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October 09, 2003  Of course insects can hear. It just makes sense. Most of the time when these tiny creatures move about they buzz, drone, and click as they go about their business. I’m sure I knew that they could hear I just didn’t think they were listening for much other than communications from their own species. A moth, last week, reminded just how attuned an insect is to its world. I was sitting on the step rocking in my flaming orange vintage metal lawn chair. Next to me were two tubs of marigolds. This being early October, usually a cold month, and us having gone through a number of nights of frost, one would not normally be sitting next to blooming flowers. These however, were special marigolds. This spring, in an attempt to grow something in two tubs of dirt, I planted and replanted seeds from various sources. The nasturtiums from the dump didn’t germinate. So much for nasturtiums thriving on neglect! The honeysuckle seeds did nothing. The pansies I planted may have germinated, but soon disappeared to wherever it is that plants go when they don’t like their first impressions of the place in which they find themselves growing. Even my first batch of marigold seeds didn’t take! Finally I found a special bunch of seeds stored in my house catchall drawer - a little plastic container marked ‘marigold robustus’. I planted the robustus and they immediately sprang up from the barren ground. By now it was late June so the marigolds would have their work cut out just getting to the blooming stage. In late August they had surged to a good height and totally covered the tubs with foliage. Buds turned to flowers and by September the blooming started. Dutifully I dragged the two tubs under shelter every night feeling a little bit guilty about having forced these plants to struggle against the elements due to their late planting. So there I sat, rocking on the step, in early October next to my progeny. Suddenly a moth appeared. Moths in October are also unexpected but temperatures in the day have been very nice. Instead of being safely tucked in some crevice in a tree or having expired in the first frost this moth was active. Night temperatures lately didn’t favour nocturnal wanderings so seeing a moth in daylight made sense. The moth made straight for the marigolds probably attracted by their scent. It busily moved across the faces of the flowers probing their centres with its long bent proboscis. The moth scurried about for some minutes. I could almost feel its joy at having found nectar so late in the year. As I watched the moth at work, Chickadees came to the lilac bush, as they regularly do. A small sunflower seed feeder hangs just at the edge of this shrub and arriving Chickadees usually move about within its cover before zipping up to get a seed. This time there seemed to be a bit of a discussion going on within the Chickadee flock. One Chickadee emitted an angry sounding series of calls. The moth took notice immediately. Upon hearing the loud call the moth flew up from the flowers and went into a frantic zig-zag flight about a foot above the plants. Hearing no further outburst it returned to the blooms. Suddenly the Chickadee called again just as insistently. The moth flew up again and went into a flurry of motion. The Chickadee continued its tirade. The moth flew off and hid in some dead fireweed near the step. After the chickadees left the moth came out and resumed feeding on the marigolds. At first I couldn’t believe what I had seen but it was quite obvious that the moth had heard the Chickadee call as indicative of a threat. The first time it hesitated to abandon the flowers but on hearing the call persist it flew for cover. Since that incident I have watched the moth come many times to get sustenance from the marigolds. Its visits haven’t coincided with those of the local Chickadees so I haven’t seen a repeat of the moth’s ability to hear danger. One demonstration though was all it took for me to see insects in a whole new light. Who knew they were listening? Obviously not me. Moose Birds Recently, a couple I know were riding their horses and found themselves being followed by 3 Gray Jays. The riders thought it a bit unusual to be followed by Jays for a substantial period and asked me if these birds were up to something unusual. Gray Jays have earned the nickname "moose" birds because of their habit of following moose through the bush. The thinking is that Jays are aware that large animals cause disturbances as they move about and the Jays watch for opportunities to make a meal out of whatever is scared up. This is the story as I have heard it. If this isn’t true maybe Gray Jays just like looking at moose as they walk through the bush. Horses probably look a lot like moose to the Jays so it makes sense that these birds would tag along with the equines just as if they would a moose. That was the only explanation I could come up with. Unless I hear a better explanation from the Jays themselves I will continue to believe this story. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
