You know, I’ve seen and read a lot of horrifying things in my life. The story about the man consumed by bugs and other creepy crawlies, for example, had me skeeved out for a bit, but I quickly bounced back. The story was in one ear and out the other; I kept my stride and kept walking. But sometimes â€“ just sometimes â€“ I see or read something that stays with me for days, gnawing at my psyche like a maggot on dead flesh.
When I see these kind of things, these eye-staining, mind-draining things, something strange happens inside of me: I want others to see it, too. I want someone to acknowledge that the shivers running up my spine are not mine alone. Someone else must feel the same reaction. And so, it falls upon this blog to birth my social need for spine-shivering acknowledgment.
Today’s post is about bugs, creepy things that sneak into your shoes and disappear when they hit the carpet. More specifically, though, this post is about ermine moths â€“ winged bugs. For you see, bugs, no matter the kind, cause me to stare, wide-eyed, watching them like a scientist with a microscope. I know that the second I turn away they will disappear, reappearing moments later on my pants, shoes, or shirt.
The ermine moths have something unique about their species: their larvae often produce massive interconnected webs, which they use to catch prey. The web has been known to stretch for quite some distance, even covering a row of tombstones in a graveyard. Don’t believe me? Here are the pictures to prove it: