Woolly-bears on the move

 

A Woolly-bear (Pyrrharctia isabella) crosses a road. I saw many of these well-known caterpillars last Sunday. The temps were in the low to mid 40's F, but it was sunny, and the bears were on the move.

I was at the Wilds and vicinity in Muskingum County, Ohio, mostly looking for birds to photograph. But wandering larvae temporarily side-tracked my quest.

I did shoot some birds, including this Northern Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos). He was nestled in a shrubby thicket, but when I stopped for a look, he popped out to look back. Mockingbirds are extremely in tune with their surroundings, from my experience, and pay close attention to detail. Far more than most songbirds, it seems. Perhaps this behavioral characteristic aids them in carefully listening to and learning the songs and sounds that they mimic so well.

Anyway, after about ten minutes of watching the mockingbird, hoping for an interesting flourish of the wings or something else of note, I was rewarded. The bird suddenly flew down to the road and seized a Woolly-bear that had wandered onto the pavement. Yes! But my hopes for photo documentation were soon dashed when it flew into the heart of the thicket to deal with its prey. I could not see how he dealt with the larval bear and all its stiff bristles, but I imagine it sliced it open with that stout bill and slurped out the innards. Baltimore Orioles (Icterus galbula) successfully feed on spiny Eastern Tent Caterpillars (Malacosoma americana) in this way.

This was the first time that I've seen a bird prey on Woolly-bears. Their dense coat of bristles probably is a pretty good bird deterrent, most of the time.

A Giant Leopard Moth caterpillar (Hypercompe scribonia) crosses a road not far from where the mockingbird grabbed the Woolly-bear. I saw many of these, too, although the Woolly-bears outnumbered them by a good margin. This caterpillar is somewhat larger and thicker than the Woolly-bear, all black, and when seen well the reddish-orange bands delineating its abdominal segments are diagnostic.

I suspect that Giant Leopard Moth cats are frequently mistaken for "dark" Woolly-bears". As you may know, there is a pervasive myth that the darker the Woolly-bear, the tougher the coming winter will be. However, any analysis of that myth would have to somehow take into account the problem with caterpillar misidentifications. There is yet another very common species of tiger moth, the Virginian Tiger Moth (Spilosoma virginica) whose caterpillars can be active into late fall. Its caterpillars are known as Yellow Bears (it isn't rare for adult moth species to go by a different common name than their caterpillars). Yellow Bears are variable in coloration but often resemble very pale Woolly-bears. Such larvae, when misidentified as they almost certainly commonly are, would be "light" Woolly-bears that forecast a mild winter.

This is what a Woolly-bear becomes, if not eaten by a mockingbird, Buick'ed while crossing a road, or bumped off in some other way. The Isabella Tiger Moth, a handsome insect. While legions of people know the caterpillar, probably very few would recognize the moth that it transforms into.

This is a Giant Leopard Moth, a truly stunning species and always a crowd-pleaser. A leopard in mint condition is an entomological work of art, with its array of black circles and iridescent blue markings. Press one gently with your fingers, and it may "reflex bleed": exude two amber droplets from the front of the abdomen, just above the head. It's a very cool effect, and the droplets presumably are toxic and assist in warding off predation by birds.

Giant Leopard Moth cats on the prowl!

The caterpillar of the Giant Leopard Moth, Hypercompe scribonia, a bit sluggish but decidedly active at a temperature of 41 F. I saw four of these large caterpillars today in Hocking County, all crossing roads. I took the liberty of helping this one across the road, and temporarily posed him on some branches for a photo.

Giant Leopard Moth caterpillars overwinter in the larval stage, and on sunny days when the temperature rises somewhat above freezing, some will become active and commence wandering about. This one had a bit of mud caked on its bristles; it had undoubtedly been under leaves or wood. Because of the GLM cats' predilection for late season and winter wandering, they are often confused with the Woolly-bear by the larvally illiterate. The Woolly-bear, as you know, is the caterpillar of the Isabella Tiger Moth, Pyrrharctia isabella, and is fabled for its alleged ability to predict winter's severity, or lack thereof.

