a medium sized fuzzy devil
These voracious bastards are among the most highly evolved worms and possess a special taste for the apple and cherry trees that make up most of our orchard. Since apple and cherry tree leaves contain small amounts of cyanide, these worms have learned to regurgitate a cyanide laced vomit to deter birds and other bugs from eating them. Their fuzzy hairs are also a strong deterrent to predators, leaving the cuckoo bird as nearly their only nemesis in the animal kingdom. We started noticing their silk tents in the crotches of our trees about a month ago when the weather began to warm and I naively thought I could control them by climbing the trees and tearing down their nests by hand and stick or blasting the nests too high to reach with a hose.
the silky fortress of the enemy worm
Turns out I severely misunderestimated these cyborg caterpillars of doom. So, next I tried pruning entire limbs off where they have woven their tents and then squishing and burning the worms on the ground. When I had trouble igniting their silken fortresses, I developed my own "agent orange" for worms consisting of Club Man aftershave and April's hairspray. While it was satisfying to torch the enemy, the process was too slow to combat the 10 or more nests in some trees and I realized I would never be able to keep up with all 75 trees with these tactics. My desire to grow everything organically was diminishing as some trees were becoming nearly completely defoliated.
to the right is a tree, on the left is a tree on bugs
a closer look at the damage
With each leaf they consumed, the caterpillar army grew stronger and my morale sunk lower until I began to contemplate the "nuclear" option. I did some research trying to identify a chemical or pesticide that would destroy the worms without killing April's bees and finally hit the jackpot when I stumbled across a soil dwelling bacteria known as Bacillus thuringiensis or BT. This commonly used biological alternative to pesticide meant I could stop the caterpillars with no collateral damage to the hives and still stay organic. I was almost giddy as I envisioned the carnage I could inflict upon the worms as soon as my biological weapons arrived, my soul became less soft hearted and more like Saddam Hussein imagining the devastation of Wormpocalypse. When April brought home my package from Amazon on Monday evening, I was so excited she counted the number of times I said, "It's on like Donkey Kong!" somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 or 8. So, early Tuesday morning, before the worms had squirmed out of their silk tents to feast on my trees; I mixed up 4 tablespoons of Safer Brand Caterpillar Killer with BT per gallon of water in my sprayer and headed out to slay the fuzzy dragons. I neglected to read the directions, because when at war there is rarely time for such things as reading the directions. I spent from 8am until late in the afternoon going from tree to tree with my sprayer and tree saw, blasting each nest I could reach and pruning down the ones I couldn't before blasting them too. Then, to make sure they were good and dead, I stomped and ground the wriggling masses of worms into the dirt with my boots. I was sunburnt and exhausted when I retreated to the house for a glass of cherry limeade and decided to check the internet to see why some worms were stubbornly refusing to die. Turns out I should have read the directions. You aren't supposed to spray the worms themselves, but the leaves on the trees instead so that the bacteria will be ingested before it can paralyze their digestive system. I was somewhat disappointed that I had wasted the day and nearly a whole jar of BT, but I had ordered extra so I mixed up some more bug juice and returned to the frontlines. I was able to get through spraying the foliage of every tree in the front orchard before night fell and I grew tired of battle. I was able to get to the back orchard a day later but was caught by a surprise attack as the worms had recruited a new ally in the war against me, Fireblight. Unlike my bacterial ally, BT, fireblight is a contagious, destructive protobacteria that leaves tree bark looking torched and there is no known cure besides pruning off infected limbs or even cutting down the entire tree to prevent its spread. Between the worms and the blight, I was beginning to feel bitchslapped by mother nature and wondering whether organic farming was really the wave of the future or just for city born idiots who enjoy being outsmarted by insects and bacteria. I did my best to prune out the blighted and dead branches along with the nests and sprayed the foliage thoroughly. But no matter how much I cut and sprayed it seemed there was always another silken bag of writhing worms to contend with. I consulted with the local county agricultural agent at my master gardener class and he recommended spraying the foliage with a real pesticide like Sevin as soon as the blossoms had dropped off the trees; but I was still concerned about April's bees who I am becoming fond of in a stupid hippie sort of way. So I turned to the wizened beepeople of the Caldwell County Beekeepers Clubs at our annual picnic on Thursday night; asking for their ideas on controlling the Tent Caterpillars. Finally, I got the answer I had been looking for. Cooking Oil, Lemon Joy and hot water well mixed becomes a deadly caterpillar coating gel that suffocates them by clogging their air exchange mechanism. It was just the sort of folksy remedy I had been hoping for and when I mixed up a batch and began to spray around our raised beds where the worms had advanced, I was delighted to see it was both instant and deadly. As I write these words, I have probably spent around 30 or more hours waging war with the Eastern Tent Caterpillar and have grudgingly grown to respect this worthy foe. I have tried feeding some prisoners of war to the chickens but they refuse to consume the fuzzy, cyanide laced warriors. With only my boots and a lemon scented blend of soap and oil to defend our fruit trees the battle rages on. Only time will tell who shall emerge triumphant to taste the sweet fruits of victory...
will the sun set on the caterpillar empire or my dreams of organic farming?
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