Kawaihae

Kawaihae in December.

       For our first swim together, Sandra and I chose to venture north to Kawaihae.  I have an upcoming gig with the Keiki Museum to recreate a portion of a cement pillar in the harbor, covered with various yucky fouling organisms, sponges in a variety of authentic colors, nudibranchs, shrimp, etc.  And we have sort of arranged a communal swim with our liaison to the museum, the effervescent Anne Van Brunt, so that she can get a better vision of the project that she is designing.  Hence, Sandra and I had a compelling reason to generate an up to date report on all that fancy muck.

    We got an early start and arrived at Kawaihe around 9:00 AM.  It was a strikingly beautiful morning, bright blue sky with only a few fluffy clouds, Mauna Loa snaking its way into the sea and only a few like minded, harbor loving individuals in the vicinity.  Soon enough we were in the gear we had chosen for the excursion, Sandra in a dive skin and your faithful correspondent in his neoprene vest sans leggings.  

The Banded Coral Shrimp Plays the Coquette

     As we sat on the LST landing platform, adjusting our fins and mask, we were greeted by a large dog.  He was patiently waiting while his owner paddled around the platforms.  There was a piece of rebar protruding from the sand and a submerged leash, but the hound was unattached and able to saunter over and get his ears scratched.  What a good boy!  

   I beat Sandra into the water by a minute or two and by the time she joined me at the first platform, I had already found a banded coral shrimp.  Previously, these handsome crustaceans were easy to spot inside the platform, requiring a bit of hydrobatics for a good look.  This fellow was on the outside, but tucked under a coral ledge.  His flamboyant antennae gave him away and every now and then he would extend a  claw in an attempt to get me to do something stupid in order to get a better good look.  At this point I just put the camera under the ledge and attempted to get the on board computer to do the heavy lifting.  I got a poor picture that showed a blurry, if identifiable, banded coral shrimp. 

The keiki scribble aligns against the pillar.

      We circled the first platform and then headed out to the second.  Here we found the pillars covered with raggy fouling vegetation, but relatively few sponges and no visible feather duster worms or hydroids.  And despite a careful search, no nudibranchs.  As I was completing my circuit, Sandra called me urgently.  She had unearthed (or is it unwatered?) a juvenile Scribbled Filefish.  We had watched one of these keikis in this very location a couple years ago, and it is a real treat.  Aluterus scriptus is a funny looking fish even in the adult form, but the baby is especially ungainly. In the past a smaller fish had attempted to fool us by aligning with a bit of submerged rope.  This guy, as you can see, thought that lining up with a pillar would throw us off the chase.

 
       Still under the threat of a nudibranch skunking, we headed out to platform three.  Here, on the shady west side, I found a fine Gloomy Nudibranch.  I have been making nudibranchs for the museum display.   In spite of the fact that this is among the three most common at Kawaihae, I have yet to attempt a gloomy.  This is a very handsome animal, and the flamboyant gills are perhaps the best part.  Flat and branching, with a two tone cream and black coloration, gloomy gills would look simply smashing on a royal chapeau at Ascot. My skill with the clay is such that rendering these gills would be impossible.  Stay tuned to see my next effort at creating gloomy gills on a clay model. 

Gloomy gills, a milliner's dream.

   As we finished up on the third platform, I was plagued with equipment issues.  On my first swim back, at Kahalu'u, I had experienced unsustainable mask fogging.  I thought that if I applied more and better sea drops, this would not be an issue.  But now it was.  Seeing is believing and not seeing is unacceptaable, especially if you are swimming around a complicated structure.

    Spitting in the mask helped a little, but in the preocess I dislodged my hat.  Attempting to get everything rearranged, I ended up losing my glove.  No amount of searching would reveal it.  This is more of an issue at Kawaihae than at most places.  And having suffered one significant finger infection, I am unhappy without some protection at any site.  Here we had no choice but to soldier on, but I needed to be a lot more careful when positioning against the pillars and the coral.  Bummer. 

Blacktail Snapper in the shade of the third platform.

    Between the third platform and the finger jetty, we encountered a large school of Blacktail Snappers.  These beautiful fish were introduced to Hawaii as a potential food source.  However both the blacktail and the Bluestripe Snapper have proved to be ciguatoxic in Hawaii.   The bluestripe is often seen in large schools, but in most circumstances one sees the blacktail singly or in small groups.  Here a large school provided an interesting visual.  In the shade of the third platform, with their bright pectoral fins showed brilliantly in the dark water.  

   Well, we had our nudibranch and Sandra was getting cold, so it was time to head in.  As we approached the first platform, I sent her ahead and took one more try at the Banded Coral Shrimp.  The little darling hadn't moved, so it was just a matter of diving down a few feet, hanging on, twisting and looking up, focusing and get the shot.  Easy, right? 

The Irresistable Shrimp in his Lair.

    Well, I got my shot, but in the process I found myself in an intimate embrace with the adjacent pillar.  In the event, my picture wasn't quite as nice as I hoped, but Kanaloa awarded me a fine little laceration on my thigh for my troubles.  And that is why the gods created betadine.

