I once discovered an exotic moth. One we haven’t dealt with in our state or even the Midwest. Barely even the country. It’s not a landscape insect but a pest for growers. If it could survive outdoors it would be a devastating insect.
I found him while treating what I thought was a fungal issue with coral bells. The top of one of the crowns popped off to expose the inside of the crown had been tunneled like a borer had been in it. It was a larvae to a moth in the crown of the plants. I had been battling a water mold. At the time we had a grower developing early onset Alzheimer’s, so often there was erratic watering schedules, and a soil heavy on the wetting agent. This was all a recipe for disaster to begin with.
I eventually became diligent in the identification of this moth. Mostly because it was totally different than the thousands I had tried to make him be. I asked other growers. Some seemed bored and even irritated I might be suggesting it came from their plants. Which it had to of. I grow plants from people who grow plants who buy plants across the ocean. I reached out to a state who dealt with this pest. They confirmed my suspicion of the moth being an exotic. It was sent for testing.
How did this European moth get to my Midwest greenhouse? My mind is a network of paths. I took samples to the lab here in town where they sent it to be confirmed. The lady who took my moth sample ”lost” him the first time. I just happened to be swatting my hands through the air pretending to catch this one when I actually did. Catching another was going to be very difficult. I almost wish I had one pressed in a book as a memory. Except I can’t smash them. It’s not everyday you find an insect from so far away and so unknown.
What happened though was I dreamt about moths for weeks. Twice in a nightmare form. The larvae consuming me. The control consuming me. It’s one thing I can’t control. Even in the end the moth could win. If all growers don’t work together to eradicate him, he will find a way to sustain life. That is how the world works. If I ended up in Europe somehow by accidentally getting stuck in some luggage or brought there on accident I would likely find a way to not just survive but thrive.
This moth has a host of plants it will love. If it makes its way to a warmer climate where he can survive the winters or the winters allow them to survive by becoming mild he will eliminate many plants very quickly. Then what, move into our crops? Taking out corn crops? It had the perfect structure for its likes. Then we will run out of corn? Then what? I can’t let that happen.
The thing with invasive exotic species is we can’t stop them, or even control them, we can try to make their living less desirable, starve them, not plant what they love, remove what they do. I spent ten years on campus stalking the emerald ash borer, looking, hunting, obsessing, I was convinced it was here but I couldn’t find the evidence, little did I know then it was just way up in the canopy. By the time I saw the symptoms in the trees it was too late. I spent so long looking for larvae that I found we had other issues, other larvae in our trees already weakened by the one I couldn’t find. I couldn’t eat noodles for years as they looked like larvae to me.
We removed over 500 Ash trees, I did most of the work myself to scout for the larvae. Some trees didn’t have it but were removed to avoid hazards down the road. Every tree had to be evaluated. I learned to rig trees during this time, I spent days in the 80 foot lift pregnant. I’m convinced it’s why she loves heights. To this day I’m still furious I haven’t seen a live larvae of the emerald ash borer or the beautiful insect himself.
I took this chance to re-forest the campus with natives, and more diverse selection to try and lessen the risk of another invasive pest. My little thumbprint will be seen in the tree canopy years from now. I hope.
I travel to Michigan as much as I do to hopefully find this insect. I just want to see him, myself. I’ve seen the damage he can do. The forests gone, streets wiped of trees, my campus. But I need to see it to believe it. I need to find him. To believe it’s true.
I’m obsessed with exotic species. It may even be why I love plants. Because they attract bugs. It is fascinating that they make it all this way from home. Like little hitch hikers, adventurers. Blazing trails for insects across the world. I imagine them communicating and networking thought channels we don’t understand or believe in. Do they feel the same about us? Do they feel?
I drafted this weeks ago in hopes I wouldn’t have to add that the moth survived the winter. I have been stalking this moth for weeks. In hopes it isn’t back. I struggled to kill them. After getting to know them so well I didn’t want to eradicate them. I poisoned them by watering with chemicals so the borer wouldn’t survive. I couldn’t freeze my greenhouse this winter properly from a mild winter. The moth could likely survive. So far I’m in mid May and have seen no signs he survived. I also grew very few of his favorite food. But now I brought in my largest shipment of his favorite food. I imagine I am wrong. There is likely one resilient little bug that will bug me. Like bugs do. They bug me. It’s their job and their name. Their purpose of life.
I won’t be able to smash the one. I can’t handle the smeared dust of a beautiful moth. I’m both a terrible grower and a great one. I can’t kill bugs without it bugging me.
To this day it surprises me I have never seen a live emerald ash borer. They are beautiful little insects. I have to quit looking. I did. Sort of. But it bugs me. I know that when I’m not looking is when I will see it. Like I will be running late and looking for my keys and look down and think I see an earring. It will be an exotic borer. Or I will be in the greenhouse not looking and the moth will land right on the nose of an employee. I won’t be able to smack it on their face. It will bug me. Like bugs do.
Aspenleaf 