Latest news with #caterpillars
The Sun
3 days ago
- General
- The Sun
A 40p bathroom staple will get rid of ‘invasive' caterpillars destroying your garden this summer
A BATHROOM staple that sells for only 40p at stores will protect your garden from "invasive" caterpillars. The everyday item is a surprising repellent against the insects that destroy box hedging and topiary plants. 1 Gardeners have been warned to watch out for the box tree moth caterpillar. The caterpillars, which are the larvae of the box tree moth, eat the leaves and bark of box trees. In only a few days, they may turn once-beautiful bushes dark, barren, and beyond rescuing. Ecology specialists at Arbtech have alerted gardeners that the number of caterpillars peak in July and August. 40p solution But a 40p hack can help keep the pests away from your garden. A simple bar of soap from Sainsbury's can prevent caterpillars from ruining your plants. An unscented bar acts as a repellent as many insects dislike the scent and residue that soap leaves behind. Simply leave a bar of soap near your plants or rub residue on leaves to keep insects at bay. Soapy water also works wonders as it dries out caterpillars' outer layer, leading them to die from dehydration. For households with children or pets, soap is a low-risk alternative to chemical pesticides, and when used properly, it is less likely to damage pollinators. Alan Titchmarsh's top 7 plants that 'transform ugly fences with gorgeous flowers & fragrance' & they grow for years Experts' warning Infestations can be disastrous if left untreated with severely affected plants having to be uprooted and replaced completely. An ecologist from Arbtech told Tivy Side: 'Box tree moth caterpillars might look harmless, but they're an invasive species that can strip a healthy plant in no time - and because they often feed from the inside out, many people don't realise there's a problem until it's too late. 'Box hedging is hugely popular in British gardens, so this species is having a serious impact not just aesthetically, but financially too. 'We're urging homeowners to check their plants regularly over the summer months. "Look for tell-tale signs like webbing, leaf loss, or green-and-black striped caterpillars.'
Yahoo
09-07-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
2,000 ‘plastivore' caterpillars can gobble a stubborn plastic bag in 24 hours
A new study explores the potential of caterpillars to degrade polyethylene plastic, the most common type of plastic globally. A team at Brandon University in Canada, headed by Dr. Bryan Cassone, researched waxworms, the caterpillars of the greater wax moth (Galleria mellonella). Surprisingly, just 2,000 waxworms can break down an entire polyethylene bag in as little as 24 hours. That's a dramatic difference from the hundreds of years it usually takes. 'Around 2,000 waxworms can break down an entire polyethylene bag in as little as 24 hours, although we believe that co-supplementation with feeding stimulants like sugars can reduce the number of worms considerably,' said Cassone, a Professor of Insect Pest and Vector Biology in the Department of Biology at the university. Polyethylene is the most widely produced plastic globally, with over 100 million tonnes manufactured annually for a vast array of products, from grocery bags to various forms of packaging. However, it poses a major environmental challenge due to its chemical toughness and resistance to decomposition. Full degradation of this material can stretch over decades or even hundreds of years. In 2017, a discovery revealed that these little creatures can eat polyethylene. New research shows that 'plastivore caterpillars' can break down plastics in just days, converting them into body fat. Dr. Cassone's team, using diverse scientific methods, studied the interaction between waxworms and their gut bacteria to understand plastic degradation. The research shows that waxworms metabolize ingested plastics into lipids stored as body fat. 'This is similar to us eating steak – if we consume too much saturated and unsaturated fat, it becomes stored in adipose tissue as lipid reserves, rather than being used as energy,' explained Cassone. Apart from the biological processes involved, the team assessed the health impact of an all-plastic diet on the worms. So here's a catch. While waxworms easily munch on plastic, an all-plastic diet is a death sentence. The plastivore caterpillars don't survive over a few days and even experience mass loss. However, Cassone is optimistic. He believes they can create a "co-supplementation" – basically, adding other food – that not only restores their health but makes them thrive. This research points to two exciting possibilities for tackling plastic pollution. 