 Swim safe and prosper,

jeff

The Return of the Nose or a New Starfish for K Bay

    A new blog has been a long time coming.   In large part this is because on October 25th I had Moh's surgery on my nose.  When the diagnosis (skin cancer of the nose) was made in Portland in June, I was told I needed this special surgery, but so many other Oregonians were ahead of me in line that it was a six month waiting list.  Is this what it's like in Canada?  The silver lining to this deplorable cloud was that I might be able to have the surgery at Kaiser in Hawaii.  Strange as it may seem, within a fortnight of our arrival back in Kona, I was scheduled for the following week. 

The Buddha's Cup Awaits a Lucky Lepidopterist.

     It took five weeks to heal my schnoz sufficiently to warrant a return to the sea.  In the meantime we have tried to keep  busy. 

   One day we went with one of the directors of the Keiki Museum to an upland coffee farm here in Holualoa,  Buddha's Cup.  Our friend Anne, had heard from Siddhartha's companion that there were Kamehameha butterflies among their māmaki plants.  Anne made it sound like an extensive plantation, after all, the coffee company markets māmaki tea.  But when were deployed, boots on the ground as it were, there were six māmaki  shrubs spread out over an acre.  We spent almost  two hours patrolling the beat, waiting for Vanessa tameamea to flutter by.  Hence, from just after 10 until we went bat shit crazy around noon, we got an eyeful of Hawaiian nettle and, suffice it to say, zero butterflies. 

Is this the creepiest creche of all time, or what?

    I really wanted to write a blog.  Had we been successful,  I believe it would have been the first confirmed sighting of this threatened butterfly in Kona.  But who wants to be the publisher of the Journal of Negative Results?  If you want to take your chances, Google maps will guide you two miles up a windy one lane road to the Buddha's Cup coffee plantation where they serve food, offer tours at great expense and serve absolutely delicious coffee.  For a price Ugatti, for a price. 

    At other times I have kept busy making butterflies for an upcoming workshop, and nudibranchs and caterpillars.  And here you thought "only God can make a caterpillar"...Alfred Joyce Kilmer, loosely.   

     These latter are fashioned from fast drying clay that the previously mentioned Mrs. Van Brunt supplied me  at one of our weekly meetings.  Its like Anne has been my occupational therapist these last five weeks. She makes it appear that she works for free in this capacity, but this is an illusion. She is repaid in paper mache fish , clay nudibranchs...  the list goes on.  Both Sandra and I love her immeasurably.

   Sandra has a joke for you:  What do call a butterfly with no wings?   A caterpillar! 

A handsome Cylindrical Starfish, Kahalu'u  December 2023

      At any rate, today we let the nose lead us into the water at Kahalu'u.  It was a little rough and very choppy.  Additionally,  I am now so out of shape that it's ridiculous.  But in the nose's half hour at sea, he did spy a cleaning station with the eponymous wrasse doing his duty on a couple manini, and this nice  starfish. At first I thought it was a linckia star.  But more careful examination reveals those longitudinal plates marching down the arms.   As it turns out,  this is a life starfish for both the nose and the guy that follows along close behind.  A Cylindrical Star, D. cylindricus.  Although I have not previously recorded this species, it may not be highly unusual.  A furtive fellow, he spends his life (according to the Oracle of Ola'a, John Hoover himself) hiding under rocks.  And who am I to turn my nose up at a life starfish?  In the spirit of twitchers everywhere, I say Tick it off!  

     So the nose is on duty and he promises to sniff out something interesting in the near future.  Unless, of course,  the beast is under water in which case the nose will mind his manners and stay in the mask.

jeff

A Superb Alpine Meadow Near Timberline, Oregon

    Butterfly season was tapering down.  We had seen nothing at Dougan Falls, and Sue Anderson in Eugene, told us that we were several weeks late for California Sister.  We had been counting on going back to Peterson Prairie for the fritillary extravaganza, but Caitlin LaBar reported that the show there was already past its prime, and the butterfly we most wanted to see, the Mormon Fritillary, had done its deed and retired for the season.  She did note that the Mormon Frit is a high altitude butterfly and looking near timberline at Mount Rainier or Mount. Hood could still be worthwhile.  The higher you go, the later the wildflowers and butterflies appear. 

Mount Hood soars above Alpine Campground, August 2023

    With this bit of news as a carrot, the following morning Sandra and I hopped into the Bot-mobile and headed up to Mount Hood.  The ride up was surprisingly easy and we made it to our first stop, the Mirror Lake Trailhead by 9:30. We dawdled around for a bit; 9:30 is just too early for a self respecting butterfly.  By 10 we were on the trail and after half a mile were disappointed to find that this was going to be a hike through a forest, with no butterfly habitat.  

    Past Government Camp we tried Snow Bunny, where we had seen Green Commas in May.   There were some wildflowers, but either it was too early in the day or, from a butterfly point of view, too late in the season. And so we pointed the car uphjll and headed towards Timberline.  The road climbs steeply; its just under 4,000 feet at Government camp and 6,000 feet at Timberline Lodge.

A Painted Lady nectars on the asters.

