The only thing creepier than the Tomato Hornworm is the insect that preys on them.
Welcome to this week's edition of Something Wild.
I?m Rosemary Conroy for the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests.
One of the wildest and weirdest animals is about to make its presence known to gardeners all over New Hampshire. That is, if it hasn?t already.
Even though technically, it is merely a caterpillar, this thing is big enough in appetite and startling enough in appearance to qualify as an animal.
Yes, I?m talking about the tomato hornworm.
At some point in everyone?s tomato growing career, they will discover this bright green, red-spiked-tail, four-inch long, fat-as-your-index-finger thing eating your precious Romas, Big Boys, and Beefsteaks.
Last summer, a hawk moth laid eggs in your garden. And after hatching a few weeks ago, the caterpillar has been growing, eating, and pooping non-stop, fueling itself on the aforementioned tomatoes, but also potatoes, eggplants, and peppers.
So what should you do? Well, for those who don?t want to share, the hornworms are easily picked off ? no chemicals are necessary. An alternative, of course, is to grow extra tomato plants just for these very hungry caterpillars, so they can become an equally amazing hawk moth later.
Now if you are lucky, you can witness a natural control that must have been the basis for the old horror movie, Alien. A certain type parasitic wasp seeks out tomato hornworms so it can eggs on its back. Once they hatch, the wasp?s larvae burrow into the caterpillar ? and are you ready for this ? eat it from the inside out!
Is that wild or what?
So if you discover a tomato hornworm with white egg cases on its back, do not kill it. The caterpillar is already doomed and is probably nursing a new generation of parasitic wasps.
Who needs horror movies? Just go into the garden!
Something Wild is a joint production of the Audubon Society of New Hampshire, NHPR, and the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests.
For Something Wild, I?m Rosemary Conroy.
