Frost Whispering

It’s been an unusually mild fall and early winter so far. We had half an inch of snow a couple days before Halloween—very early for our area—but other than that the weather’s been quite warm. We’ve had some daytime temperatures as high as the 50s and 60s (Fahrenheit) even into December, and only in the last few weeks have we regularly had nights cold enough for frost.

About two weeks ago, though, a particularly heavy frost inspired me to try some winter photography both in my back yard and at Meadowside.

Due to the crazy weather, I still had dill in the garden. The volunteer seedlings that sprouted in late summer were still thriving despite the early snow and occasional hard frosts.  Now the feathery fronds were all sugared with frost and surprisingly ethereal.

Dill in December?!

I harvested some dill just a few days later; it wasn't frost-burnt at all.

Of course I had to scrape the ice off my windshield before I could hit the road. I grumbled at even this short delay, worried the frost might melt before I could get to the park.

I had to rummage through the garden shed before I found my ice scraper, more delay!

But when I reached Meadowside everything was still rimed with ice. Frost lay in a glittering cover across the grass, and crunched under my boots.

Part of the path around Meadowside's pond.

There was even a patchy skin of ice on the pond. I’m told by my family in Maine that their favorite skating pond hadn’t even had this much ice yet—their weather has been oddly mild so far too.

Not exactly skating ice.

A little clump of reeds in the middle of the water was positively furry with ice crystals.

 

I love the two different forms of crystal here: flat plates vs sharp spikes.

This shot makes me think of a monstrous spider crawling across the pond.

Here the whippy loops of the reeds seem almost frantic to get out of the pond.

A short hour after I arrived, the sun had cleared the treetops and sunshine began to creep across the grassy areas.  I crouched down to try to capture light shining through the frost.

Sparkly.

As I snapped shot after shot, I started to notice a quiet crackling just at the edge of my hearing. It was a little bit like distant static, or like somebody gently crumpling a piece of plastic wrap.  I couldn’t trace the sound to any specific location, it was just whispering all around me. Then I realized perhaps I was hearing the frost start to melt, as the tiny ice crystals cracked and even detached from leaves and twigs. Wow!

The sunlight starts to hit the frosty field.

After an early-morning ice storm you can sometimes hear the ice quietly shifting and resettling on everything around you. This was like that but on a much, much smaller scale. It was totally unexpected, and if there had been anybody else at the pond I might have missed it. For that matter, if I hadn’t been holding still for so long, I might even have drowned it out with my own breathing or my own footsteps. I’ve never heard frost whisper before; I didn’t know it was even possible. It was a brief and solitary experience, but it was still the best part of my day.

This entry's locations:

• Meadowside Nature Center, Rockville, MD.
• My yard, Montgomery County, MD.

End of Season Death and Drama at Meadowside

 Ok, just a quick post today. I'm sorry I haven't been posting very often lately, I'm taking a writing class this semester so a lot of my writing time and energy is going toward assignments. But I did find a few hours lately to get out and look around.

I spent a few brief hours at Meadowside Nature Center this week.  Again I planned to search for late-season butterflies.  I did find some, including my first-ever American Lady. Although not as well known for migrating as Monarchs, American Ladies also survive cold northern winters by fleeing south.

This could have been a migrant from north of our area, or could have hatched locally. It's gorgeous either way!

I also saw more Buckeyes and a Common Checkered-Skipper. Their summer ranges include my area, but I've only ever seen both species at the very end of the season. So for me they mean fall.

Such an unblemished individual makes me think this Buckeye originated locally. But who knows, maybe it's just a very lucky traveler-- Buckeyes migrate too, like Monarchs and American Ladies.

The only other Common Checkered-Skippers I've seen were all nectaring on aster type flowers like this. I don't think they're migrants though.

