Photo by Jenn Forman Orth
Yesterday my daughter and I were sitting on the front steps playing the “game of hiding.” That’s where she grabs on to my back and I pretend I can’t find her. Then she reveals herself, and great hilarity ensues.
Only our game was interrupted when she howled in pain and pointed to her knee. Welts were rising on her tender flesh, but I couldn’t find the culprit anywhere.
A few hours later, I took off my shirt, and there was a tiny buckmoth caterpillar. The season is definitely upon us. This is the girl’s second sting in as many weeks. I signed up to have our tree sprayed by Parkway Partners at the beginning of the month, but they won’t get to us until next week.
Buckmoths thrive on live oak trees, and we have such a tree right in front of our house. They line the street, and I think they’re beautiful. My mother-in-law was of a different opinion. There’s no accounting for aesthetic differences. After the rain of pollen and the advent of the stinging caterpillars and the way their roots break up the sidewalk, I have to admit these trees have a dark side. But in some twisted way that makes them even more appealing.
At least this sting wasn’t followed by a fall like last year.