Oops, I’m out of sequence, as far as chronology, but a move to a new home this past autumn sent my calendar into a tizzy. But before I switch to a new butterfly blog (because now I am living near the beach in Long Beach), I want to end this one with a celebration of last summer’s Butterfly Garden Dedication in Santa Ana. I was a very involved participant, and this blog shows images from the day-long June event, including me (Allene Symons on the left) with my co-planner for that day, Chris Switzer.
This post is about a monarch rescue that took place this week, though I was sorry my husband couldn’t be here to see its success. The monarchs in our garden were a healing grace throughout the ordeal of his dementia, before I lost him in December. For this reason, I am writing a book about how monarchs, and especially the caterpillars, seemed to mediate throughout the dementia journey. They brought joyful moments and a sense of hope, and they provided a feeling of purpose — most notably when tending them called for an intervention to help a threatened butterfly or caterpillar carry out their life cycle.
This rescue reminded me of the many times he and I had undertaken similar efforts to change the fate of a monarch. The one in this photo had chosen to form its chrysalis on a prime bit of butterfly real estate–the red brick pillar on our front porch (now my front porch…it is so hard to get used to saying that). This is the spot our caterpillars like best, and sometimes we’ve had a row of chrysalises lined up like little celadon green vases.
On the day in question, I could see the orange and black wing pattern clearly through the now-clear chrysalis, I knew it was ready to eclose or emerge. I made it a point to delay my errands until the morning temperature warmed the butterfly so it would pop out, and I could make sure it didn’t need help. Sure enough, being a warmish day, it emerged at about 9 a.m., though I didn’t catch the exact moment. When I saw it a few minutes later, it had already stretched its wings fully open though they were not yet dried and set. I saw that it was a perfectly formed male. This was a moment for celebration. I felt sure that in a couple of hours, after drying and exercising his wings, he would take off.
So I headed out for my errands, and didn’t get home until almost 4 p.m. I thought he’d be long gone, but he was still there. How unusual, I thought. It wasn’t cold (when sometimes a new butterfly takes longer to set their wings and catch a lift in a warm breeze). I took a closer look. He was still attached, almost imperceptibly, to the chrysalis. It appeared to be one of his black antennae, attached to the empty pupa case. I’d never seen anything like this in the almost eight years I have been involved in monarch conservation. I put my finger near his legs, and he willingly climbed on. But the part of him caught in the chrysalis, the tiny tip of his antennae, resisted. It had tethered him there all day.
With a gentle tug or two, I finally pulled him free. What a relief! I carried him to one of our trellises, where monarchs often make a successful launch by climbing to the top before wafting away. He took his position on top of the wooden supports, and I looked out a few times to see him exercising his wings. Within the hour, he had launched and flown away. I sent a glad thought into the cosmos, as if Alan could hear: We did it again, my dear. Another one saved.
Today I had to post this sign, which I’d stored away at the end of last season, because this morning I saw three caterpillars about to take a walk across the porch. This sign reminds me to look down so I don’t step outside and accidentally squish one!
I’m not surprised it was three of them together, in in different stages or instars, because caterpillars are popping up all over the place. I counted a total of twelve this morning, and I’m sure I missed some hidden in the milkweed. That is the most on one day so far, and it bodes well for a good season for monarchs in my garden.
Sadly, I know the overall monarch count is in serious decline, but at least those of us who maintain backyard way stations are doing our bit to help the monarch butterflies, and because they are pollinators too, to help the planet.
Sometimes a monarch forms its chrysalis in the most unlikely of places, and this one picked the cavity of a plastic hose caddy. It wasn’t an ideal choice for three reasons. This hose caddy tends to be wolf spider city (aka predators), plus a new butterfly would find itself in a tight space after emerging (after eclose). Then too, the plastic is so slick its claspers would have had difficulty gaining purchase to climb up and out for the launch. So for all these reasons, I decided this situation needed an intervention: I carefully clipped the cremaster and brought this one indoors, where I attached it to the net rescue cage and placed the cage inside a window. We have had several successful rescues using this technique, and this one worked well too. I watched its progress carefully, and around two weeks later, it emerged from its chrysalis and I took the cage out doors. It dried its wings, dangling from the chrysalis, then climbed up the net (easy for them to gain purchase this way) and made its way to the top. That’s the second photo. From there, it exercised its wings and in due time took flight. Oh, and you may have notice noticed the date. This blog has returned after a two year hiatus.