But the real drama at the pond wasn't the long journeys of the butterflies, but something much fiercer. I found several praying mantids hiding in the goldenrod all around the pond. Two females, one male, and a couple others of unidentified gender. The male even flew onto the grass in front of me for a moment.  I shooed it to safety though as some kids on a field trip approached. Then on the other side of the pond, I spent about half an hour watching and photographing one large mantis as she caught and devoured bug after bug after bug. Yikes!

When I started photographing, the mantis glared at me as if to say, "What are you lookin at?"

But then she spotted a small green bee that looked mighty tasty. She froze, waiting for the right moment...

...and bam! Almost too fast to see, she snatched the bee and sank her mandibles into the poor bug's abdomen.

She caught several more bugs as I watched. Even as the mantis devoured her prey, other bees continued to buzz nearby, including this hovering one with an apparent deathwish.

It's a rough life, being a bug. They have to escape bonechilling temperatures, bloodthirsty predators, and even survive hundred-mile-long journeys. I'm glad I have the chance to observe it all though.

This entry's site: Meadowside Nature Center, Rockville, MD

Mantis Wrangling

Yesterday morning was one of the coldest we’d had in months. When I woke up, it was only 41 degrees F.  Brr!  A cold front had swept through Thursday night, its dramatic thunderstorms leaving us much colder air than normal: our usual lows this time of year are more like 50 or 60 degrees.

So I decided to delay my planned hike for a few hours.  I’d hoped to spot some late-season butterflies, perhaps even some migrating monarchs, but there was no way I'd find much with such chilly temperatures.  The cold front might even have dropped in some really neat migrant birds, but I just wasn’t feeling the birding vibe. I know, I’m a slacker birder.

I finally got to the pond around 11:20 to find it crawling with children, maybe 7 or 8 years old. Their shrieks of discovery and delight filled the air even as far away as the parking lot, as did the frantic and increasingly flustered scoldings from the chaperones.  I nearly turned tail, but decided I would be strong and carry on. It’s not like I was looking for birds anyway, right? Bugs would be much more tolerant of the noise, or so I hoped.

Hunting for insects.

Near the pond, one of the chaperones crouched protectively over a spot near the path.  Shouts like “I found a rattlesnake!”, “I caught a praying mantis,” and “A butterfly landed on my sleeve!” were frequent. So I too wanted to see what the adult was guarding.  I hoped perhaps a snake made sluggish by the cold. Dozens of hyperactive children zoomed back and forth along the pond’s edge as I approached.

It turned out to be a lovely chocolate-brown praying mantis. One of the adults had discovered the mantis next to the path, right in the way of stampeding feet, and wanted to keep it safe.  The man told me he intended to move her to some nearby brush, but he seemed reluctant to touch her.  Just then, the teacher started chivvying the class to the next station down the trail.  So of course I offered to help with the mantis.

First I tried to gently scoop her up in my cupped hands.  Boy, was that a failure. Every time I got her in one hand she’d scuttle right off.  I even tried walking my alternating hands in front of her, but she was too fast for me even in the cold temperatures.  After half a dozen failed tries I declared she could get to the brush under her own power if she was going to be so ornery.  The class was gone now and the chaperone made his way after them as well.  I started herding the mantis across several feet of lawn.

I still needed to somehow pick her up to place her deep enough in the brush for safety.  I was sure more children were headed my way, since the first group left their equipment behind.

Basket of bug-catchers.

Since my scooping technique had already failed, and I didn’t want to cause her any more damage (her right eye looked injured, although she didn’t seem to have any trouble seeing my hand approach from the right side, or evading said hand), I needed a new strategy.  Finally it occurred to me maybe I could just coax her onto my sleeve and carry her that way.  Indeed that worked, perhaps all too well: once I got her onto my sleeve she did not want to get off. I chased her up and down my arm for a few minutes.

I'm comfy here, thank you very much.

Finally I managed to push her into the brush. She perched upside down there for several minutes, allowing me to admire her colorful abdomen.

Does this leaf make my butt look big?

