'The effects of insect exclusion on pitcher plant microbial communities'

Driving down various unmarked dirt roads for almost 2 hours, memory fails as I search for the hidden Tom’s Swamp. Finally, google earth and a country club landmark help, and the bog is found. Drizzle falls but thankfully no rain. My assistant and I lug heavy planks and equipment while balancing fretfully on a thin wooden walkway. We make it to the spot, and use our “portable boardwalk” to venture into unknown bog… One plank precariously holds our weight while the other is pried from the muck and wielded into a new location. Move, repeat. We place our 60 red flags and take notes on appropriate carnivorous pitcher plants. 1 good pitcher, not yet open, is on that plant, 2 here.

My foot, the plank that saves me, a pitcher plant

The next day the sun is out and I am alone. I manage to carry out both planks, winding the makeshift handles over my shoulders, carrying my equipment bag underneath, fighting the vegetation that grows over the narrow path. At multiple points I can’t see where to step, and once I fall as my foot misses its slippery goal and descends into darkness over the ankle. Sluuuuurrp. But my rainboots are tough, and feet stay dry.

Leo in bog

A wasp-mimicking hover fly meets its end

Out at the site, everything is vibrant. Brilliant green sphagnum moss, yellow water lilies, the red veins of pitcher plants. When I squat close to the ground, I see more different insects together than ever before. Beetles, butterflies, ants, mosquitoes and other flies of all kinds; lovely mimics and unusual colors. Sundews vie with Sarracenia purpurea pitchers for insect meals, using their sticky sweet tentacles. Bog laurel flaunts perfect geometric pink flowers, springloaded to fling pollen if bumped.

Bog laurel

A carabid beetle on sphagnum moss narrowly escapes carnivorous sundew

Fly finds housing in water lily

I squat delicately at the end of my plank and cover pitchers with green gauze bags, securing them with zip ties. Four treatments, four colors. This one needs to be gently opened, and fed sterilized ground up wasp meal. That one needs a bag that is left open to insect access. Over there the pitcher has no bag at all. Controls and potential issues. Has this plant flowered? Check. Oops, don’t put my weight all at one edge or I’ll be seesawed into the bog. The swampy surface looks quite solid, but very quickly one realizes that the top layer is a thin mask, and a foot can easily break through it, leaving the attached body waist-deep in slurpy slimy muck. Planks spread my weight, and the protective layer holds.

My experiment

Pitcher plant flower

Five hours of squatting in the sunny, shadeless bog leaves me sore, sweaty, and covered in bites. At least there are no leeches. Just endless blue sky and white puffy clouds.

Tom's Swamp

Creatures of the Berkshires

The Pringle Lab recently had a retreat in the Berkshires:
we saw purple strange-shaped fungi,
fireflies at night (I used a 15 second exposure, so you can see their flashes),
the largest mushroom I've ever seen (a Ganoderma applanatum, also called Artist's Conk, because you can etch onto the white undersurface). My advisor, Anne Pringle, can be seen peeking around the tree...
(I used it as an umbrella)
and, last but not least, a red-spotted newt, Notopthalmus viridescens.

Fun-a-day Boston Show

Dan and I were part of a gallery exhibit for Fun-a-day (one piece of art per day for the month of January). It was at the beautiful Nave Gallery in Somerville at the end of February.

I did sketches and close-up photos of daily objects in my life.

Mine are the photos and drawings in the middle.
Early morning frost on the window.
Dragonfly wings, stained glass.
Blue guitar.
My old broken headphones.
Spoon.
Small scissors.

My Insects

This fall, I collected insects for my entomology course. The collection contains over 100 individuals from about 15 orders and 65 families.


I will introduce you to some of them, up close and personal (with photos from my new camera).


Giant water bug, in the family Belastomatidae.

A taphritid fly with colorful wings.

Dragonfly from the family Aeshnidae.


Green lacewing, Chrysopidae.

Road Trip: The East

Drowsy driving through drizzled fog mountains, old window wipers smearing. Suddenly a loud bang shocks and uncomfortable rattling knocks under the truck hood. Dan guides us to a remote gas station as I fidget nervously and the noise continues. A spark plug has been completely blown loose of its socket. Dan manages to fix it by sheer force of will and the aid of a lanky teenager’s borrowed tools.

Google map’s prescribed route becomes perilous, narrower and steeper as we continue. Soon it is nothing more than a country road as we brave the lift and fall of the hilly West Virginia Appalachians. The campsite is remote, and the mountain people we meet rarely venture out of their hidden villages. We are offered the “honeymoon suite” campsite, and given extra firewood in exchange for some of Dan’s precious $2 bills. In the morning, we skip stones across a wide shallow river before leaving the very inhabited wilderness.
DC at last. Cool comfort, rest, and a nice dog. King of the feet! Too hot to hold, iridescent blue-greens dance across the bronze surfaces of Dan’s giant masterpiece sculptures. Fantastic food and million dollar sky mall idea. Erratic in and out driving through a maze of construction and intertwining highways.Baltimore: hot and muggy in the afternoon. Anxious leaving the truck and all life belongings on the street, but no robberies occur. Many parts of the city are abandoned. Rows upon rows of empty houses with infrequent interspersings of someone on a lived in front step. We are not dressed right for the fancy opening night sushi experience; too many waitresses hover and replace each plate we touch. Lovely to see talented nurse Greta and master chef Blitz.The Catskills are crowded on a Saturday night. No more space at planned campsite, but another is found: expensive, but ah well this is New York. Crabbiness is counteracted by a hilarious situation as our hostess praises our staying together through this road trip. A beautiful fire flickers late into the night, and we are awakened by heavy rain.High in the remote Adirondacks we wiggle our way to Upper Saranac Lake. As rain continues to fall, it is good to be inside with a warm fire, meeting Dan’s grandpa and the fiery Dee. Origami and Italian food. The next day struggles clear; we visit a large rock and canoe on the lake. Big old turtle is not thrilled at being held, he shakes his long dinosaur tail.

