Fall Invasion

After a long day of classes in October, I plopped down on the porch of my site, the Palme House, looking to relax for a bit before conducting some field observations. It appeared to be an average evening, yet something left me feeling strangely unsettled. I remember thinking “Eh, whatever.” as I shrugged off the feeling and reached for a can of seltzer that I’d brought. That was when I saw it, a bright red Asian lady beetle sitting on the rim of my drink. I cringed at the sight of the insect as it crawled into the can’s opening, though I felt relieved that I’d noticed it before taking a sip. After peering into the can for a moment I decided that I should document this experience in my field journal, so I began to reach for my backpack. There lay 3 more Asian lady beetles, each crawling along the front pocket of my bag. I’ve always loved nature, but insects have consistently been my least favorite part of it, especially when they get too close. Given that my bag was directly beside me, this trio of beetles was entirely too close, and so I began to slightly reel back in my chair. It was then that I felt an odd sensation on the back of my neck. I froze for a second and then quickly grabbed at whatever had caused it. Yet another beetle had encroached upon my personal space, but this time it was actually on me. I tossed the bug out into the grass and promptly stood up, only to notice yet another beetle on the sleeve of my coat. At this point I started brushing off every reachable part of my body in an attempt to get rid of any beetles that may have landed on me. In the interest of being especially thorough, I began shaking my hair just in case any had found their way into it. While cocking my head back to do so I spotted a large splotch of red and orange on the ceiling of the porch. There had to have been at least 50 Asian Lady Beetles huddled together, with a decent amount more crawling along the porch railings. Enough was enough. I snatched my bag, swiftly shook it to knock off the remaining beetles, and proceeded to speed walk away from the porch.

These multicolored Asian lady beetles, taxonomically dubbed Harmonia axyridis and commonly mistaken for ladybugs, began to dominate Kenyon's campus in October. Originally native to central Asia, H. axyridis are aphid predators that were first introduced to the US in 1916. Initially, they were employed as a biological control agent (BCA) in California, meaning that they were released into the wild to prey upon exotic pests. ( They did this job well, so well in fact that their population numbers exploded. (Koch et. al, 2003) Between this population boom and them being released as BCAs in further states, Asian lady beetles soon grew to be a common invasive species within America. In their native homelands these beetles would overwinter (wait out the winter season) in rocky crags and cliffs, but because Ohio mostly lacks these they target buildings instead. (Huelsman et. al, 2002) This explains why they were suddenly everywhere on campus upon migrating to Ohio in October. They proved to be quite annoying for both students and staff, but what threats, if any, did they pose to us? Much like stink bugs, these beetles "reflex bleed", which releases a foul-smelling fluid when stressed or crushed. This fluid can leave behind stains and in some cases, cause allergic reactions in people. (Albright et. al, 2006) Furthermore, they bite! While not noteworthily dangerous or painful, these bites are undoubtedly a nuisance. And as demonstrated in my encounter with them, these beetles have an affinity for getting into whatever food or drink is left out in the open, contaminating it in the process. Something I personally find interesting is that when prey is scarce, many lady beetles turn to cannibalism and devour their own kind. This just goes to show how voracious they can be. This voraciousness aids them in their ability to track down prey, and they’re so adept and efficient at it that they outcompete other native Ohio predators. In addition to this, they have high fecundity and a relatively short larval development time, which allows them to both increase their population size and survive at a very high rate. (Labrie et. al, 2006) This is the perfect recipe for an invasive species.

Asian lady beetles weren’t the first organisms to make me more deeply consider the species around me though. While conducting field observations at my site I found myself drawn to a pokeweed plant that lay directly in front of the porch. Measuring roughly 8 feet in height and width, this plant boasted beet red branches and stems that sprawled about wildly. Upon these stems were a blend of green leaves, white clusters of flowers, bundles of green berries, and darkly hued purple berries. Taxonomically named Phytolacca americana L., pokeweed plants are poisonous to humans and an often unwanted addition to people’s land. (Taylor, 2017) Despite this, as I observed the pokeweed plant I found it to be teeming with life. A myriad of different insects, ranging from yellowjackets to gnats circled around it consistently during September and October. I recorded the sounds of their droning buzzes and found that the melodic chirps of birds were interspersed throughout. Given that pokeweeds are poisonous to humans, I was surprised to find that they’re a popular food source for birds across Ohio. I actually a strikingly sanguine northern cardinal spotted feeding at the plant, but it flew away before I could take a photo of it. In a turn of events I hadn’t foreseen, the pokeweed was wilted and gray by mid-November. After having looked forward to observing what creatures would interact with the plant week after week, I was left instead contemplating the sudden barrenness of the site. I no longer heard the buzzing of insects or the chirping of birds. Then it dawned on me, winter was soon approaching. The number of Asian lady beetles I spotted had fallen, the once vibrant pokeweed was now a sad gray scene, and many of the birds I had both spotted and heard near it in weeks prior were probably making their trek south for the winter.

I used to visit the Palme House porch quite often as a freshman. Sometimes to do homework, sometimes to clear my head, but usually just to relax and listen to music. During these visits I never really paid attention to the species and scenery around me, simply enjoying the overall ambiance instead. While there was nothing wrong with this, revisiting the site years later with a more observation-based perspective has made me realize just how vivid even seemingly mundane displays of nature can be. From being serenaded by cardinals to being attacked (dramatic, I know) by Asian lady beetles, the experience of conducting field observations has taught me that the best way for me to spark my curiosity towards nature is to allow myself to encounter all it has to offer good and bad. These experiences can teach you about the world around you, but they can also give you the inspiration to want to teach and share your knowledge with others.