COMMENT pubs.acs.org/est
The Snow Scorpionfly
I
t's December in northern Wisconsin and I’m cross-country skiing with my daughter, Britta. Skis slide slowly through the snow (I’m not as spritely as I used to be), and I stare intently at the ground to keep my skis in the track. What to my wandering eyes should appear but a miniature black bug sauntering across the surface of the snow? I cannot imagine that there could be insects living on icy snow, but indeed, there are; and we stop for a moment to marvel at them. The first time I saw these black bugs, I had no idea what they were. Miniscule creatures, perhaps 0.5 cm long with six long legs and stout, elongated abdomens, black as the night. Of course, as befitting a true nature boy scientist/editor, I went back to our cabin and searched the Internet for the identity of my new found friend. The answer: Boreus brumalis, the snow scorpionfly.
Now, there aren’t too many species that can live in snow and freezing temperatures. But this isn’t your normal insect. They make antifreeze to survive the boreal winters, and their long legs serve to keep them elevated above the snowpack. They have evolved such a dark color to amplify even the smallest amount of sunlight for warmth. So perfectly adapted to their frozen environment, one dares not pick them from the snow, for even the warmth of a hand will kill them. The elongated abdomen in the male somewhat resembles a scorpion’s stinger, thus the name, and the female also has a long pointed ovipositor to lay her eggs. They cannot fly and have only vestigial wings—the male takes good advantage of his stubby appendages to lift the female into position on his back for copulation. Vegetarians, feeding on the tiny leaves of mosses, they spend their entire adult lives simply feeding, looking for mates, and mating. Their snow treks are necessary excursions from tree to tree, to find mates and lay eggs in the moss, so their larvae can feed until becoming adults, and the cycle repeats itself. It’s been a few years since I first spotted the snow scorpionfly. But now each winter I look for them eagerly, and it gives me great satisfaction when I spy them in life’s work across the surface of my Wisconsin snow. It is often said that people will give millions of dollars to wildlife organizations to save wild animals, like tigers, even though these same people may never see a tiger in the jungle in their entire lives. They don’t care. It is enough to know the tigers are there. E.O. Wilson, the great Harvard evolutionary biologist, developed the Biophilia hypothesis, that humans have an innate tendency and natural affinity to focus on life. It’s the essence of our humanity r 2011 American Chemical Society
which binds us to all other living creatures. In the prologue to his book, Biophilia (Harvard College Press, 1984), Wilson states something profoundly hopeful about our relationship to the environment: The conclusion I draw is optimistic: to the degree that we come to understand other organisms, we will place a greater value on them, and on ourselves. Recent research has taken the concept further, that even minimal connections with nature can be extremely healthful for humans. Peter Kahn Jr. (Developmental Review 1997, 17, 1 91) states that even short experiences with nature can increase productivity and health in the workplace, promote healing of patients in hospitals, and reduce the frequency of sickness in prisons. He’s not suggesting we must go into the wild, rather just peering through a window at a green space is sometimes sufficient. At ES&T, one of our most downloaded articles last year was by Jo Barton and Jules Pretty that green exercise may be better for your mental well-being than its indoor equivalent (Environ. Sci. Technol. DOI 10.1021/es903183r). In fact, even five minutes exercising in nature can prove relatively salutary. It’s hard-wired into our DNA from deep in our evolutionary past—we yearn for nature and it provides benefits. Here’s the hypothesis: Humans need a healthy environment to be well themselves. The theory goes beyond just valuing ecosystem services, and it’s certainly deeper than the concept of using nature for food, clothing, shelter, and medicines. It speaks to the basic human condition. We can only be healthy if the environment in which we live is also healthy. Long live the snow scorpionfly. Jerald L. Schnoor Editor-in-Chief
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Published: July 13, 2011 6217
dx.doi.org/10.1021/es202194s | Environ. Sci. Technol. 2011, 45, 6217–6217
