Everybody has been asking, where are the butterflies? The bees? The bats? Across the board, while not quite a silent spring, it is an underpopulated season for many for our flying friends. Nature has her unseen rhythms, but with so many groups affected it was worrisome. A ranger at Fiery Gizzard recently confirmed they were getting the same phenomenon there. In the garden, the smorgasbord was open, but the diners were few -- a cabbage white was our most regular visitor. Finally a turnaround seems to be happening. In the past ten days we have finally seen the return of a few Eastern Tiger Swallowtails, a male Monarch, Spicebush Swallowtails (above), the reliable Silver-Spotted skippers, little Pearl Crescents, and the tiniest butterfly we get, the dime-sized Eastern Tailed Blue. The American Lady, a common butterfly not seen in the garden since 2020, finally returned One can differentiate the American Lady from the Painted Lady by her underwing eyespots, two big ones instead of four. Playing peekaboo behind a butterfly bush blossom, we could clearly identify her before we saw her pretty face, below. Some of you may be wondering about our Black Swallowtail caterpillar. We were not able to follow it as it left the fennel 12 days ago, and could only hope that it successfully eclosed sometime in the past couple of days. Despite numerous visits to the garden, we did not spot it. Swallowtails, when the emerge. hang, hardly moving, for an hour or two, then move up to dry out the opened wings, and then just fly off. It could be very easily missed, so we are hoping it made it. Here's a look back at another picture of the caterpillar munching on the fennel. The Eastern Tiger Swallowtail comes in two colors, the standard yellow, and also, less frequently, in brown. Having the first of them arrive in the garden in July was extremely late, especially as we are situated close by two tulip trees, one of their host plants. The Eastern Tailed Blue is really a small miracle. It could hide behind a marble. These are tiny bush sunflowers it is landing on. Its proboscis is as thin as a hair. As the garden grows more mature, it is a little wilder, with tighter plantings, greater height, and denser undergrowth. The sparrows, wrens, titmice, and goldfinches have been loving it. But hummingbirds were among the missing as well. Happy to report they have finally found the purple bergamot, a native super-sized bee balm relative. Photographically, we would have loved this shot more when the flowers were in full glory, but still like this one. In the milkweed patch, which is our raison d'etre, the plants are flourishing but we still await our most prized visitor, an egg-laying female Monarch. But as we slowly move towards a livelier garden, we hope she will be arriving soon. Our only Monarch was a male about ten days ago. The bee wanted his flower, but the Monarch wouldn't budge. For those photo fans who don't mind a little abstraction, here is a parting shot. Like the butterfly, come back soon.
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We of course are not out in the garden all the hours of the day, and some butterflies pit stop like Formula 1 drivers (about 3 seconds). When we are older and can't move much, we may sit out with a clipboard for eight hours for a couple of days to see what we are missing. But for now, in this busy summer, we, like the butterflies, buzz through numerous times through the day to see what we can see. On the host plants--primarily milkweed, fennel, parsley, spicebush, coneflower, penta (rare)--we every few days peek around for signs of caterpillars, such as frass or devoured leaves. We were happily surprised today to find caterpillars from two butterflies, the adults of which we had not seen this year: the black swallowtail and the silvery checkerspot. First, the cute one, the black swallowtail devouring the feathery tendrils of the bronze fennel. This one is not a complete surprise. The black swallowtail females are known to lay their eggs early in the morning. The second one was a bit of a shock, because this one, the silvery checkerspot, prefers coneflower as a host plant, but, we learned today, occasionally will choose a variety of dwarf sunflower. And there they were, the horde of not-cute ones. Below is a reference photo by Sara Bright from the terrific online resource for local butterflies, the Alabama Butterfly Atlas. A couple years ago, we did a post we called A PSA From the Silvery Checkerspot, asking butterfly-minded gardeners to check when they find a horde of ugly black caterpillars ruining a coneflower, or a dwarf sunflower, or any other plant. One can always search to find out what butterflies or moths use that plant for egg-laying. The might be a horde of ugly ducklings that will grow up to be beautiful creatures like the checkerspot below, well worth the sacrifice of a flower or two. You probably will not be able to find their tiny chrysalises, but you will be happy when they return to your garden, newly emerged.
