They’re everywhere this year — decimating rose petals, digging deep in the comfrey blossoms, skeletonizing leaves across the garden.
Invasive. Ravenous. Destructive.
Japanese beetles.
Their iridescent shells are unmistakeable, and to an uninitiated eye, might even appear beautiful. Exotic. But the sight of them evokes horror in the hearts of farmers and gardeners. In my own garden, I’ve declared war. If the scenes of carnage aren’t enough to convince you of the righteousness of my cause, perhaps a quick detour to a technicolor childhood memory might shed some light on my deep-rooted aversion.
When I was young, summer inevitably meant seemingly unending sun-filled days at the pool. Ah, vacation! We’d spend many long hours swimming, playing Marco Polo, practicing underwater bubble talk conversations, jumping and diving off the diving boards. We were innocent and carefree, until…when upon surfacing from a mermaid glide or an underwater quest, a sibling or friend would point at our head with a shaking finger and emit the dreaded cry, “Japanese beetle!”
Or, even worse, I would reach up to smooth my hair back, and find a beetle, fully entrenched. That horrible, sickening feeling as my fingers contacted that tell-tale squirmy-legged hard carapace–and then instantly recoiled—is etched in my memory. The beetles were determined, clinging to each strand of hair with their segmented legs, fighting to maintain their hold while I battled with two strong emotions– desperation to remove them and a deep-seated aversion to touching them. I’d dive under water again and again, shaking my head vigorously. Each time I resurfaced, I’d reach up a hand to check with hesitant, trembling fingers…
Was it still there?
It always was.
Inevitably, I’d have to pull the beetle all the way down the tangled strands of my long, wet hair to GET. IT. OFF! It would cling. I’d tug and pull for as long as I could stand it. Over and over again. Ugh! The memory still makes me shudder.
These days the beetles are on my patch again, but I’m far less worried about touching them. They may have invaded in force, but I’m the Grim Reaper. With my bottle of soapy water in hand, I walk through my gardens, ruthlessly plucking them from their perches. I delight as each one softly splashes into my deathly concoction. Often they’re entangled in stacks of two or three, engaged in God-knows-what sort of beetle perversions. I push the clustered creatures into my Dawn-scented pool of death and delight in the added efficiency. One. Two. Three. I feel a bit like the brave little tailer of fairy tale lore as I crow, “Three with one blow!”
Things have changed a lot since I was seven.
Nix the comfort zone 
Lol, I love this!
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Do you also remember those dreaded pool encounters with them?! Ugh!!!
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Totally! Nasty little buggers!
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My bowl of soapy death is reserved right now for milkweed beetles and a weevil that beheads coneflowers and black-eyed Susans. If a Japanese beetle dares to enter my garden, in they will go and down the toilet they’ll be flushed!
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I always knew we were comrades-in-arms!
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Wow! The art of hyperbole that begins with,”…when upon surfacing from a mermaid glide or an underwater quest, a sibling or friend would point at our head with a shaking finger and emit the dreaded cry, ‘Japanese beetle!'” after that description of pool fun that took me back to my own days of underwater screaming…love that. And it’s only the beginning.This word choice made me laugh out loud, “Often they’re entangled in stacks of two or three, engaged in God-knows-what sort of beetle perversions.” A fun and deft portrayal of a battle royale. Thanks for sharing.
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Your vivid imagery is extremely evocative. Your nightmarish encounters with the Japanese Beetle remind me of my childish horror of the stray jellyfish strand whenever we spent summers in the Atlantic Ocean or Chesapeake Bay. The beetle and the sticky strands Never Let Go! Yikes!
Instead of a satisfying soapy revenge. I have now moved near a Great Lake and have embraced jellyfish from afar–marveling at the Jellyfish Cam at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. https://www.montereybayaquarium.org/animals/live-cams/jelly-cam
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Oh wow! You captured so much in here! I was right there with you with my fingers in my hair trying to get that carapace out! And I’m there with you now trying to save my roses!
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Your caption on the last photo was a true laugh! Ugh – I am sorry these creatures are invading your roses…and your hair. Ugh ugh ugh.
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They are all over my fennel plant for my butterflies, and they make me crazy. I need to do the Death by Dawn truck.
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This was a great story giving me the heebie jeebies of beatles clinging to your hair to the satisfaction of waging war with Dawn.
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Molly, what fun! Yes, the heebie jeebies, indeed, as Debbie said. It is awful to imagine having one of those in my hair. I’m glad you are able to handle them differently as an adult. Your writing was so funny! The three “engaged in God-knows-what sort of beetle perversions” and I feel a bit like the brave little tailer of fairy tale lore as I crow, ‘Three with one blow!'” Perfect!
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Well done. I loved this sentence. “Often they’re entangled in stacks of two or three, engaged in God-knows-what sort of beetle perversions.” You nailed the ending!
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Your descriptions were so strong I cringed as if I was touching the awful things in my hair and exulted in the 3-in-1 victory if your deathly brew. It does seem beauty and death exist side by side in nature.
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