Summer…tomatoes…hornworms… It seems like you can’t have one without the others.
Jenny, friend of the blog, over on the other coast, sent me this photo from her garden, a tobacco hornworm that has been parasitized by a wasp.
Here’s an almost perky description of what’s happening, courtesy the Clemson University Department of Entomology, Soils & Plant Sciences page. You can practically hear the entomologists spinning their LPs with bubbly 1950s pizzicato string music in the background:
The adult wasp inserts its eggs beneath the skin of the hornworm larva. The eggs hatch and the young braconids feed on the viscera of the hornworm until they pupate… This parasite is an important factor in control of hornworms and is most beneficial (my italics).
I do get protective of my tomatoes, especially early in the season. But learning the details of biological controls sometimes gives me the creeps.
Any empathy for the evil hornworm out there? No? Oh well. I thought I’d try…
I feel nothing for the worm!
No empathy from me. I hate the little buggers.
uh, I’m so happy I didn’t find this on my tomatoes! It’s a touch stomach-churning. I did find 3 very small black and white caterpillars curled up on a chelone lyonii tonight. Cute as they are, I was sort of hoping they’d be tiny butterflies in the making, but I think they’re just eating my plant is all.
Darla and Paul, this is proof. Nature’s brutal!
Lynn, I think it’s one of those untold facts about plants that are sold for butterfly gardens. People picture pretty flowers with flitting butterflies all around, when in reality a lot of the butterfly plants are actually bug-food, as in crawly, icky, caterpillar-infested bug snacks that the butterfly larvae feed on. But then some of the caterpillars are pretty cool critters by themselves.
Tonight I will retire profoundly grateful that:
1/ We don’t get Tobacco Horn Worms in the UK, or at least, not that I’m aware.
2/ I am not a Tobacco Horn Worm. I am frequently grateful about my position on the food chain and this is yet another great reminder of my luck.
Love those tomatoes! The hornworm, not so much.
I bought a climbing rose from a nursery once that had no smell at the nursery, but after a week at my house it had the most powerful rose smell! Maybe all those florist flowers are just so sad about not being free that they can’t manage a smell 😉
Thank you for pointing out that butterfly gardening actually (partly) means tending to flocks of caterpillars. The sphinx moth, final stage of a tomato hornworm, is a beautiful and impressive creature, subtly colored and as big as my hand. But then, I do love me some tomatoes…