I met up with Chris on a drizzly cold morning in November at the top of Lewisburg Saddle in Corvallis before sunrise. Moisture hung in the air and a veil of darkness shadowed our view into the forest. At this point, you might be thinking—why? What possible purpose might Chris and I have for hitting the trail so early?
The answer is simple—to look for beetles, of course.
The Hike
- Trailhead: Lewisburg Saddle Trailhead
- Distance: Variable (our hike was probably 2-3 miles)
- Elevation Gain: Variable, but plenty of low elevation gain options
- Details: Popular trailhead with plenty of parking. Information kiosk at the trailhead. Several trails and logging roads to hike in the area.
A Beetle Guy
An entomologist and curator for Oregon State University insect collection for the last 15 years, Chris is passionate about insects and their taxonomic relationships. In particular, he is a beetle guy. When I asked: why beetles? His reply was simple: self-preservation. Chris started his insect collection at a young age but soon became overwhelmed by the sheer volume of insects on the planet. There are a lot of insects out there numbering in the 100,00s of thousands to millions. So to simplify things he decided just to focus on beetles. Of course with nearly 400,000 known beetle species on the planet, it is easy to see how his passion morphed into a life-long career.
Now, net in one hand and the leash of his pupMaera—an Italian truffle dog he hopes to train to detect beetles—in the other, Chris was ready for the hunt! I, on the other hand, a wide-eyed amateur, had no idea what I was doing.
An Enigma
It was 6:30 a.m. and still dark when we entered the forest. Headlamps on, we crunched down a gravel road, working our way deeper into the woods. Ears and eyes open. Our objective: rain beetles.
Rain beetles (Pleocomidae or Pleocoma) are a unique family of beetles that are only known in Oregon, California, and Washington. When first discovered, rain beetles were considered an enigma. “A chimera of characters,” as Chris put it. They didn’t fit into any known groups of beetles. Brown bodied, hairy around the edges, with a dark, flathead and uniquely forked antenna—rain beetles are standouts in the beetle world. So at the time, scientists lumped them into their own family and that is where they still stand today.
In the Dark
Rain beetles’ underground lifestyle only adds to its mystique. Rain beetles spend a majority of their lives underground as larvae, feeding off the young roots of trees and other forest vegetation. They dig deep into the soil’s root zone to forage. A fact discovered when a group of graduate students attempted to unearth the secrets of the rain beetle by digging them up and following their trails. “Six feet, eight feet, even 12 feet down” they had to dig to reach the beetles, said Chris. It was not an easy task with little reward.
Surprisingly, rain beetles live a long time underground before they emerge, and the number of years is strikingly variable. “It appears that they can go through seven to fourteen years before they pupate into an adult,” said Chris. “They need at least seven instars,” or seven developmental stages between molts. Then they might turn into an adult or they might not.
“This is not the standard model you are taught in school,” explained Chris— that the stages are fixed (3-5 molts is typical for winged-insects). However, “It does appear that it is more common than we thought.” Chris told me examples of wood-boring beetles that emerged from antique furniture! Much to the chagrin of the owners, I’m sure.
End of Days
But Chris and I weren’t out at the crack of dawn to dig up grubs! This was the rain beetles’ mating season. We were here to find full-grown adults.
“Usually I hear them before I see them,” said Chris as we scanned the area. “They buzz like a bumblebee.”
Both male and female rain beetles “tunnel up when the soil is wet from rain,” explained Chris. The males take flight to search for a female partner. While the females stay near the hole they dug up, and release pheromones to attract mates. Once they have mated, the female returns to her hole lays her eggs (over a couple weeks) and eventually dies. While the male will most likely be lost to predation within a day or two. Neither have working mouthparts as adults, to their days are numbered.
Strange to think about it, but these are the end of days for these beetles. Seven years under the earth, a whole life. Then a brief passage into the light—a day or two. Then death.
How to (try) and Catch a Beetle
“Males are easy to catch,” Chris explained. They sort of bumble around until they catch a whiff of something attractive. “They are not great fliers,” said Chris. You can scoop them up in a net with little effort.
However, females are much more difficult to find and catch. Females can’t fly and rarely leave their burrow. Instead, we would need to spot a swarm of males if we were to have any hope of seeing a female. “A bunch of males fighting for a female—” typical male behavior in the animal kingdom.
However, dawn was approaching and so far we hadn’t heard or seen one male. Let alone a swarm of them.