Boston first homecoming is rained out. Grey, wet midwinter weather was not expected. But our new home is cozy and welcoming, as a collaborative dinner with sweet roommates hits the spot. We look out across the wide expanse of Somerville through a curtain of shimmering Aspen leaves, from the nestled nook of our porch in the Cherry tree.

Road Trip: The Middle

Kansas stretches her torso, flat and wide. Few trucks, experimental adventure. Nighttime falls far from our campsite. Late arrival, no obvious sites, drunk couple not as helpful as hoped. So sleep finds our small orange and green tent in a field near a lake, apprehensive of a ranger’s bright flashlight, the slow sounds of approaching footsteps.

More cornfields, always more. Sunflowers occasionally break the monotony, and St. Louis is amazing after so much vastness. An empty downtown, no place to eat, but a beautiful long city park filled with fountains to run through. Lunch by a koi pond on fancy college campus; later, too hot cooking of gourmet food for our couchsurfing hosts. Large glasses, intellectual disinterest, fluid gender, perfect for Portland. A deserted city looks back on busy golden days, retaining archaic brothel laws now affecting only sorority girls.Kentucky unfolds ahead. Intermittent rain and the usual stops. By now, I have learnt the contents of each and every gas station mini-mart. Favorite road snacks: pretzel sticks and white cheddar popcorn. We listen to Sabriel on tape...the bell-ringing abhorsen needs to be taken in small doses.
A winding hilly road past endless Kentucky estates. Large elegant houses and impossibly manicured lawns roll smoothly into the distance. Shining thoroughbred horses graze lazily in broad paddocks as we imagine the fine bourbon that is sipped within immense rooms, under moose antlers. Unfortunately, the roads are named by numbers (not their googlemap names) and soon we are lost in the green hills without phone service. A lucky mirror spotting puts us back on track and eventually we arrive at Carter caves campsite.

Our fire roars as it consumes found wood, and two Kentuckian lesbians embarrassedly ask for help building theirs. Their accents are charming and I wonder about their lives. A night walk reveals firefly jewels and friendly horses. We feed them grass and rub their rough coats until our hands are black with dust. Rain pours before dawn, and I awake in a partial puddle.

Mediocre breakfast in the freezing air-conditioned lodge is plentifully supplied by a constantly apologetic waitress. Hummingbirds swoop and dive, competing fiercely for space at the sugar water feeders beyond the wide window.

Road Trip: The West

Lunch and burnt soles of my feet in Bakersfield. First swamp cooler experience, and giant backyard with POTENTIAL. Wide endless Mojave, colorful hills of shale: ancient sea floor at sharp angles. Flagstaff expensive sushi, rich white people trace and retrace their steps as they shop. We chase a summer rainstorm across vast green sage brush and red rock expanse.Albuquerque sprawls before us, low lying lights in a high, flat valley. Adobe curves and one story houses try to stay cool in the dry heat punctuated by monsoon afternoon rains. Fluffy yogurt pancakes, sun, beer, burritos drowning in New Mexico chile. Muddy quicksand riverbed after dusk, as the moon reflects on slow-moving water. High altitude breath-catching Sandias, a stone house perched on the cliff above the outstretched city. Crawling cockroaches and cool clay. Last long Sarahcoze.Directly NORTH, we see evidence of heavy winter snows along the windswept freeway. Colorado Springs picnic lunch. My dress is too short, causing sidelong looks. Pushy squirrels vie for unattainable treats. Frustration and warm salsa.

Boulder: the ultimate in city planning, reflecting conflicting decisions. Surrounding wide greenbelt is lush and eliminates the threat of continuous suburbs, but leads to expensive food and impossible housing. Strange laws discourage cooperation while trying to avoid filth and crowding. Gorgeous bike paths, health food, tall mountain irons loom. Homemade veggie quiche, candlelit outdoor dinner, the brook babbles by. Warm friends, photos, hand-cranked smoothies mix work and enjoyment.

In Denver, we drink beer on the patio and talk of megafauna, oxygen limitation, and ages past. Rowdy dog steals cupcakes off the stove, shatters expensive wedding present. Five double-cousins appear one-by-one; all tall, competitive, confident in their family bond. Leaf armor, card games, city streets at night and Beta techno beats—one small Leo in a forest of 6 large man-clones.
Whirlwind Museum of Natural History tour: big back bone room, spinning earth, evolution and representation. Entelodont—giant Miocene predator: intelligent ruthless buffalo-sized hell pig.