   As we climbed, we saw a few clumps of wildflowers, but no butterflies.  Almost to Timberline, right at the 1 mile marker, we were suddenly blessed with a meadow of purple and yellow flowers that paralleled the road for at least 100 yards.  And lo and behold, at the upper edge of this alpine meadow was a dirt entrance to a National Forest campground.   I backed into the first camping spot, stepped out of the car and a dark orange butterfly shot by.  Eureka!

   The target butterfly for this trip was the Mormon Fritillary   It occurs at lower altitudes, like Peterson Prairie, but by frit standards, it is a high altitude butterfly. Luckily it has three morphologic features which separate it from the similar zerene and coronos. It is significantly smaller, has rounded wings and it is less orange, sometimes bronzy in coloration. 

   The meadow was so beautiful.  Expanses of purple asters mixed with yellow monkey flower,  and nestled against the spruce forest.  By now it was almost 11:00. Occasionally one of the medium sized butterflies would shoot by.  We were able to appreciate the rounded wings, and the size was suggestive of mormonia, but the darn things wouldn't hold still for a picture and the few opportunities we got with a net were unsuccessful.  

Painted Lady and Asters.

    We walked down the dirt road for about 100 yards, appreciating at least seven camp sites, all with picnic tables.  The forest service had placed small red flags in the fire pits to discourage use.  And we did continue to see those medium sized butterflies.  Finally I crept in to get a shot at one perched beneath a spruce.  He eluded my camera, but I did get a good look at his ventral hind wing, which as we know, tells the story with fritillary butterflies.  It had an array of spots consistent with the Mormon Frit.  

    As we walked back to the car we enjoyed views of Mt. Hood between the towering trees.  Once at the car, we saw a beautiful butterfly with lots of white spots in the adjacent meadow.  I stalked among the asters and one landed by my feet, slowly opening and closing its wings while nectaring.  My cell phone sufficed to get some good pictures.  Back at the car, the butterfly book confirmed that this was a Painted Lady.  You may recall that three weeks ago we saw this butterfly at James house, roughly 1200 feet elevation.  A few days later all the butterflies in his neighborhood had disappeared.  

Painted Lady under glass.

    We watched the ladies for a while and Sandra, coming from a hunting tradition, netted one.   Curiously, we saw no more of those medium sized frits while we ate lunch.  following our al freso repast we headed up to Timberline Lodge.

   It is only a third of a mile from Alpine Campground to the beginning to the Timberline complex.  This might be considered walking distance if you really enjoy a steep uphill walk.  From the fork in the road it is another quarter mile up to the lodge and the new day use building.  We encountered this handsome new edifice on our spring fling when we spent a night in the lodge.  I did not go in, but it surely boasts the sort of facilities (clean restrooms, possibly showers) that we did not see at the Alpine Campground.  On this warm mid-week day the lodge parking lot was extremely busy and we just drove through, back to our peaceful meadow.  

    I took one more stroll through the campground and spotted a small orange butterfly, surely a Western Meadow Fritillary on my walk. The contrast with the hub bub at the lodge was remarkable.  

    Back home we had a chance to photograph Sandra's Painted Lady.  Some butterflies simply don't settle even when refrigerated and that was the case with this beauty.  As a consequense, most of our pictures were taken with the butterfly under a stemless wine glass.  We found that when Sandra rattled the butterfly just a bit, he would flap and then, as he settled,, afforded us a look at his red markings on the ventral front wing.  In modeling vanessa butterflies, this is a very useful look.  Compare it with the picture taken not under the glass, which may be a bit sharper.  

   After the photo session, the butterfly flew off in the direction of Mount Hood.  Painted Ladies are famous fliers and I think maybe he made it back to Alpine Campground. 

    If you are of the camping persuasion, a site here is $25, assuming someone comes around to collect it.  There is a gate which may be closed in the evening.  It is a slice of alpine peace and beauty and perfect for August butterflies.

jeff

   

 

 

The Denizens of Dougan Creek

       On Friday Sandra and I made one of our regular forays to the Upper Washougal..  Traveling a bit further than usual, up to 1300 feet elevation, we were unable to do better than the small ruddy skipper that we have been seeing in the area. 

Juba Skipper, Livingston Mountain, August 2023

 To the best of my ability, this humble butterfly is a Juba Skipper.  As far as butterflies went,  this ruddy little stub kept us from being skunked.  Not what you would call a sterling day for the old lepidoptera.

   As we descended along the river, I spotted a chunky grouse on the side of the road. She let us cruise by slowly as she meandered into the roadside weeds.  This was a Blue Grouse, now known as a Dusky Grouse.   This bird was once common, but at least in my current meanderings, it is unusual.  We saw one just after dawn on Mount Rainier last summer, so I now have a two year streak going on Blue Grouse.  Or is it Dusky Grouse?

    Of course, be it blue or dusky, this bird comes with an anecdote.

    When my son was courting the mother of my grandchildren, he was driving with his future father in
law in the hills near Roseburg, Oregon.  They happened upon just such a blue grouse and the pater familias leaped from the cab and dispatched said grouse with his handy shotgun.  This may explain why we don't see many blue grouse.  It also explains why the Recoubtable SKG discourages me from confronting pickup driving rednecks in the Fred Meyers parking lot.  I mean, how would I look, recumbent in a broiling pan packed with a savory stuffing?

