Christmas Is All Around Us

The beetle. Order Coleoptera.

It’s name means “sheathed wing.”

Revered by the ancient Egyptians. Beloved by children in dusky summer backyards. Hated by gardener and farmers worldwide.

Beetles are arguably the most beautiful of all bugs. Not arguably they are the dominant form of life on earth.

The scarab was worshipped as a god by the ancient Egyptians. In the life cycle of this impressive creature they saw a metaphor for the creation of life on earth. Their symbol of the human soul was a great dung beetle with wings outstretched. The beetle sun god, Khepri, rolled the sun into the sky every day, and back over the horizon every evening, in endless succession.

More recently, the artist Christopher Marley has revered beetles in his own obsessively compulsive way with meticulously crafted beetle designs that are undeniably gorgeous:

If you don’t believe that beetles can be so colorful, stop by the Cincinnati Zoo’s Insectarium to check out the stunning living collection. Living beats dead any day, right?

Well, it depends on the circumstances.

Beetles are notorious for their ability to ruthlessly destroy entire crops. The weevil, the Japanese beetle, any number of cucumber beetles and melon beetles and pine beetles are enough to wreak havoc on green growing things of every kind.

Last night marked the first summer appearance of two beetle species in our garden. I was excited when I saw the familiar yellow flashes of bioluminescence rising from the grass at dusk. I’m always happy to see the first lightning bugs of the season.

Then I saw a different kind of yellow. While checking on the growth of my cucumbers, I noticed a little yellow and black striped creature munching contentedly atop one of my carefully tended cuke leaves. As if sensing my thoughts, he scuttled around to the underside of the leaf and disappeared. The leaf was already pockmarked with holes.

The cucumber beetle.

It took a little bit of time and practice, but I got pretty good at learning how to dispose of them. I’m not one for smashing carapaces, so if I have to kill them at all (and I do), my preferred method is to fling them into a container of rubbing alcohol where they die very quickly without making a mess.

There were a couple of instances in which I accidentally tore a leaf or a flower in my haste to grab the little boogers. From what I read, though, that’s not necessarily such a bad thing. These naughty little bugs harbor bacteria in their bodies, infecting the plants as they dine after dark. The only way to prevent bacterial wilt and intense leaf damage (without dousing my cucumber babies with potentially harming sprays) is to keep vigilance with a flashlight and a quick hand, plucking them off one by one.

It’s actually kind of fun, once you get past the pangs of conscience at destroying one tiny little beetle life after another.

I got 27 cucumber beetles last night, simply by heading out three or four times after dark with a flashlight and a sense of determination. If I’m lucky, I can stave off the onslaught easily enough with my nightly vigilance.

It’s really no trouble, honest.

Especially when there are the tiniest of baby cucumbers at stake.