by Penny Nask

I don’t know why, but for some reason I never expected to see ladybugs in Baja. Maybe it’s because I didn’t think they could survive in the desert. There is very little shade here and I imagined that their little “hard tops” would be fried in the gleaming, sizzling sun. Besides, what would they eat?

To my surprise, during an early morning of gardening, I took a double take on what I thought were “berries” on a tree that doesn’t bear fruit. Ladybugs! There they were! Impossible . . . but upon further scrutiny there were six or seven crawling on a newborn branch of my Manzanita tree.

In my youth I would have grabbed a fruit jar with a lid from my kitchen . . . remember? Yeah, those ladybugs would be unwilling prisoners in that jar that would eventually have airholes in the lid . . . but only after I caught as many as I could. Wasn’t it scientific, or something? (Research told me recently that a gallon jar could hold 72,000 to 80,000 of them!)

The Baja has its own unique vegetation and it took me awhile to find the emerging beauty of a spring in the desert, irresistible. I am also a gardener who believes plants hold secrets to happiness. So yes, I tend to as many plants and trees as I can without the guilt of water shortage. San Felipe, I’m told has plenty of water underground.

On the other side of the mountains, which outline my magnificent backyard view, are some of the most fertile lands for growing crops. Maybe the ladybugs flew in from there. Regardless, it was obvious to me that my personal ladybug “miracle” needed more research.

That hard shell on a ladybug is called an Elytra. It covers wings that you can hardly see . . . they are so thin. The wings beat 85 times a second, which I find to be unfeasible, but apparently true.

There are 5,000 different kinds of ladybugs of which 450 varieties make their homes in North America. They have organs on their feet to help them smell . . . really! . . . and they produce a chemical that smells and tastes terrible so that birds and other predators won’t eat them. Bizarre!

A ladybug can produce 1,000 eggs in her lifetime. (Now, who counted those?) They are smart enough to hatch them in an aphid colony, their food of choice. Six generations can hatch in a year making the idea of a family reunion unattainable.

At best these little beauties can still get agitated. If you squeeze them they will bite you . . . but it won’t hurt. What’s the point of that feature? From my mosquito infested homeland I would have been laughed at—beyond ridiculous—for telling anyone that I had been bitten by a Ladybug!

There are two bits of information about them that I am totally jealous of:
   1.  During hibernation they feed on stored fat.
   2.  As the ladybug ages her spots fade.

If I had these attributes, I would wake up from a nap not needing to snack . . . and my age spots would be gone!