    Or to quote Washout from the teenage classic Hotshots, "If it helps, I didn't have seconds."

   The grouse went a ways towards justifying the expedition as we proceeded past Dougan Falls, turning up the creek towards our favorite picnic spot.  When we got there, we discovered that someone had pitched a rather nice tent right where we park for our al freso afternoon meal..  The audacity of some people!  

   Well, we brought the boat about and found a different wide spot in the road where we enjoyed our sandwiches while not seeing any butterflies.  It has rained exactly one day in the last two months, so this may explain the lack of both wildflowers and butterflies.  

    Sandra was feeling lazy, so she let me go off by myself, wandering past the interloper's tent and down to the creek.  When I got there, I discovered that the campers had left a plastic box, the type in which you store unused sweatshirts.  As I  approached, I could see rocks and water in the box.  And when I peered inside, I was treated to a surprising aquarium.  The campers, presumably including some curious children, had collected a variety of northwest aquatic wildlife.  They had a few fish, some water boatmen, a crawdad and three brown salamanders.

Stop Grousing about the lack of butterflies!

     Not being a child myself, I have not seen these animals for many years.  But, hard to believe, I was young once.  Way back then, even in the little creeks in Vancouver, we found crawdads.  My son tells me that  they found them in the creeks around Salem, but by that time (I was 40, for crying out loud) I was  too old to dabble in the mud. 

   The first sign that you are getting old is that you include gardening in your list of hobbies.  That you exclude mud dabbling from the list is another tell tale sign. 

     Taxonomists tell us that this crawdad was a Signal Crayfish, P. leniusculus.  Crayfish are closely related to lobsters, making them eminently edible if a bit small, and occur only in freshwater.  There are three invasive species of crayfish found in Eastern Washington, but this was almost certainly the native endemic from my childhood.

A plastic box on Dougan creek opens a trove of memories.

    My history with the salamander is shrouded in mystery.   Sixty years ago I was a Boy Scout.  As I recall, our troop would take camping trips to Silver Star Mountain, the highest spot in Clark County.  Needless to say, the camping trip was usually accompanied by a hike.

     The campground of my memory was across the road from a ranger station with a choice location...right beside a stream with a waterfall. And, you guessed it, in the pool below the falls there were salamanders.   The scouts caught these salamanders, which were fairly large, dark brown and totally aquatic, bearing obvious gills.  I can't recall for sure if the scouts of Troop 400 tortured these salamanders, or if it was different scouts and salamanders somewhere else. 

    As it turns out, there is just such a waterfall, Hidden Falls, near Silver Star, only seven miles as the crow flies from Dougan Creek.  But at this point my memory and the facts part company.  There is no road to Hidden Falls and there has never been a ranger station there. Only two things are certain: I didn't especially like the long hike and there were definitely brown aquatic salamanders.

Salamanders and a Crawdad, Dougan Creek August 2023

   The Burke Museum at the University of Washington (Go Huskies!) tells us these are Cope's Giant Salamanders, D. copei.  Despite being "giant" they achieve only a whopping eight inches.  They are almost entirely aquatic, a condition known as paedomorphosis. 

     Only a few metamorphosed adults have been found in the wild.  Scientists, who are at least as likely to torture salamanders as any boy scout, have been able to induce metamorphosis by exposing the salamanders to thyroid hormone.   What one then does with a metamorphosed Cope's Giant Salamander is anybody's guess.  Probably brain it with a piece of driftwood, ala the boy scouts, or, being scientific, toss it into jar of ever clear. This is what is known as your tax dollars at work.  

   But I digress.  The salamanders are endemic, living in the cool mountain streams of Western Washington.  With any luck they escape the notice of small children, boy scouts and scientists. They harbor under rocks during the day and emerge in the evening to forage on the bottom of streams. 

   Neither the crawdads nor the giant salamanders are threatened.  Regrettably, the same can not be said for my aging memory!  So get out there and create some memories of your own, before its too late

jeff

Vanessa, Vanessa...Two special butterflies in Southwest Washington.

     For those of us who watch butterflies in Hawaii, the genus Vanessa is special.  This is the genus that includes Hawaii's only endemic big, beautiful butterfly, the Kamehameha Butterfly.  I realize that there is a second endemic butterfly , a small blue known as the Hawaii Blue butterfly, Udara blackburni.  It is small and difficult (for me,at least ) to find.  Definitely not big and beautiful. 

Kamehameha Butterfly  Hawaii DLNR

 

     It is interesting that in our tropical paradise only two butterflies survived the arrival of the Polynesians, roughly 1000 years ago.  Biologists somehow know that there was a massive loss of plant species associated with the arrival of what we now call the native Hawaiians, and entomologists hypothesize that there were butterfly species like the Kamehameha that were inextricably linked to some of these plants.  As there is no fossil record and the Hawaiians did not capture and preserve butterflies way back then, this must fall into the realm of speculation.  If you visit local museums, and even some hotels like the King Kamehameha, in downtown Kailua Kona, you can see artifacts from the period that preceded contact with Europeans.  On display you will see red feathered capes and helmets bedecked with the remains of numerous Hawaiian honeycreepers.  But there are no such artifacts composed of otherwise unknown butterfly wings.  Shazbatt!

