And the Chrysalis Became...

A small, unknown but very sweet and beautiful chrysalis found May 28, which oddly enough would have been my dear mother Ida's 100th birthday. How fitting, to find a little mystery on her birthday, something pregnant and wonderful. 

Mama had me when she was 38. That was considered impossibly old in 1958. I'm so very glad she did. Sigh! Thank you for this gift of life, Mom! I am enjoying it so much.

We wondered and wondered about this little capsule. What would it be? As naturalists do, I looked around to see what was abundant right now, what was hatching out, and I thought about it. I decided it might be a small wood satyr, based on who was bouncing along the woodland edges at the time. 

I purposely did not want to Google it, because I didn't want to spoil the surprise.

The chrysalis got darker and darker. That could mean it was getting ready to eclose, a nice word describing the moment a butterfly emerges. Or it could mean it had died. I decided it had to be the first choice. I kept sniffing it, in a Science Chimpy way, to make sure it was still with the living. Yep. 

If you click you might be able to see the threadlike segmented antennae running down from its squarish eye. The head got a lot more prominent in the last couple of days.

I've shoved its support stick into plasticene so it can't possibly tip over and squash itself, and also so it has room to hang from the chrysalis once it comes out.

I checked that little thing probably 20 times the morning of June 1. And then stuff kept happening and a couple of packages came with the mail and we got all excited about it, and I went to move the little critter keeper and saw A SMALL WOOD SATYR where there had once been a CHRYSALIS!!!

I just don't get a whole lot more excited than this. SO BEAUTIFUL!! Appearing like magic! When I wasn't looking, of course!

Its wings were wet and floppy when I found it. Oh, how I wished I'd seen it pumping them full of fluid! Oh well. I was thrilled beyond thrilled that it was alive and hatched out without a hitch.

After maybe three hours, it was ready to go, bouncing off the walls of its critter keeper. The kids and I carried it out to the orchard and Phoebe made this little video. Warning--there is high-pitched squeeing from me. I made the same sound when I caught my first northern pike.

Resting after its big morning, in perfect habitat, in the orchard I've been working so hard to clean up.

Speaking of hard work, the Living on Earth presentation went off without a hitch. I was dang proud to have been my own techie on it, too. Well, I had plenty of help from the LOE staff, who were WONDERFUL to work with. And interviewer Bobby Bascomb couldn't have been more sensitive, wide-ranging, or beautifully prepared in her questions. Wow. We had well in excess of 300 people watching the Zoom presentation, including many friends, family and Zickfans, and it was exciting for me to make my way through such tall corn, talking about blue jays, my favorite topic. Well, one of them.

My setup in the good Internet at the Bird Watcher's Digest office. I taped a bird-themed huipil from Guatemala over my head. The wee square hole is for a person's head--it's kind of like a poncho. I couldn't get my head through that hole to save my life, but I bought it for the fabric. 

If you'd like to listen to it (and you should, if you've never been to one of my talks but would like to), it's archived on the Facebook page of Living on Earth. Here's the link:

https://tinyurl.com/jemimareplay

Be aware that the first several minutes are devoted to a holding screen, while we waited for everyone to arrive and get set up. So hit Play with the volume up and tune in when you hear voices. I hope you enjoy the presentation as much as we enjoyed creating it! 

Butterfly Crazy!

I knew it was going to be a good butterfly day when I couldn't get a dang thing done at the drawing/writing table. 

I kept seeing swallowtails. 

Eastern tiger swallowtail on crocosmia

This was interesting to me because I couldn't remember having seen swallowtails fighting over the crocosmia my friend Bonnie gave me years ago. I was astounded when she told me I wouldn't have to pull the bulbs over the winter, that it was hardy right in the ground. I had to believe her because she's from Erie PA and it's a LOT colder up there than it is here in southeast Ohio. 

I planted them and they sat and thought about it for a year and then decided they liked Ohio and took off running all over my hummingbird bed.

I've seen crocosmia just like this growing naturalized on roadside banks in Costa Rica. I wrote that sentence before I Googled "Crocosmia native to" and found out it's native to grasslands in southern and eastern Africa! Zowie! 

Had a feeling it wasn't native to Costa Rica. Kind of amazing that something from East Africa overwinters in Erie PA, huh? Amazing and a wee bit scary.

The hummingbirds love it, as do the spicebush (left) and tiger swallowtails. And so do I. I love anything that multiplies enough so I can give some to friends, but not so much that I have to pull the plug and go all zero-tolerance on it. Like lavatera and loosestrife. Got some crocosmia earmarked for Shila's newly revived and humming front garden. Paying it forward--for me that's what gardening's all about. I've got enough cardinal flower seedlings that I can give some to Shila, too!

Pipevine swallowtail says YEAH! 

I went to the kitchen to fix a little something to eat right after taking these shots through my studio window and stared slack-jawed as a very large brilliant lemon-yellow butterfly fluttered at Pelargonium "Happy Thought Red."  Duh? Whazzat??

It took about 20 seconds to sink in on me that I was looking at a giant cloudless sulfur! 

From there, it went to the Million Bells petunia (GCSU's love pink!)

and then zooped right over to the Naked Ladies which you may remember I dug up down on Dean's Fork and brought home in a paper cup because I wanted to know what kind of bulb made those funny straplike leaves in early spring. You can see that they, too, like living here. Who wouldn't? Heapin' helpin's of cow manure!