Eventually I wandered off to explore the pond and the nearby meadow as I’d planned.  There really were very few butterflies or any insects at all in attendance, even far from the disturbance of children; I didn’t even see a single dragonfly until three in the afternoon when it finally warmed up enough for them.  Mostly the bees had exclusive control of the thistles and other flowers, but I did I find a few dozy butterflies, many of whom were a bit tattered this late in the season. I even surprised a deer who had ventured down to the pond for a snack after the children left. 

Bumble bee slurping up the thistle nectar.

Rather tattered Great Spangled Fritillary.

A surprisingly cherry Gray Hairstreak.

One of my target species for the day: a Buckeye.

The surprise sighting of the day: this hungry doe.

So I’m glad I braved the horde of children that had taken over the normally quiet pond.  I’ll check back there in a few days when the weather warms up again. Maybe by then more butterflies will be back out. 

Today's location: Meadowside Nature Center, Rock Creek Regional Park, Rockville, MD

Caterpillars Continued: From Poop to Pupation

So to catch you up since my last entry, I did go outside and bring in the original Black Swallowtail caterpillar to raise by hand, the littler one. Good thing I did, too, a few days later we started about a week of straight rain thanks to tropical storm Lee. How do caterpillars survive this much moisture? Even if they could find shelter I’d still think mold or fungus would be a serious threat with all the humidity. Anyway, now I had two caterpillars in the Tupperware container on my desk. (My apologies for taking so long to post, too-- this all happened last weekend, not the one just finished.  The school semester has started, so this week I've been a bit busy.)

Big caterpillar's in the far right of the carrots, little one's hanging under a far left dill stem.

Initial Observations

Boy, do caterpillars poop a lot! I have to say, these caterpillars’ poop, or frass, is some of the nicest smelling I’ve found from any critter. It reminds me of a rich field or forest, all decomposing plant material and fertile soil.  As they moved around and ate they also bruised the dill and carrot greens, releasing those scents too.  My office has been wonderfully fragrant this week! 

I noticed that the little caterpillar didn’t move around much; the big one was more active, roaming from carrot frond to carrot frond and of course eating a ton. The little caterpillar must have eaten too, judging from the two different sizes of frass pellets, but since its head was smaller I guess I couldn’t see the behavior as well. The two caterpillars were distinct individuals with their own preferences.  The big caterpillar, whom you’ll remember I had found in the carrot patch, preferred to eat carrot fronds.  The little caterpillar, who had been on the scraggly dill plants, occasionally tasted the carrots but would always go back to dill and obviously much preferred it.  This kind of worried me since there isn’t a whole lot of juicy dill left in my garden, most of it is dry and yellowed stems. But I picked what flowerheads I could find, and luckily some of the seeds from earlier flowers have sprouted into tender seedlings as well. If I must, I can always buy some organic dill at the grocery store. I’d rather use my own garden produce exclusively though.

My late summer dill patch.

The Drama Begins

I’ve had so much fun watching the caterpillars.  But I didn’t anticipate how much suspense and excitement there could be in caring for these little invertebrates. Since I had placed their container on my desk, I could see them as I worked on the computer.  Early Sunday morning-- two days after I adopted it-- I noticed the big caterpillar was even more active than normal.  It wandered restlessly all over the container, up the carrot stems, across the underside of the paper towel that topped the container, and back down to wander through the foliage again. Occasionally it would explore the dried dill stalk I had intended for a pupation site, but seemed unimpressed by it.

Checking out the dill stalk, with the little caterpillar in the background.

When the afternoon rolled around and the caterpillar was still wandering, I wondered if the dill stalk didn’t suit its preferences.  So I fetched a maple twig from our back yard, one as different from the smooth, pale stalk as possible: rough, dark gray bark, with a fork at the end to provide a choice of different vertical angles even. I wanted to be a good host! Soon the caterpillar discovered the new twig, meandered along it a few times but continued its restless wandering.  It must have walked the caterpillar equivalent of a couple miles, relative to its own length. I am impressed!

