Inchworm Ninjas, Hidden Cocoons, and Hungry Anoles

On Sunday, I stepped outside to discover a joyous curiousity : inchworms hanging from silken threads . . . EVERYWHERE. It was impossible to walk without entangling myself in the web-like strands. Miniature hitchhikers stuck to my fleece jacket at every turn. With the help of a lively breeze, the twig-like caterpillars swung this way and that, like upside down kites. What were these insects up to?

Of course, I wanted to identify the insect ninjas that were zip-lining down from the oak trees. With iphone in hand and my iNaturalist app at the ready, I attempted to get a picture. My first efforts resulted in fuzzy brown dots, blurred by the unrelenting wind. Then I carefully placed the critters on different colored backgrounds - a leaf or the driveway. Sometimes referred to as loopers, their unique method of locomotion - pulling the center of their body upward and then extending their bodies out straight - is remarkably efficient. At times, I ran to my husband yelling, "Quick! Quick! Get a picture of the inchworm on my arm!" (He is used to this kind of strange behavior, thank goodness.) Finally, on day two, a photo opportunity arose when I spotted an inchworm on the inner rim of my red coffee mug, left behind in the garden. Perfect, or so I thought. No luck. I did send off an image to iNaturalist for identification.

In the meantime, I picked up a trusted field guide. I immediately envied the cover photo, a scarlet caterpillar with spiky black hairs and elegant tube-like feet, its head reared like a tiny dragon. Stunning. (Add to wish list: macro lens and tripod.) As birders will recognize, the inchworms in my yard turned out to be the LBJ's (little brown jobs) of the caterpillar world. Although my guide was for the East Coast, I discovered that most inchworms belong to the geometer family of moths.

The harmless caterpillars, who hatch from eggs laid on twig tips months earlier, feed on newly emerging leaves. On windy days, they are dislodged from the branches and release strands of silk, like acrobats. Or, when threatened by predators, inchworms parachute off leaves to escape, dangling wildly in midair. After stuffing themselves with oak leaves, they form silk cocoons and often lay in leaf litter until the adult emerges. A small moth, the adult has wings many shades of brown and white, perfect for disguising itself as oak bark. It is a short life cycle, one filled with adventure and risk and skill. A terrifying fall or the flight of a lifetime? It is hard to tell.

I don't often find gorgeous literary writing in field guides, but I have to share this because it made me smile, as inchworms often do.

Agitated caterpillars may hurl themselves from their perch and thrash about, snapping their bodies like wound rubber bands.
                                                              David L. Wagner
                                                              Caterpillars of Eastern North America

If you are finding yourself surrounded by inchworms, celebrate! According to Doug Tallamy in his most recent book The Nature of Oaks: The Rich Ecology of Our Most Essential Native Trees, inchworms are an excellent indicator of biodiversity in your yard. Birds and lizards gobble up inchworms, representing the transfer of energy from plants to animals. According to research completed at the University of Delaware, 5,000 to 9,000 insects, including caterpillars, are required to raise one brood of chickadees. Can you imagine?

While chasing inchworms, I found other signs of creatures around my yard. An enormous cocoon attached to my cenizo bush turned out to be the birthplace of a calleta silkmoth. And a hungry green anole startled me from its perch near the yaupon holly tree. One thing always leads to another when you step outside! What joyous curiosities will you encounter?

Nature Books:
The Nature of Oaks: The Rich Ecology of Our Most Essential Native Trees by Douglas W. Tallamy
Caterpillars of Eastern North America by David L. Wagner
Tracks & Sign of Insects and Other Invertebrates by Charley Eiseman and Noah Charney