RUINED CROPS

Taranaki Daily News, 21 October 1933, Page 3 (Supplement)

RUINED CROPS

CATERPILLAR PLAGUE

HAVOC IN CANTERBURY.

SETTLERS’ HEAVY LOSS.

Pastures are lying devastated and crops have been razed to the ground in parts of the Ashburton County, where swarms of caterpillars have attacked farm properties and left in their wake hungry stock, says the Christchurch Sun. The pest moves with incredible speed, works surely, and ravishes every blade of green feed. Where the caterpillars have not been, the grass grows thick and green, but huge paddocks have the brown and seared appearance that follows a dry summer. Farmers are impotent to check the menace. Large areas have been burned and scorched, pits have been dug, and furrows ploughed to crush the thousands of caterpillars, but still they move on in long columns; when one column dies, another seems to take its place, for the hordes have been making steady inroads during the past month. The Fairton, Dromore, Pendarves and Seafield districts are mainly afflicted, and when inspected on Wednesday some of the ’ fields seemed as if they had been swept by a plague of locusts. The thoroughness of these cutworms—believed to be soil-inhabiting caterpillars of the large group known as the Owlet moth —is amazing. Every blade of grass is eaten, and the greyish-brown, denuded paddocks carry the bodies of hundreds of thousands of caterpillars which are due to change into moths. Others there are that have been crushed in the furrows or charred by fire, but swarms of worms are still nibbling, and flocks of birds sweep low over the pasture, following the direct line of the column. SHRIVELLED MOUNDS OF RUINS. When caterpillars are dying, they leave the earth and climb anything that is climbable. Scattered patches of discoloured grass are cloaked with them, fences are lined with them, and the tops of posts are encrusted with shrivelled mounds of blackened ruins. The property of Mr. T. J. Lemon, of Fairton, is in a sorry state. His daughter gave him the first warning of the approach of the caterpillars, but he did not suspect the damage that was wrought almost overnight. The annual visit of the caterpillars usually starts at the end of December and finishes early in January, and in other years what they have eaten has passed unnoticed because of the harvesting operations; this year, probably because of the mild winter, they have attacked the crops in the thickness of spring growth, and wholesale damage is taking place. Part of a large field on the opposite side of the road to Mr. Lemon’s prop'erty was scorched on Sunday. A moving mass of caterpillars inches deep went to the gorse hedge, and thousands were crushed at the gate to prevent their crossing the road to the homestead section. Three weeks ago, the feed on Mr. Lemon’s farm was the best he had known for 13 years, and to-day a great part of a year’s labour and money are wasted. Had it not been for a waterrace running through the farm, the havoc would have been enormous. The state of a 60-acre paddock that once held a luxuriant crop of wheat can scarcely be credited. Starting from the fence, a column of caterpillars swept through the grain, each moving due north, and nibbled the stems to the roots. A clean line of demarcation shows the exact point where the insects and. died. Not a vesige of growth can be seen except a few stalks about half an inch in length, and it is feared that the' crop will not recover. The stunted shoots should have sprouted again several days ago, but as yet there is no sign of life. The heart of the wheat has been affected, and the financial loss to the owner is severe; as it is, the trail of the caterpillars will be ploughed and sown with turnips. “It is pretty hopeless,” was the gloomy comment of Mr. Lemon. “All the wheat you can get you need, and now look at it—a year’s work going up. I don’t know where I’ll be soon, because it looks as if they are going for my corn paddock. But that water-race has been ia godsend.” The water-race cuts a burbling channel across Mr. Lemon’s farm and the adjoining property, and was instrumental in checking the pest. With almost military precision the column moved north across the field in a regular line, but when the water was reached it scattered, and thousands of gorged bodies fell into the race and were swept away. The grass at one side of the creek still preserves its natural spring green, but the opposite bank appears to have been swept by a withering blast.

FIVE HUNDRED ACRES RAVAGED.

Next to Mr. Lemon’s farm lies Mr. W. Innis’ 500-acre belt of feed—that was. Last week the growth was so thick that Mr. Innis was advised to put more stock out to graze on his recently-acquired property, and now his investment is a dead loss. His cattle and sheep are standing idle and disconsolate, and he has been forced to move them to stave off starvation. The 500 acres were eaten through by the caterpillars in under four days, and the grass that remains is utterly denourished and fit for nothing. Curled up, shrivelled husks are stirred by the wind over the dusty paddock, and small piles of the same bodies dot the stretch here and there. The ravenous appetite of the caterpillar can be gauged by an experiment carried out by Mr. Lemon s daughter. She collected several of the insects in a box, and two handfuls of grass were attacked and eaten within a very short time. „ “They have done tremendous damage, said Mr. Lemon, “and I think it is everybody’s duty to try to find some way of checking them, though I don’t think we can stop them if these mild winters continue. I think that is the cause of them, for the old settlers have never known them before at this time of the year, or even as intense at their usual time. If they keep going at the present rate I don’t know where we will be.