It's my bother's fault
My Dad was having conniption fits about the sheer variety of caterpillars that were munching his tom thumbs one year.....little did he know that the other Toddy (aged all of about seven) had taken himself off over the burn and had been unable to resist bring home one of *every* kind of caterpillar he could find. It was a beautiful shallow loch over from the burn and it was surrounded by the most amazing variety of wildlife and woodlands. Toddy found about fifty different beasties that day, brought them home and let them loose in dad's pristine garden
By the time Dad worked out what they all were, we had gotten pretty good at recognising caterpillars
Forty years later it seems some of it's stuck in the memory
I remember the name from nicotine yellow
It's an incredible looking one though, the sycamore, isn't it?
cheers,
Toddy