The image above is not photoshopped. This butterfly is on my arm and completely unafraid. The Red Admiral is the most eccentric butterfly that lands in our garden. One of his rare talents is his willingness to land on us and stay awhile! When he landed on my arm a couple days back, I was standing there with my camera ready, arms down. Stephanie had time to get her camera and fiddle with settings. We moved through a series of poses before we settled on this one. (Stephanie said, "Don't look at him. It makes you look cross-eyed") Why is he unafraid? And how does Rick know that the Admiral will tolerate all this jostling? Because this is truly a territorial stand-off, one that has endured through three generations of Red Admiral butterflies, spanning three seasons. In each of three years one individual of this species has returned over numerous days at the same time of day, to the same side of the garden, sat in the same chair, and behaved exactly the same way. Improbable, yes, but the longer I talk the less crazy I will sound. So bear with me. Let's start with some documentary evidence. July 4th, 2020 7:17 PM and July 24th, 2020 7:39 PM Granddaddy Red Admiral is the first to throw the brushback pitches, flying through our hair, and perching assertively. He would alternate between sitting in my chair and in Stephanie's chair. June 16, 2021 7:47 PM and June 28, 2021 7:07 PM We have to presume it is Grandaddy's offspring. Wouldn't you? Same spot, same place, same modus operandi. It happens so regularly we schedule cocktails around his visits. The Red Admiral, however, never sips from a single flower. He sits and stares, and then divebombs us, and then takes our spot on the chair. June 17th, 2022 7:22 PM and June 23rd, 2022 7:45 PM Two years is strange, but three? In mid-June, I strolled out one twilight, but without expectation. A third year in a row? Impossible!! But there he was, warming on a stepping stone, before launching himself into the air, too fast for the human eye, and then sticking the landing on -- you guessed it -- the chair. The shot below is a couple days later. I can tell because Stephanie knew to dress up and save a seat for the grandson. Let's recap the Red Admirals unique qualities: 1: Highly territorial, leading him to buzzbomb people and perch defiantly, ready to take on any competition, presumably for females. We have never seen more than one Admiral at a time, and have always presumed that we have a single returning individual. 2: He is the only twilight butterfly, sometimes staying past dark. Never appears in normal butterfly hours (generally 10-5). 3: In 20 visits, has never tasted nectar in our sight. Literature says Red admirals prefer fermenting tree sap, fruit, and fresh dung to flower nectar. 4: Completely unfazed by people or cameras near him. 5: Never flutters. Takes off and lands vertically, at high speeds, and flies too fast to follow in flight. We hear and feel him as much as we see him. Sticks the landings like Simone Biles. 6: Behavior written up in scientific literature. Or at least a thesis: Territorial behavior of the Red Admiral Butterfly, Vanessa atalanta (L.) (Lepidoptera: Nymphalidae) (But only towards other butterflies! https://dr.lib.iastate.edu/handle/20.500.12876/64076 7: Offspring repeat this behavior year after year, and multiple times within each season. Longest stretch was the first year from the 4th to the 30th of July, in which we saw him at least half of those evenings. which is something because that is about the length of an adult admiral lifespan. Time to answer the question: Quien es mas macho? There is one clear winner. No contest. Sorry, Rick.
