Of Cameras, Caterpillars and Mint

A few years ago I felt the need for an inexpensive digital camera. One of those cute little ones that could slip in your pocket, go with you anywhere and cost somewhat less than your average sports car. I shopped around a little bit and ended up with a Samsung S630 for just under a hundred bucks. It ended up being a wonderful deal, with a close-up photo ability that surpassed my far more expensive Canon S1.

And then, like any good love story, the tale ended tragically. I lost the camera one day while doing vet checks on the shelter cats. I didn’t give up easily, and went back to every store I’d been to asking if the camera had been turned in. Nobody found it, and life went on. I got another small digital, but it just didn’t have the same close-up ability of my Samsung.

Fast forward two years later. I went to do vet checks on the cats last Wednesday, when the store manage came into the back room where I was working holding out a small red camera case. “Look familiar?” he asked. Apparently my little Samsung had been languishing in the store safe for two years.

I had missed the camera during my Waldoette and Ziltoidia caterpillar raising, but it was returned just in time for me to be able to take pictures of this wonderful little critter:

Side View

Top View

He looked just like a huge wooly bear caterpillar at first glance, but a second look told me that I’d never seen one of these in my life. He was twice the size of a wooly bear, with bright red striping under a heavy armor of spines. I spent a little time on the web looking him up and it turns out he’s a Great Leopard Moth caterpillar, and will hatch out this spring into one of these lovely moths with a three-inch wingspan:

This picture isn’t mine – I appropriated it from Crotafang at Diviantart.com.
I found him while weeding out all the mint from my front garden (more on that later). He turned out to be the perfect camera subject – willing to uncurl but not particularly interested in escape. With my lovely little Samsung I was able to get some incredible close-ups of his feet.

I love taking close-up pictures because they reveal so much about small critters that you just can’t see with the naked eye. The front three legs are the “thoracic legs”, or true legs, while all the little pudgy legs that run along the rest of the caterpillar are called the “abdominal prolegs”. Give a look at the proleg on the picture above. See all those tiny little hooks on the end? They’re called “crochets”, and many caterpillars have them to help them hang on to stuff. I’ve always wondered how those plump little peg legs on a caterpillar really help them to hang on to leaves, and now I know.

Cool, huh?

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As for the mint … I made a very, very, VERY bad error in judgment this past spring. There’s always been a little mint growing in the front garden. I don’t know where it came from, but I suspect the prior owner of the house may have grown a small herb garden under the dining room window. Regardless, it smells nice when bruised, and has pretty (if small) little purple flowers, so when I noticed that it was getting aggressive about taking over the area under the window I decided to let it have its way.

For those of you unfamiliar with the plant, I will quote from the Herb Gardener, someone I should have looked up BEFORE allowing the mint to have its way with the garden.

Most mints are hardy perennials that can be very invasive. Sending out feelers that root easily, mint will happily choke out anything else growing in the same plot with it. To curb its enthusiasm for expansion, keep mint varieties in a large pot or mesh bag that you have buried in the flowerbed, or enclose it with edging to a depth of five inches. Apply mulch to the bed or around the plot to discourage rooting.

Very invasive isn’t the half of it. Mint apparently believes in taking the soil by a stranglehold and refusing to yield an inch. Mint stalks apparently have a rather abrasive quality as well; I was pulling them out with my bare hands and only realized after the damage was done that my fingers were quite badly blistered where I had been grabbing and pulling on the mint.

I filled an entire 30 gallon trash bag with the stuff, and now need to figure out how the heck to dig up the remaining root systems without completely trashing my beautiful purple monkshood plant, whose roots are now totally intertwined with the remaining mint roots. If I didn’t love that monkshood I’d have already pulled out the Agent Orange.