Getting Buggy With It

Hard at work...

I love watching insects.  They are so specifically designed.  The Madagascar Star Orchid, or “Darwin orchid”, has an impressive 11” "nectar spur", a long tubular extension of the flower that holds the nectar.  When Darwin studied it, he anticipated a pollinator with an equally long tongue that could reach the nectar.  It wasn’t until 40 years later that this moth was found, with a proboscis averaging 10”.  It’s likely the hawkmoth Xanthophan morgani praedicta kept evolving a longer tongue to better reach the nectar while the flower developed a deeper spur to accommodate it.  This is called "coevolution."  Fascinating.

This past weekend, my friend Christian Drake, who writes the Quantum Biologist, was in town.  We explored the woods, he identifying the various trees and me the edible plants.  We came across an unusual looking insect, something that looked like a moth but built more like a fly, with one pair of black wings with orange stripes.  Maybe a snipe fly.  I will research that later on Bug Guide.  It was on that excursion I told him 

about the ants.

Sphinx Moth caterpillar

I don’t mind ants, per se.  If they’re in the house, I squish them and set out Borax traps, but if they’re outside, I mostly leave them alone.  They let me know when I have an aphid infestation, because they harvest the honeydew off them, herding them like cattle.  (They’ll even fight off the ladybird beetles who try to eat them.)  They certainly aerate the soil.  And my daughter enjoys lifting up the rock border of our garden beds to look at them.

Earlier last week, I went out to just enjoy the garden on a warm spring night.  On top of the steps was the largest ant I’d ever seen, dancing around with a small ant with wings.  I presumed the winged ant was male, and after a quick Google search, revealed the behemoth to be a queen carpenter ant.  I squished it with a small box on the welcome mat.

A few days later, it happened.  Mid-afternoon, as thick as brownies, tiny ants were crawling back and forth in a big trail around my strawberry plants...  “They’re after me gold!” I felt like shouting.  I tried researching if this swarm was because I had killed the queen, but all I could find out was that they quite like strawberries.  It was time to get medieval.

Crane Fly?

The slugs and snails had been lured to dessicated, beer-filled ends.  The garlic chives were at the end of their flower.  Now to whip out the big guns for I.P.M. (Integrated Pest Management): I transplanted two of my new feverfew seedlings to the area, chock full of pyrethrum, a potent insecticide.  I also tore up leaves from the parent plant to release the oils and threw those all over.  Next, I shook out a heavy dose of diatomaceous earth (microscopic ocean critter skeletons) right over the ants and all access points to the strawberries.  The stuff feels like talc to us, but is like walking on broken glass.  (Don’t breathe it in or ingest it.)  By morning, they were gone.  I spread coffee grounds all around, because the smell deters them, just for good measure. 

I even stake the taller plants with the biggest berries to keep them off the ground and away from tiny feasters.  I know ants and slugs can get up there anyway, but they'll have to work harder.  Meanwhile, the long-necked seed bugs are back.  A quick shake and squish (put a plate underneath), and the strawberries are safe.  For now.   

Long-Necked Seed Bugs