Adventures in Spider Misidentification: The Ravenous Ravened

A young orb weaver is more than a match for a Ravenous Leaf Beetle

I think this is a very young orb weaver, but I could be wrong. The web looks more crosshatched than orb-like, but I think I see radiating strands. In any case, the body sorta looks right (but remember the title of this series). I'm more sure about the victim, having spent much time and effort sorting it out: a Ravenous Leaf Beetle Orsodacne atra (Knoch in Ahrens, 1810).

3 pairs of Orsodacne atra being a bit excessive in a saskatoon flower

The colour patterns in Orsodacne atra vary quite a bit, but all are now considered to represent one species. The common name seems a bit off, but presumably somewhere some species in this family voraciously plunders a plant that people value. Orsodacne atra has been reported from birch and willow, but more as a curiosity than a pest. The adults, however, do seem to 'raven', i.e. devour voraciously, the reproductive parts of flowers, especially in the Rosaceae. 'Raven' and 'ravenous' come from the Old French raviner - to take by force, via the Latin rapina, from which we get several terms for unfettered excess.

A pair of Australian Ravens (Corvus coronoides) up to no good

Surprisingly, though, the crow-like bird called a 'Raven' (Corvus corax

Linnaeus, 1758) comes to use from a different origin: Old High German, Middle Dutch, and Old English equivalents of raban, the name for a big, black bird. So, even though ravens are known for plundering, Danish Vikings flew a raven flag, and many cultures fear ravens as bearers of ill omen, the similarity in words is a coincidence. The Raven is one of the few large birds to brave the Alberta winter and when they start moving into town from the countryside (once the Crows [Corvus brachyrhynchos] have moved south), you know winter has arrived.

American Raven with classic wingspread and boat-tail

Not Yet Native of the Week: Spotted Dead-Nettle

Purple Spotted Dead-Nettle  Lamium maculatum

When we first acquired what would eventually become the Home Bug Garden, two distinct floras were evident: the dying and the weedy. The Weeping Birch in front had been top-killed by the team effort of drought and Bronze Birch Borer. A couple of ever optimistic, but ratty, roses clung to life behind a spruce on the south wall of the house. A lilac, looking like an Edward Gorey sketch, scraggled in the backyard. The side fences needed replacing and the back fence had fallen down. This yard had seen better days, but some plants thrived.

Rose after a late April freeze - here, the best roses bloom in June

Most of the “lawn” was quackgrass, dandelions, and assorted weeds. Spotted Deadnettle smothered the front planter. A lawn of Lily-of-the-Valley filled the area between the east wall and the sidewalk. Goutweed and a Manitoba Maple choked the patch of clay between the driveway and the east fence. An unattractive lilac root-stock sprouted up from under the new garage pad. Creeping Charley covered the shaded edge of the west fence and Creeping Bellflower shot up spikes of purple blooms wherever the push-mower failed to lop it low enough. A couple dozen other official weeds scrambled to set seed here and there.

Creeping Charley - a bane in lawns, but not in a more natural garden

Eight years later, the weeds are still here, but except for the pernicious Creeping Bellflower, too rare and overwhelmed by the increased diversity and structure to be considered weedy. 

Up close, Glechoma hederacea (aka Creeping Charley, Ground Ivy, etc.)

Well, the Creeping Charley (Glechoma hederacea) is spreading. For years I mistook our Creeping Charlie for Bugleweed (Ajuga reptans), a similar but larger and more aggressive ground cover.  Fortunately, the Garden Ms S at Gardening with Latitude questioned this assumption and discovered that Creeping Charley was the culprit. It does have a bad reputation. Google Creeping Charley and horror awaits, or maybe not. 

Creeping Charlie, Deer Mushroom & Manitoba Maple seedling

It seems most of the horror is that Charley creeps into lawns, is somewhat resistant to herbicides, and is too low-growing for the lawnmower. Having done away with our lawns, and not minding an attractive ground cover spreading over the decomposing mulch, I've decided Creeping Charlie is just fine. Its flowers are an early treat for pollinators, it's too low and open to inhibit other plants, and it makes an attractive ground cover in the moister and shadier spots in the backyard. In any case, Creeping Charley is now a naturalized part of the Flora of Alberta and much of the rest of North America, so it seems it is here to stay. 

Spotted Dead-Nettle among some early bulbs

I’ve also come to an accommodation with Spotted Deadnettle (Lamium maculatum). It’s much taller and more sprawling than Creeping Charlie, and spreads rather quickly in the right spots, but it is shallow rooted and fairly easy to control by hand weeding. Unlike Creeping Charley, Spotted Dead-Nettle is not yet naturalized in Alberta, but neither is it considered a significant weed where it is naturalized.

Spotted Dead-Nettle and rising tulips just after snow melt

I suspect that Spotted Dead-Nettle is not quite hardy here without protection. It's one of those plants that tries to keep its herbaceous above-ground stems and leaves alive over the winter. When the snow melts in the spring, this 'evergreen' is more wilted, red, and sorry-looking than green. Still, it's nice to see something alive in March or April, even if its is looking a bit haggard. The new leaves will be pleasant, the flowers pretty, and when they spread somewhere not wanted, they are easily pulled out.

Pink Panda and Spotted Dead-Nettle in March