Eclosure

Remember my little caterpillar friend?

Well, he ate..

and molted...

 and grew!

And then one day - before I could secure a proper butterfly enclosure, even! - I saw him hanging upside down in a very special "J" shape.

When his antennae got very, very droopy, I knew something was about to happen.  Now? Must it happen right now?  I scrambled, I fumbled, I dropped kicked a lens cap, set up a camera, spilled a folder of music, packed up my things, stubbed my toe, shoved a hunk of bread and cheese in my mouth with one hand while pressing some buttons on the camera with the other, hoped for the best, and dashed out the door for work.  Time lapse photography experiment a la minute!

When I returned, I was astonished to see exactly what I expected to see.

Danaus gilippus (Queen Butterfly) Chrysalis

As far as my rough time lapse experiment went, I hoped I had made accurate calculations.

Action captured!  It may be wobbly, and a bit too fast, but that was far preferable to action undocumented, due to a lack of battery power or SD card space.  I would now have plenty of time to metamorphize both my technique and gear. Perhaps I might even catch the next event on video!

My transformed friend was a beautiful leaf green color, studded with a gold so reflective I found it difficult to believe I was looking at animal rather than mineral.

Later, with shaking hands, I clipped and secured his milkweed branch, maintaining his chosen angle, height, and orientation, and moved him - gently, so gently! - to the safety of a newly delivered butterfly enclosure.

Safe Haven
If you look very carefully, you will see my beagle, also in a different form, in the background!

"Five to 15 days, unless overwintering," I read. How would he know if he should "over-winter," if he was indoors? I tried to help him decide correctly by leaving the windows open as often as possible. 

We waited.  My anxiety over the welfare of this tiny (tiny???) gift eased, as we fell into a new rhythm.  Each day, instead of coming home to a beagle, I came home to check on my little natural wonder. It was nice to have someone in the house with me, even if was just (just???) a chrysalis.

We waited some more.

It got cold. Please, not today. "Not today," I told him.

It got warm.  "Today would be a good day," I advised.

One day, he looked a little different.

Wings! (Day 15)

The next morning he was mostly black. A flash flood of worry scoured a path already worn with great waves of grief.  Although the reasons were obvious, I was far too emotionally attached to... a bug.  The internet shared with me all that could go wrong.

Day 16

But as the clock ticked away the morning hours, a form became more visible.  Please, please, please...

On the final day, the chrysalis shell turns as transparent as plastic wrap.

It was supposed to be a riding day, but instead, I paced like an expectant father in the waiting room. I swept the floor. I hacked up my CSA pie pumpkin with a machete. I fiddled with the GoPro: flying lessons had taught me the importance of equipment redundancy.  I turned my head for a moment - merely turned my head! - as a technological glitch stole my atten...

Gah! I missed it!

Eclosure! (That's butterfly speak for "hatching.")

My little friend - little only in stature! - you did it.

"You did it," I whispered to him.

Before my eyes, a great reversal happened: his fat body slimmed, and his crumpled wings expanded. Sometimes, he would swing back and forth on his branch.

Having owned a Dalmatian in the past, how could I not love his little polka-dotted body?

He climbed up and up!

I had given him a flower. Just in case.

But he was not hungry.  He stayed very still for a very long time. When his wings were finally dry and ready, it was too late in the day to release him. It was true, he had every reason to be tired, but more worry - just a trickle - seeped coldly in.  He was in the same place when I got back from work. Still and quiet.  Quiet and still.  Not that butterflies are all that noisy, as far as I have ever observed.

He needs a good two hours of drying time. It's best to release him when there are still several hours of warm sunshine left in the day.

When I wake, he is still still. But I do believe he is in a slightly different location on the ceiling of his enclosure. I am not still. I am restless. I check the sky. I check the weather.  Again and again.  I check the temperature of my back yard with my digital instant read thermometer.   Our moment has arrived. It's flying weather!  He agrees, fluttering this way and that, as I move him in his little tent outdoors.
 

