We’ve had two katydids this year, both of which are hanging around the side of the house where there are a handful of rose bushes and a few stray gladiolus (at least I think that’s what they are). This one prefers the gladiolus and is usually close enough to photograph, while the other prefers a particular rose bush where it is often nearly out of sight and too far away for pictures.
I’ve named them Katydid and Katydidn’t.
Perhaps an even more worrisome sign than saving the lives of your garden pests is giving them nicknames.
I’ve adopted a live-and-let-live policy towards the katydids in our yard. Unlike the swarms of little aphids, there aren’t very many of them and they don’t do much damage, so I tolerate a few chewed up plants in exchange for a few pictures. It’s actually more than a live-and-let-live policy, as when I trim the roses I try to make sure that any katydids on the cut stems make it safely back to the main plant before the stems go in the yard waste bin. The fact that I go to any effort to save the lives of some of my garden pests is probably a sign that I need to see a therapist.
This one preferred the gladiolus over the roses, you can see the holes in the stem it gouged out. The flowers were already spent so it wasn’t hurting anything. I’d usually leave the spent flowers until I was sure they weren’t eating them anymore.
Our oldest cat Templeton likes to chase dragonflies around the yard. He never comes even remotely close to catching them but he never gives up hope, at least it gets him lots of exercise. There was one time when a mating pair of dragonflies almost flew right into him, focused more on themselves than the world around them, but I saw what was happening and was able to restrain him.
I positioned my camera so the bumblebee searching for pollen on a purple coneflower would appear in front of the flower behind it, like a monster climbing over the earth before the rising sun.
I’m easily amused, in case you hadn’t noticed.