Wildlife statewide

Florida Lubber Grasshopper — The Bug You Notice First

Three inches of bright yellow grasshopper, slow, fearless, and impossible to miss. The Florida lubber is one of the most photogenic native insects in the state — and the one that eats your amaryllis.

by Silvio Alves
Adult Florida lubber grasshopper with bright yellow body and black markings on a palmetto leaf
Statewide — June through October — Wikimedia Commons · Eastern Lubber Grasshopper · CC BY-SA 4.0

You walk out to the back porch at 7 AM to refill the coffee, look down, and there it is: a grasshopper the size of your thumb, bright yellow with red and black stripes, sitting on the railing like it owns the place. It doesn’t fly when you approach. It doesn’t even hop. It just sits there, watching you.

That’s a Florida lubber. And once you’ve seen one, you start seeing them everywhere — on every palmetto leaf, every garden hose, every sidewalk crack from May through October. They are, by a wide margin, the insect a visitor to Florida is most likely to photograph and ask about.

Three inches long. Walks instead of flies. Toxic. Photogenic. Yours, for the entire summer.

What it is

The Eastern lubber, Romalea microptera, is one of the largest grasshoppers in North America. Adults run 2.5 to 3.5 inches long, with the biggest females pushing 4 inches. Two adult color morphs exist: the famous bright yellow form with red and black markings, and an olive-brown form with the same markings, which dominates in parts of the central and north peninsula.

The nymphs — the juveniles you see in spring — look like a completely different species. They are jet black with one yellow or orange stripe down the back and along the legs, and they swarm in clumps of 30 to 50 on shrubs and grass at first. People often kill them thinking they’re some unknown plague. They’re not. They’re just baby lubbers, and they’re going to molt five times and become the yellow giants by June.

Lubbers are flightless. Their wings are vestigial little pink-tipped flaps that don’t carry their body weight. They walk, climb, and at most do a short clumsy hop. The word “lubber” comes from Old English lobre — clumsy — and it fits.

What they lack in mobility they make up for in chemistry. Lubbers are aposematic: their bright color is a billboard advertising that they are toxic. Grab one and it will hiss, foam at the joints, and as a finale produce a foul-smelling projectile vomit. Birds that eat them get sick fast and learn the lesson. Most predators leave them alone.

The life cycle is tight and visible: eggs laid in soil in fall, hatch March through April, gregarious nymph swarms through spring, adults by June, breeding through summer, dead by November. One generation a year.

What you do

Peak visibility runs May through October. Heaviest concentrations are in central and north Florida pine flatwoods and any suburban garden with ornamentals. The southern tip of the state has fewer.

To find them on purpose: walk any palmetto-rich pine flatwood in summer and look at the underside of saw palmetto leaves at sunrise. Wekiwa Springs State Park, Three Lakes WMA, and Ocala National Forest are all lousy with them. You will not have to search.

For a great photo: macro lens, first light, look for an adult still wet with dew on its back. The yellow lights up. They don’t move much in the cool of morning, which is when you can frame the shot deliberately instead of chasing them through the grass.

Identification is easy because they look like nothing else native in Florida:

  • Nymph (March–May): black with bright yellow or orange stripes, in clumps.
  • Adult yellow morph (June–November): bright yellow body, black and red markings, pink-tipped vestigial wings.
  • Adult olive morph (June–November): olive-brown body, same red and black markings.

Conditions, honestly

If you garden in Florida, lubbers are not abstract. They are voracious. UF IFAS extension consistently ranks them among the top ornamental-plant pests in the state. They favor amaryllis, crinum lily, citrus seedlings, vegetable gardens, and oak leaves — and a single adult can strip a small amaryllis in a couple of days.

Pesticides don’t work well on adults. The chemistry that protects them from predators also makes them resistant to most foliar sprays. The control strategies that actually work:

  • Spring spray on nymphs. When you see the black clumps in March and April, that’s the window. Nymphs are soft, gregarious, and vulnerable to a basic insecticidal soap or a hard hose blast.
  • Hand-pick adults. Knock them into a bucket of soapy water. It’s tedious but effective. Wear gloves if you don’t want to smell their defensive secretion.
  • Accept some loss. Plant amaryllis far from your favorite specimen plants; lubbers will eat the amaryllis and ignore tougher leaves.

Their natural predators are few but specific. The loggerhead shrike — a small grey-and-black songbird — impales lubbers on barbed wire fences and thorn branches and lets them “cure” for a day or two, which apparently breaks down the toxins enough to eat. American crows will occasionally parboil them. Bobwhite quail eat the nymphs only.

What it’s not

It’s not dangerous to you. Touching a lubber is harmless. If you grab one roughly, it will foam and vomit on your hand — unpleasant but not toxic to human skin. Wash and move on.

It’s not a true plague-level pest unless you grow specific ornamentals. Most natural Florida vegetation handles lubber pressure fine; oak forests have coexisted with them for millennia.

It’s not something to kill in the wild. The yard amaryllis is one thing — the palmetto stand at Wekiwa is another. Lubbers are native, they’re food (eventually) for the shrikes and crows that need them, and they are part of the place.

It’s not safe for dogs. The same toxins that deter birds will make a dog vomit hard and possibly need a vet visit. Don’t let your dog eat one. Most dogs learn after the first try.

What it IS

It is one of Florida’s most photogenic native insects, the most-asked-about bug on every state park trail in summer, and a small living reminder that “tropical” doesn’t mean exotic — it means a year-round cycle of life on display in your own backyard. The lubber is a Florida feature, not a Florida bug.

It is also, for a child seeing one for the first time, the moment the state stops being beach + theme parks and starts being a place with weird wonderful animals everywhere you look. That’s worth a lot.

Practical card

  • Where: statewide; densest in central and north Florida pine flatwoods and suburban gardens with amaryllis.
  • When: nymphs March–May, adults June–October, gone by November.
  • Best photo: macro lens, first light, dew on yellow body.
  • Handle: fine to touch; expect foam and smell if you grab roughly.
  • Dogs: keep away. Toxic if eaten.
  • Garden: spray nymphs in spring. Hand-pick adults. Skip the pesticide.
  • Cost: zero. Walk outside in summer. They will find you.
Silvio Alves
Silvio Alves
Published February 10, 2026