The Hummingbird Moth: The Bug That Made Me Look Twice

The first time I saw it, it wasn’t actually me who saw it.

It was my husband.

He called out from across the yard—“Hey, come look at this!”—as I was knee-deep in garden chaos. Wings buzzing, body hovering, darting from bloom to bloom like it had an agenda. At first glance, it looked just like a hummingbird. But something was… off.

Too small.

Too fuzzy.

And was that… a tail?

It wasn’t a bird at all. It was a hummingbird moth—a creature I’d somehow never noticed before, not until we planted a patch of deep purple verbena about eight years ago. And once we spotted one, it kept happening. Almost every time I worked in the garden, I’d catch sight of that same blur of wings—always around the verbena. Never the periwinkles. Never the daisies. Just the verbena.

Naturally, this sent me straight down a rabbit hole (as one does). If you’ve read any of my posts, you probably know by now that I’m a serial over-thinker—one of those people who Googles things at midnight like “bug that looks like a hummingbird but isn’t.” I’ve always had a soft spot for life’s quirky little side notes, and this was one of them.

At first, I assumed these moths were incredibly rare. I mean, I’d never seen one before. But as it turns out (thank you, internet), they’re not rare—just sneaky. Fast, quiet, and easy to miss unless you’re paying attention. Lucky for them, I’m always watching the flowers.

And speaking of flowers—it’s always the verbena.

It’s supposed to be a perennial, but in our Midwest garden, that’s more of a polite suggestion than a promise. A harsh winter often wipes the slate clean. And when that happens, I find myself right back at the garden center, picking out more—because it’s the only plant I’ve noticed that brings those magical little moths back.

I also learned something delightful along the way: hummingbird moths have surprisingly good spatial memory. They remember the spots they like—returning to their favorite feeding stations like loyal regulars at a hidden café.

And maybe that’s part of why I keep planting verbena. Not just for the color, not just for the pollinators, but for the quiet hope that the hummingbird moth will remember my yard and stop by again.

They don’t visit every year. But when they do, it feels like the garden has been chosen. Like something rare and whimsical remembered the way back.

And honestly? That’s more than enough reason to keep planting.

— The Wallflower