Life can be tough for a monarch. Of the thirteen caterpillars I saw on the purple milkweed early last month, I only found five chrysalises. A fat lizard lurking a few yards away in the dog kennel was a prime suspect in their demise. The five caterpillars that formed chrysalises suffered a similarly sad fate. None of them made it to maturity. So, when I discovered two more caterpillars on the butterfly milkweed in my raised garden at the end of September, I was happy to have another chance to witness an awe-inspiring transformation.
I watched the two for a few days. Only one remained when I returned from church on Sunday at the end of last month. I was determined to keep sight of this one. The tiny creature made her way around the raised garden as slowly as a robo vac mapping a room, but with even less certainty, then crawled to the ground and continued her trek. To form a chrysalis, she needed to find an upright form to attach to, but the search was challenging. From a caterpillar's perspective, even blades of grass looked like trees.
As much as I hate to interfere with nature, I was getting hungry. So by the time she reversed her direction the third time, when she crawled onto a leaf, I picked it up and carried it to the laid stone structure that holds our birdbath. Another quest ensued before the caterpillar found her spot- a sheltered rock protected from direct sunlight on the structure's north side. There, she stopped and rested. When I checked in on her that night, she had attached her back end with silken strands and hung in a J shape. By the next morning, she had shed her outer skin, and a soft green jewel hung there, decorated with spots of brightest gold.
Our first frost was forecasted for Wednesday this week, so Tuesday afternoon, besides covering some plants and bringing others in, I carefully detached the chrysalis from the stone it had chosen to hang from, brought it inside the house, and hung it from a chain near the window. That's where we found Amelia this morning, a brand-new, perfect butterfly clinging to the chrysalis. She stayed there as I transported her outside on the chain and hung it on the front porch. When I checked on her next, she was struggling on the bricks below. Picking a geranium blossom, I extended it to her. She seemed relieved to discover it and gingerly climbed aboard. I propped it in the geranium plant, and there she rested. When I returned, she had flown away.
Amelia may be staying near the Buffalo River tonight, but I hope it's warmer wherever she stays. And I hope she makes lots of friends in Mexico. Adios, Amelia!
