Dudu Diaries

Walking along a path in the rainforest recently I came across an
amazing and slightly disturbing sight. Perched out on a twig was a
grasshopper. He was just sitting there out in full view of any passing
predator (or entomologist!). Net at the ready I approached slowly
expecting at any moment that he would launch himself into the
undergrowth with a flick of his powerful hind legs.

I inched closer and closer ready to take the swing with my net. But
nothing happened the grasshopper didn’t move. Peering closely at the
grasshopper I discovered that it was perched firmly on the twig and
protuding from its body were the tissues of an ‘alien body-invader’!
Yes, just like in a horror movie this poor animal had been invaded by
a parasite that has used it’s body to reproduce.

Even more amazing is the effect that the parasite has had on the
unsuspecting grasshopper’s behaviour. Once the spores were ingested
and growing happily inside the grasshopper, the fungus is now faced
with a small dilemma - How can it reproduce and spread itself to other
hosts? Incredibly, the fungus manipulates the grasshopper’s brain and
therefore its behaviour. Instead of seeking shelter in dense
vegetation where normal grasshoppers would hang out, the individual
infected with the fungus heads in the opposite direction out into the
open on a twig! Here the fungus matures, finally killing its host and
bursts out of the grasshopper’s body. Now it can spread its spores in
all directions and infect many more insects.

Many parasites can manipulate the species they infect. Some
nematomorph worms that infect grasshoppers, mantids and other insects
actually make them jump into bodies of water and drown themselves!
This enables the worm to emerge and mate in the water and then lay
lots and lots of eggs. One parasite has even been found to override
the natural instinct of rats to avoid cats - infected rats in this
case will walk towards predators and of course be eaten (which is
exactly what the parasite wants as it will now be spread further in
the cat’s stomach!)

Even though it was hot and humid, as I walked away from the hapless
grasshopper glued to twig a shiver ran through me. And an appreciation
of how sophisticated some creatures are at manipulating others!

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First – sorry to my fellow insect-lovers for not posting on the blog for a while. I’ve been in Boston at university and as the winter progressed, both insects, and time to blog, was very limited. I’m glad to report that I’m back in Kenya (briefly!) and have been visiting Kakamega forest for the past few days… which by the way is one of my favourite places in the world and one of Kenya’s most diverse forests.

The forest has been very dry (it last rained about two weeks ago), so it is very different walking through the crackling dry leaf litter and the absence of mud – in the rainforest! – is striking. Nonetheless there are lots of insects around as usual the hot dry weather seems to have had an effect on certain kinds of butterflies who are more abundant than usual.

I was walking down a path at the edge of the Yala River. This area of forest is one of the few virgin fragments in the sprawling Kakamega rainforest, much of which has been disturbed in the past and/or is currently heavily utilised. But along the banks of the Yala River, deep inside the forest are patches of relatively undisturbed forest home to some of Kenya’s loveliest butterflies.

Among the many forest beauties flitting about in the sunspots and by the streams was one very striking and gorgeous iridescent species known as the Blue Mother-Of-Pearl. The edge of the river was bathed in hot sunshine and the butterflies lazily fluttered about. They moved over the sandy soil pressing their proboscises against the wet ground imbibing salts that are leaching upwards through evaporation. This behaviour is known as mud-puddling and it is primarily done by male butterflies in search of precious salts that they will present as a nuptial gift to a female butterfly as part of a spermatophore – a special package of nutrients – when they mate.

Sometimes when many butterflies have gathered, they will often be quite relaxed, and if approached slowly will not startle. One favourite game that I love to play with large numbers of mud-puddling butterflies is to try and get them to climb onto my hand. Be pressing one’s hand into the damp earth before and gently and very, very slowly moving it under a butterfly, you can occasionally get one of them to climb onto you. (Sweat works just as well and some butterflies will even try and land on you to drink it!).

I laid down my net and backpack and inched forward slowly. You need to move like a chameleon – just one limb at a time and absolutely no sudden movements. After several false starts that resulted in clouds of colour whirling about my head finally the butterflies began to treat me as part of their surroundings.

Inching forward, I pressed my hand into the cool earth and gently moved it towards the one darker butterfly who was sitting at the edge of the throng. I positioned it underneath her, and without a moment’s hesitation she stepped up onto my palm and began ‘tasting’ my skin with her proboscis.

