I spent much of my preteen life in more urban environments. Most of my fellow urban residents were intolerant of any creature they didn’t understand, which seemed to include just about the entire animal kingdom. One of the most hated of the wild life forms was the Bagworm. The sight of these silken bags hanging from the shrubbery could illicit all manner of strange behavior from the local homeowners. For me, the bags meant money, because I was a professional picker and could earn up to five cents a pound for bagworms removed from the bushes.
The bags provide camouflage and protection to a moth larva and are formed of silk and adorned with bits of plant material. The larvae carry the bags along as they feed. They usually don’t become noticeable until late in the summer when they’ve reached their maximum size.
I remember people having all sorts of theories as to what was actually inside the bag. I watched adults stand and argue their points, all while bags hung just a few feet away. I found it curious that they didn’t do what I had done and opened a bag to see. This moth larva is sealing the bottom of the bag with silk in preparation of pupating.
When you live your life hidden inside a bag, you don’t need anything in the way of fancy adornment. The large larvae are generally those of the females. They will emerge from their pupae as wingless adults that will never leave their bags. Males will visit the bags to fertilize the females and then the females will lay their eggs and die within the bags.
During its mobile period, the larva uses its true legs for locomotion. The prolegs serve to help keep the bag in place around the body. Even though this larva maintains a silken lifeline to its home, it could never find its way back to the bag.
The bag is just like a cocoon and most cocoons are easy to put back together. As a child I used to open cocoons all the time and then repair them and wait for the adult moth to emerge. The trick to success is to avoid blocking the point of emergence, or if this is indeed a female, the access point for the male. I hung this one from a shelf of the bookcase on my desk and will wait to see what happens.
Except for a six week drought that went from mid-June through most of July, Blue Jay Barrens has had an exceptionally wet year. It’s interesting to watch moisture loving plants try to claim a place on a dry site in these situations. The Sycamores that try to grow in waterways coming off of the dry, rocky hills are a good example of this.
The waterways concentrate the rain runoff and provide a wet habitat that is prolonged by seepage water that flows from the gravel for several days after a rain. The Sycamores put on a lot of rapid growth during the rainy years and die back in the dry times. In an earlier time, these Sycamores managed to grow quite tall. The dead branches illustrate what happens when we get a couple of back-to-back drought years.
The trees may appear perfectly healthy from a distance, but a closer examination shows that all is not well with the tree. The abundant water that allows for rapid growth doesn’t free the tree from all stress. Growth deformities, disease and insect damage leave their marks.
One of the larger of the insects feeding on the Sycamore was this Bagworm. This species of moth larva constructs a silk bag that it decorates with bits of plant material. The result is a protective casing in which the larva spends its entire pre-adult life.
Head and legs are all that ever leave the bag. I seldom find the larvae actively feeding. At the slightest disturbance the larva will pull the bag over its head and wait for danger to pass. I was able to get several shots of this guy before my head bumped a dead branch and spooked the larva into hiding.
