Caterpillar Crises, Recoveries

Late in July (as reported here) we discovered at first three and then an additional two tiny black-yellow caterpillars of one Black Swallowtail butterfly we had seen dancing our backyard some days before. Last year we had discovered one, and that one quite late in its progress. We named it, and the beauty that it eventually became, Aristo. Then, about three days later, the little dark but yellow-dotted creatures had rapidly grown to resemble last year’s Aristo, although they were then still less than half Aristo’s size. Herewith a couple of photographs of one, presented here, as it were In Memoriam. I’ll explain that phrase in a moment.

In Memoriam because, the very next day, to our utter horror, we discovered not only the first three we’d found but also the other two—gone. Some birds had found and dispatched them in the wink of an eye and five snaps of the beak later. And we entered a kind of period of mourning. And reflection. On the Nature of Things. All this marvelous work of butterfly flights, hovers over dill plants. Those very brief landings lasting just long enough to deposit eggs that, thanks to the gargantuan labors of DNA and enzymes and The Plan first appeared as lovely black-yellow and later as green-white-black caterpillars—intended someday soon, a few weeks later, to take wing themselves. But No! The sharp eyes of a bird, itself the magical product of nature, caught these delicious morsels and they turned into—food!

Over the next two weeks we happened to be present to witness for ourselves at least four or five new visits by Black Swallowtails. They must have very keen powers of smell to find our rather rich sampling of dill plants. They also came when we were gone, no doubt, and we’ve been gone a lot.

Well, what do you know! Inspecting those dill plants again, as I’ve done most mornings, this morning I discovered three new caterpillars, one on one and two on an other plant. They are at the early stage, thus very small, very dark, and displaying only a single yellow dot. Well indeed! I ran to get Brigitte. Then we prepared a large pot with fresh soil and immediately transplanted the two dill growths into the pot and brought that one indoors into our bright Sunroom where birds are perhaps visible but always through glass or screen alone.

Thus our butterfly adventure continues. If our luck extends, more notes will appear here in due time.

The Suspense…

The suspense began about a week, ten days ago when—in thrilled shock—we saw a Black Swallowtail butterfly fluttering energetically, erratically in our back yard and, sure enough, briefly pausing at every one of our dill plants. The lovely creature lingered, always moving, at least fifteen minutes and made several rounds of the whole domain, now disappearing behind the garage, now reappearing over the wooden fence. At Brigitte’s suggestion three days I ago I went and inspected our dill plants. On one of these I discovered three tiny black forms. There was just a hint of color in the center of at least one of them. Yesterday morning they all had the marking and had grown visibly in length. By afternoon we could discern them moving under a magnifying glass. Last evening Michelle, impatient at my hapless fumbling with the camera (and my fuzzy results) took it out of my hand and produced the first image in 2011 of Artisto’s Return. If the suspense is too much for you, look here. 

We noticed one caterpillar last year on the 27th of July, by then already quite big. This year we’ve counted nine separate tiny caterpillars at the stage shown in the photograph. Michelle took a very tight close-up. The little creature is barely visible to the naked eye. Today, almost by way of confirmation that, indeed, Black Swallowtail butterflies are in migration, we saw another one this morning. It visited—and fed on—the same plants where the tiny caterpillars are, communed with us for fifteen minutes, and then headed on north.

Aristo

A Black Swallowtail Caterpillar discovered on one of our dill plants. This variety of butterfly likes carrot-type plants, thus including dill and parsely. For those seeking hard knowledge, this creature's Latin name is Papilio polyxenes.

Brigitte named him Aristo, based entirely on his heraldic appearance, transferred him to a pot, placed him under glass, and anticipated a genuine biological experience watching a real metamorphosis unfold. Aristo ate like champion; Brigitte fed him parsely and dill. He preferred dill but consumed the parsely too. 

After about a week of feeding, the huge catepillar then transformed himself overnight into this much smaller chrysalis. The structure hangs from the stem arched above it by the tiniest (and here invisible) pairs of white tendrils.

Another week passed. Suddenly, sometime between noon and three-thirty in the afternoon, unobserved by human eyes, Aristo escaped from its small green hull and unfolded its glorious plumage as shown here. Note the two eyes, Here's Looking at You, that no doubt make birds hesitate before disturbing this magnificence. The photograph is through the plastic container that then still held Aristo.

Here is another view. In this one the top portion of his hull is visible at the top.

We transported Aristo fifty miles to the Magee Domain on the Shores of Lake Wolverine. Here is Aristo less than a minute after his release into the wilds resting on a Black Eyed Susan.

By the way, we called him "he" without good rhyme or reason. It might have been a Lady. Aristo became a caterpillar in Grosse Pointe Farms, Michigan. As a chrysalis he travelled to Stratford, Ontario. We dared not leave him alone. Back home again, he turned butterfly—but then travelled another goodly distance before at last he was, as we say around here, "born free."