    Most of the butterflies that we see in Hawaii might be categorized as Garden Butterflies.  The ubiquitous monarch is a classic example.  It was introduced fifty years after European contact, and thrives on the introduced Crown Milkweed plant, found as an ornamental throughout the islands. 

Snowberry Checkersot, Upper Washougal,  July 2023

 

      The Kamehemeha Butterfly is assuredly not a garden butterfly.  It is linked inextricably to the native Hawaiian nettle mamake.  Thus, the Kamehameha finds itself on a bit of an ecological  precipice.  However , the genus Vanessa includes several other species found in Hawaii that are not linked to a single native plant.  We have been lucky enough to see two of them, the Painted Lady and the Red Admiral.   I emphasize lucky because these species are not common and they are not linked to a single host plant, allowing them to crop up sporadically.  

   All this brings us to Southwest Washington in the summer of 2023.  In our infant career as lepidopterists, Sandra and I have been fortunate to see a modest variety of native butterflies in the PNW.  Up till now, the genus Vanessa has eluded us.  Were it not for our connection to the Kamehmeha, perhaps I wouldn't have been so acutely aware of this deficit.  But the same factor that makes them sporadic in Hawaii is in effect throughout the lower 48.  This is to say, both the Red Admiral and Painted Lady butterflies can survive on more than one host plant and might show up anywhere.  Or to look at it from a slightly different perspective, there is no really special place to search for those species. These are not introduced butterflies, but they both occur in lots of habitats throughout North America. 

My Red Admiral displays on a fern leaf.

     Two weeks ago, Sandra and I were watching butterflies up at Dougan Falls.  We enjoyed an explosion of Snowberry Checkerspots.  We had seen that butterfly up there before, but this was special, with many individuals present.  After this show on the upper Washougal, we went to our favorite lunch spot on Dougan Creek.  As I got out of the car, a butterfly exploded in a flurry of red from the adjacent foliage.   "Could this be the Red Admiral?" I wondered. Ten minutes later,down by the stream, Sandra saw the beast.  I was way up on the road.  Not wanting to risk my breaking a leg in a willy nilly charge into the stream bed, Sandra kept her discovery to herself.  Luckily, the admiral made a visit to the fern beside the car, allowing me to get this picture.  This is not a great picture, but the butterfly is unmistakable .  I was maneuvering for better lighting when the butterfly flew away.  

 

Cinnabar Moth

     Three days later we took our daughter Leslie to the same spots.  In just a few days, the snowberries were remarkably reduced in number, and the Red Admiral, probably a single erratic individual, was nowhere to be seen.  How things can change in just a few days!  The day was saved by a moth, which we netted and took home for further examination.  I believe you will have to admit that the Cinnabar Moth, T. jacobaebae,  is not as pretty as Leslie and Sandra, but it is distinctive enough to brighten any days butterfly excursion.  

    This handsome devil has a story of its own.  Tansy Ragwort is a plant that looks like a tall, multi-blossomed  dandelion and is noxious to cattle.  It was first found in the Portland area in 1922.  The agricultural community declared tansy to be a dangerous introduction and starting in the 1960s began releasing Cinnabar Moths, whose caterpillars eat tansy ragwort. 

    Of course, these well intentioned attempts to eradicate introduced species rarely work.  We still have rats in Hawaii, and we are now blessed with the introduced mongoose and the barn owl.  In Southwest Washington we still have tansy, but we are lucky, I suppose, to have these incredibly handsome moths, in addition.  I really like barn owls and what would Hawaii be with out the ubiquitous mongoose?  Similarly the Cinnabar Moth is pretty enough to brighten any cloudy day in the PNW.  Should we congratulate the agriculturalists for increasing our non-native diversity?  In the same way that a Barn Owl might (or might not) consume a rat, this is food for thought.

    Well, our discovery of the Cinnabar Moth was heralded by my son James who saw "small red butterflies"while mowing his back forty high on the slopes of Livingston Mountain in Clark County.  A  week ago, walking his street before dinner,  I got a look at what I was sure was a Painted Lady butterfly, Vanessa cardui.  Sandra and I have seen few butterflies up there.  Last summer we saw a total of three:  two tiger swallowtails and an anise. And so, dinner two days ago was to provide another opportunity to butterfly this potentially new source for leps (as the aficionados say.)  in Clark County.

A Painted Lady dines on lavender nectar, Livingston Mountain

    James' house sits at 1850 feet, whereas the spot we experienced the explosion of Snowberry Checkerspots is only 1000 feet.  Butterfly lore tells us that these insects  like mountaintops. 

   Additionally,  Tara (my DIL) and her neighbors have been planting some flowers. As we know, those antennae, so iconic to my butterfly models, are powerful chemoreceptors, sensitive to the three big Fs:  foliage, pheremones and food.  Well, I don't think the there has been an invasion of host plants, And as far as pheremones go, it takes two to tango.  But food is a controllable variable. As we will see,  lushly blooming cosmos (planted by Tara) and the  lavender just up the street are apparent sources of nectar and a fantastic lure for butterflies. Twice on the Big Island we were invited to gardens where Gulf Frits were nectaring in great numbers, along with a few other butterflies that we were unable to identify.  I've been looking for a garden that attracts butterflies in our area for several years and have not found one.  Yet.

