I am very sorry to announce that in this, my fifteenth year of growing tomatoes, I am finally face-to-face with tomato hornworms. And what disgusting faces they are, too.
The hornworms' faces, I mean. Not mine.
If you've never been unfortunate enough to have personal experience with tomato hornworms, they're this gross caterpillar that eats tomato plants and grows obscenely large. Like four inches. They're squishy and repulsive. They squirt green goo out of their mouths when you tug on them to pull them off the tomato plant they've suctioned onto. And they will defoliate a tomato plant before you can say, "WHAT is THAT?"
I've enlisted my small army of boys who are enthralled with gross things to pick them off of the plants and either smash them with a rock or feed them to the chickens. This helps, but there are always more.
En route to chickens.
Poppy is happy to look for them and point them out to me, but she will no longer touch them after she grabbed one with her bare hand and got green goo all over her fingers.
I can't really blame her. I don't like touching them, either.
In far less disgusting news, our neighbor called to ask if I wanted any of the apricots from his tree.
I couldn't say yes fast enough to that question.
Our tree didn't even bloom this year, thanks to a really intense cold spell that killed all the buds. He only lives about half a mile away, but his tree must be a later blooming one.
Anyway. We all went up there and gathered the apricots, mostly from the ground. I was very happy to have fruit. They were very small and on the acidic side, which means really, really good jam.
I was very amused by this claim on the side of the box I happened to grab to collect the apricots.
"Jam-free," huh? We'll see about that.
Cubby's friend lives on one of the big ranches somewhat near us. There is actually a swimming pool on this ranch, and his friend's mom kindly invited us to a pool party with several of the families that work on the ranch. The house the pool is at is at the base of some cliffs that reminded me of the smooth, kind of wavy rock formations in Arizona.
I particularly like the plant opportunistically growing out of that little hole in the center.
And there you have it! My life, snapshotted.
The first time I ever saw a hornworm I was walking through the tomato rows, just peacefully enjoying the garden. I turned my head and there inches away was a hornworm. YUK!!!
ReplyDeleteThe jam looks wonderful!
Hornworms are so gross.
ReplyDeleteLinda
I read somewhere recently that a good way to spot those hornworms (my nemeses) is to go out at night with a black light. Supposedly they glow and stand out really well. I have yet to try it as the vile things have not yet made an appearance this year.
ReplyDeleteJust wondering about toxicity to chickens since the hornworms are eating toxic tomato plants.
ReplyDeleteG.P.: That never occurred to me. I looked it up, and apparently the solanine in tomatoes--the toxic compound found in the nightshade family--is only a problem in large amounts. Since the entire flock of 16 chickens is only getting maybe 6-8 hornworms a day, it shouldn't be a problem.
ReplyDeleteGood, I looked it up to and couldn't find anything. That is why I thought I would mention it and you could find it.
ReplyDeleteI know deer eat poison ivy without a problem I guess it could be something like that.
Just seconding the black light. We ordered a couple of small ones and take great joy in going out at night to find them and squash them. (My chickens weren't enthralled, and I didn't really want to save them til the morning anyway...) I just grab them by their little horned tail and pull them off - if they are sliming out of their mouth I've never noticed. And a quick squish with my shoe and it's no more hornworm!
ReplyDelete