I watched her as she shuffled over my palm As a breeze wafted over the river, she decided that she needed to warm up and spread her magnificent wings pressing them against my hand to gather as much warmth as possible.

Of course, this lasted barely a moment and I was stunned by the rich colours, but quickly I managed to snap a picture with the camera in my other hand. Despite my adulation for her resplendence, I knew that she would not stay and let me gaze on her beauty long. Once she warmed up within a few seconds she flitted up and away, swirling into the bright, speckled canopy!

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One of the most resonant quotes from the bible comes from King Solomon crying out to his people: “Go to the ant, you sluggard. Consider her ways, and be wise” (Book of Proverbs 6:6)

I have recently been looking very closely at some of the most marvelous and industrious of all little creatures - ants. These are harvester ants and I look forward to sharing more with you about them in the near future…

And many thanks to everyone for the comments and questions - I will respond more fully to some of these soon.

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The flanks of the Kerio Valley are draped with forests strewn about plunging waterfalls and headstrong streams. Narrow tongues of forest snakes their way down the steep escarpments clinging to the courses of the rushing, life-giving streams.

The forests along these water-courses are relatively tiny, yes, but incredibly rich in different kinds of birds, frogs, insects and spiders. They are a pleasant place to stop and rest after a long day of chasing energetic butterflies.

In one forest patch, with the low-slung late afternoon light is streaming through the trees and pale delicate translucent butterflies – aptly named ‘the forest-haunting white’ – are drifting aimlessly about. The light is dappled, and I am day-dreaming, not really paying attention, slowly climbing a steep path.

Suddenly, I am face to face with large black spider. She wriggles her legs, twitching to let me know, as if she is saying: ‘Please don’t walk into my web!’ At first glance it seems as if she is floating in mid-air. A closer look reveals that this is a clever ploy. I marvel at the cunning with which she has sewn her trap. It is, for all intents and purposes, utterly invisible! And of course this is how she has planned it – not to snare unsuspecting naturalists, but for wary insects who will be fooled into thinking they are flying into an open space only to be caught.

As a slight breeze stirs the strands of her web, they catch the light and glisten softly, appearing, then vanishing again. Spider silk, as delicate as it seems is actually stronger than steel would be if stretched so fine – and to think that this is spun fresh each day from her glands at the tip of her abdomen!

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Some of nature’s most wonderful children are shy, elusive creatures. There are over eight hundred different kinds of butterfly in Kenya. Some of these like the gaudy swallowtails and emperors are heart-stoppingly gorgeous, with colours that simply take your breath away and have to be seen in the living creature, dancing in the sunlight, to be fully appreciated.

Many butterflies are less colourful, but nonetheless fascinating. One of the most diverse groups of butterflies are the lycaenids – the blues and coppers. While most of the species are fairly small – with wingspans of less than an inch, they are like miniature works of inlaid jewelery, full of iridescent colour and minute detail.

Not only are these tiny butterflies exquisitely beautiful, they are even more amazing in terms of their life-cycles, as many of them live as caterpillars in close association with various kinds of ants. Some of them even develop inside the ants’ nests, and departing from their image of gentle, harmless creatures have turned carnivorous and feed on the ants’ brood – their larvae!

One group of these butterflies that is very diverse in Africa are the Giant Cupids – the genus Lepidochrysops. They are very localised butterflies and little is known about their life history – something that I am hoping to investigate.

Finally, after many weeks of searching – climbing hills and mountains all over Western Kenya, long, hot walks along the edge of the Great Rift Valley, and carefully probing through dozens of fields of wildflowers I found some of these enigmatic butterflies in the Kerio Valley.

I was walking down a dappled path in the late afternoon. The hottest part of the day was done and now the sun, warm and soft, sifted through the leaves and splashed onto the flowers growing everywhere. An oriole flitted through the branches overhead and alighting in a thorny Balanites proceeded to sing out his delicious melody that flowed through the bright air. As I listened, day-dreaming, out of the corner of my eye a fast, shining silvery-blue being whirred by. He danced down the path. My heart almost stopped beating – no, could it finally be? Yes, he turns and dances back down towards me passing me again. Twice he passes by, then suddenly, tired by his showing off, settles on a flowering Barleria where I can admire him up close!