An oblique view confirms the identification.  July 2023

    We arrived at 2:30 on a hot afternoon.  I got my net and binoculars and walked up the 100 feet to the neighbor's driveway.  I had not previously appreciated the blooming lavender, but it was unmistakable on this afternoon.  Immediately I got a good look at a Painted Lady.  I raced back and retrieved Sandra and the camera.  For the next ten minutes we were treated to a show, with at least one lady, along with numerous bumblebees, nectaring on the lavender.  Considering the proximity of the butterflies, my efforts were just better than mediocre.  

    After a bit the lady was joined with a Pale Swallowtail (the first of the season for us) and numerous Clodius Parnassians.  The only butterfly we see even occasionally on this street is the tiger swallowtail and he was present as well.  What an amazing show on a street most often devoid of butterflies.

A Pale Swallowtail enjoys the lavender nectar.

   Painted Lady is a very interesting species.  It is the most widespread of all butterflies, found across North America and in every other continent except Antarctica.  In Europe it is found in the summer from Iceland, and south and east, to Turkey.  In the fall, adults migrate to Africa,  pausing on the way to go through a life cycle.  Of course they have been extensively studied.  So we know they go through six life cycles on their round trip from Iceland to south of the Sahara. And we know that they are perhaps the only butterfly that continues to breed, producing successful offspring throughout the winter.  

    It has been noted that Painted Ladies alter their migration in some areas in response to a strong winter rainfall.  Could the winter rains in California have induced the appearance of Painted Ladies on Livingston Mountain?  Maybe!

A Clodius Parnassian enjoys Tara's Cosmos

    Getting back to the three Fs, Painted Ladies have a wide range of host plants: calendula, hollyhock,  mallow sunflower and thistle, among others.  This undoubtedly comes into play as they migrate through different areas.  Sandra has become fascinated with the prospect of finding butterfly eggs.  As we walked James' road, we could not help but notice the thistles that are just getting ready to bloom.  Are they also hosting painted Lady Caterpillars?  Stay tuned for the redoubtable SKG is on the job! 

    Because this butterfly is such a successful migrant, some scientists suspect that it was the species that made the journey across the Pacific to Hawaii, evolving over millions of years into the Vanessa we revere on the Big Island, Vanessa tameamea.  So to the ladies on Livingston Mountain, Sandra and I send forth aloha and a heartfelt E komo mai.

jeff

  

Central Oregon Part 3...The Case of the Cascade Caterpillar

    For those of you who have been following the blog this spring, you will recall that Sandra has taken an interest in caterpillars.  This is the second most obvious stop in the lifecycle of butterflies and moths. An entomologist's mantra might well be: egg, larva, pupa adult...ommm.  

Courtesy of ASU  Ask a biologist!

  Butterfly eggs are tiny and it takes a real scientist to describe what goes on inside.  As you will see, we are now at least familiar with such an entomologist.  A chrysalis,the pupa phase in the life of a butterfly, is mysterious.  Also, unless you are an astute observer of nature, a chrysalis may be difficult to find and,once found, would take a real aficionado to make much sense of it until the butterfly inside is ready to emerge.   

A love of Wooly Bears is hard wired in my DNA

   Caterpillars, on the other hand, are known to all of us.  From an early age most of us encountered a Woolly Bear wandering near the woods on a fall afternoon.  The mere thought sets me to seething with atavistic pleasure.  Dogs, fires and woolly bears, I'm sure they are hard wired into my DNA. 

    At the other end of the spectrum, if one found the caterpillar of the Cabbage Butterfly, known as the "cabbage worm" crawling in his salad it would almost certainly evoke a degree of hard wired horror.

    As caterpillars grow they molt and each successive organism is called an instar.  The penultimate instar goes chrysalis, the magic occurs, and the next thing you know, you have an emerging butterfly.  Until this week, that is about as far as my knowledge went.  Following our trip to Central Oregon, Sandra presented her picture of the caterpillar on the rock near Sparks Lake to a Facebook group dedicated to caterpillars.  A few weeks ago this group provided identification for the Oak Tent Caterpillar that we discovered in Klickitat Canyon.  In this current instance, a member identified the caterpillars we found wandering on the rocks as that of the Anicia Checkerspot.

Edith's Checkerspot Caterpillar wandering.

 

    If you have been paying careful attention, you will recall that the butterfly in that narrow patch of Lodgepole Pine was Edith's checkerspot.   And it was this identification of a related caterpillar that caused me to pose the question: If you find and identify a caterpillar, can you claim the butterfly?

   You might ask, "Who was this mysterious guesser who almost got it right?'  He was, no less than David James, author of Life Histories of Cascadia Butterflies.  Simultaneously Sandra ordered his book from Amazon and I forwarded his identification to our guide on the Trail of Butterflies , Caitlin LaBar, along with the above question...Can I add a new butterfly to my list?

