Tuesday, August 18, 2009

more on monarchs


Adult female monarchs lay their eggs on the underside of milkweed leaves. These eggs hatch, depending on temperature, in three to twelve days.

The larvae feed on the plant leaves for about two weeks and develop into caterpillars about 2 inches long.

Next comes the chrysalis. The caterpillar sheds it's skin and transforms into a jade green pupa or chysalis attached to the underside of a leaf. It is a lovely thing with a golden band across the top. In a few weeks it becomes transparent and the butterfly breaks free.

We spent a week on North Haven Island in Maine when Carrie and Eliza were young. Before we headed home, a friend of ours who had spent summers there all his life, ceremoniously presented the girls with a sprig of milkweed. Taking a closer look we all noticed the glimmering green chrysalis attached to the underside of one of the leaves. Our friend told them to put the branch in a jar with holes poked in the lid and watch it for the next few weeks.

Taking turns, they carried the jar onto the ferry which took us back to the mainland. They held it in their laps as we drove from Rockland, Maine to Lincoln, Massachusetts. They put the jar on a shelf in the kitchen and school started. Life got busy and an occasional glance showed no change. The pale green shape hung motionless from the leaf week after week. I kind of regretted having taken his object from its habitat.

Then one day, we looked in the jar and saw the chrysalis had become transparent. We could see a fully formed monarch butterfly folded inside. A day or two later, the butterfly sat on a leaf inside the jar.

Stepping outside, I unscrewed the lid of the jar. The monarch flew down and sat on the grass for a few minutes, moving its wings up and down, up and down. Then it flew to a laurel branch nearby, then to another and it was gone. "Have a great trip to Mexico!" we wanted to cry out. But we were silent. Being in the presence of wildness leaves me without words every time.

1 comment:

don said...

The silence of butterfly wings.
A field full of silence. The narcotic of silence.
How few of us realize the power of the unspoken word. And what is missed. I saw a cool quote in a book recently. "Writing is being able to speak w/out being interrupted." Sort of like silence.
Thank you, Barb.