Box caterpillar moth comes to the farm

Attack. Under attack. Finally the dread box caterpillar moths have decided to come up to the farm.

Yesterday found me in the full on panic mode of discovery, horror, and then attack myself.

A visiting neighbour, Caroline, was regaling me with her stories about how she is handpicking off the massive infestation of caterpillars on her beloved box shrubs further south in France. (Reminding me of my time last year spent squishing and squishing the gooseberry sawfly caterpillar infestation.)

And most people begin aperatif conversations asking whether the invading moths have descended yet.

Up until last week I could vaguely reply no.

And then walking past these balls just yesterday I realized I’ve been hit.

Ugh. Welcome to the not very exclusive box caterpillar moth infestation club.

(Cydalima perspectalis in case you are wondering. A native of east Asia and merrily spreading across Europe and Britain in recent years. The pale or white moths lay exclusively on box and once the caterpillars hatch and feed you are looking at up to three cycles a year. )

I don’t garden with a lot of box for two reasons. The first one is the eye watering expense of the box plants which have been shaped into balls. Even at a proper plant nursery each plant was a hard thought investment before they joined the cheaper shrubs.

Here they are in 2012 when I planted them. Eleven plants.  (Goodness look at the shocking pointing on those walls behind. And look how plump Artur was back then.)

And second is just how dull I find them. They don’t do much. When they flower the smell is like cat’s pee. And the rest of the year they are just green blobs.

At least I never even prune them. I like the shaggy look.

But this is a tricky bed. It was underneath the huge now extinct wisteria and in blazing eastern sunshine and then deep shade.

(Actually I am keeping the wisteria suckers that have appeared from below where the plant trunk rotted and died. I have a mind to start again with them, but up until now I was walking past this bed just giving it a cursory – must get round to that job – glance.)

I should have cut back the whippy tendrils for this shot. But there you go. Lazy gardener.

But yesterday was not a lazy day. I was out there with a white cloth so I could see the little blighters. They descend on webs when under attack. A bit like SAS officers abseiling out of a helicopter in a war zone.

And this was war. Long gloves on and it was a squish fest.

Next up a good hosing with a very harsh jet of spray. Andrew suggested that one. Apparently people are using power washers to blast the little buggers.

And so far that is it. Do I prune back hard? I don’t think so. The shaggy look of the box belies just how denuded the plants are further in.

But I think the plants days are numbered.

We have so little box right in the garden. These (now) nine box balls and three others further up in the shade garden.

But the forest. That’s another story. And in fact I was wondering (long pause there while we had a wonderful visit from Sydney friends Bronwen and Jim)

whether the huge box boundary market was affected. To mark out boundaries on these rural properties you either build rock walls. Or plant box. Not your poncy toparied things, but box as it should be; towering tall skinny thickets of plants.

And yes. The whole boundary is just heaving (and I mean heaving) with caterpillars.

And many of them with what looks like spider webs lines with the grubs suspended in mid air. (Except for the ones that trapezed onto my clothing, hat and hair.) I bid a hasty retreat and realized that my chances of saving our box balls from this sort of infestation are very slim indeed.