I kept both twigs in for a while; later I removed the dill stalk.

But Wait, There’s More

Eventually I realized that the smaller caterpillar hadn’t moved for quite some time.  I hoped it might be getting ready to molt, since I’d read that a period of inactivity often precedes molting. So now I made sure to watch both caterpillars all afternoon. As the hours ticked by, though, the big one just kept hiking around while the little guy rested on a dill flower stem.

Is is something in the air? Both caterpillars get ready.

Finally, at 3:20 Sunday afternoon, the big caterpillar stopped near the top of the new twig, as you see above. It spent the next couple hours in the same spot, turning back and forth every few minutes. Occasionally it would also rear its head and thorax back, leaning out into midair and waving gently back and forth. I also noticed it fussing on the lowest spot of its chosen site, apparently creating a button of silk to anchor its rear end to the twig. (The way a Black Swallowtail makes its chrysalis is first to spin a bit of sticky silk that will hold its rear to the twig, then create a loop of silk-- sort of a safety belt-- that will support it at the thorax while it's busy transforming.  After that it molts into its new chrysalis skin.) While it was working, gentle waves of faint movement also rippled down the caterpillar’s body from time to time, like tiny muscle contractions.

Safety Belt
Two long hours later, the caterpillar seemed satisfied that its hindmost prolegs were anchored securely on the twig.  More lengthwise convulsing ensued for a while. At 5:45 the caterpillar started rearing again, leaning way back into midair and waggling back and forth there. This time though when it returned to the twig it reached way around to the upper side. After fussing there, it reared again, wiggled, and reached around the twig again, this time in the opposite direction. Then it repeated this pattern. It was spinning its safety belt! It worked on the silk loop until 6:25, when it finally stopped. I hope caterpillars aren’t camera-shy, because I took a lot of pictures. 

Spinning the safety belt.

Still working on the safety belt; meanwhile the little guy stays motionless.

Finally done with the safety belt, it's time to rest.

Over the next couple hours it was mostly calm, relaxing in the safety belt that suspended it from the twig, with occasional twitching and fidgeting. I also noted more lengthwise contractions, like it was straining. I assume these were all because it has to loosen its old skin-- from the inside! By 10:00 pm it had pretty much stopped all movement and was no longer physically gripping the twig.

Look Ma, no prolegs!

Do Caterpillars Dream?

Now it hung totally dependent on the safety belt and the silk button. Once in a while it still twitched almost as if it was dreaming, but pretty much it just rested.  I expected it would start molting any minute, but hours ticked past. I stayed up long as I could, but eventually I had to give in. Even though I worried the caterpillar would molt overnight and I’d miss it, I really needed some sleep.

Monday morning when I came downstairs, I was torn between hope that the caterpillar had successfully transformed and trepidation that I had missed seeing it happen. But I discovered pretty much nothing had happened overnight after all.  It was still in the same position. The only change was its skin looked a bit drier and slightly flaccid, and it had taken on a brownish tinge instead of the bright grass green it wore the night before. 

Turning a bit brownish...

The other caterpillar, however, seemed to have come out of its quiescence. I saw it take a few tiny steps upward, then it rubbed its head against the dill stem.  I thought the caterpillar was eating, and that the previous inactivity had been just ordinary torpor. That was it for another several hours though, so I figured the little caterpillar just really liked to sleep.

Surprise

Not a whole lot happened in the container for most of the day. The prepupating caterpillar gradually appeared drier and more flaccid, and both caterpillars periodically twitched a tiny bit, almost as if they were dreaming. I mostly focused on my schoolwork, glancing at the caterpillars occasionally in case anything should happen. I expected there wouldn’t be any excitement until chrysalis time, but then at 4:19 the smaller caterpillar came out of its torpor once again, stretching vertically up the dill stem where it was perched. What was this—was I right the first time in thinking my little caterpillar was about to molt?  I started paying closer attention to it, but the real action took a long time to start. Finally, almost forty minutes later, the actual molt started for the little guy.

