feel free to tick the 18-25 box but add a note in the comments section so that I can adjust later.

 

Many thanks for your participation and rest assured, if you have not read The Origin I am not judging you in any way  🙂

The Verrall Supper 2017 – entomologists eating, drinking and getting very merry

The Rembrandt Hotel in South Kensington and the first Wednesday of March mean only one thing to many UK entomologists – the Verrall Supper. I have written about the Verrall Supper previously on more than one occasion, so this will, once again, be largely a photographic record.  This year the first Wednesday of March was March 1^st and this seemed to have caught a few Verrallers by surprise.  Consequently, numbers were slightly down compared with last year’s record, but the number of non-attending Verrallers paying to retain their membership was at an all-time high.  One notable absence was the former Verrall Secretary, Helmut van Emden who due to mobility problems was unable to attend, only the second one that he has missed in 50 years!

On a very sad note, we reported the deaths of two long-time members of the Association, Gerry Tremewan (long time editor of The Entomologist and the Entomologist’s Gazette, and Bernard Skinner, author of that magnificent book,  Moths of the British Isles.

More positively, we were slightly up on female entomologist this year, 30% compared with last year’s 29%.  There is still much progress to be made, but we have seen a year on year increase now for the last four years so, perhaps one day we will hit that magic 50:50 mark.

Our entomologist in Holy Orders, the Reverend Dr David Agassiz, was unable to attend this year, so instead of the usual entomological grace, I performed a humanist blessing, which seemed to meet with satisfaction from all sides.  I reproduce it here if anyone feels like using it at a similar occasion.

As we come together at this special time, let us pause a moment to appreciate the opportunity for good company and to thank all those past and present whose efforts have made this event possible. As we go through life, the most important thing that we can collect is good memories.  Thank you for all being here today to share this meal as a treasured part of this collection.

And now to let the pictures tell the story.

Chris Lyal and Clive Farrell of the Entomological Club – “helping” at the registration desk

Three very illustrious (or should that be shiny) entomologists – Jeremy Thomas, Charles Godfray and Dick Vane-Wright

Richard Harrington and the winner of the Van Emden Bursary, PhD student Ellen Moss

Two of the more venerable Verrallers – Trevor Lewis and Marion Gratwick

Many Verrallers are young and quite a few are female 🙂

Adriana De Palma making a fuss about Erica McAlister’s new book 🙂

Some older entomologists enjoying the food and drink

The younger entomologists also had excellent appetites

The President of the Royal Entomological Society, Mike Hassell, wishes you all good health and happiness

Beards still feature among the younger end of the male Verrallers, although sadly it is no longer mandatory 🙂

And a bit of entomological bling to bring the show to an end 🙂

Many thanks to all who attended and I hope to see you all again next year, plus many new faces.

 

 

Will Lucretia Cutter reign supreme? Beetle Queen – the latest sensation from M G Leonard

Beetle Queen

Laughter, tears, joy, horror and shock; what an emotional roller-coaster of a book.  From the gurgling stomach of a much-loved uncle to the charred rim of a once beetle-inhabited cup, Maya Leonard’s latest installment* of beetle-inspired fiction will grip and hold you spell-bound from the moment you start reading.  This is a book you won’t be able to put down, it will get in the way of everyday life, and will, depending on when you begin to read it, obscure your dinner plate or breakfast bowl.  Be warned, those of you who are moved to tears easily will definitely need a box of tissues or a large handkerchief close by.

It is very hard to write a review of this enthralling and fast-moving book without giving away too many spoilers, so I am going to limit myself to unstinting praise and a very brief synopsis of the plot to give you a flavour of what to expect 🙂

Metamorphosis is the name of the game. Lucretia Cutter has a devious plan, but Darkus, Bertolt and Virginia are on the case. Novak thinks that Darkus is dead, Bartholomew Cuttle is acting very strangely, Uncle Max is a tower of strength and Mrs Bloom reveals hidden depths. We learn more about the early days of Darkus’s parents and their interactions with the then Lucy Johnstone and meet some other entomologists.  Yellow ladybirds act as spies and assassins for Lucretia Cutter, and we travel to the film Awards in Los Angeles via Greenland with our resourceful trio, Uncle Max and Mrs Bloom.  Lurking in the background, the evil cousins Humphrey and Pickering provide comic, albeit distasteful relief.  All this leads us to the dramatic finale, where much is revealed including some parts which will especially amuse all the boys (old and young) 🙂

The shootout at the Film Awards ceremony where the evil Lucretia spectacularly reveals her hidden attributes, Novak performs gravity-defying feats, and giant motorised pooters come into their own to help our intrepid trio and their grown-up allies overcome the evil hordes, makes me think that one day we will be seeing Darkus and his friends on the silver screen.  There are of course great supporting roles by Baxter, Marvin, Newton and Hepburn, and do remember to brush up on your Morse code 🙂

This installment of the story ends at Christmas and the presents our heroes receive tell us that our next stop is the Amazon!

This book, like the first will definitely help bring the wonders of entomology to a wider audience.  Maya Leonard continues to be a worthy ambassador for our discipline, and I am extremely grateful that she has opted to use her undoubted talents to publicise insects and entomology so well.  Thank you Maya.

*If you haven’t read the first installment in this thrilling trilogy I can thoroughly recommend it.