The miracle of butterflies

Hadley McCann's drop-dead gorgeous photo of the Western Tiger Swallowtail, Papilio rutulus, on the front page of last week's Nugget is worthy of further dialogue regarding butterflies.

First, what you see in that lovely photo is the result of a great deal of hard work on old Mother Nature's part.

Right off the bat, there had to be broad-leaved trees for the caterpillar to eat once the egg hatched and that plant must be free of chemicals.

The tiny caterpillar soon will get too big for its britches and underneath the outer skin another skin will grow that will hold the bigger caterpillar, an event that will go on all summer until a big, fat green caterpillar with "eye spots" replaces the bird-dropping shape.

If molested by a bird, chipmunk, skunk, praying mantis, or the worst enemy a caterpillar has - parasitic wasps - orange "stink horns" will protrude from the head region and the eye-spots will (hopefully) scare them off.

Right here I have to make a comment to those of you that are saying, "Hey, if that thing keeps growing it's going to do harm to those ornamental trees I spent a bundle planting." Not so, because swallowtails lay their eggs singly here-and-there, the caterpillars will not congregate in large colonies - such as gypsy moths that can eat you out of house and home.

Toward the end of summer our caterpillar will be approaching about one-and-a-half-inches in length and will be ready to go into the next stage of its life - which is to me a major miracle.

I think that's why Hospice uses butterflies as a symbol of what they do: care for those who have a terminal illness; or as my mom was not too long back, reaching that point where they are going to transform from this life to the next.

If the caterpillar has escaped the dreaded parasitic wasp it will, over the winter, transform from the caterpillar to the beautiful animal Hadley shared with us last week. But that ain't easy.

The last molt, or instar, the caterpillar makes is to prepare for what will follow. Instead of another smooth green skin, this time it will be a case shaped to hold a different body with accessories.

The caterpillar finds the right spot on a bush or tree and sits on its tail, spins a silken bridle that will hold it in the upright position, and then, for all practical purposes, dies. However, is isn't "dead." Inside that case things are happening that bring about the miracle I speak of.

What was the digestive, respiratory and circulatory systems of the caterpillar break down into green genetic soup. Where life is inside that primeval soup is something I cannot even imagine, but it is there.

Then a three-piece body begins to form from the green soup: beautiful wings appear, a straw-like feeding tube is added, and long spindly legs and clubbed antenna are formed, along with a new digestive, respiratory, circulatory and reproductive system. Real, multi-faceted eyes develop and it's all packed into that chitinous case the caterpillar made to hold itself.

Even if the temperature drops to 31 dgrees below zero - as you and I have seen it around here - the developing adult butterfly will not freeze; its blood is laced with nature's anti-freeze that becomes more efficient as it gets colder.

In the early summer, the adult butterfly will emerge into the sunlight, feed on all those flowers you planted in your "butterfly garden" - and Hadley McCann will be there to take another picture.

Ain't Life Grand!

For information on a butterfly garden, or how to make a rearing cage to watch butterflies grow, e-mail: [email protected]