Living Retired — ‘MAN OF LA MOTH-CHA’

Living Retired — ‘MAN OF LA MOTH-CHA’

*WARNING: The following may create gross images in your mind. Some readers may hurl.

Homeowners in our neighbourhood are waging war against little fuzzy caterpillars.

Every day for the past couple of months, thousands — make that millions; oh what the hell, BAZILLIONS! — of these caterpillars march straight up our tree trunks and spend the day merrily munching the leaves. They eat so much — (See: *WARNING) — that they begin pooping profusely! Before you can say, “HOLY CRAP!” the caterpillars have pooped plenty on the stamped-concrete sidewalks and driveway.

“Jan, you are not going to be happy but I need to tell you the caterpillars have pooped on your prized peonies!”

“Gary, you are not going to be happy but I need to tell you the caterpillars have also pooped on the Christmas lights that have been dangling from the eavestroughs since 2014!”

On the plus side, the pooping pests have created a sense of community. Every evening the men in our neighbourhood gather in the middle of the cul-de-sac to commiserate about caterpillars. We all agree they ‘poop above their weight class’ — I am referring to the caterpillars.

We haven’t resolved a damn thing in our cul-de-sac confabs! This is because we bring cans of beer with us. We all know beer attracts beer bugs. One of the fellows suggested — and we all quickly agreed — that before we tackle the caterpillar craze, we have to resolve the beer bug brouhaha!

Eventually, I agreed to drive to a garden centre and hand over a sample of the small fury caterpillars in a Ziplock sandwich bag — usually reserved for sliced carrot sticks for your wife’s diet. (See: *WARNING). Here is how the conversation went…

“Hi. I have a problem with these caterpillars killing our trees. The worst of it is they ate our Japanese red maple tree — and ever since I haven’t been able to control my tempura.” With that I handed over the evidence in a baggy and pleaded, “Please save my marriage.”

“Sir, you have gypsy moths. They are everywhere this year.”

YOU THINK?

I am not a university-educated entomologist who graduated and used his degree to get a job driving a taxi, but I thought moths swarmed around bright lamps in sweaty campground washrooms!

Driving back home from the garden centre, I see Jan and the other women have convened on the cul-de-sac. I think it is them but I cannot be sure because thousands — make that millions; oh what the hell, BAZILLIONS! — of Gypsy moths are circling their heads! The caterpillars have reached puberty and become Gypsy moths! They flit overtop the women’s floppy sun hats. The women are flailing their hands — swiping at the moths. But wait! The lady next door has her flip flops in her hands: she is smacking the bejeebers out of the Gypsy moths! SPLAT! (SEE: *WARNING).

We have reached our wits end! The gardening gurus have told us to wrap the tree trunks with duct tape. Didn’t work. They said put burlap around the tree trunks. Didn’t work.

Here is the most recent development in Man Verses Moth…

While we commiserate about caterpillars pooping, the Entomological Society of America has suggested the name ‘Gypsy moth’ is — here it comes — an ethnic slur. They say we need to start calling the Gypsy moth by its scientific name: ‘Lymantria Dispar.’

Call them what you will but in our neighbourhood the situation is real — it is no ‘urban moth!’