I have a feeling that this special meeting will lead to much discovery and joy

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Another bright, sunny morning in the Kerio Valley – and still on the trail of the elusive Giant Cupid butterfly. I’ve been searching for caterpillars among the buds of various wildflowers. This year has seen incredible rains that have gone on and on, well beyond the normal ‘long rains’ that should have petered out in June-July. Blessed with the extra moisture the red of the valley has responded with an exuberance of blossom everywhere.

The sins of overgrazing by goats have been covered by crocheted blankets of creepers and eroded gullies are draped with thickly-woven blankets of pointillist greens: olive green of the succulent Cissus and Cyphostemma, pale viridian from the Kalanchoe, the sombre, speckled leaves of aloes and a myriad of herbs and grasses shot with bronze, purple, rose and pink.

I am seated on the ground poking gently through buds of a sweetly-scented herb. This is one of the places that I suspect the Giant Cupid butterflies might be laying their eggs. After several hours work, all I’ve managed to find are a tiny green cricket and an infinite variety of ants, visiting to imbibe nectar from the fat glands that are found below the flowers.

Looking towards a new stand of herbs, I see a small, blackish form waving gently in the breeze. It seems for all intents and purposes to be a spider. With dark spindly legs sticking out at all angles. However, these spiders don’t move, they are fixed to the stem of a short, stout succulent plant. It looks like a species of Caralluma. These are succulent plants, like small cacti, found in the drylands and deserts of Africa.

I peer closer at the flowers – they are exquisite, and unusual, with dark fingers and hairy fringes. Then suddenly, among them I notice a tiny bubble; bright and colourful. Is this a flower bud? Oh! – it moves! It wriggles along the stem and edges out of view. I lift the flowering stalk and gently tease the creature back up to where I can see it. Yes, it is a ‘flower’ – but one with eight legs! This is a remarkable flower-mimicking spider.

Amazing how nature plays with form. For perched here on flowers that resemble spiders, sits a spider that looks just like a flower!

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It is an even hotter day than yesterday in the Kerio Valley. The sun beats down from a pure blue sky, a rare sight after weeks of daily thunderstorms. I have been searching diligently for ants’ nests. I am on the trail of a bizarre and wonderful butterfly, the Giant Cupid, that lives in a bizarre and twisted association with certain kinds of ants in the ground for part of its life (more on that later).

Searching for the ants’ nests involves gently turning over rocks. It is mid-morning and the rocks are already warm to the touch. Thanks to the relentless assault of sun, rain and goats, most of them are well-weathered and readily exposed. On the speckled ground between them an vast assortment of ants run back and forth busy with their daily activities.

Not just ants, but millipedes, crickets and wood-lice or ’sow-bugs’ as they are sometimes called, also make their homes under the rocks. Each time I turn over a stone there’s a sense of anticipation – and often someone staring back with an indignant look. As if to say “Why are you disturbing my nap?”

Under one rock that is wedged quite deeply I spot a narrow burrow leading into dark depths from its edge. This calls for help – I have a sturdy shovel that I can use for leverage – luckily humans invented tools that can do more that we ever could with our flimsy little hands! With a little resistance and a sighing creak, the rock yields and I roll it over. I kneel down and scan for ants – looking for the tell-tale aggregations of pale larvae and bundled-up pupae.

My hand is resting on the ground by the shovel. I feel something tickling it and look down. Even before I register what it actually is – my entire being has shuddered and I have leapt backwards in surprise (thankfully there was no one else, save for a few bug-eyed goats to witness this entomologist behaving like this!).

As if offended by my unexpected outburst, a large, dark scorpion scuttles under the shovel. Suitably shaken, I regain my composure and step back down to examine the friendly beast. She sits calmly under the shovel as I peer closely and wonder overcomes my initial fear.

This is a magnificent example of an Emperor Scorpion. Emperor Scorpions are members of the genus Pandinus, which means curved in Latin and refers to the long, elegant curved tail bearing the sting at its very tip. This large scorpion, while looking scary, is really quite gentle (for a scorpion that is!). Even though it had the chance to sting me as my hand rested near it, it didn’t. These scorpions are only mildly venomous and use their massive pincers, not their venom, to subdue their prey which includes crickets, millipedes and even small rodents.