'Firstly, we could mass rear waxworms on a co-supplemented polyethylene diet as part of a circular economy,' he said. Alternatively, researchers could work on replicating the plastic breakdown process in a lab setting, without the need for the animals themselves. This means identifying the exact biological mechanisms and enzymes responsible and then potentially using them in industrial processes without the worms themselves. And there's a bonus! Large-scale waxworm farming is expected to produce a huge amount of insect biomass. Preliminary data suggests this could be a highly nutritious food source for commercial fish farming. Even if waxworms could effectively degrade plastic, dealing with the 100 million tonnes of polyethylene produced annually would require billions of caterpillars eating continuously. A critical, often overlooked issue with mass-rearing waxworms is their natural diet: they feed on beeswax, posing a significant threat to bee colonies worldwide. It could be devastated by an explosion in wax moth populations. Lots of past studies have explored the potential of plastic-eating fungi and bacteria for bioremediation, but a major hurdle remains: their adaptation and efficient deployment at scale. Therefore, the question remains: Could these tiny "plastivore" caterpillars be a key player in a cleaner, more sustainable future? The findings were presented at the Society for Experimental Biology Annual Conference in Antwerp, Belgium, on July 8, 2025.
The Guardian
07-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Country diary: Bird cherries, caterpillar silk and a beautiful dead hedge
A ghost tree shines silver against the greenery of the hillside wood. Sheathed in silk from its trunk to the tips of its branches, this bird cherry has been completely defoliated by caterpillars. These are the overwintered larvae of bird cherry ermine moths, Yponomeuta evonymella, which, having spun their protective webbing, can devour the leaves, safe from blue tits and parasitic wasps, before pupating. Some weeks later, thousands of slender moths will emerge, their white wings speckled with tiny black dots. Bird cherries abound in this valley. Fast-growing, often multi-trunked trees, one once stood by our boundary wall that had grown so tall it rocked in the winds, the movement of its roots bringing down the stonework. When it demolished the wall for the fifth time, we reluctantly had it felled in late winter before birds started nesting. As well as logs, this left a huge pile of brash. In another part of the garden, those same winter gales, pummelling down the valley from the west, had brought down a hazel hurdle. My husband decided to turn the bird cherry branches into a dead hedge, a wind-filtering wildlife habitat, practical barrier and cost-free fence. Having driven in a double row of round wooden stakes, he laid horizontal lengths of bird cherry, interweaving them for solidity. Twisting and looping the most flexible branches, he pinned some vertically and, as the mass grew, interspersed it with heavier wood for weight. At 2ft wide, it absorbed a surprising amount of material that can be topped up with further prunings as it decomposes. What he has made is beautiful to look at. The bark varies in colour from soft grey, speckled with lichens, to shiny, rich warm brown. A squirrel runs fluidly along the top, a wren forages in its density for tiny insects. The dead hedge is a shelter for mice and voles, beetles and bees, amphibians, fungi and mosses. It has made use of something that might otherwise have gone to waste. Meanwhile, on the hillside, the silver-wrapped ghost tree will recover, new leaves will grow before autumn and birds will distribute its seeds along the valley. Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian's Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at and get a 15% discount
The Guardian
22-06-2025
- General
- The Guardian
‘It takes 25 years for a footprint to disappear' – the secret, beguiling magic of Britain's bogs