See those two black dots on his hind wings? They tell me what I knew in my heart all along - it's a boy!

 
"Climb aboard," I say.  He does!

He waits a long time...

... and then - oh sweet tiny enormous miracle! - he launches!  After a victory lap or two, he wisely departs my bird infested yard.  When I can move again, breathe again, I go about my business, doing this and that, indoors and out. I am joyously, wondrously, gratefully, relievedly elated. And a little bit sad.

Perhaps half an hour later I fall victim to a butterfly fly-by.  He glides over my fence.  Hello again!  And then, a little later, he visits me one final time. 

Could it be another male Danaus gilippus? Perhaps. But I choose to believe he's my former roommate.

And then? A little eclosure of my own.

I've had precious little seat time over the past few years. But I sense a change coming.
In case you're wondering, the brakes are just fine!

P.S. Who knew you could miss a bug so much?

Find a lady friend, little one, and begin it all again!

Hope for 2017

They said it couldn't happen. Wouldn't happen. Until it did. One day, a tiny gray bird named Lucy unexpectedly made her nest in a decorative little bird house in one lucky Tucsonan's yard.  Despite her declining habitat, Lucy had, until then, steadfastly refused to rear her young in nest boxes. Lucy prefers the holes and crevices found in trees - mesquites, thank you very much - especially those of the dense stands found in riparian areas. Make no mistake: it's just these types of areas and trees that are in rapid decline.  Poor Lucy.  Consider her the next time you are tempted to buy mesquite charcoal.

Truth be told, I've become a little bit of a "crazy bird lady" recently.  I thought it was prompted by my having to cut down my old chinaberry tree/starling apartment complex this fall (both invasive, for what it's worth), but Pilot Guy reminded me of this strange day, and the haunting dream I had about both my mother and the yellow bird months later. No matter the reason, I've enjoyed watching, listening to - I'm a flutist, after all! - and photographing birds ever since.  (Here's a haphazard selection of some of my early attempts.)

So today, the Ducati and I - noses high in the air, inhaling the orange blossom and sweet acacia scented morning breezes - headed east, to volunteer for the Tucson Audubon Society's nest box project.  Our task? Install 100 nest box "replicates" to aid in determining just what sort of box, with what sort of height, and/or orientation, Miss Lucy might, if we're lucky, decide to patronize.

The boxes are almost as light and delicate as Miss Lucy herself. Until you try to push a wheelbarrow with 50 of them (and your lunch) through deep sand under an uncharacteristically hot March sun, that is.

Ducati No-Fly Zone (Yes, this is a river.  A desert river.)

Two teams installed, in random order, five different types of boxes in each of 20 sites, recording their GPS coordinates, height, arrangement, and orientation along the way.

Which one will Lucy prefer? I'll ride out for Audubon from time to time this spring, in an attempt to answer that very question.

The five "replicates," installed just in time. The migrating Lucy's Warblers are beginning to arrive in Tucson this very week.  (The first photo in this post is an extra credit box in the mesquite in my back yard. I'm hope, hope, hoping...)

The installation site is delightfully close to the base of Mount Lemmon, but my reward run up the mountain was slower than Sunday. The ascending traffic, a long snaking line of cars so slow it was nearly outpaced by the sweating, panting bicyclists, left me wondering if today was a holiday.  The smart rider stops for a sandwich constructed of Bosnian leftovers and enjoys the view.

Windy Point, Mount Lemmon

The return trip? I may have done a little - just a little - flying myself.

With our nation poised to leap backwards into an abyss of ecological apathy, if not downright assault, consider volunteering an hour, making a choice, planting a plant, or writing a check for a bird, bee, or tree near you.

April 24, 2017 Update!

I've checked the boxes twice, with no sign of activity, (I'm going back again tomorrow), and I don't know what other volunteers have seen (or not seen) at the other two sites, BUT...
I have a friend with a decorative bird house in her tree. Guess who moved in?

Photo courtesy of FastWinn Photography

April 17, 2019 Update!!

