Orgy Aftermath

The morning after several thousand soldier beetles descended on my ancient plum, I stepped out on to the back porch with some trepidation. I fully expected to find the blood thirsty and x-rated orgy to be in full swing. Quite a different sight greeted my eyes.

Only a handful of sluggish hung-over couch potatoe soldier beetles remained. They were lounging here and there on plum leaves slick with aphid juice and littered with aphid body parts. It had truly been a messy feast. Not only was the plum littered with body parts, the porch railing beneath the tree was strewn with tiny inanimate aphid bits and shinny with their dried up juice.

Not every aphid expired in the massacre. Small isolated colonies huddled here and there in shocked silence. The plum had all ready begin to recover that very morning. Once drooping sprigs were pointed to the sky, once curled leaves had begun to unfurl.

I can only imagine those hordes of solider beetles heading out in the wee hours of the morning in search of moist organic matter rich soil to lay their eggs. I hope plenty of them headed for the hills were gardeners fond of chemicals will not mistake them for the enemy.

I have noticed that the general population of solider beetles has risen in my yard. They are making regular patrols of my plum tree. There are no longer any small colonies of aphids visible on the plum. (Hey guys, check out the fava beans! There are plenty of aphids over there.) Most of the plums leaves are greening up nicely, but a few have turned yellow. They are probably the ones most damaged by the previous aphid infestation.

The next happy chapter in this story, I hope, will be when I report that the soldier beetles larva are decimating the slugs that prey upon my seedlings. Nothing would make me happier. I can not plant a seed of any kind directly in the ground because of those ravenous slimy creatures. But this is a chapter yet to unfold.

Until then I am wishing you all a horde of ravenous soldier beetles . . .

I’ll be back in a few days with some pumpkin scraps . . .
Meanwhile, you can always find me in the garden . . .