A Geographic Mystery
As the day began to grey with pale morning light, we continued our search following the gravel road downslope. Despite our lack of success, our spirits were high and there was still a lot to talk about.
Chris’ research on rain beetles has mainly been focused on understanding their geographic range—where they are and how they got there.
“The species can only expand its range at the speed at which larvae can move around,” explained Chris—which is not very fast. And they are also limited by barriers, like rivers and mountain ranges. So the question is: “How did they become distributed on the west coast? This is the heart of my interest,” said Chris.
Islands of Beetles
Chris has been deeply involved in collecting and studying the genetics of different populations of rain beetles in order to begin to piece together their story.
“Historically they were one big species,” said Chris. Or at least that is where the evidence seems to suggest so far. As physical barriers have formed and shifted, the “one big species” has been split into many—a process known as vicariance. “They (the beetles) were there first, and the river or mountain range came second,” explained Chris. When considering changes over time in physical geography, “there is a nice pattern,” to the distribution of species of rain beetles.
New Species
Recently, Chris put in the painstaking work of describing a new species of rain beetle on the north side of the Columbia River that separates Oregon and Washington. An impressive accomplishment marked by many challenges. Chris hopes to add the new species to a chapter he is writing on rain beetles for an upcoming edition of a general beetle reference book.
Continuing with this work—Chris is interested in visiting many of the known Oregon populations across the state and getting material. Many of them haven’t been sampled since the 1950s!
Flooded
The population of rain beetles we were searching for is one of many isolated “island” populations found in the Willamette Valley. We were hiking at around 800 to 900 feet above sea level for a reason. Rain beetles are “not found on the Willamette Valley floor, only at higher elevations,” said Chris. Why? Chris’ hypothesis is that the Missoula Floods may have wiped out any lower elevation populations and separated the upper elevation populations from each other.
The Missoula Floods were a series of massive ice-age floods that scoured the landscape of eastern Washington, ripped through the Columbia River Gorge, and carried water and sediment into Oregon’s Willamette Valley as far as Eugene. Water levels in the valley are estimated around 400 feet in Portland and 350 feet in Eugene—plenty high enough to drown out the beetles.
“Did you know they were proposed to be the state insect?” asked Chis. I hadn’t. They lost out to the Oregon Swallowtail—a butterfly. “Not a species, a subspecies,” said Chris. Apparently, colorful, charismatic butterflies are also enough to drown out elusive brown beetles.
Predawn
At this point, the sky had changed from a dark grey to a lighter grey. Still too early to see clearly. “We are not giving up,” exclaimed Chris, “they fly as late as 10 a.m.”
Rain beetles are crepuscular—meaning they are active at dawn or sunset. “Their eyes have cones and sensors that are good at seeing at low light levels,” explained Chris. This is an advantage to the beetles and a disadvantage to the beetles’ predators. “Most vertebrate hunters are nocturnal or diurnal,” said Chris. Meaning they either see really good at night or during the day. Flying at this time means rain beetles are less likely to be eaten before getting a chance to mate.
Flying at this time also means rain beetles are less likely to be seen by us. Wait, I think I saw something buzz by and fly up into the forest. I must be seeing things.
Ghost Beetles
After about 40 minutes of hiking, Chris and I decided to turn around to see if we might catch some beetles on the way back.
Then, before long, we see it! A ghostly creature bumbles by, greyed by the paleness of the day. Chris springs into action but is too late. We see it again, but still no luck. We even try climbing up the steep embankment of the road cut to try and catch one, but the ground is slick and the route is steep. I slide down on feet and hands, turning the palms of my hands a clayey-brown.
Chris assures me. There will be others.
We keep to the area pacing a bit, catching glimpses of “ghost beetles,” before continuing our route upwards in the direction of our cars.
Describing Science
As we walked, Chris shared with me some of his concerns about the direction science is headed. “In the last 50 years, science has been reduced to this experimentalism,” he said. It has become mostly about repeating controlled experiments. Experiments are all well and good, but by limiting our focus we “cut out a hugely important part of science,” Chris said.
“Science has a descriptive component,” he explained, “that is heavily embedded in the exploration and discovery phase.” He went on: “At the end of the day, I am trying to show you that this thing exists. If I can show you one, then you will know.”
This is also why pinned specimens and research museums are so important. “Museum specimens…provide empirical observation. They serve as an archive for scientists to describe the northwest, country, and even the world.” They show us what is out there.