I haven't found an hour when I don't love a bog. Recently, after a night of counting rare caterpillars in Borth in Mid Wales (they come out only after dark), walking back to the car under the glow of a flower moon, I wondered if 2am was my new favourite. I felt very safe, held by the bog's softness, and everyone that was out at that hour seemed to have a sense of humour. I met a nightjar hopping around on the ground, pretending, I think, to be a frog. But there is also something about the humidity of a languid afternoon on a bog, when everything slows and fat bumbles hum, that is surprisingly good. I have done freezing horizontal rain and thick, cold-to-your-bones fog and wind so howling that I couldn't think. All of those were hard, but I did come away feeling truly alive. I have travelled to the tip of Scotland and far beyond to visit bogs. In all the hours, days and weeks I have spent on them, I have learned that time behaves differently. It stretches out like the bog landscape, seeming to still the world beyond. There is something very special about that. Like many of us, I came to know bogs not by visiting one, but by ripping open a bag of compost and plunging my hands into the soft, dark peat. Then I learned that there was more to peat than an amiable bed in which to coax a plant to grow. It is ripped from a living, breathing entity with complex ways and wants. We sneer at bogs, we tease them and drain them, scrape at them and pillage them, but give them back their waters and they care not just for the creatures that live on them, but those much further afield. There is more carbon stored in peatlands than in all the above-ground vegetation in the world. They account for 3% of landmass, but hold at least 30% of soil carbon. Seventy per cent of the UK's drinking water starts its journey on peatlands, where the bogs not only filter but also slow water, helping to mitigate flooding. This is why draining, extracting and turning peat into agricultural land has consequences. Roughly 80% of the UK's peatlands are damaged, polluting our water, exacerbating flooding and increasing the risk of fires. But this knowledge doesn't stop us using extracted peat. Sure, I don't buy peat compost, but I have eaten fresh cultivated mushrooms (most large-scale growing is done in peat), bought supermarket basil (usually peat-grown), 'saved' numerous discounted houseplants (only about 11% of houseplants are truly grown peat-free) and eaten lettuce, celery, potatoes, carrots, peas, beans and tomatoes, some of which are grown in the UK on drained peat, as well as crisps, biscuits, cakes and chips made with palm oil grown on drained peatlands in south-east Asia. Most of us are complicit in damaging, extracting and wasting peat, despite years of writing, campaigning, shouting and imploring. I decided I would get to know the bogs, to learn their ways and stories and see if a different song might stir the soul. Bogs are magical in many ways. These ancient beings are much more than their brown flatness suggests from a distance. Below the surface, they seduce water with their engineering. Under every bog is a sea held in suspension, so when you walk over a bog you are truly walking on water. It is why they wobble when you jump up and down on them. They are nature's answer to a water bed. Don't jump, though – they are fragile places. It takes an average of 25 years for a footprint to disappear. What is a bog? Well, there are many types of peatlands, but broadly speaking peat is either fen or – more frequently – bog. A fen is alkali: it gets its water from a ground or surface source and is flushed with minerals because of it. A bog is acid: it is fed entirely by the sky, which means it is very poor in nutrients. Bogs form in wet places, where the humidity and rainfall are high and evapotranspiration (the combined process where water moves from land to air) is low. Many of them start life as a depression, a hollow or a dip in the land that starts to fill with water. The rock below is hard, often impervious, such as granite, and the water pools. As the climate and world around it change, things begin to grow around the bog: plants spring up, die, fall in the water. The dip starts to fill with rotting organic matter, creating oxygen-poor, acidic conditions. Most things don't want to grow in waters that are turning acidic, but mosses don't mind; in fact, they thrive. This is particularly true of bog mosses, which are from the genus Sphagnum. The mosses creep in, the rain continues to fall and the bog is born, made up of plants, mostly mosses, some rushes and a few shrubs, living and dying, but not completely rotting. This is what peat is: partially decomposed organic matter. When it is wet, it is happy; when it is drained of water, it starts rotting again. A similar process happens with fens. But whereas peat is extracted from bogs to be used for compost, most of our lowland fens have been drained for agriculture. That flush of minerals from the groundwater makes them fertile places, once drained. Peat in the northern hemisphere is mostly made up of mosses. They call the shots; they are the ecosystem engineers. These tiny, centimetre-high plants are alchemists, taking only what falls from the sky and creating a kind of immortality for themselves as they strive to be dead and alive at the same time. They do this by pickling themselves and everything that falls into the bog in acid, which means