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Metamorphosis
It’s an amazing thing to watch this process of caterpillar to butterfly. First they’re tiny…
Even little ones need to hide now and then… 
…snug as a bug in a rug. They eat, sleep, shed several times, and grow restless for the heights…
Mirror, mirror on the wall 
Caterpillar Pilates 
…then fasten themselves to a good, secure spot.
Next comes the most amazing part. As a child when we did this, I never saw the chrysalis formation happen. I pictured the process as being similar to the moth that spins a cocoon around itself. But the chrysalis is within the caterpillar, waiting to neatly trim away all the stuff the butterfly will no longer need.
Monarch Metamorphosis from Snaphappy on Vimeo.
It takes perhaps a half an hour before the process is really complete.
The old skin, discarded, lies on the ground beneath the finished chrysalis. Now it’s a matter of waiting for a week or 10 days till a butterfly emerges. We have 4 chrysalises and 4 caterpillars at the moment. Hopefully all 8 will emerge as healthy butterflies ready for their trip to Mexico.
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Pathway ponderings
Older Daughter and I took a walk down a familiar trail the other day. It was midafternoon and there wasn’t much wildlife to be seen. But this woodpecker tree was one of several reminders that the woodland inhabitants were alive and well.
The trail wound invitingly among ferns and trees. We’ll have a few months of color, then the winter monchromatic palette will be back in play.
“Green thoughts in a green shade” I thought this fuzzy fungus was a mouse at first.
We descended to a favorite spot along the creek, a small waterfall that always invites us for a picnic (though we never have one packed).
The picturesque scene hides a tragedy. The water was low enough that we walked up the creekbed instead of returning to the trail. At the base of the falls, hidden here by the pile of flood debris, was a dead rabbit, soaked with mud, eyes still open in panic. Somehow it had been washed down the creek and killed.
It was a disturbing sight. I’ve often noticed the waste of roadkill — animals hit by cars by accident. Nature is usually more purposeful, and a favorite mantra of nature writers is “the economy of nature.” But this was an example of pure accident. I couldn’t help brooding over it as we walked on.
Looking back downstream Raccoons had left their prints along the edge, attracted by the crayfish and frogs.
Did someone say “frogs”? It was a nice walk, though we were out at the wrong time of day to see any early warblers coming through on their way back south. The almanac predicts another harsh winter, and I saw some warblers on the move when we vacationed north of here a few weeks ago. Hopefully we’ll see a few in the days to come.
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Stages
Things are looking up around here. At least, caterpillars are. Two of our now seven monarchs have made their silk buttons and dropped into their J’s. I hope I’ll be able to see the chrysalis form for at least one of them. We have one more big guy that I picked up today, thinking he’d climb right up to the ceiling with these two and follow suit, but so far he’s munching with great dedication on the milkweed, occasionally pausing mid-bite for a nap.
Still, it won’t be long. I won’t have to worry about supplying fresh milkweed for him for long.
Not the case with this one.
What can I say? I was ready to stop collecting caterpillars, but Younger Daughter was along and felt otherwise. So we have the three big guys, two medium-sized ones with a couple of instars left before they’re ready for chrysalises, and now two tiny ones.
At least they grow quickly!
I think it may give them a better chance to be safe in the aquarium while they’re in the chrysalis state. But I have mixed feelings. Life in the wild looks pretty good too: soaking up the sun and the breezes, eating and napping.
I know monarchs are poisonous to birds, but I’m not sure if other predators eat them: spiders, frogs, milkweed beetles. Maybe the tiny ones have a better chance if we help them out too.
In any case, it’s encouraging to see so many of them this year!
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New caterpillar
Checking for monarch caterpillars, we discovered an unfamiliar one munching on goldenrod:
Brown hooded owlet I snapped the picture with my phone, then came home and searched my caterpillar guide and the internet to identify it. The moth is quite drab, but the caterpillar is bright and active. Other than that, I haven’t been able to unearth much information about it.
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Bald Mountain
Another place we visited on our Adirondack vacation was Bald Mountain. It was a popular place the day we were there! There is a fire tower on the granite crest of the hill that you can climb to look out over the Fulton Chain of lakes. I’ve climbed it in the past, but not this year — the nice solid ground provides a sufficient vantage point for me!
Bloom where you’re planted! 
Touches of fall 
Our most sure-footed hiker -
A friend for Ted
My husband told us to bring home a big caterpillar to keep Ted company — so we wouldn’t have to maintain a fresh milkweed supply for long. Older Daughter and I brought home the biggest one we could find — about .5 cm long!But no worries. They grow incredibly quickly!
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Monarch of the Kitchen
We named this monarch caterpillar Ted. I’ve been wanting to find one (or more) to observe the process of caterpillar-to-butterfly again; we didn’t do it last year, but for several years prior to that we did.
The biggest monarch extravaganza was in 2011, when we shepherded about 20 monarchs to butterflyhood. I wrote about it on my other blog in this series of posts. I was embarrassed at the time, recognizing how excessive that was — but then in September our area was hit by a massive flood that completely covered the valley where we’d found all the caterpillars. We saved 20 of them, at least. And we had a blast!
This year I definitely envision a smaller operation! But if we should find a friend or two for Ted in this short period of feeding on milkweed, sleeping, and growing by leaps and bounds before making a chrysalis, we certainly have the room. (Edited to add: we added one more, pictured here.)
Meantime, sweet dreams, future butterfly.
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Revisiting Ferd’s Bog
Lucy, our trusty hiking companion, urges us on One of the places I love to visit in the Adirondacks is Ferd’s Bog, a 50-acre tract of boreal forest surrounding a black spruce bog. I first visited it in 2011, and the bog was filled with pitcher plants; I posted a picture of them here, at my other blog. I haven’t seen the pitcher plants for the last three years, though, and I suspect that people may be venturing off the boardwalk (judging from the many trampled trails I saw into the grasses) and taking them. It’s both foolish (since they won’t grow anywhere else — they grow in the bog because it’s acidic) and selfish (since it alters the ecosystem, prevents others from experiencing it, and even breaks the law by taking plants from a protected area). I hate to sound so negative, but it’s sad to see. I’m not sure whether the process can be reversed or not.
Nevertheless, the walk through the woods into the bog retains its primeval character. There are apparently many interesting birds that inhabit the area, but I haven’t seen any of them: gray jays, boreal chickadees, black-backed and three-toed woodpeckers, for example. But the many plants, trees and mosses always grab my attention and make the walk seem magical.
Here are a few pics from my most recent foray in.
Trail 
Lichen 
You descend into the bog — and climb back out 
A stump beautifully furred with mosses 
Wood between the worlds 
Boardwalk into the open bog 
Micro-world 
Creeping snowberry 
Stump host for all kinds of plants 
Open bog — the black flecks are dragonflies. The air was thick with them. 
Quietness — no sound but a single white-throated sparrow 
Big sky country 
Boardwalk leading back into the woods 
Follow the yellow — er, white — brick road 
The trail back out 
Red toadstool 
A tree bearded with mosses 
Red berries — not sure what kind 
Polished roots 
Evergreens 
Baby evergreens 
Log overtaken with other plants 
Decomposition 
Woodland benediction Some pics of Ferd’s Bog from last year are included here. Some from the year before are here.
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Big leaf, small butterfly
For the first time in the 15 years we’ve lived here, sunflowers actually came up. Always before the chipmunks ate them when they were mere sprouts, but these are at least 12 feet tall and just starting to bloom.We have a hedge of shorter varieties too.
I join the goldfinches, bees, and butterflies in my fondness for these bright flowers.
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Touching nature
