Amazed by insects

My first moment of amazement came from something that seemed to be a stick about an inch long. But somehow, this “stick” was clinging to the screen on my front door.

 

It was so convincing that, at one point, three members of my family were standing in a half-circle around it; two of us were using our phones to take photos. For all the world, it looked like a tiny twig that had been broken off at the end. Only upon closer inspection could we see the hair-thin legs clinging to the screen.

 

I have been impressed by the “information” feature on my iPhone, which has solved a fair number of small mysteries for me. In this case, however, the iPhone refused to provide any feedback–I believe it thought I was asking it to identify a stick and lost patience with me.

 

Having been so fascinated, I had to look up more information. Most of the sources I found talk about how widespread the buff-tip moth is in Europe, Russia and even Asia. Only in one place did I find mention they are also sometimes found in the U.S.

 

Turns out the moth attached to my screen was destined to live only a very short time. The internet tells me the adult buff-tip doesn’t even have a mouth. It spends the night looking for a mate and the day in (very effective) hiding. The eggs are laid on the leaves of trees, most preferably birch, oak or willow. When they hatch, the caterpillars eat the tree leaves, often down to the “skeleton” framework.

 

After 30 to 45 days of eating, probably in October, the caterpillars go to the base of the tree, bury themselves in soil or leaf litter, and turn into shiny brown pupae. They stay that way all winter, emerging in early summer as the short-lived moth.

 

Frankly, it’s all more amazing than I can convey. Consider going online and looking at some videos. There are three or four online entomologists who are very enthusiastic about the buff-tip and have excellent visuals.

 

My other insect wonder is that we spotted our first fireflies of 2026 in the last couple days.

Perhaps what I like most about fireflies is the link they create between generations. Now a grandmother myself, I remember my own grandparents helping me spot these luminescent wonders. It doesn’t matter how old you are, I think the spontaneous flashing in the grass is something that stops all of us in our tracks and makes us look.

 

Since I was researching the buff-tip moth, I looked up some information about fireflies. As richly as I have always appreciated them, learning more only heightened my fascination.

 

So, as we all know, the flashing lights are the fireflies’ way of finding mates. Starting about now, females lay up to 500 eggs in moist soil or tree litter. These hatch about a month later and begin feeding on slugs, worms and other soft-bodied victims. 

 

One online source compares this larval form to “tiny trilobites," with six legs and segmented backs.  The larva can live up to two years, meaning they can overwinter twice; when ready to metamorphose, they may be three quarters of an inch long.  In complete contrast to my sentimental feelings about the adults, the larvae manage to eat creatures quite a bit larger than themselves because they inject a paralyzing toxin into them, then feed on their liquefied organs.

 

When they have reached maturity, presumably after surviving their second winter, the larvae bury themselves in wet soil or under tree bark, then take about two weeks to completely change form and become adult fireflies, destined to live somewhere between one and four weeks.

 

I don’t know about you, but learning all that gives me rich appreciation that, perhaps as much as two years ago, a female firefly laid her eggs in my yard. And all that time, unknown to me, a fascinating drama has been taking place in the grassy places around my home. Tiny “trilobites” have been stalking and capturing prey to survive and grow, then burying themselves for the winter; some of them have beaten the odds and survived, creating the summer delight of watching and appreciating fireflies.