My best eBay find of all time was a set of six Silver Age DC Comics mini-busts, for a little over 30 bucks. For about the same price, Dr. Richard Harrington found a 50 million year old insect that no one had previously identified.

He wins. This time.

As a testament to the unknown science and/or magic that exists around us every day, the VP of the Royal Entomological Society seems to have bought the amber-encased insect on a whim. One doesn’t usually expect to make any significant scientific breakthroughs via eBay - I mean, unless the seller has some pretty incredible feedback - since eBay is usually reserved for neat additions to collections and electronic bits to repair other electronic bits.

The aphid was purchased from a seller in Lithuania, who was none the wiser about what he possessed. It seems that the chunk of eBay amber wasn’t originally marked for science, as it was honed down into a jewelry-friendly shape, about the size of an aspirin. It’s entirely possible that this unique specimen adorned many a finger or was pinned to the front of a few dresses before it finally was rescued from fashion by science. As an amateur bug enthusiast, this is all fascinating for me. Not unlike a coin collector finding a rare striking in his change from Wal-Mart, this is unexpected and delightful. While there’s no financial gain from Harrington’s discovery, the real prize is far more awesome : the aphid is now named after him.

Of course, he’d originally wanted to christen the aphid “Mindarus ebayi”, but refrained when he figured that the scientific community might not appreciate such a clever name. It wouldn’t be the first bit of nomenclature that referenced something outside of the biological world; the list of beasts named after Tolkien creatures is extensive, and the list of ‘pun’ names is longer. Just ask the Notamacropus - named just so to indicate that it is not, indeed, a Macropus - or the Abra Cadabra, an unassuming clam (which was later renamed something far less silly). Funnier yet is the Turbo, a snail.

The Ichabodcraniosaurus Novacek, by the way, was found without a head.

I live in the Hudson River Valley, and I usually find myself wondering how far I’d have to dig in my backyard to turn up a musket shell or, even better, a femur. Do I have a coin in my change cup worth ten thousand times its face value? Every so often, I pull a forgotten action figure out of the back of my closet, identify it, and discover it’s worth over $100 - which is far less interesting than that Ming vase or lost Van Gogh that one occasionally pulls down from behind the winter coats in the attic and drags out to the garage sale.

So, congrats to Dr. Harrington for his inquisitiveness, finding science in the everyday and everywhere, and moving science forward with his Mindarus harringtoni. I’m off to dig in the backyard.

I’m probably the worst bug collector that’s ever walked the Earth.

Many amateur entomologists channel their love of bugs into formaldehyde jars and carefully prepared Riker mounts and pins and tiny labels, but I’m just not that meticulous. You can find my large collection of insects in a 50-drawer trinket chest, various old spice jars, tupperware containers and ring boxes. All of this is kind of cluttered into one corner of my room, which I’ve dubbed the ‘Anti-Girl Zone’. For some reason, this is absolutely repellant to many fine young ladies, but when forced to make the choice between a thousand enthralling insects or hearing about the wonders that a good pedicure can do, I choose the bugs.

The trinket chest is labeled, each drawer with a different kind of insect. Of course, my knowledge of insects is once again tested and mocked, while bug collectors everywhere cringe at my ignorance. I’ve been able to identify some of the bugs, and have white labels affixed to the drawers with the scientific names, like ‘nicrophorus tomentosus’, but those are fairly interspersed with labels like ‘mystery attack beetle!’ with a little picture of a beetle holding a knife, because that beetle was a total jerk. Labels like ‘probably not a ham’ and ‘WTF?’ don’t really serve anyone but me. Websites like What’s That Bug? and, surprisingly, the Entomology community on Livejournal are extremely helpful. How else would I have known that a toxic Yellow Sac Spider was living in my hallway? I didn’t need those hours of nervously lost sleep anyhow.

My collection is an eclectic one, as my moral code prevents me from killing anything. I can’t spy a beautiful insect in nature, capture it, rob it of its life and keep it around just to ogle. Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t do that with women, I’m not gonna do it with bugs. So, what I’ve collected comes from sun-baked windowsills and floating in backyard pools. I’ve also found a few acquaintances who have learned to regard bugs as ‘collectibles’ and help me along by saving what they find. Of course, these bugs are certainly not in the same good condition they’d be in if I stole them from the green grasses of the wide world, little circulatory systems still churning along, and popped them into my collection. I’ll take what I can get, though.

The bugs often get incorporated into artworks, which is the main reason for collecting them, even though the science is also pretty enthralling. They’re excellent models for photographs, since they don’t squirm around and you don’t have to pay them, and they’re also very interesting additions to still life drawings and paintings. There’s something about their little exoskeletons and jointed appendages that also appeals to my love of all things robotic.

I’ve collected the enormous cecropia moth, cicadas of both the green and black varieties (as well as cicada-killer wasps), the greater part of a mantis, countless moths, beautiful ebony beetles, cockroaches, spiders and anything that lives in the lower-upstate NY area. I appreciate carefully prepared collections of butterflies, pressed under glass, and maybe one day I’ll make the effort to properly preserve these little guys before the dreaded dermestid beetle gets to them. Bug lovers everywhere probably hate me.