We stopped collecting eggs and caterpillars when our late-August cabin week was approaching: they needed space, and I wasn't sure how easily I could get them milkweed in the woods around our Ponkapoag AMC camp. When we moved to the camp, all but two caterpillars had formed chrysalises, and as these emerged my wife (who went home at some point nearly every day) would put them outside to fly away.
Then, searching milkweeds on August 28th, I found a single first instar and an egg. I accidentally killed the younger just after hatching, but the other caterpillar grew steadily--if a little slowly at first in the cooler weather. After becoming a 5th instar, she made up for lost time, and formed her chrysalis on Sunday, September 9th. Though I can't be sure of her age when I found her, she seems to have been on schedule or even a little ahead.
Since she was last of our monarchs, I named her Zoe.
As I watched her perfectly-formed chrysalis, I began to worry: southward migration was supposedly at peak, and due to be about over in just a couple of weeks. Would she emerge in time? The weather had cooled, and that would slow progress of this "cold-blooded" critter. After the minimum eight days, the chrysalis showed shadowy wing veins, but seemed to darken only with excruciating slowness. Or maybe we were just looking too closely.
On the 15th I spotted the only monarch I saw during the time of migration. Perhaps butterfly density around here is low, perhaps they weren't stopping here to eat, or perhaps I just wasn't outdoors when they came by.
I looked up more information about monarch life cycle and migration: the fall butterflies made the entire trip south, overwintered in trees in Mexico or southern Florida*, and in spring mated and laid eggs. Over the summer, further generations of monarchs gradually spread northward, so that the eggs we collected in July were likely the grandkids or great-grandkids of the fall migrants.
Finally, on the 21st, Zoe darkened fully and quite suddenly. I woke the next day pleasantly surprised to find I wasn't too late to record the emergence on video. She emerged in early afternoon, and I put her on fresh flowers of a rough-stemmed goldenrod in the backyard. Emerging as late in the day as she did, I was a little anxious but not surprised that she stayed on that plant for the night. The next day, Sunday, was cold and overcast, and Zoe didn't move. She didn't eat, either, though she took a little time to figure out her proboscis, and eventually probed a few nearby flowers for a few seconds. The end of peak migration was two days past.
I put my camera on a tripod to monitor her, leaving it recording hours of video.
Zoe hung locked in place on her plant all day Monday, as well. Highs those days didn't top 65 degrees and the sun never showed itself, but things were looking pretty desperate. I couldn't figure out why she wasn't tanking up on nectar for the long flight ahead. She didn't even shift a leg or stir a wing unless a thoughtless bumblebee blundered into her. (I'm pretty sure of her immobility and lack of eating after spot-checking some of the hours of video.) I looked up monarch diseases and was reassured when she didn't seem to suffer from any of the various diseases and parasites described.
It rained most of yesterday--two-and-a-half inches and sometimes hard--and Zoe was moved (on her plant) into the garage doorway. Last night it warmed up, and today dawned warm, humid and cloudy. I was attempting to move Zoe's plant back outdoors when she suddenly flew to another plant, landed for half a minute, and then spiraled upward to light in a high treetop. I tried to see where she went, hoping to see her take a definite southerly direction, but never spotted her again.
She might be miles away in any direction. She might still be in that treetop. But I hope she is well on her way to warmer latitudes, and that cold weather doesn't catch up with her. I wish Zoe warm, gentle tailwinds.
*The population west of the Rockies, on the other hand, winters in southern California. The spring "migration" is more spread than migration: some butterflies remain in warmer climes and so don't need to travel much at all.
Then, searching milkweeds on August 28th, I found a single first instar and an egg. I accidentally killed the younger just after hatching, but the other caterpillar grew steadily--if a little slowly at first in the cooler weather. After becoming a 5th instar, she made up for lost time, and formed her chrysalis on Sunday, September 9th. Though I can't be sure of her age when I found her, she seems to have been on schedule or even a little ahead.
Since she was last of our monarchs, I named her Zoe.
As I watched her perfectly-formed chrysalis, I began to worry: southward migration was supposedly at peak, and due to be about over in just a couple of weeks. Would she emerge in time? The weather had cooled, and that would slow progress of this "cold-blooded" critter. After the minimum eight days, the chrysalis showed shadowy wing veins, but seemed to darken only with excruciating slowness. Or maybe we were just looking too closely.
The bulge in a hind-wing vein marks this resting migrant as male.
On the 15th I spotted the only monarch I saw during the time of migration. Perhaps butterfly density around here is low, perhaps they weren't stopping here to eat, or perhaps I just wasn't outdoors when they came by.
I looked up more information about monarch life cycle and migration: the fall butterflies made the entire trip south, overwintered in trees in Mexico or southern Florida*, and in spring mated and laid eggs. Over the summer, further generations of monarchs gradually spread northward, so that the eggs we collected in July were likely the grandkids or great-grandkids of the fall migrants.
Well, this is awkward. Zoe is squashed into her chrysalis head downward, facing the leaf
she hangs from, her wings contracted and folded at her sides (rather than over it, they way
they hold them at rest as adults). Her long abdomen is telescoped into the domed part of the
chrysalis at the top. You have wonder why the chrysalis is formed that way--totally unlike either
the caterpillar that formed it, and also totally unlike the butterfly that will emerge in an hour or so!
Finally, on the 21st, Zoe darkened fully and quite suddenly. I woke the next day pleasantly surprised to find I wasn't too late to record the emergence on video. She emerged in early afternoon, and I put her on fresh flowers of a rough-stemmed goldenrod in the backyard. Emerging as late in the day as she did, I was a little anxious but not surprised that she stayed on that plant for the night. The next day, Sunday, was cold and overcast, and Zoe didn't move. She didn't eat, either, though she took a little time to figure out her proboscis, and eventually probed a few nearby flowers for a few seconds. The end of peak migration was two days past.
Zoe emerges at about 3 minutes.
Moving Zoe to fresh flowers.
Wings fully expanded and hardening nicely, Zoe flexes them experimentally.
I put Zoe's milkweed beside a goldenrod, but the milkweed blew over. I moved her directly
to the goldenrod, she clambered up until she reached the top, and there she stayed.
Get going, will you?
The day after Zoe emerged, and the day after that.
I put my camera on a tripod to monitor her, leaving it recording hours of video.
Zoe hung locked in place on her plant all day Monday, as well. Highs those days didn't top 65 degrees and the sun never showed itself, but things were looking pretty desperate. I couldn't figure out why she wasn't tanking up on nectar for the long flight ahead. She didn't even shift a leg or stir a wing unless a thoughtless bumblebee blundered into her. (I'm pretty sure of her immobility and lack of eating after spot-checking some of the hours of video.) I looked up monarch diseases and was reassured when she didn't seem to suffer from any of the various diseases and parasites described.
It rained most of yesterday--two-and-a-half inches and sometimes hard--and Zoe was moved (on her plant) into the garage doorway. Last night it warmed up, and today dawned warm, humid and cloudy. I was attempting to move Zoe's plant back outdoors when she suddenly flew to another plant, landed for half a minute, and then spiraled upward to light in a high treetop. I tried to see where she went, hoping to see her take a definite southerly direction, but never spotted her again.
She might be miles away in any direction. She might still be in that treetop. But I hope she is well on her way to warmer latitudes, and that cold weather doesn't catch up with her. I wish Zoe warm, gentle tailwinds.
*The population west of the Rockies, on the other hand, winters in southern California. The spring "migration" is more spread than migration: some butterflies remain in warmer climes and so don't need to travel much at all.
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