My Friend, the Assassin

Trying to keep my garden free of pesticides where possible means that I need to accept help from some friends. Certain garden residents are beneficial, as many people know. Ladybugs and spiders, for instance, tend to feed on other pests, while dragonflies love to dine on mosquitoes, which just adds to the dragonfly’s coolness quotient.

But my favorite above all: the assassin bug.

An assassin bug, at lunch. Image credit: davesgarden.com

The assassin bug, as its name suggests, feeds on other insects. This, of course, earns the assassins mixed reviews, as they are just as likely to prey on beneficial insects as they are on annoying ones. When an assassin bug helped me with an infestation of beetles that were boring into my satsuma tree, he won a pass for all his kin in my garden.

How do you know if you have an assassin bug in your garden? Sometimes you don’t. Again, as their name suggests, they are stealthy hunters. They tend to hide when humans approach. I find it amusing that at the Audubon Insectarium in New Orleans, there is a display for assassin bugs that appears empty…because all the bugs are hiding behind the rocks. These bugs tend to stalk their prey and then, once they capture them, promptly inject them with a toxin before enjoying their cannibalistic snack. This same toxin can give humans a sting, but the assassins will only attack people if attacked first.

There are many different kinds of assassin bugs, but the orange-and-black one is the only kind I’ve seen in my garden. A mistake I initially made was in thinking that a group of leaf-footed bug nymphs were a whole crop of assassin bugs. It’s an easy error.

Leaf-footed bug nymphs. Image credit: asergeev.com

The differences between the leaf-footed bug nympghs and the assassin bugs lie in some of their physical and social characteristics. The assassin bug also has legs that are thin throughout, where the leaf-footed bug nymphs, well, they’re developing their leaf-like feet, but I’m not out in my garden playing with insect feet in 95-degree heat.

So I look at behavior. The assassin bug, he works alone. The nymphs are often found in a cluster, often, say, hypothetically, hanging out on your tomato plant no matter how much you’ve tried to keep them away and they’re not even shy about it, teasing you with their promises to grow up and suck the life out of your crop while you swear viciously at them. The assassin bug, he understands that a woman needs her space and promptly gets out of the way.

Ahem.

Anyway, over time, the differences seem obvious, as with exposure and experience in anything.

So I would ask that you give an assassin bug a high-five when you see him, but he’s an introvert. Just send him some kudos and be grateful for the creepy, stalky cannibals lurking in your garden.

 

Griping About Gripeweed

It is about this time of year that gripeweed, also known as chamberbitter, begins to flourish in Louisiana lawns and gardens. I used to like gripeweed when I was young, because when touched, the leaves fold in on themselves. Gripeweed fascinated me. Now, it infuriates me. (Well, not really. That was just a nice parallel. If I truly got infuriated by gripeweed, I’d need blood pressure medication. I save all my infuriation for stink bugs.)

Oh, gripes. Image credit: wynnslawncare.com

Gripeweed is not picky. Shade? Loves it. Sun? Loves it. Garden beds? Loves them. Lawns? Loves them. Lots of love, this gripeweed has to give. Technically, it’s an annual herb, actually, so do we do it justice with such an ugly name? Yes. Yes, we do.

Though not prone to grow very tall, a maximum no more than two feet above the ground, gripeweed can spread very fast. The main reason for its healthy proliferation is the location of the gripeweed’s seeds, which are found on the underside of leaves.

Looks from above like they don’t bear seeds? Look again. Image credit: nola.com

Bonus trivia: Some people look to farm animals like horses and cows for natural weed control, because the animals munch on the greens. In the case of gripeweed, though, the seeds can pass right through the animals and still make new weeds. Yum!

Many people turn to pesticides to control gripeweed and any other unwanted visitors, and they report satisfying results. But I am trying my best to grow edibles like fruits, vegetables, and herbs. I know that there are some insecticides and pesticides ruled safe for such plants, but by my own preference, I do not spray. I try to use natural preventative measures, like mulching, and I go with reactionary defenses like hand-to-hand combat, pulling weeds and swatting pests about as gracelessly and sweatfully as it sounds.  In those zenlike moments, like when I am heartily cursing the newborn caterpillars munching on my basil, I swear I will tear it all down. But a handful of freshly picked blueberries has a way of changing things and making all the gripes melt away. (But not the gripeweed, too, unfortunately.)

This Week’s Edition of ‘What’s That Growth?’

Following the stink bug invasion–which is not completely over, apparently, but more on that later–I find myself extra vigilant about changes in the garden. I noticed some small, hard growths on the stems of my tomato plants. The same were apparent on some, but not all, of my basil plants. Research impulses activated!

First, I thought that the growths were spittlebug (froghopper) eggs, since I have had a more-than-usual amount of those pests this year in my lawn and garden.

The two-striped spittlebug (or froghopper) common in St. Tammany. Image credit: zoysiagrass-seed.com

But the way spittlebugs lay their eggs contributes to their names. They surround their eggs with a protective foam that resembles spittle. The reason that they are also known as froghoppers is because they leap around the yard, their jumping ability proportionally exceeding that of fleas. St. Tammany residents are likely to notice spittlebugs springing from the grass as they mow the lawn.

Spittlebug eggs in foam. Image credit: oregonstate.edu

I also wondered if perhaps the growths I saw were stink bug eggs, seeing as those creatures have been on my mind, and I just presume that they have simply set up shop in my backyard. But a little research showed me that, no, what I was observing were not stink bug eggs, and I will spare everyone nightmares by omitting photos of stink bugs hatching from eggs, plotting to take over your attic space.

