The entertainment world is full of former child stars—in fact, where would the “E!” channel be without them and their True Hollywood Stories?
But the insect world has its share of child stars, too—little larvae that are instantly recognizable as youngsters, only to turn ordinary when adulthood hits. The antlion comes to mind; as juveniles these insects excavate small pits in sand or soft soil, then lie in wait for unsuspecting prey animals—namely ants—to drop by. The young antlion, equipped with long, strong jaws, quickly grabs the prey and quite literally sucks the life out of it. The whole performance is insect drama at its finest.
But then, just like when puberty zapped Beaver Cleaver out of the limelight, pupation takes the ant lion off the celebrity insect radar. One month inside a sand-coated cocoon and, poof! No more fame, no more glory. Moreover, many field guides note that the night-flying adult antlion is rarely seen and that its habits are “poorly understood.”
Other insect child stars include the bagworm, often seen nibbling on evergreens from inside its needle-covered pouch; goldenrod gall fly larvae, the small worm-like creatures that make those large lumps on the stems of its namesake plant; and tent caterpillars and fall webworms, those gregarious, tree-dwelling caterpillars that live communally in conspicuous silken webs.
And then there is the woolly bear caterpillar: the Shirley Temple of insect child stars.
Black and brown and bristly from end to end, the famed woolly bear is cute as a, well, bug. It’s instantly recognizable and, most likely, one of the first insects each of us learned to identify.
As if cuteness and widespread recognition weren’t enough, woolly bears have other claims to fame, too, including folklore that gives them weather-predicting skills. According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac, if the woolly bear’s brown middle band is long and two black end bands are short, then the coming winter will be short and mild. However, if the brown band is short and the black bands long, look out; a long winter is on its way.
Could this be true? Well, another word for folklore is legend, and another word for legend is myth. Alas, the woolly bear is no more capable of predicting weather than a Gummi bear or teddy bear. The length of the bands can be a consequence of age (the more brown, the older the caterpillar), growing conditions, and/or genetic variation.
Nonetheless, woolly bears are a cause for celebration in several U.S. towns. Vermilion, OH, for example will host its 36th annual Woolly Bear Festival this Sunday, October 5; highlights will include a parade, costume contest, woolly bear caterpillar race and the crowning of the Woolly Bear King and Queen.
But you don’t have to travel to enjoy this seasonal star. In our area, they’re out in force right now, ambling their way across paths, sidewalks and roadway. Because fall is woolly bear season.
These captivating critters have spent the last couple of months doing what caterpillars do best: eating and growing. Unlike some caterpillar species, who must feed on one particular host plant or die trying, woolly bears are content to graze on a wide variety of plant material—native grasses, flowers and tree leaves all are fair game.
But come late September, woolly bears quite literally hit the road. Their mission is to find a suitable spot to spend the winter. So off they go, in search of leaf litter or loose tree bark, or anything else that might provide a little protection from the elements. They’ll stay safely tucked away until next spring when they will emerge, eat a bit more, pupate…and leave their celebrity status behind.
It is the woolly bears’ destiny to mature into Isabella tiger moths. Despite the fancy name, the moth itself is nondescript. Beige to dull yellow in color, with a few small, black spots here and there and an unremarkable 2-in. wingspan, the adult insects draw little attention and often go unnoticed.
Next summer, should your thoughts turn to cute, fuzzy caterpillars and “Where Are They Now?” take a look around. Those plain-Jane moths beating themselves silly against the porch light? They just might be former woolly bears.
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services for the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org or 630-513-4346.