nothing entirely rots away. The bog mosses' pickle juice also prevents bigger plants from doing too well and shading out the moss. The mosses do this in such style, too. They don't stick to the run-of-the-mill green – they come in every jewel tone imaginable: golds and oranges, neon-green emeralds, lobster pinks and deep wine reds, in russets and chestnut browns, their colours turning with the seasons, deepening across the summer. What appears flat from a distance up close rises and falls in miniature mountains of hummock-type mosses, with valleys, pools and lawns of looser types. The things that live on and in this world have run with this otherworldly theme. There are the giants: bog bush-crickets with their huge antennae; emperor moths with their peacock-like eyespots on their wings; darters, damselflies and dragonflies of all colours that often come to peer at you curiously if you sit for a while. This is to say nothing of the green-eyed horseflies, which are a terrifying size, although it is hard to not be beguiled by their giant emerald eyes. There are frogs, toads, lizards, snakes and so many spiders, including one of Britain's largest, the raft spider. Spend long enough at a bog pool and you might spot one floating, waiting for the vibrations of prey, only to run across the surface of the water and pounce. They go for prey as large as tadpoles, but if you frighten them, they dive and swim underwater. Imagine that – a swimming spider! These are just the easy-to-spot guys. There is an abundance of tiny insects: pseudoscorpions, gnats, midges (not all of which bite), strange-looking larvae and tiny micromoths that flit about. These bring an abundance of other wings. Peatlands are hugely important habitats for birds: hen harriers, golden and white-tipped eagles, merlins, owls, jack snipes, golden plovers, curlews, lapwings, pipits, snow buntings, grouse, dunlins, redshanks and, at coastal edges, strange-looking ducks. A chorus of beings in full song for those intrepid enough to venture in. For that is the thing about bogs: they are not hugely interested in wowing you. The mountains have good views and the forest has majesty; the sand dunes sculpture and the wildflower meadow an easy romance. But the bog is quite happy to be passed over – it will share its best secrets only with those who carefully tiptoe in and are patient enough to wait a while to see what comes out once they have settled down. The bog has other secrets, too: underneath this living layer, preserved in all that peat, is an archive of our past doings. A healthy bog grows just a millimetre a year, which puts in context anyone who tries to argue that cutting peat is sustainable. It is important to remember that less than 13% of our bogs are considered healthy, or in a near-natural state. But each millimetre is a record of everything that happened that year: it holds big data, such as fragments of moth wings or pollen and seeds, and tiny microbe data, such as all the amoeba that dined on the semi-rotting plant material before it got weighed down by water. This allows scientists to take a core sample and tell you what the climate was like 6,000 years ago, which plants grew there, which moths fluttered and which bees buzzed, who crawled over and passed by. There are other buried treasures. The most famous are the bog bodies, including Denmark's iron-age Tollund Man and Ireland's bronze-age Cashel Man, but you can also find hoards of coins, jewellery and weapons, as well as pots and pans, fishing nets, whole canoes, carts and cartwheels and even butter. When our ancestors buried all this, they knew it wouldn't disappear or rot away. It is believed that this is why so much of it is decommissioned, broken and bent, just in case the bog was a portal to another world and the undead might be able to use it when they rose again. Ritually buried bog butter is often found near bog bodies. It represents such a huge amount of milk to a culture only just beginning to farm that if it wasn't a gift to the gods, perhaps it was a gift to the bog itself. The bog certainly represented seasonal abundance for those who knew where to look. It was a source of plant medicines, dyes and fibres. Then there is the rich foraging opportunity: cranberries, bilberries and cowberries, as well as all the meat and eggs from otters, fish and fowl. Not an easy place to get on or off, but useful nevertheless. The reverence our ancestors felt for bogs is a lesson we need to remember. They aren't barren or desolate, although many are certainly remote. They shouldn't be drained or burned to make them productive, nor should they be extracted from. What they need is our respect, because peatlands are the air-conditioning units of the world. Their