Guess who is in MY nestbox??

I spotted the pair making a nest about two weeks ago. Then I had to leave for 10 days, which nearly made me cry, for fear of missing the action.
Two years of testing demonstrated that Lucy prefers a larger triangular shaped box, with openings on both sides.

Update! April 15, 2019

I returned home this past Monday, and someone looks very busy sitting on eggs!
Next Audubon experiment: demonstrate whether or not LUWAs (that's fancy talk for Lucy's Warblers) prefer native mesquites, non-natives, or show no preference when foraging. I happen to have both in my yard. I have not once seen them in the non-native trees.



Update 4/21 Happy Easter!

Two chicks! (The other not seen in this short clip, but I'll resist the temptation to harass them repeatedly for the perfect video.)




Update 4/29 Happy Birthday to Me!
 

Final Count = Four!

Update May 5, 2019

I feel some empty nest syndrome coming on.

Thank you, dear Lucy, for coming into my life. I hope we see each other next year.

2020 and Look Who's Back!!!

7 April, 2020:  Little Lucy is at is again!   After a long hard day of nest building by the pair on March 24th, followed by many days of refining their work, Mrs. Lucy began laying an egg a day on April 4th. As of today, there are four eggs in the nest. 

Watch their progress in real time, as well as some interesting video clips, via an Audubon research camera here. 

29 April, 2020 A hungry quintet!

30 April, 2020  It's fledging day! (This is No. 3 taking the leap; watch for the reaction of No.s 4 and 5)

May, 2020 Surprise! 2020 Lucy Team Two in in the works! Miss Lucy is sitting on three eggs, and if they survived a recent attack by a neighbor's cat we can look forward to Hatch Day some time next week. (People! Keep your cats inside!)

Baja Reprise: Seeking Cetaceans on Three Wheels and Two Wings

A tale from The Back Burner (March 2013)

March is a time of year when I have to schedule in my showers, and decide which I have time for on any given day, brushing either my hair or teeth. Days off are few and far between (if any) for weeks at a time, so making a trip to a remote lagoon in Baja to pet whales is really not something that comes up.  Except sometimes.

A group of riders, including Phil, from my recent Baja Unadventure, are heading down to the San Ignacio lagoon at the end of the month, and – what? is it possible?- due to some freak alignment of the planets (and jobs), my days off from my four different positions actually coincide this month! Wumph! I sit down hard in my chair in disbelief.  It must be too good to be true.  Of course, it is. Too good to be true. I look at my calendar again, check the map... Arghhh! I don’t have quiiiite enough time to ride the miles, pet the whales (requiring at least one, possibly two, overnight stays), and get back to Tucson before the clock strikes midnight.  But I was so close!!

Sometimes, good things just need a little adjusting to make them true.  Pilot Guy, who has been courting me these past two months*, says coolly, slyly, “Yanno, we could fly down to pet the whales.”  I raise an eyebrow.  It might be a bit early to be hopping in his Bellanca Super Viking for an overnight, but I don’t care. I’m in!  I was so in, I even agreed to get up at 4am** to begin our adventure.

Our wheels are up before the sun,  and we watch it rise as our little aeroplane crosses over the international border.  Immigration and customs laws designate that we must first land in an international port of entry.  Guaymas is beautiful from the air!  Can you believe this? I’m flying in a private plane to Baja to pet whales. I really can’t wrap my brain around it.  I may be wearing sensible adventure appropriate footwear, but I check my feet for glass slippers, just in case.  Nope. I'm good.

Negotiating customs and immigration in Guaymas is a bit of a trick. I speak (some) Spanish, but don’t speak Pilot. Pilot Guy, although obviously well versed in Pilot, is less capable in Spanish. We dance round and round, from window to window, each no more than ten paces from the other, seeking this stamp and that document before we can proceed. I’m not entirely sure, but it sounds like the official at one window is telling us we aren't allowed to fly from Guaymas to the San Ignacio Lagoon.  Huh?  It's something about flight plans, and towered vs. non-towered airports, but I can't discuss the topic intelligently in any language.  We're stumped.  Pilot Guy plays his ace - a call to a pilot friend, who flies to Mexico regularly.  Aha! The the wink and nudge system that, in the US, might have a curious military jet alongside us in no time, wasn't published in the airport directory. Wink and nudge we can, and soon, we’re on our way!