In other garden news, visitor numbers remain way down. But this past week we had three good returnees, an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (dark version), the Diana fritillary, and the Snowberry Clearwing moth. Greetings everyone. We are back, the garden is full and beautiful, and the sun is shining. Yet, here we are in mid-June and so far we have been seeing far fewer butterflies than any previous year. With only a couple exceptions, what we have seen are the little ones, primarily skippers zipping around in spiral chases. One battered male monarch straggled through up the hill in April. Not one Eastern Tiger Swallowtail has landed while we have been about. Hummingbirds are also no-shows, so far. Nature we know has her invisible rhythms. Every different butterfly has its own reproductive strategy, and of course there are bad years for some. But for all the butterflies in our neighborhood? We struggle for an explanation but find nothing. With the butterfly bushes opening this week, we have the full plateau garden breakfast buffet open: Phlox, pentas. butterfly weed, coneflower, verbena, milkweed, salvia, lantana, fennel, parsley, sunflowers (three kinds, even), and a delightfully strange new flower, the native Purple Bergamot seen below with one of the wee visiting skippers. One flower we are happy to have are the blooms of the native local redring milkweed. We rescued a couple from a powerline cut over the past couple years but they struggled to adapt. They seem to have finally established themselves, and one of our few fritillaries found it fit to visit. Each year we add a new host plant in order to support the offspring of other species besides Monarchs. Our addition is the spicebush, host plant for the butterfly of the same name. This is one of the few larger butterflies that has landed more than once, but so far no caterpillars. We have had one previously unrecorded visitor show up in the past week. It is called the striped hairstreak, and like most hairstreaks rubs its back wings together to disguise which end is which in case of an attack by a jumping spider or other predator on its tail. Even if we don't get the show we expect, with eyes open nature does often provide an unexpected alternate act. We have had with some regularity pileated woodpeckers visiting our "high suet," a double rack suspended about 20 feed in the air with the help of an extendable boat hook. for at least a week, and continuing, a parent has been feeding off the suet and flapping over to the trees on the side to feed its offspring, which we have named Archie in honor of its slightly sparse and decidedly orange head-feathers. They are pretty shy about us so we had to sneak the window open very quietly to snap the picture below. Trusting that indeed they will come. we leave you with a view of the smorgasbord that awaits whatever chooses to fly in. If they're little, they are all the more welcome. We just ask them to tell their bigger skymates. Until soon!
Keith emerged from his chrysalis on October 28th, the latest eclosure we had ever experienced. The time of day, nearly 2 PM, was out of rhythm as well. A new Monarch like most butterflies has a checklist of things to accomplish, and thus tries to get a reasonable early start on the day. Among other things, they must fill out and dry their wings, assemble the two halves of the proboscis (without which they cannot eat), get some nutrients and fluid in, flex their wings, and fly even if only to the top of a nearby tree. Normally, they begin their checklist, while hanging on to the shell of the chrysalis from which they have just emerged. Keith behaved differently, immediately leaving the chrysalis and climbing up on uncertain legs the skinny leaves of the willow sapling which scarcely held him. We moved a potted lantana closer, above, and he climbed over, but never looked comfortable. Of greater concern was Stephanie's observation that she had not seen the mouth motions characteristic of assembling the proboscis. Night was approaching, the temperature was dropping, and it became clear Keith, the butterfly, was continuing as a guest in the mesh cage on our porch. He did not attempt to fly. Two days later he was still in the cage, and still not eating well, if at all. Like parents with a fussy child, we brought in the best remaining flowers from the garden, placed sliced oranges on the floors of the cage and cotton pads soaking in a diluted honey-water blend on the mesh roof. None of these initially succeeded but eventually, it appeared he might finally be tapping the pads on the roof. There were short flights from leaf to leaf. He lacked strength, but he was beautiful. We still worried about his ability to eat. By Halloween, it became clear that the weather was as good as it was going to get, and it was time to get going. Time to kick him out of the nest, when his narrow window was as wide as it was going to get. Being new to birthing butterflies indoors, we worried that his instincts to fly south might be weakening. We opened the doors. When he wouldn't fly out on his own, Rick cut the butterfly bush bloom and nudged it under Keith until he stepped on it, and then we carried the bloom outside. Keith just hung there, not flying for some time, but finally did unfurl his tightly wound proboscis. His aim appeared off but he was using it, and on our big photo monitor it does appear to have been fused. He seemed to be a perfect Monarch. While we were inside, Keith flew off. His odds were certainly long, his strength uncertain, but we hope that he is headed to Mexico. For Stephanie and me, it was a strange end to a baffling season that was filled with happy surprises and head-scratching failures. Five Monarchs and three Black Swallowtails had hatched -- that makes it a success right there. But also whole broods had been lost. Plants thrived and then suddenly died. The Milkweed struggled to flower and seed. We have so much more to learn about our plants and our soil, about the variable populations of the butterfly species in our region, and about ourselves as the gardeners and caretakers.
