Today [Dirt and Bugsy] are looking for beetles.
It is not very hard.
Beetles are everywhere.
On the ground
and in the air.
from Dirt and Bugsy: Beetle Mania
written by Megan Litwin
illustrated by Shauna Lynn Panczyszyn
Penguin Young Readers, 2023
Yes, I know. The phrase is really “Put a bug in my ear,” and it means to give someone a reminder or suggestion that relates to a future event. So last week when I bragged that I hadn’t seen a Japanese beetle on my roses yet, my gardening friends put a bug in my ear about waiting until the 4th of July.
Turns out, I did not even need to wait that long.
Japanese beetles were first discovered in the US in a New Jersey nursery in the early 1900s, unknowingly attached to the roots of some plants brought in from Asia for the 1916 World’s Fair. While their population is kept in check in their native Japan by natural predators, they have no natural enemies here. They seem to multiply at the speed of light.
As of 2021, they are found in 38 states and continue to spread westward. Eradication efforts are in process from New York to California. Even if a massive effort is made to rid an area of the pests, more could (and probably will) reproduce and reestablish themselves at any time. Here's a distribution map from the Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service (APHIS), a division of the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA).
Among its other duties, APHIS watches for “hitchhiking” adult beetles to prevent their continued western spread as it regulates air cargo traffic.
At my house, and my neighbors’ houses and their neighbors’ … adult beetles emerge from underground around the 4th of July. They feed on my rose bush and about 300 other plants including grapes (fruit and leaves), basil, hollyhock, marigolds (which some sources said are a deterrent since the beetles don’t like the smell), corn silks, cherry, plum, and birch trees.
During their four to six weeks of activity, a feeding frenzy and mating orgy, females burrow underground periodically to lay their eggs. Each female will lay between 40 and 60 eggs. By mid-summer, right about now, the eggs hatch, and hundreds of thousands of grubs begin to feast on the grass roots conveniently close to their burrows. By late autumn, the grubs are about an inch long. They remain buried in their larval stage all winter, ready to emerge as pupae in early spring. Their metamorphosis is complete right around the 4th of July when the cycle begins again.
And again.
Looked at objectively, Japanese beetles, like the rest of the 350,000-400,000 species of beetles in the world including the 205 species of beetles that live in Ohio, are quite beautiful. The shiny, iridescent greens complement the richly-hued coppers of their outer wings. All set off by jet-black legs and feathery-looking antennae.
But I don’t stop to consider their beauty. They eat the leaves of my roses, morning glories, and the beautiful little, red bush with the springtime pink flowers until all that’s left are their skeletons.
Last year, against my better judgment, advice from gardener friends, and knowledgeable staff at the local garden center, my husband put up a beetle bag. The bags work by attracting the beetles, but they attract ever so many more than they catch. So even though beetle after beetle flew into the bag in enormously huge numbers, the staggering swarm seemed endless.
In years past, I’ve tried ignoring them, picking them off one by one and dropping them into a jar of soapy water, spraying my bush with the same soapy water, and just shooing them away when I found them as I watered and weeded. And my coincidental and serendipitous companion planting.
These mildly non-aggressive tactics predictably did not work to eradicate the infestation.
So my beetle battle begins, again.
This time around, I know I need a more offensive stance. I don’t mean to offend. That’s not the offensive I’m talking about. I’d rather deter than decimate, demolish, or destroy them, but when I have to choose between a flower and a bug, I’ll choose the flower every time.
I read that Japanese beetles do not like the smell of chives, onions, basil, garlic, or rosemary. Coincidentally, my rosebush lives in the midst of all those plants, but my rosebush’s Japanese beetles did not get that memo. While companion planting sounds great in theory, it has not been effective in my small garden.
I bought a spray bottle of Japanese Beetle Killer made by Bonide. It includes two active ingredients. Pyrethrins, found naturally in some chrysanthemum flowers, are a mixture of six different chemicals that are toxic to insects. Piperonyl butoxide is a man-made synergist. It works to enhance the effectiveness of the insecticide it’s combined with.
According to the label and the website, it’s registered with the EPA and safe to use on vegetables.
The first couple of days required vigilance. I sprayed my little rose bush every time I saw a beetle. Needless to say, I was outside for a good portion of the day. Since then, though, I have not seen a beetle.
But you can bet that if I do, (when I do) it won’t be there very long.
I started reading The Woman in Cabin 10 by Ruth Ware (Gallery/Scout Press, 2016). I’m a little out of my regular genre (whatever eclectic mix that is) with this psychological thriller. After a young woman boards a luxury yacht to complete a work assignment, she witnesses something horribly disturbing. Without any evidence, though, no one on board believes her. So is this a classic case of gas-lighting, or did the unthinkable event really occur? (I haven’t gotten far enough along, yet to know.)
