Contemplating Caterpillars

When I found thirteen monarch caterpillars clustered on my purple milkweed yesterday morning, they were pleasantly plump. They had eaten a large portion of leaves and were busy finishing their breakfast. By this afternoon, the number had dropped to eight. Failing a hungry bear or a wasp attack*, five had most likely left the milkweed and were looking for a place to attach and form a chrysalis. I spotted one on a nearby yucca.

By dinnertime, the caterpillar had firmly attached itself to the yucca leaf with silk threads. It hung in a "J" shape, appearing lifeless. If everything goes well, it will hang there for about eighteen hours or longer before forming a beautifully striking chrysalis. I hope to witness this transformation; I'll share it with you if I do.

Incidentally, the purple milkweed probably won't bloom, which is disappointing. It's a stunning native plant. However, anticipating observing a chrysalis and the potential emergence of a new butterfly makes the sacrifice seem worthwhile.

*A few years ago, I watched a wasp pluck a caterpillar off milkweed and carry it away.

 

Metamorphasis

There's been some excitement lately in the flower bed in front of the house. 

A butterfly milkweed plant was host to some bugs with striped pajamas, 

specifically the kind that turn into monarch butterflies. 

With their voracious appetites, they ate the plant right down to the stems. 

When they were quite full, 

they wandered off in search of a perfect place to spin a cocoon.

The little things looked quite helpless, flailing away at the edge of a stem, 

before turning back to find a better place.

Ahhh...  This might do.

On the day most of them moved off to find a sheltering place for their cocoon, the skies opened and rain fell in torrents. In the past, we've had less than desirable results with cocoons and moisture, so Don stretched a rope from a couple of places on the front of the house to the light pole, and draped a camouflage tarp over it, to serve as a tent for the small creatures. It looked like something right out of Duck Dynasty, but it worked. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that one should never underestimate a good man with rope and a camouflage tarp. The hummingbirds were happy with the arrangement, too, and quickly took to their new perches.

One by one, the caterpillars found their places.  

Most of them attached to a stem or the underside of a leaf, 

but there was one on the light pole, one on the side of the birdbath, 

and one on the overhang above the garage door.  

They hung there limp and lifeless...

...until, awakened by some inner compulsion, they wiggled into a soft green cocoon.

Over the next few days, their metamorphosis continued.

Stay tuned...


For the emergence, click here.




Linking with Saturday's Critters