So, people seeing roaming GLM cats may presume it to be a very dark Woolly-bear, and thus predict an exceptionally harsh winter (the darker the Woolly-bear the more severe the winter). On the lighter side, another late fall/early winter wandering caterpillar is that of the Virginian Tiger Moth, Spilosoma virginica, the Yellow Bear. This larva is also similar to the Woolly-bear but is quite pale. Misidentifications of this animal result in predictions of a mild winter.

As the Woolly-bear as winter predictor is a demonstrably false myth, none of these larval identification challenges much matters.

I've written in more detail about Woolly-bears and larval forecasting RIGHT HERE.

Encountering the giant leopard moth

A Virginian tiger moth, Spilosoma virginica. This snow white beauty appears as if it is adorned with a big feathery boa.

I spent some time yesterday meeting with Dave Horn, who is an entomologist and expert on moths. We're working on a project involving moths, and the resulting publication should be pretty cool. As an offshoot of the meeting, I learned a ton of new info about moths from Dave.

Thanks to Dennis Profant for giving me the correct ID of this little beauty - it is snout moth, and most likely Hypena palparia.

I had a stack of "mystery moth" photos that I've taken over the years, and Dave was able to quickly pin names on nearly all of them. I enjoy the process of running down identifications of unknown organisms, but it is a lot faster and easier to trip the camera's shutter at a much speedier clip than one can sit down and try to identify everything. Thus, the mysteries can accumulate.

Moths are very cool, and I've found myself becoming increasingly interested in them. These largely nocturnal fliers become quite addictive, actually, once one begins to really investigate them.

So today I found myself lunching at the legendary Villa Nova in Worthington, Ohio, with several colleagues from work. The restaurant's front wall, right behind the sign post, became a place of great interest for our party upon exiting the joint.

One of our crew, Jen, glanced over at the aforementioned wall as we left and spotted this animal. Giant leopard moth! I was of course excited to have Hypercompe scribonia land right in our lap, as it were. This find also seemed like a cool bit of cosmic intervention from Mother Nature, perhaps as a reward for my paying intention to this obscure group of bugs, and liking them to boot. You see, the giant leopard moth is one of only about 50 species of Ohio's 3,000+ moth species that Dave and I had selected yesterday for our project. And I had no good photos of this species!

This old fellow has been around for a while and has become somewhat tattered. Still looks good, though. You'd think that such an outrageous looking moth would stick out like a sore thumb, and its chances of being plucked by a bird would be high. Well, they do stand out when roosting on a blank wall, but a leopard moth on tree bark can blend in quite well, all of those dots and hollowed out circles serving to break up its appearance.

I happened to have a suitable container in my trunk, so we captured the leopard and transported it the short distance back to our office compound. There, I was able to make some photos of this lepidopteran bruiser, including images that show its incredibly ornate and colorful abdomen. The orange bands broken by the barbell-shaped iridescent blue marks create an almost shocking appearance when the moth spreads its wings. It may be that these are bright warning colors, which would suggest that the moth is chemically protected in some way. Or it may be that they serve to help ward off would-be predators. A chickadee investigates, moves in to nip the moth, which suddenly flips open its wings and visually blasts the bird with bright coloration. That just might work to spook the bird.

Or those colors may be there for some entirely different reason.

After the photo session, the leopard moth was placed in a good hiding spot among the vegetation, in a spot vastly preferable to the Villa Nova's stark wall.

Even the giant leopard moth's caterpillar is cool. We found this one last year on a foray into the depths of Adams County, Ohio. The ebony larva is encircled with blood-red bands between each body segment, and fairly bristles with tufts of stiff spines.

The caterpillars are polyphagous, which means they'll eat a great variety of different plant species. They've been recorded dining on everything from sunflowers to maples to violets to willows. As so many of its host plants are widespread and abundant, it means that you might luck into one a giant leopard moth nearly anywhere - even on the wall of your favorite Italian restaurant.