-—stay curious! (and watchful)
It is not very hard.
Beetles are everywhere.
On the ground
and in the air.
from Dirt and Bugsy: Beetle Mania
written by Megan Litwin
illustrated by Shauna Lynn Panczyszyn
Penguin Young Readers, 2023
Yes, I know. The phrase is really “Put a bug in my ear,” and it means to give someone a reminder or suggestion that relates to a future event. So last week when I bragged that I hadn’t seen a Japanese beetle on my roses yet, my gardening friends put a bug in my ear about waiting until the 4th of July.
Turns out, I did not even need to wait that long.
Japanese beetles were first discovered in the US in a New Jersey nursery in the early 1900s, unknowingly attached to the roots of some plants brought in from Asia for the 1916 World’s Fair. While their population is kept in check in their native Japan by natural predators, they have no natural enemies here. They seem to multiply at the speed of light.
As of 2021, they are found in 38 states and continue to spread westward. Eradication efforts are in process from New York to California. Even if a massive effort is made to rid an area of the pests, more could (and probably will) reproduce and reestablish themselves at any time. Here's a distribution map from the Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service (APHIS), a division of the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA).
Among its other duties, APHIS watches for “hitchhiking” adult beetles to prevent their continued western spread as it regulates air cargo traffic.
At my house, and my neighbors’ houses and their neighbors’ … adult beetles emerge from underground around the 4th of July. They feed on my rose bush and about 300 other plants including grapes (fruit and leaves), basil, hollyhock, marigolds (which some sources said are a deterrent since the beetles don’t like the smell), corn silks, cherry, plum, and birch trees.
During their four to six weeks of activity, a feeding frenzy and mating orgy, females burrow underground periodically to lay their eggs. Each female will lay between 40 and 60 eggs. By mid-summer, right about now, the eggs hatch, and hundreds of thousands of grubs begin to feast on the grass roots conveniently close to their burrows. By late autumn, the grubs are about an inch long. They remain buried in their larval stage all winter, ready to emerge as pupae in early spring. Their metamorphosis is complete right around the 4th of July when the cycle begins again.
And again.
Looked at objectively, Japanese beetles, like the rest of the 350,000-400,000 species of beetles in the world including the 205 species of beetles that live in Ohio, are quite beautiful. The shiny, iridescent greens complement the richly-hued coppers of their outer wings. All set off by jet-black legs and feathery-looking antennae.
But I don’t stop to consider their beauty. They eat the leaves of my roses, morning glories, and the beautiful little, red bush with the springtime pink flowers until all that’s left are their skeletons.
Last year, against my better judgment, advice from gardener friends, and knowledgeable staff at the local garden center, my husband put up a beetle bag. The bags work by attracting the beetles, but they attract ever so many more than they catch. So even though beetle after beetle flew into the bag in enormously huge numbers, the staggering swarm seemed endless.
In years past, I’ve tried ignoring them, picking them off one by one and dropping them into a jar of soapy water, spraying my bush with the same soapy water, and just shooing them away when I found them as I watered and weeded. And my coincidental and serendipitous companion planting.
These mildly non-aggressive tactics predictably did not work to eradicate the infestation.
So my beetle battle begins, again.
This time around, I know I need a more offensive stance. I don’t mean to offend. That’s not the offensive I’m talking about. I’d rather deter than decimate, demolish, or destroy them, but when I have to choose between a flower and a bug, I’ll choose the flower every time.
I read that Japanese beetles do not like the smell of chives, onions, basil, garlic, or rosemary. Coincidentally, my rosebush lives in the midst of all those plants, but my rosebush’s Japanese beetles did not get that memo. While companion planting sounds great in theory, it has not been effective in my small garden.
I bought a spray bottle of Japanese Beetle Killer made by Bonide. It includes two active ingredients. Pyrethrins, found naturally in some chrysanthemum flowers, are a mixture of six different chemicals that are toxic to insects. Piperonyl butoxide is a man-made synergist. It works to enhance the effectiveness of the insecticide it’s combined with.
According to the label and the website, it’s registered with the EPA and safe to use on vegetables.
The first couple of days required vigilance. I sprayed my little rose bush every time I saw a beetle. Needless to say, I was outside for a good portion of the day. Since then, though, I have not seen a beetle.
But you can bet that if I do, (when I do) it won’t be there very long.
I started reading The Woman in Cabin 10 by Ruth Ware (Gallery/Scout Press, 2016). I’m a little out of my regular genre (whatever eclectic mix that is) with this psychological thriller. After a young woman boards a luxury yacht to complete a work assignment, she witnesses something horribly disturbing. Without any evidence, though, no one on board believes her. So is this a classic case of gas-lighting, or did the unthinkable event really occur? (I haven’t gotten far enough along, yet to know.)
-—stay curious! (and watchful)
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