   And here is what she wrote back: 

Yes I know David James...DJ tried to get me to do a PhD under him but I’d had enough of college after my MS...He’s super knowledgeable about rearing larvae and in assorted subjects like Monarchs, Leona’s, and promoting pollinator/bio pest control (limited or no pesticides) in vineyards and orchards, but doesn’t always get some other things right (hey, it’s why we’re one big networking community!). Anicia does not occur along the Cascades in Oregon (it’s over in the Ochocos and Blues), only Snowberry and Edith’s. All three have almost identical and equally variable larvae, so David probably didn’t pay attention to the location... Life Histories of Cascadia Butterflies was the culmination of 20-30 years of work, the first of its kind.  (Sandra provided DJ with the precise location so I guess he just didn't pay attention.)

     So, our new best friend has revealed a bit more about herself and, at the same time, may have made question number 2 moot, 

   David James, PhD still thinks he has it right. Do us mortals love it when the gods wrestle , or does it scare  us a little bit?

   Once we received James and Nunnalee's book, a new world of lepidoptery opened up. The first chapter is a must read for those interested in the life cycle of butterflies and provides a detailed account of butterfly eggs and caterpillar development and behavior.  The lepidopteran duo provide answers to a couple questions that were lingering, related to observations of monarch caterpillars.  With the exception of one blessed afternoon in Jim Monk's backyard, where we saw the caterpillars of the Gulf Fritillary Butterfly devouring his lilikoi vines, the Monarch is are the only species with which we have extensive caterpillar experience.  Before I let you go I want to relate one amusing anecdote and a related bit about checkerspot caterpillars.

  Monarchs, Gulf Frits and checkerspots are all brushfoots, caterpillars in the family Numphalidae.  These butterflies have evolved, modifying their front pair of legs in such a way that they are not used for locomotion, but rather more as sensory organs.  In this instance, Drs..James and Nunnalee tell us that in most species of  butterfly, the larva stay at home and build their chrysalis in association with the host plant.  Brushfoot and swallowtail caterpillars, on the other hand,  arbitrarily divide into two groups, those that stay at home and build their chrysalis on or adjacent to the host plant and those that become wanderers.

All you ever wanted to know about Edith's Checkerspot, James and Hunnalee

    This explains why those three Edith's Checkerspot caterpillars were traveling over a rock instead of munching on the leaf of an Indian Paintbrush, their favorite host plant.  These three had molted into their final instar and were wandering, off on a journey to select a distant site to go chrysalis.

    Back in Kailua Kona, Sandra and I have become regular visitors to the Crown Milkweed behind the library.  Without getting technical, we have seen monarch caterpillars in different instar stages.  And it is the only place we have seen a chrysalis in the wild.  I feel a little funny saying it that way, because there is little "wild" about a small, top-shaped, gray cocoon hanging from a branch. 

A Stay at home monarch goes chrysalis on a crown milkweed branch

   There is a legend within the library staff that a few years ago, a monarch caterpillar made his cocoon on the eaves of the library and the staff were able to watch out the window as it matured and the butterfly emerged.

   Well, last winter (it doesn't seem like winter in Hawaii, what with palm trees swaying and caterpillars crawling around) we went down to the library on a Sunday afternoon.  While I was looking for a chrysalis, Sandra found a caterpillar on the nearby chain link fence.  She said to herself, "Silly caterpillar, don't you know that the good stuff to eat is over there?"  So saying that, she plucked the caterpillar from the fence.  It wriggled furiously and screamed, "You idiot!  Put me down!  Don't you know I'm poisonous?"   And then she walked a few steps and placed the caterpillar on a milkweed leaf.  The poor caterpillar looked skyward with a shrug and said, "Damn!  Now I have to start my journey all over again."

   And that is the truth about wandering caterpillars.

jeff

The hapless monarch on his doomed sojourn.  Photo SKG

Central Oregon 2023 Part 2, Sandhill Cranes and Butterflies at Sparks Lake

          Sunriver is a beehive of a resort community about 15 miles south of Bend, Oregon.   While Bend has become ever more fashionable, Sunriver has become overbuilt and busy.  About thirty years ago the State of Oregon created a highway connecting Sunriver with Mt. Bachelor, paring the drive to one of the west's premier ski resorts from 45 minutes to 20.   We took advantage of this delightful new highway, which in June was lightly traveled, and found ourselves at Sparks Lake, ten miles south of Bachelor, in about thirty scenic minutes.

SandhillCranes.  Sparks Lake, June 2023

     And scenic is the official word.  the road out of Bend is Century Drive, but starting three years ago it is now known as the Cascade Lakes National Scenic Byway. 

    Because the drive was so easy, Sandra and I arrived early at our destination, the overflow parking area for the Mirror lake Trailhead.  We were itching to see Edith's Checkerspot, but it was just after 9 AM, too early for butterflies. So we sat in the car admiring the huge meadow sprinkled with buttercups.  Once afoot, though, we spied two large birds a couple hundred yards in the distance.   A quick look through the binoculars revealed these to be Sandhill Cranes.  We walked about 75 yards into the meadow for a better look, still leaving a respectful distance between us and the cranes.  We were rewarded not just with some improved photography, but a glimpse at a chicken-sized chick that was being fed by the foraging adults. 

Look carefully to see the chick at the feet of her parents.