The head pushes out first-- the black thing in front  is its old head shield.

First it reared back, wriggling its head back and forth. Then it pushed its head upward, straining, and a new, pale green head finally popped out. The old head covering fell down against the stem, like a discarded mask. The caterpillar proceeded to climb slowly up the stem, squirming and straining to get out of the old skin, and finally waggled its tiny rump to get the last bit clear.  It only took about three minutes total once the shedding started!

The plump caterpillar pulls itself out of the old, wrinkly skin.

All clear! The old face covering fell away too.

The Excitement Doesn’t Stop

Next the caterpillar rested for almost an hour-- to allow its delicate new skin to harden some, and let the pigments in its head develop. You can see in these early photos that it has a completely pale green head. The dark stripes slowly developed over the next forty minutes. Finally at 5:42 the newly molted caterpillar, now sporting bright green stripes rather than the whitish stripes of yesterday, turned around & headed back down toward its shed skin.  I was excited to see the caterpillar devour its old skin (a growing caterpillar can’t afford to abandon those nutrients), so I got ready to take more photos. Just then, however, I noticed the big caterpillar had finally started to split its skin! I took a couple hasty shots of the little caterpillar and switched focus to the big caterpillar. 

Does shed skin even taste good?

You can just barely see the skin splitting over the caterpillar's back.

I’m a Caterpillar Paparazzo

I was so excited this was finally happening. I took a photo every couple seconds so I could record the full sequence. The caterpillar sort of shrugged the skin off over its hump with only a little wiggling, but then needed a whole lot of writhing and thrashing about to get it the rest of the way off.  It was still attached to the twig at the button and its safety belt of course, but within those limits the caterpillar moved a LOT. Imagine trying to wriggle yourself out of a too-tight mummy sleeping bag without being able to use your arms or separate your legs! What an ordeal.

The chrysalis starts to push itself out with great effort.

You can still see the legs on the skin as it peels off the chrysalis.

Just five minutes later the skin had been shucked all the way down to where the caterpillar was still attached to the twig by that silk button.  The caterpillar (now a chrysalis) swung itself back and forth a couple times and finally flung the discarded skin off, letting it fall to the bottom of the container. I guess the old skin must have split around the button, since the caterpillar/chrysalis remained attached to the twig the whole time.

The chrysalis just has to kick the shed skin off now...

Success!

The fallen skin. The other caterpillar didn't seem interested-- maybe it's rude to eat someone else's skin.

Last Step: Camouflage

The chrysalis wriggled a couple more times and then was pretty much still. The fresh chrysalis skin was mostly light green, veined almost like a leaf. I noticed tiny twitches periodically, much like the dream-twitches I noticed earlier when the caterpillar was loosening inside the old skin. By the next morning the chrysalis dried into a crispy-looking pale brown with darker markings.  It also seemed to shrink a bit over the next few days, ending up a tiny shriveled-looking thing. It looks much like a dry, curled-up leaf, to hide its presence over the winter.  It is astonishingly small, especially when I compare it to the freshly molted “little” caterpillar who is quickly growing big and plump. How on earth can the whole caterpillar fit in there, let alone develop those large gorgeous wings? Amazing.

The chrysalis turns brown overnight.

What’s Next

Usually we have about another month of warm weather around here, but Black Swallowtails have to overwinter as pupa. So in order to reproduce successfully, not only do my caterpillars have to make it through pupation, they also have to eclose (emerge from the chrysalis as an adult butterfly) with enough time to find a mate, lay eggs and then have those eggs hatch and make their own way all the way to chrysalis before the bitter winter hits.  The alternative is to enter diapause, where their development stays completely suspended all the winter. They’ll resume metamorphosis in spring. 

