For many years, fall has been my favorite season. Not only does it bring the ephemeral reds, oranges, and yellows of tree leaves, but there’s something about the particular shade of blue in the sky on a crisp October day that makes me slow down and breathe more deeply.

But this year I’m finding myself not enjoying the season as much as usual, and it’s not just because the tree colors have been slow to change. No, it’s because of the disappearance of most of the insects I’ve enjoyed photographing all summer long. I realize that I’m faced with months — months!– without dragonflies, crickets, butterflies, bees, and beetles.

The other day I had lunch with a friend who said he’s been having the same sort of feelings, so I imagine there must be many more of us suffering through insect withdrawal.

I was resigned to consoling myself with winter plans to watch ducks and edit my huge backlog of photos, and had already begun to dig into the photo archives.

Then, late this morning I was given an unexpected reprieve. I glanced out the window and found this monster crawling down the front sidewalk. I jumped up with a huge smile on my face, and ran for the camera. Yay, an insect!!

Now when I say “monster,” I should clarify that he wasn’t threatening to crush cars or jump over buildings, à la Godzilla. (Although he would make a great movie monster.) Of course I’m just referring to his size relative to most other insects. I’d estimate he was about an inch and a quarter long, maybe an inch and a half. But his elevated body posture and the slow gait of those segmented legs contributed to the impression that he was so much more substantial.

And I was intrigued by the way he was able to bend his body, something I’ve not seen many other insects do. Although I’m still very much a novice entomologist, so that ability could be quite common and I just haven’t seen it yet. It reminded me of the way a praying mantis swivels its head.

Oh, I should say that this is a blister beetle, named for its ability to defensively secrete a substance called cantharidin, which causes blisters on skin.  If even small amounts are ingested, death will be quick and painful. In the not-too-distant past, cantharidin was the principal ingredient in the purported aphrodisiac known as Spanish fly. (Here’s an interesting story about the disastrous consequences of ingesting it.)

There are more than 400 species of blister beetle in North America, so I can’t be sure of the exact species of this guy, but can put him confidently in the Meloidae family.

And if all that isn’t interesting enough, have you noticed those antennae? The kinked sections in the middle are thought to be adapted for courtship behavior, possibly for grasping the antennae of a female. I think they give him an added cool factor.

Today’s surprise encounter has given me hope that there will still be insects around in the coming months, if I just pay attention. If nothing else, I should be able to find some spiders (arachnids, remember?) right inside my own house, as long as I get to them before the roving gangs of felines find them. 🙂