We take these hurdles in stride, as the year has been a marvelous adventure that we have loved sharing with our community. As the cold sets in, we know that we will work hard to understand the lessons of 2021 and get as ready as we can for 2022. Thank you all so much for coming to the garden, sending your comments, and sharing the adventure with us. This past week, amid a scarcity of other butterflies, the Smith-Boeth Monarch Waystation lived up to its name, as on successive days we had six and seven Monarchs, some for six of seven hours, all fueling up on the nectar of Butterfly Bush, Zinnia, Lantana, and the occasional Marigold and Verbena. Never have we had so many at one time. We wish it were possible to get them all in one photo, but, of course space, and foliage and just the nature of butterflies prevented. So here is an assortment from October 12 and 13. We believe the male with the slightly creased wings to be Mr. Bean, but we can't be sure. Can you find the third butterfly in the picture above? It's so nice when something occasionally works the way it is supposed to. Have a safe journey to Mexico, boys and girls.
Meanwhile, the last caterpillar, Keith, below, has become a chrysalis and currently resides on a willow sapling indoors. Whether he will be too late to safely make the migration safely, we of course cannot know. All the garden can do is give them a chance. Our surprise dramatic endings to the butterfly seasons continued today, as not only did Mr. Bean emerge, and Keith climb our tiny willow tree (surprise, NOT milkweed!) to J, but while monitoring their progress Stephanie called out, "Was that a Monarch that just flew by?" I went to the garden and Lo and Behold, a pair of Monarchs, so fresh and new they might be relatives, were feeding for hours preparing for the journey ahead. They did not seem to mind, and indeed competed with, our Sikorsky-sized bumblebees for the best flowers. Mr. Bean, another male, seen above with Bruno's empty chrysalis, was a quick delivery, but perhaps was a little impatient to take wing. As he flew out of the enclosure, a downdraft caught him and swept him to the ground before he had made it five feet, leaving him on his back laying on the concrete! We used a leaf as a spatula and flipped him over. Shakily, he got his four legs under him, and caught his breath. He paused just long enough for us to worry that there was some defect, some malformation during his 20 days inside. Fortunately, he finally lifted off safely and flew up into the trees. "Oh My Lord! What if I had stepped on him?!" said Stephanie.
