It's a Girl!

After observing a monarch butterfly chrysalis for 19 days, I almost gave up on a butterfly emerging. But the chrysalis was transparent this morning, and I could see a tiny monarch butterfly inside. That was encouraging. This afternoon, when I returned from a Ladies' Prayer Brunch with four friends (where at least one prayer went up for the monarch), I invited them into the house, hoping to find something spectacular. We were delighted to see a flawless female monarch hanging from her empty, crumpled chrysalis. She had thick black veins and was missing the black dots on the lower wings that identify males. We named her Amelia. She has a treacherous journey ahead.

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!

Counting Butterflies

Things don't always go exactly as we plan.  

Take butterflies.  

When I first saw three monarch cocoons in the flower garden, I visualized the interesting photos I was going to capture when the creatures emerged.

The first butterfly hatched when we were gone.

When we returned, it was still clinging to the transparent shell that had been its home for about 2 weeks.

It stayed there for some time, drying its wings and doing little stretches, before taking a short flight to some nearby foliage.  

After another rest, it headed off into the blue.

One of the cocoons that remains has been there for 16 days, the other, 17.  

By different accounts, the process should take 8 to 10 days, or 10 to 14 days.  

At this point, I'm facing the fact that it is unlikely the small creatures 

will ever break free from their gilded prisons.

While in butterfly watch mode, a few things became apparent.

At the outset I should have remembered the old adage (paraphrased):

"Don't count your butterflies before they hatch."

I also noticed that it's not always practical to plan one's schedule around a bug, 

even if it might become a butterfly.

In things as light as butterflies, and as weighty as our own lives, 

it's good to remember the ancient wisdom:

Every living creature is in the hands of God.

Job 12:10

Of course, there's always next year.  

If our live butterfly makes it to Mexico, 

maybe the offspring will return here next year 

and lay hundreds of eggs on our milkweed plant.  

Then, who knows?   

But there I go, counting butterflies again.  

Oh well, one could do worse than be a counter of butterflies.

Monarch Watch

Somehow in grade school, 

I missed the part where the students stand around a jar 

and watch a butterfly emerge from a cocoon, 

and I've always felt like my education wasn't quite complete.

So, a few years back, when I saw a monarch chrysalis attached to one of the flowers in our flowerbed, I was delighted to be positioned in the inner circle around the jar.  For several days, I watched the soft green cocoon, with its bright spots of shiny gold, until the small jewel became translucent, and the familiar black and gold of a monarch, though faint, began to show through.

We had to make a day trip out of town, and when we can back, the first thing I checked was the cocoon.  We were only gone the better part of one day, but during that time, the contents of the bright green and gold package had flown away, and all that remained was a limp, empty skin.

It wasn't until recently that I saw one again.  

Last week, six fat monarch caterpillars ate their way 

through the butterfly milkweed plant near the house...

When they were quite satiated, they made their way off, one by one.  

I located three of them later,

 hanging limp on the underside of leaves of nearby plants.

The transformation came overnight.

We woke in the middle of the night Thursday to the sound of pounding rain, 

and I wondered about those small green treasures,

but in the morning they were fine.

It's supposed to take about ten days for a butterfly to emerge,

and I have my calendar marked.

Stay tuned.

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