In addition, “tests can be run on specimens,” to determine taxonomic relationships. This is what Chris’ work is all about. Describing new species. “So we can say that this is X and this is Y.”
“There is so much to discover!” he exclaimed. As Chris puts it—descriptive science is “how we know what is on planet Earth.” And—how can we care if we don’t know?
Associations
It was now getting to be much lighter out. We had “seen” several ghostly rain beetles, but were yet to catch one.
Out of the blue, Chris B-lined it toward a cluster of orange fungi on the side of the road—possibly toxic“Jack-o-lantern fungi.” He picked it up and looked under it to see if he could spot any beetles. He explained that many beetles live in and on mushrooms. Many are “fungivores”— consuming mushrooms or other parts of the fungi.
This got Chris reminiscing. “Thought I would study beetle-fungi coevolution,” he said. “But it was tough to get funding.” Then it was ants and beetles. But the fieldwork was hard and he didn’t want to be an “ant biologist.” At the same time, he was fascinated by associations between beetles and other living things. So when he found a relatively abundant beetle was covered with mites— he changed his project again.
“What did you learn?” I asked
“I learned PhDs take a long time,” was Chris’ curt response. “You can quickly bite off more than you can chew. You have to learn to spit some out.” Ultimately, though he completed the project, he didn’t end up getting into the mite-beetle specifics as he had hoped. Does he regret it? Yes and no. “I have a full life of other things I like to do too,” he said. And that is also important.
How to (finally) Catch a Beetle
Just then, something caught Chris’ eye! One of our ghostly friends came flying down out of the forest. Only, this time Chris was quick to action, swooping his net in a well-choreographed flip of the wrist and he caught it!
Chris pulled the rain beetle from his net and held it out in his hand. “There he is in all his glory,” he said.
I looked down at this scruffy, male beetle with his shiny nearly-black exoskeleton fringed with golden brown fur. He was both glamor and gruff. At least that is my take; granted I am no entomologist.
Chris passed him off for me to hold. But in my hands he squirmed so much that I soon passed him back.
It was a fleeting moment for both of us.
The Beetles Go On
After catching one, Chris ended up scooping up a couple more rain beetles before we made it back to the trailhead. We walked and talked and caught beetles—Chris sharing funny anecdotes, and thoughts on career paths not taken.
Toward the end of the hike, I asked Chris what else he could tell me about finding beetles. He responded with a litany of places to look: under rocks and logs, in flowers, under driftwood in dunes, on plants, and swimming in water. “There are a ton of different ones,” he said. “A lot are small too,” he explained, and “need a hand lens to see them in detail.”
“We have an incredible native fauna,” said Chris. And to experience it all requires incredible effort—learning habitats, timing, etc. of the beetles. In short, to “be an insect collector,” you need to know your insects.
Individual Style
Chris is all about studying the individual and species levels in biology. He was firm on that point. “I am not an ecologist,” he stated frankly early on in the hike. Not that he doesn’t enjoy ecology, it is just that Chris uses a different scientific lens.
Chris used the example of a tree in a forest to explain his perspective. “An ecologist has to reduce the tree to a primary source of photosynthesis… a carbon sink.” At the same time, a reductionist might see the tree as just a “physiological unit of cells.” This is not complete either.
While both these perspectives are important and valid, they miss another equally important and valid way of studying nature. “Sitting in between those two things. The thing that links those things—the individual and species level.”
“That’s an individual,” said Chris as he pointed to one of the trees in the forest. And that individual comes from a pedigree of individuals… That’s the realm of systematics and taxonomists.”
Caught
Chris extended his thinking to human societies as well. If we are “so focused on how the bigger system works,” he argued “what does one persons life matter?”
As a systems thinker myself, I often think a lot about big picture ideas, so I was refreshed by Chris’ ideas. To consider the individual—whether it be a human or another life form—makes a lot of sense.
Every human, tree, or beetle has its own unique biology and its own unique life history. And as helpful as it can be to see the forest through the trees—generalizing can also be a dangerous game. You lose out on important details. Diversity is lost. Judgments and decisions are made without all the information. And that has the potential to be catastrophic.
By the end of our hike, Chris had caught three beetles. But I caught something as well, perhaps even more valuable—a fresh perspective.
Dr. Chris Marshall is the curator for the Oregon State Arthropod Collection. He earned his bachelor’s degree at Reed College before studying entomology as a graduate student at Cornell University.