Back in the garden, the hungry travelers finished their long visit. The sun caught one sipping a single verbena flower. Normally, the books say, a Monarch emerges from its chrysalis in 10-14 days. In the spring, our Monarchs pushed that a little, to 16-17 days. but when Bruno, the oldest, started pushing on towards 19 days, and started to darken slowly, we worried. Perhaps taking them inside to the mesh enclosure on the porch was not enough to save them. Some nights had been cool, but just to the mid-40's. The outer casing of a Monarch chrysalis goes completely transparent about 12 hours or so before eclosure, revealing the jewel inside. On day 19, the darkness was more foreboding, and the timing was off. When we awoke on the 20th day, October 9th, we knew that Bruno was going to be either a goner or a butterfly. At 7:18 AM, it looked a heck of a lot better. Clearly, there was a butterfly inside, ready to come out. Almost three hours later, at 10:08, the process began, as the Monarch pushed open a side flap, stuck a leg out to grab on to the ridge on the capsule's exterior, slid down headfirst until its fluid-filled abdomen fell out, and its tiny curled wings began to unfurl, ready to be pumped into shape. Among the first things it does is assemble the two halves of its proboscis. The elapsed time represented by the above sequence is one hour and six minutes. Bruno rested for about an hour, letting his wings dry, still hanging from the shell of the chrysalis in the enclosure, which we had made a sort of terrarium, complete with a Lantana mini-bar. . Bruno (indeed it was a male) was not alone in his temporary home. In fact, for these couple hours, we had in residence all three principal stages of the Monarch lifecycle: caterpillar, chrysalis, and butterfly. Keith was happily munching up every leaf of the five small and scraggly plants we had scrounged from a fifty-mile radius. Mr. Bean, still green at day 17, is following in Bruno's leisurely updraft. About five hours after emergence, at 3:22 PM, Bruno was finally coaxed out into the wild with the bloom of a zinnia, giving us one last look before he flew out the screen door of the porch. While the garden is certainly winding down, flowers remain in bloom, especially the pentas, butterfly bushes, marigolds, and zinnias. A few butterflies still drop in for a meal, like the Clouded Sulphur and the much smaller Red-banded Hairstreak. Gratitude abounds.
There is certainly something to be said for bringing your caterpillars into a protected environment, especially in this case where survival would not have been possible outdoors. Bruno (at top) is a couple days ahead of Mr. Bean, who had quite a lot of extra eating to do. We had about four milkweed leaves left by the time he finally vamoosed. But the wings are wonderfully clear though the delicate green shell in both. It's 11:18 PM on Wednesday and Bruno remains green, with no sign of the last day transparency that precedes eclosure, so our guess is Friday for Bruno and the weekend for Mr. Bean. And yet we still have wondrous things going on in the garden, once the seven days of storms finally cleared. First, we had a beautiful male Monarch come fatten up for the continuing journey south west. And two first sightings of the season for two species happened in just the past two days, first the Pipevine Swallowtail, and then the Red-Banded Hairstreak. As soon as we have an update on the chrysalises we will be back with a longer post. Until then, please stay safe and well.
We have been sad and slow to post because nature, as we knew it would but dreaded it nonetheless, in its myriad ways prevented every caterpillar and chrysalis from the latest Monarch brood, including all The Amigos, from progressing to a butterfly. Then the marvelous Margaret Renkl, whom we adore, wrote this week in a New York Times opinion column that just up the road in Nashville, she had seen only six butterflies of any variety all summer. Yet, she still found the beauty and the joy in what God did give her in her garden. It's just rarely what one expects it to be. So let us count the blessings we have recently enjoyed. 1) We hatched another beautiful Black Tiger Swallowtail female. 2) We watch a pair of Silvery Checkerspots prepare to lay another hundred eggs, the issue of which we will happily watch devour our remaining coneflowers. 3) A beautiful female Monarch did visit, although all we saw her do was feed. 4) A Red-Spotted Purple supped with a Ruby Throated Hummingbird on the lavender Butterfly Bush. 5) And in the greatest surprise of all, amid the Milkweed, suffering terribly from an assault of aphids and a lack of ladybugs, this week a pair of third-instar Monarch caterpillars were found by eagle-eyed Katie. These we have taken in on a potted Milkweed to the porch. Meet Bruno and Mr. Bean (who keeps falling off!?) Keep looking. There is always something there to celebrate. Always a new joy beginning. And beauty is always around us for the finding.
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The Smith-Boeth Monarch Waystation was conceived by Rick and Stephanie as a place where Monarchs and other butterflies could find nectar, shelter, and a place to lay their eggs.
The Smith-Boeth Monarch Waystation #24758 is approved by Monarchwatch.org. We are also #189 on the Rosalynn Carter Butterfly Trail, and Smith-Boeth Monarch Waystation #3175 with the North American Butterfly Association.
To contact Rick or Stephanie, please email us directly at MonteagleMonarchs@ gmail.com |
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