     These big birds, in contrast to Whooping Cranes, are not especially rare.  Long ago, in the Strawberry Mountains north of Burns, I was lucky to see a pair with a chick. That was at least thirty years ago.  For someone who doesn't get out much, these cranes were a very lucky find.  The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife put only a few breeding pairs in the Cascades, while the Malheur National wildlife Refuge, 30 miles south of Burns, represents a sure thing if you want to see breeding Sandhill Cranes.

    The pictures you see were taken at about 150 yards.

    We then turned our attention to the meadow and trooped back and forth, upsetting a couple Killdeer,  finding nothing in the way of butterflies. We then went up to the Sparks Lake Campground and over to the Mirror Lake trailhead parking lot.  Having wasted 45 minutes, we gave the meadow another go.  I walked the meadow in the manner of an under paid hunting dog for forty minutes.  I upset some more killdeer, flushed a spotted sandpiper and found one butterfly, a handsome greenish blue that was too elusive for the net.  

Killdeer with chick,  Sparks Lake June 2023

   At about 11 AM I made it back to the car and decided to take one more look at Caitlin LaBar's instructions regarding this rare checkerspot.  She had written, " Walk between the parking area and the creek...mostly in the scattered trees and gravelly soil close to the highway.  That's where most of the butterflies are.  I didn't see much out n the meadow other than Greenish Blues."  Well poop on a stick.  I'd spent two hours patrolling the area adjacent to the butterfly habitat.

   Sandra and I geared up and took off into the gravelly woods.  Compared to the meadow it didn't look like butterfly habitat.    For the first fifteen minutes all we found was a nest of Killdeer.  This brood had hatched and there were several little killdeer scuttling about in the gravel and among some scrubby dead branches.  I took seven pictures in all.  Later, I would assume that I had placed a chick in the center of each shot, but I was able to find a chick in only two of the seven pictures.  Like the octopus, killdeer chicks are cryptically colored to defeat my camera.  With luck you see the chick in the picture provided here. Of the seven photos, this is the one in which the chick is most apparent.

The Caterpillar of Edith's Checkerspot,  photo SKG

 

    Shortly after the killdeer clutch we found several caterpillars in the gravel. You see the best picture of these caterpillars here.  As a silly aside, its a lot easier to take pictures of caterpillars than the butterflies they eventually become!  And here-is a philosophical question, "If you find the caterpillar, can you add the butterfly to the list?"   The whole situation is rather Kafka-esque, don't you think?

  As I understand it, caterpillars are supposed to eat leaves and then weave a chrysalis.  Compared to a lush leaf, these rocks constituted thin soup, to say the least.  But there were three doing the same thing, so I presume it wasn't an accident. 

   We made it all the way to the creek, perhaps a quarter mile and turned back.  Suddenly I had a small butterfly sitting in the gravel.  He held still for the picture you see here.  I had no idea what it was, but I was confident it wasn't Edith's Checkerspot.  In short order we found a second similar butterfly and Sandra netted the sucker.  Wham!  We escaped the skunk!

Western Pine Elfin in the gravel, sparks Lake 2023

   About ten minutes later we were back at the car park.  Just before I turned to open the car door, flopping around in the dust, was a checkerspot butterfly.  My net descended and he was ours.  At this late date the idea that I would attempt a photograph in lieu of netting was out of the question.  

   And so, back at Sunriver, the work began. The butterflies were cooled and the boys served as excellent butterfly models, allowing me to move their hand just so after Sandra placed a butterfly in their palm,  Everyone was happy with the possible exception of the butterflies.

   I did the photo shopping and sent the results off the to Great Oz.  Caitlin sent back the verdict in a mere few hours. The checkerspot was Edith's, as we were fairly certain.  The other butterfly was the Western Pine Elfin  I remain a bit overwhelmed by the task of identifying these small butterflies, yet I suppose I should be ashamed at relying on someone else to identify them for me.  At least we have unimpeachable ID.

A cooled Edith's Checkerspot in Reid's palm.

   The Western Pine elfin is fairly widely distributed in Oregon.  It is one of two butterflies that employ pine needles as their host plant, utilizing both Lodgepole and Ponderosa Pine.  Thinking about the wide distribution of Lodgepole Pine, it makes me wonder;  have we not been looking with enough care in habitats west of the Cascades where lodgepoles are the prevailing tree?  

    The following morning we took the butterflies to a sunny spot in front of the Sunriver rental.  We started with the checkerspot and then the pine elfin.  We waited for the pine elfin to open, but instead he took off.  I stood, camera at the ready,  and chased him across the yard.  As I watched, a small butterfly landed in an ornamental pine and I assumed it to be the pine elfin.  But obviously it wasn't!

    For a few seconds I was befuddled. "What the hell is going on here?"  I asked myself.  "Are we back to one new species of butterfly?"

The Edith's Checkerspot on the lam.

    As it turned out, as I began my pursuit, the checkerspot took flight, flew past me and into the bush.  The pine elfin ascended into the lodgepoles where perhaps it found a mate.   A rare instance where we moved a butterfly from its preferred habitat to another acceptable habitat.

    The story isn't quite over, but you will have to remain in suspense until the next installment: Central Oregon Part Three...the Revenge of the Caterpillar!

jeff