Ultimately, I figured out what the growths are, and they were not eggs after all. Instead, they were roots. When roots sprout from the stems of plants in that way, they are called adventitious roots.

Adventitious roots. Image credit: plantdiagnostics.umd.edu

Experienced tomato growers know that, if starting with transplants, when they first get the plants home, they should strip some of the bottom leaves and plant the transplants deeply. Tomato plants are likely to sprout more roots thanks to this planting, which will help support the plant as it grows.

I had planted my tomatoes deeply and had started my basil from seed, so since the plants are thriving and the roots are not causing damage, then I will consider them harmless hippie fringe for my garden. If anyone sees these growths on their plants and are tempted to remove them for cosmetic reasons, keep in mind that doing so can create open areas of the plant that could become susceptible to pests or disease.

Stink Bug Update: Knowing that the world clamors to know the latest events on “As the Stink Bug Turns,” after I sprayed the offenders with soapy water, yes, the bugs died. But the plants were harmed in the process. I accept the sacrifice because the stink bugs were damaging the plants and making cozy nests for themselves, but I wouldn’t recommend spraying the bugs while they are on the plants for anyone who wants to preserve the plants.

Because my priority, though, is making sure I don’t wind up with a house full of stink bugs, I let the plants take a hit. I also took down the entire back corner of blackberries, and since that was Stink Bug HQ, a prompt and soapy massacre took place. Maybe I am going crazy, but I will at least be a crazy woman free of stink bugs. Eventually.

Bird Droppings or Caterpillars?

I have a Meyer lemon tree in my backyard that I will forever love because of the nearly yearlong bounty of wonderful juice it gave me last summer. I bought lemons today for the first time in so long, and I was bitter.

Another wonderful aspect of the Meyer lemon tree is that it is a natural host for the giant swallowtail butterfly.

Giant swallowtail butterfly. Image credit: Softsolder.com

Last year, I felt like I was touched by magic when I happened to be standing near the Meyer lemon tree, and a butterfly happened by and paused for just a half-moment to lay a single egg on a leaf.

Fortunately, I’d happened to read about the caterpillars that eventually turn into swallowtails. The caterpillars have a natural defense mechanism in that they look like bird droppings.

Giant swallowtail caterpillar. Image credit: Texdr.wordpress.com

 

They also have another defense mechanism whereby when they feel threatened, red horns immediately sprout out of their heads, and they can emit a foul-smelling spray to deter predators. But that’s only half as amusing as looking like bird droppings.

Still, even with the unusual appearance, some predators must be accustomed to seeking out the (supposedly) delectable caterpillars, because even when I noticed last year that several were shacking up in my tree, one by one, they seemed to be plucked away.

A few days ago, I noticed three fairly large caterpillars on the tree, so I hope at least one of them will make it to the point where it is fluttering across my yard, delighting my children as it looks for just the right leaf to hold its egg.

 

Stink Bugs

This may seem like an absurd starting point, but stink bugs are on my mind and have been for several days, which does little to make my mind seem appealing. The brown marmorated stink bug has made its presence known in my garden, and if I did not have a friend in Maryland, where the stink bug invasion has reached epic proportions, then I might not have reacted so strongly, my worry cycle quickly shifting to warp speed at the thought of these bugs in my home in uncontrollable amounts, darting around everywhere I look.

First, I saw wee little babies on my blackberries in the back corner, where I also spied their cousins, the leaf-footed bugs.

I started researching how to keep leaf-footed bugs at bay, because I did not want them on my blueberries or tomatoes. That’s when I discovered my mistake, how I was the one at fault for any problems I would have with these insects.

It’s all my fault!

Because I wanted the blackberries to grow undisturbed, I let some of the area get weedy. And where do stink bugs and their cousins like to overwinter? In weedy areas. Where is the only place I saw them (at first)? Right in the weeds by the blackberries.

Oh, my stupid. It hurts.

Now, a few days ago, I noticed stink bugs on the tomatoes. And then, yesterday, when I was checking on my peppers, there they were, too. So mad. I was so mad.

I tried diatomaceous earth, dusting the plants in clouds of it. But that was foolhardy. DE works best for people who have issues with slugs or nematodes, soft-bodied creatures that can be hurt by the DE. It has no effect on insects with firm exoskeletons, and stink bugs, when they first started showing up in Pennsylvania after stowing away on Asian imports, come readily equipped with their own suits of armor.

I researched some strategies online for dealing with the bugs. I kept coming across ideas that mentioned dish soap, either getting the bugs into buckets of the stuff to drown or spraying them until they suffocate.

Today I bought a spray bottle.

This evening, like a matronly ninja, I went to the backyard, to the tomatoes and peppers, and The Great Stink Bug Massacre of 2013 began. I had to refill the spray bottle three times, but in the end, I discovered that (A) I had more stink bugs in my garden than I’d initially thought but thankfully, (B) the technique really worked. Gorgeous carcasses littering the base of my plants. Bonus: Some of the produce has now been thoroughly pre-washed. Bonus, Part Deux: I nearly stepped on a king snake walking back to the house and screamed so loud that he shot across the yard, though apparently not loud enough to draw my kids outside to check on me. I have learned, then, that dish soap is effective against stink bugs and that I should also avoid loudly dying in the backyard, if possible, as no one will attempt to save me.