The online discussions of rearing Black Swallowtails that I’ve read indicate that Black Swallowtails are very unpredictable, but I suspect I will be chrysalis-sitting at least one, if not both, individuals all winter.  Quite a project! The other butterfly folks imply it’s not too hard though. An unheated shed, like my garden tool shed, is perfect for the almost-butterflies, who’ll stay safely in diapause until the weather warms.  Still I’ll have to check on them regularly, especially if we get any warm spells midwinter, which is common around here. For the time being, I'm still watching the "little" caterpillar grow rapidly bigger and plumper.  As of this posting, it's at least as big as the "big" caterpillar was at chrysalis time, maybe a little bigger. 

Just In Case

But what will I do if my butterflies eclose in the middle of the winter? I suppose I’ll build a large cage in my office for them, with flowering plants to feed the adult butterflies, and even dill or carrot plants to give them a spot to lay eggs if chance should favor me with one male and one female. Who knew that two tiny caterpillars could require so much responsibility? I definitely don’t regret taking them in, however. I’m glad to give them a much better chance of becoming adults than if they’d had to fend for themselves.  Even if they’d survived this week’s rain, their chrysalis perches could have been destroyed during autumn yardwork. I always look for interesting cocoons on dead vegetation before I remove it, and frequently even leave dead plants in place through spring to provide habitat for winter critters, but my neighbors tend to clean out their gardens before frost hits. 

This entry's location: My yard, Montgomery County, MD.

My Dill Dreams Come True

I went into the garden this morning, planning to have a mellow photography session with the basil flowers and whatever bees came to nectar.  But only a few pollinators came by, and I wasn't getting any decent shots.  Then I happened to glance at the leggy, almost-dead dill plants and discovered the one bug I most hoped my garden would host:

A Black Swallowtail caterpillar!

There was just the one-- believe me, I looked for others.  Apparently female Black Swallowtails only lay a couple eggs in any one place.  But I am so thrilled!

I'm torn between leaving it wild in my garden, and bringing it inside to try and hand-rear.  I've never had success rearing caterpillars; when I was little we used to catch caterpillars every summer, in hopes of raising butterflies.  But they would inevitably die within days, partly because my sister and I knew nothing about the care and feeding of caterpillars.  We'd stuff their jar with miscellaneous grass and leaves, poke a few token holes in the top, and set it on the kitchen counter.  So I don't want to kill my only Black Swallowtail.  But on the other hand, I don't want the garden predators to catch it either-- I know my garden is also home to praying mantids, hunting spiders, wrens and chickadees.

For now I've left the caterpillar exactly where I found it.  I feel totally vindicated for leaving the scraggly, flopped-over  dill plants in the garden this long.  I know they look kind of ugly, and have scattered seeds everywhere--next spring I'll be digging out seedlings from the entire garden if not the whole yard. But it was worth it to see the caterpillar! I love having wildlife make a home in my yard.

Eat all the dill you want, little one!

Update: I found another one! The second caterpillar was about twice as big as the first. It's a lot greener, and was living in the carrot patch. Double hooray!

The real reason I planted carrots this year.

I even messed with it a little, poking it to provoke an alarm response. It shoots out a pair of bright orange fleshy horns, called its osmeterium, which apparently also stink (although I didn't notice any smell except the sweet scent of the carrots).

Get away from me!

Then since I had two caterpillars in the garden, I got brave enough to bring the large one inside.  I arranged a cozy little cage for it, with ample carrot greens to eat, a dried dill stalk to pupate from (eventually), and paper towels in the bottom to catch waste.

Home sweet home...

At first the caterpillar was disturbed enough by all the commotion that it stayed frozen on the greenery. But after fifteen or so minutes it moved down the leaf and started eating again! I was so proud.  Now there are several big fat frass pellets on the paper towels. The caterpillar is wandering around quite a bit too.  I am a very happy caterpillar mom.

Today's location: my yard, Montgomery County, MD