long-term storage of carbon and filtering of water is helping to keep our climate cool. And no one needs the air-con turned off now. Cors y Llyn near Builth Wells in Powys is a great example of a quaking bog, with strange, stunted ancient Scots pines growing on it. This perfect little bog is surrounded by wonderful orchid meadows (above) and you can nearly always find wild cranberries creeping over the mosses. There is an accessible boardwalk. The Flow Country of Caithness and Sutherland is a Unesco world heritage site and perhaps the crown jewel of the UK's peatlands. The biggest blanket bog complex in Europe, it is rich not just in bird life, but also in neolithic structures. Start at the RSPB Forsinard Flows reserve. Swarth Moor is a raised mire next to the village of Helwith Bridge in Ribblesdale. It is home to three nationally scarce species of dragonfly – black darter, common hawker and emerald damselfly. There is well-surfaced bridleway around the southern edge, leading to a viewing platform that gives you a peatland vista without you getting bogged down. The South Pennines is good peat country, with moors galore. Highlights include the moorlands around Gunnerside village, Haworth Moor (above, of Wuthering Heights fame) and Tarn Moss, a raised bog owned by the National Trust. Marches Mosses, a group of lowland raised bogs on the border of Wales and Shropshire, are not without the scars of human intervention – peat cutting, drainage for agriculture, forestry – but still there is a wealth of peatland wildlife, particularly damselflies and dragonflies. There are trails around Bettisfield Moss, Wem Moss and Fenn's and Whixall mosses. Dartmoor in Devon is a vast upland area of peat; much of it is damaged and dominated by purple moor grass, but restoration work is changing this. The visitors centre at Postbridge has Tor Royal Bog, the only raised bog in Devon and Cornwall, while the nearby Fox Tor Mire is a good example of a valley blanket bog. Peatlands by Alys Fowler is out now (Hodder Press, £20). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply
BBC News
18-06-2025
- General
- BBC News
Spurn wildlife reserve staff 'told families to kill caterpillars'
A mother-of-two said she felt "physically sick" when families enjoying a tour of a Yorkshire nature reserve were told to "stomp" on said the suggestion was made by a Yorkshire Wildlife Trust (YWT) staff member at Spurn - a peninsula that extends into the Humber said: "The invasive species had apparently deserved to be squashed because they were eating the leaves of the sea buckthorn. Families killed, with glee, as many as they could."In a statement given to the BBC, the trust apologised and admitted incorrect information was given during its Spurn Safari tour. It said it had since reviewed staff training. Sara, 37, who did not want to give her surname, said she and her husband had decided to treat their children, aged 10 and 11, to the tour, which uses an ex-military, all-terrain vehicle to get visitors up close to the reserve's vast array of flora and said: "The staff member told us, 'the brown tail moth caterpillar should not be here. They are an invasive species. We need to do something about them and I would encourage you to stomp on as many as you can find'."Sara said the comment made her "feel physically sick", as she and her family refused to take said: "I was shocked. People were having fun, stamping on these poor caterpillars. "I was brought up to respect all creatures." In a statement, YWT said: "We should not ask visitors to kill caterpillars, even invasive ones. The information that was given during the Spurn safari is not correct, we are sorry and thank Sara for letting us know. "While we investigate, we have reviewed our training and reminded colleagues that this is not what we do, and under no circumstances should it be suggested that visitors take such action."Brown-tail moth caterpillars are a "native but invasive species" and active during spring and summer months, the trust creatures have tiny, barbed hairs that can cause a rash when they come into contact with skin, and damage rare said it follows "established practices", under approval from Natural England, to manage the population, with this activity carried out over the autumn and that emerge in the spring should be left to continue their natural life cycle, the trust added. Sara said she could no longer support YWT."As a compassionate individual, I joined YWT (as a supporter) to support the care of all wildlife, not just a selection," she added."I will not be returning." Listen to highlights from Hull and East Yorkshire on BBC Sounds, watch the latest episode of Look North or tell us about a story you think we should be covering here.
