It is, instead, about the apparent vitality of one segment of the publishing industry. While many publications seem to be struggling to retain their readership, the Insect Informer seems to be thriving. While most periodicals are tightening belts and cutting staffs, they recently expanded their editorial team to meet the needs of their growing constituency. To my dismay, this week provided incontrovertible evidence that their audience is, in fact, multiplying at an alarming pace.
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| Standard Hydrangea |
About halfway up our hill, right next to the midway seating area, we planted a standard hydrangea last year. It's leafed out nicely in this, it's first full, season, and we're hoping for an equally prolific bloom later this month. It seems to be happy in this location -- a minor triumph that we don't always achieve. While we do follow the dictates of those tyrannical plant tags which prescribe the exact lighting conditions without which the plants will perish, the plants themselves aren't always inclined to follow the same rules. As a result, some of our vegetation actually has amassed enough frequent traveler points for a winter vacation in Boca as we've moved it from one location to another, another, and another. I know, because I've driven plants to the airport. Really.
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| First hint of trouble |
Anyway, we were enjoying a cocktail at the end of a lovely Father's Day yesterday, and walked over to see if there were any blooms forming on the hydrangea yet. We noticed there were a few brownish leaves on the north side of the bush. Concerned, we moved closer to inspect, and discovered to our horror, that we were witnessing real time literal growth of the Insect Informer's audience.
There, on no less than 4 leaves, some variety of moth-like creature had deposited her eggs and carefully spun a tent to shelter them from weather, predators, and wrathful gardeners (really just another less rational form of predator). Those eggs had now produced what looked like gazillions of tiny but voracious wriggly green caterpillars with bulgy black eyes.
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| Uh oh, looks like we've got company... |
Well, maybe "gazillions" was a bit of an overstatement, but I certainly felt overrun. With all due respect and apologies to Eric Carle, these Very Hungry Caterpillars were not at all cuddly. Far from being cute, they had an extremely high cringeworthy "ick" factor, and they were going to town on my hydrangea!
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| HUNDREDS of very hungry caterpillars!!! |
But wait, it gets worse. As I staggered down the steps to sound the alarm and get reinforcements, I paused in the herb garden where I found myselt interrupting yet another renegade dining experience. There, on the parsley in full -- yet unsuccessful -- camouflage was a clear descendant of one Thomas Blendin, the Tomato Hornworm who met his untimely fate in last year's garden. This creepy crawly was apparently enjoying a palate-cleansing parsley appetizer before moving on to the tomato plants.
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| Caught in the act! |
When I plucked him off this stem, I wonder if he thought he was being magically transported to the raised beds where tomato nirvana waited. But no, that was not to be his fate. I temporarily set him down in no-man's land and seized the moment for a pre-execution close-up photo opp. As you can see below, the most intriguing aspect of this insect is that when threatened, his horns pop up to make him look fierce and -- judging from what happened when I set him down on a paving stone -- he also pees.
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| Defiant Tomato Hornworm |
I'm under no illusion that I've got the circulation for either of those periodicals under control. But, considering all those nights I read this book to my kids, delighting in both the illustrations and the insatiable appetite of the central critter, on some cosmic level I probably brought this on myself.
Best photo of a Defiant Tomato Hornworm I've ever seen!
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