It’s May 1, and today we counted a record number of 25 caterpillars, all munching away on our half dozen or so milkweed plants. Well, two are not munching away because they are in the J phase so they stop eating before turning within a day into a chrysalis.
It may help that we’re also tamping down the predator population with our new anti-wasp technique — grab the emergency butterfly net, snag the wasp, give it a stomp. Too bad we can’t love all insects equally, but being Monarch supporters we are unapologetically partisan. Wasps are not the only bad guys, but they are plentiful right now so we are being vigilant.
With so many caterpillars feasting at once, some are running into each other. Fortunately we have plenty of leaves, no problem. These two ended up on the same leaf. I call this image Little Buddy.
Here is our first new monarch of March 2019. It is one of eight chrysalides we expect to emerge in coming days, our record at any one time for the five years we’ve been involved in butterfly gardening. The reason for so many successful formations of chrysalides may be related to unusually frequent rains in recent weeks. We wonder if constant rain kept predators at bay. Look for more posts, now that our spring visitors are active and seven more butterfies-in-waiting are dangling on bars of wooden trellises and expected to emerge soon. We even have one chrysalis protected inside a net enclosure inside our house (why we took this step, and the outcome, will be the topic of a future post)
It is a chilly noon on Christmas Eve. Why is this caterpillar munching milkweed at the top of a branch in full sun? Unlike in the summertime when sun threatens to overheat a monarch caterpillar so they scurry to the shade of a shelter plant — here we are at the winter solstice when Sol is farther from Earth. Our caterpillars eagerly dine exposed, even at noon. These cats might be migrants from the midwest, for whom low-60 degrees is balmy. They remind me of human snowbirds who, visiting California in December, revel in lunching at a patio table when we West Coast residents prefer to hunker down indoors. This plump cat was having such a good time on a cool day with an alfresco lunch that it had to twist around the leaves at the top of the branch in order to stay attached while enjoying second helpings. It’s big but still kind of wrinkly, so probably this one has an additional phase or Instar before it forms a chrysalis.
Happy to be hatched in California, where milkweed grows year-round, this chubby Monarch cat feasted on a milkweed pod last month while his People (that’s us) were feasting inside on Thanksgiving duck.
This handsome fellow landed on the lantana ths week, after torrential rains and cold weather. The same day we saw three fat caterpillars seemed to suddenly appear, munching away in the sunlight. Where were they hiding when they were small? Probably under milkweed leaves, protecting themselves during the back-to-back-to back downpours. This is one of three siblings, each one pudgy and nearly ready to form a chrysalis.
We have had mixed success with our cats and Monarchs. Our giant crop of 8 active cats are now all dead or out flying around, about half and half.
We are doing the best we can against the Tachinid flies without using insecticides. We’ve had a few straight forward successful launches, several dead on arrival or severely mal-formed plus one heroic recovery whose story follows below.
On my watch a Monarch emerged that had trouble with the wing inflation/deflation/drying process so I set up a chair under the car port to watch over the little lady while she struggled to get airborne. When she fell to the ground and could not get her wings to work I’d gently tease her onto my finger tip and put her on a flower cluster hoping that nectar would help her avoid dehydration until she could recover the proper form and begin her departure sequence. She had one partial success flying about 2 feet with her wings nearly touching the pavement. When she stalled again I tried to get her onto a flower but that produced only falls to the pavement.
Phase 2: I wanted to keep her hydrated so I put her in the puddler (damp sand) and hoped she’d get some fluid intake in the 90 degree heat. I left her in the puddler and went inside.
Phase 3: I went out to check on her and she was in the coils of a garden hose on the ground. When I approached her to put her back in the puddler she took off and flew up into the pomegranate tree where she rested for a while and departed on her mission to find a fertile male monarch.
That’s all I could do and I’m pleased and proud that our brave lady has a chance to contribute to the Monarch Tribe.
This handsome fellow landed on the lantana ths week, after torrential rains and cold weather. The same day we saw three fat caterpillars seemed to suddenly appear, munching away in the sunlight. Where were they hiding when they were small? Probably under milkweed leaves, protecting themselves during the back-to-back-to back downpours. This is one of three siblings, each one pudgy and nearly ready to form a chrysalis.
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