I gently move the shovel and the Emperor Scorpion scuttles forward following fast its soothing shadow. Having just displaced her from her cosy burrow, I let her use the spade as a shelter as I continue to pick through the soil for ants before replacing the rock. At once she scuttles under it clicking her claws in contentment at having been restored to her home. I continue on to the next rock – this time I wear gloves…

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On a blazing hot day in the Kerio Valley, in north-western Kenya, I
took respite from the midday sun by a stream shaded by gigantic
ancient fig trees. The Kerio valley is an extension of the Great Rift
Valley. It is a stunning geographical feature with waterfalls plunging
from cloud forests down 3,000 - 4,000 ft escarpments with acacia
woodlands on the valley floor. It can get very hot in the valley, and
the streams fed by the forests in the highlands above support precious
strands of riverine trees…

Promise cavorts, hovering above the moving waters. Life erupts with
enthusiasm, fed by distant, rumbling thunderstorms. A stream cuts
through soft, dark rock. Cold and sweet in a place of heat, thorns and
dust, it offers a soothing illusion.

I seek its softness as a respite from the harsh, bitter heat.

Midday is cruel.

Light slams down with vertical, biting vigour. Hornbills and Turacos
pant listless in the shade. Even the eternal raucous optimist, a
vociferous Tropical Boubou, struggles to chortle with emphatic joy.
Only the ants, a kind that thrive in heat, move in dizzying swirls,
maddened by hunger for others, less fortunate, who have succumbed.

The water is in shadow.

Stoic giants guard the precious embryo beneath. Its silvery blood
nourishes their feet. In jest, they throw down confetti of
multi-coloured leaves. Damp and brittle. Crisp and smooth. They cover
the naked eroded edges of this sudden gutter with a pointillist
tapestry.

A rock smoothed by time beckons.

Here one could rest and dream. Leaves above, green and gold. Leaves
below, copper and saffron. And the quiet song of flowing peace.

Then all is shattered by beauty.

Imagine a vision so intense it burns straight into one’s soul. Rising
before me an incandescence darts and dives. A price must be paid for
entering this sacred grove. One must witness to absolute beauty in
return for a crumb of the sacrament. A ‘Dancing Jewel’ flits before me
- this is a damselfly, perhaps one of the loveliest creatures in the
world. The colours are unbelievable…

Turquoise! Cobalt! Rose-Madder Crimson! Orange! Black! White! Sepia! Bronze!

Smouldering colours unite haphazard in one being.

As if to say, ‘I was waiting for you here!’ He dances with unfettered
joy. Red legs waving with white within fuse into pink opalescence. His
richly blue back, turquoise shot with cobalt-ultramarine, wiggles,
etching scratches of brightness in the air.

All else is still, distant, irrelevant. The world is shrunk to this
singular infinity being acted out in a sunspot.

A thing of beauty…

I forget to breathe.

The dance goes on!

My heart is clasped forever. No moment hither nor since exists. All
blurs into a kaleidoscope of frenzied timeless adulation.

Sublime. Rapture. Illusion.

This incredible damselfly, darting among the rocks on a sun-spotted
stream, is but one of millions of different kinds of insects each one
of them interesting, beautiful and intrinsically linked to the world
that they, and we, inhabit.

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Hi, my name is Dino Martins and I have a passion for bugs and telling people about them. I’m a Kenyan entomologist, an artist, naturalist and writer. I’m currently conducting research in evolution and ecology at Harvard as a PhD student. I’ve been studying a wide range of insect species in East Africa including baboons, butterflies, ants, acacia trees, and wildflowers. I write regularly for SWARA - a Wildlife magazine of the East African Wildlife Society, and for Nature Kenya, and I illustrate my articles with watercolors of insects and other creatures.

I grew up in Kenya and I’ve traveled widely in East Africa and led expeditions for the Kenya Museum Society and the East Africa Natural History Society. This Diary will take you on some of my adventures through ‘Dudu Diaries’ - safari’s of a different kind where the big five have six (or more) legs - and you are going to just love bugs and you will want to help protect them.

By the way, the word ‘Dudu’ is not what you think, it’s Kiswahili for insect!

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