For a hoot, see "Digging the Mystery Daffodil," from March 2015. It tells the story of finding the mystery leaves, digging the bulbs, and figuring out what they were. 

The sulfur muscled its way into this flower and I was astonished to see it shoulder another giant cloudless sulfur out of the same blossom! I should stop here to say that giant cloudless sulfurs are a bit of an event in Whipple, Ohio. They are a southern species that makes a reverse migration in the late summer, flying far north of their breeding range for reasons unknown. Fun? Profit? 

For a dizzy and probably unrepeatable moment, I had two GCSU's in the same frame, on the Naked Ladies I'd dug, not knowing what they even were, years ago, who were now doing their spectacular thing in my heirloom bed. Hm. That sounds a little odd, but I'm too lazy to rewrite it. I kind of like the way it came out anyway. Heh. It's a terrible sentence, but this is a blog, not a book. 

LOOKIT THAT!!!!! The green leaves behind? Dean's Fork peony!!


I love this shot of a GCSU rising straight up, its abdomen above its hard-beating wings. It must need to get that little bod out of the way of the rotating wings when it's helicoptering straight up.

On the next stalk, that same tattered pipevine swallowtail I shot on the cardinal flower was having its way with the ladies. 

And peeking down beneath, I found a Peck's skipper sipping nectar from between the petals. Too small to go into the flower for nectar like the big boys, it still makes its way and finds sweetness.

I came back in the house and Jemima paid me a visit through the studio window.  She likes to check up on me.

I can't even tell you how I love this bird, love that she still visits her ma and takes handouts of pecans and chicken breast, rice and sweet corn, sunflower hearts and peanuts from her window feeder.

As of July 31, she was easy to tell from the other four jays in the yard by her molty wings; she'd lost her big white-tipped tertials and was still growing replacements. The two deck feathers of her tail were about 3/4 grown in, too.  She changes every day, and she looks so different now (August 6)! I worry that I won't be able to pick her out from the other jays very soon, when her first alternate plumage is finally in.

I had a feeling, based on what I was seeing in the yard, that the Monarch Meadow would be hoppin', so I betook myself out there to meet Shila, who drove out after work to shoot butterflies with me. 

We were not disappointed. Another late summer/autumn reverse migrant from the Deep South is the giant swallowtail, sometimes called the Orange Dog for its depredations on orange trees. The broodplant for GISW is citrus! Since my Ruby Red grapefruit "tree" croaked, not much of that is growing in Appalachian Ohio. So these big boys have to come from afar.

Giants are just beeeyoootiful. I love the underwing!!

Can you believe this is the same bug?? Yep. Upperwing, with that fabulous stripe of gold across the middle.

Really it's hard to believe it's the same butterfly. Like giant cloudless sulfurs, giant swallowtails like pink.

This summer has been so very beautiful. Cool and rainy, lush and green. There's not a blade of grass wanting for water anywhere. I haven't had to water since June. Divine!! And all these butterflies, coming out just when I need them most, in the most perfect milkweed monarch meadow on the planet.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Mother's Butterfly

We had a beautiful Mother's Day out here--barely 70 degrees, breezy, crystal-clear cloudless sky. Bill and I started the day in pursuit of the nearest resident Kentucky warbler, who sings loudly just down the hill east of the house. He was responsive and cooperative, if you call flitting madly from branch to branch against the light cooperative. We got some decent shots, though, and had a lot of fun with him. I'll post those when I've got time to crop and lighten. iPhoto is a time sink like no other, and the one thing I don't have lately is time. Plenty of birds, plenty of sunshine, flowers, kids, chores, trips and love, but not much time.
I managed to photograph two yellow-billed cuckoos, a thing that is much easier said than done (as evidenced by this rotten shot). This one had a well-masticated forest tent caterpillar in its bill, and it flew off with it, leaving me scratching my head. It seems pretty early for cuckoos to be feeding young; they only just arrived.
Chet Baker was left inside for this little photo-safari, but it wasn't long before Liam forgot and let him out. He tracked us into the woods and was overjoyed to find us. We were a little less thrilled. I decided to take Baker back and let Bill get some more photos. A tiger swallowtail was feeding on my yellow osteospermum, in the mad tangle of greenhouse plants that have yet to be set out. I focused in on the butterfly, ignoring all else.
I was getting some nice shots when I heard the smallest little sigh to my left.

You are not the only person who likes betterflies. I have been watching this betterfly for a long time, before you even noticed it.

I jest need to smell it. I need to get it closer. I will use my catpaw to try to drag the flower over to me. I will not scare the betterfly. I will just get to know it a little better.
Yes, Mether. I know. It's Mether's betterfly. And this is a much more interesting picture, because I am in it.
Bill and I ended a long, nature-filled, pretty much perfect Mother's Day sitting out in the front yard (well, he was mostly pitching and catching softballs to the kids, and I was sitting). Our tree swallows, who are tending five pink eggs in a nestbox out in the meadow, made an emphatic suggestion for another activity. She's been sitting for over a week, which must get boring...
Bill grabbed my camera and made these pictures.
I have to say, I am glad I am not a tree swallow. Making love on a highwire looks way too difficult. But then, so does flying.