"What do you mean the landing gear won’t go up???"  I suppose this is better than the alternative, but mechanical failure in the air is not the sort of adventure I had in mind when I signed up for this trip.  Pilot Guy starts to circle, and checks in with the folks on the ground.  But before we’ve landed to investigate the problem….Oopsy!   Pilot Guy was right when he said you don’t so much get in a Bellanca as wear it.  During my clumsy entry when departing Guaymas, I’d inadvertently deployed the emergency landing gear switch.  It’s always good to test your equipment, I suppose.

Traveling by private aircraft is part glam rock star…

Feeling glamorous in Sedona, AZ

… and part grubby safari.

Today was definitely the latter.  This is an airport?  It’s simply a little dirt landing strip and a shack of sorts. But it works for us!

Our boat is also more safari than rock star.  Our captain pulls it to shore.

We set sail…

… and before long the whales show themselves. A flipper here…

… part of a tail fluke there.

Ahoy!  Friend or foe?  Dolphins, too, are leaping about, twice as high as I’ve ever seen them do at Sea World.  I’m spellbound and nearly mute with emotion.  Still, I have no idea what I’m about to experience.

They are so friendly and curious, that they mob our little boat. There are 3, 4, 5… all within reach, nearly too close to photograph. Who’s watching who?, I wonder.

Indeed, I am petting whales - whales far bigger than our little boat. They roll beneath my fingertips, we look each other curiously in the eye, and breathe the same air.  Mothers push their calves towards us, as if for our inspection.  “They feel just like olives!” observes Pilot Guy. He’s absolutely right!

Whoosh! I catch a direct blast from a blowhole and sputter.

They roll out of the water and look us. I try in vain to catch their eyes with the camera lens.

Look carefully - you can see an eye near the center of this photo, if you use your imagination!

Our captain’s wife prepares lunch for us. Eight hours bottle to throttle, says the law.  We’re not flying again until tomorrow, so a beer is perfectly okay, too.

No whales were harmed in the preparation of our seafood lunch, I hope.  It's a bit salty, but we're simply too elated to care. Our meal disappears quickly.

A reconnaissance flyover before landing at the lagoon revealed that the airstrip closer to the town of San Ignacio was obscured with shrubbery. We would be okay to land there, but the Bellanca wouldn't!  Perhaps it's best we hire an SUV to take us across the strange landscape and into town.  There are things to see there, too…

...like palm trees…

… and banana blossoms.

And the cathedral.

We try to hunt down the riders at Ignacio Springs, but communication is too difficult here. We savor an amazing date shake near the oasis, instead.

The next morning, we're pretty sure we can spot whales from the air.  The watery loops below us are mesmerizing, like misty contrails melting into the sea.

Bye, bye, lagoon!

Hello moon!

Wheels touch down back in Tucson

This is as good as it gets, I think to myself.  Without a motorcycle, anyway.
________________________________________
A fascinating article in the New York Times describes the behavior exhibited by these mysterious creatures, specifically when nursing their young in the San Ignacio Lagoon.   I encourage you to read it. When I came across this poignant story back in 2006, eyes nearly brimming over, I had no idea one day I would experience it all myself.

*Pilot Guy was quite the patient man when we met. Dating during the busy season? Hah! I literally said things like “I can meet you for coffee for 20 minutes a week from Wednesday, if that works for you.”  Not to mention the fact I was ready to ditch him for a motorcycle ride to Baja on my first days off since meeting him.  Lucky for me, he stuck with it.
**No small feat for the work weary sleep deprived musician who was working mornings and nights.