Ever been to the Burning Man Festival and checked out the art cars?

No, and no.

But last Sunday at the Berkeley Marina, we saw an art car that looked as if it could have been at the Burning Man.

It was the wheel deal.

And a car that an entomologist could love.

Assorted insects, including a stylistic blue ant, decorated the car. Excitedly different. Curiously surreal. Marvelously eccentric.

Wikipedia defines an art car as "a vehicle that has its appearance modified as an art of personal artistic expression." The owners are sometimes called "Cartists."

We've seen a yellow Volkwagen painted to resemble a bumble bee. We've seen the Oscar Meyer Wienie Wagon cruising down the street. Singer Janis Joplin ("Oh, Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?") drove a psychedelically painted Porsche. John Lennon of the Beatles wheeled around in a paisley Rolls Royce. (Perhaps it should have been a Volkswagen Beetle?)

The art car parked at the Berkeley marina, however, looked like a buffet of art, someone's leftovers turned into a heaping plate of static and dynamic creativity that begged attention. Put a fork in it and it's done.

We don't know where it had been or where it was going. Or, maybe it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

That blue ant, though, made us think the cartist is an entomologist. Specifically, a mymecologist.

Once you've seen a leaffooted bug (genus Leptoglossus), you'll never forget it.

If you look closely, you'll see a leaflike structure on each hind leg. 

It's especially noticeable when the bug is on a brightly colored tomato or pomegranate.

Lately we've been seeing a lot of leaffooted bugs on our tomatoes. They're Leptoglossus phyllopus, as identified by senior museum scientist Steve Heydon of the Bohart Museum of Entomology, UC Davis.  The bugs emerge in the early morning for a few hours and then, moving quite sluggishly, disappear among the leaves, only to make their presence known late in the evening and early the next morning. 

They're pests of many fruits, vegetables, grains, nuts and ornamentals, but they're so unusual looking that they draw the attention of photographers and other curious folks. It's camouflage at its best--except when they're on ripe red tomatoes and pomegranates. Then it's as if they're wearing neon.

The UC Statewide Integrated Pest Management (UC IPM) Program has this to say about leaffooted bugs on almonds: 

"The leaffooted bug is an infrequent pest in almonds that gets its name from the small, leaflike enlargements found on the hind legs of the large nymphs and adults. Adult bugs are about 1 inch long and have a narrow brown body with a yellow or white zigzag line across its flattened back. Adult females lay eggs in strands of usually 10 to 15 eggs that are often found on the sides of nuts in almonds. Eggs hatch into small nymphs that resemble newly hatched assassin bugs."

Also read what UC IPM has to say about leaffooted bugs on pomegranates and several species: Leptoglossus clypealis, L. occidentalis, and L. zonatus.

Damselfly takes an interest in an ant. (Photo by Kathy Keatley Garvey)

They're so tiny and inconspicuous that they're easy to miss. They're about an inch long and so slender that they look like flying needles.

Like its cousin, the dragonfly, the damselfly (suborder Zygoptera) is a predator that catches and eats flying insects. Flies, knats and mosquitoes are often on their menu.

Damselflies frequent the area near our fish pond and we see them glide in and out of our lavender patch, the catmint, oregano and the Mexican sunflowers (Tithonia). Sometimes they perch on a stem in the early morning and warm their flight muscles.

When we see them, we always look for bright red mites. Red mites? Think of a a cluster of miniature salmon eggs. Some of these damselflies are so heavily parasitized that you wonder how long they'll survive. Damsel in distress?

We've never seen a damselfly actually catch a flying insect, but we did find one last weekend that was quite interested in an ant scurrying down a lavender stem. The damselfly backed up and appeared to be targeting it.

The ant, however, escaped.

Butterflies flutter. 

Bees don't.

Indeed, some bees seem to possess Superman's extraordinary power of "faster than a speeding bullet."  They're just lacking a blue costume, a red cape and an "S" on their thorax.

The butterfly doing the fluttering in our garden is the Gulf Fritillary, Agraulis vanillae, a showy reddish-orange Lepitopderan that lays its eggs on our passionflower vine (Passiflora).

The bee doing the speeding-bullet routine is the male longhorned digger bee, Melissodes agilis. They are so territorial that they claim ALL members of the sunflower family in our garden: the blanket flowers (Gallardia), the Mexican sunflowers (Tithonia) and the purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea).

They relentlessly patrol the garden and dive-bomb assorted bumble bees, carpenter bees, honey bees, sweat bees, wasps, syrphid flies, butterflies and even stray leaves that land on "their" flowers. (Their eyesight is not as good as Superman's.)

Why? They're trying to save the pollen and nectar resources for the Melissodes agilis females. And trying to entice and engage the girls.

Last Sunday we watched a Gulf Frit touch down on the Tithonia. Just as it was gathering some nectar, a speeding bullet approached.

How fast?

If it were a horse, it would have been Secretariat.

If it were a track star, it would have been "Lightning Bolt" Usian St. Leo Bolt.

If it were a car, it would have been a Hennessey Venom GT.

If it were a plane, it would have been a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird.

Swoosh! As the longhorned digger bee rifled by, the startled Gulf Frit shot straight up. Straight up.

Frankly, the Gulf Frit could have "leaped a tall building in a single bound."