Monarch Migration Milkweed & Monsanto

It is hard to imagine that the words Monarch, Migration and Milkweed would have anything in common with a multinational chemical and biotech corporation like Monsanto. To see and hear the word Monsanto conjures up images of poisons, lies, manipulation, and now the possible loss of a momentous migration is added to the list of onslaughts to our environment, personal health and sacred connections to nature.  

Monarch Butterfies are just one of the insects that fall prey to Monsanto made pesticides and herbicides. Many other important and treasured pollinators are killed as well.  Consider a diverse community of wildlife living within a stand of milkweed. 

It is sad to visualize a dense wet toxic veil of poison stealing across huge swaths of wildlife habitat growing alongside mono gmo crops and highways. Hundreds of species of milkweed have been killed by the insidious manipulations of Monsanto. For years farmer's allowed native plants to grow along corridors bordering their crop fields, but things have changed. GMO crops need more and more sprayings (where they promised there would be less need) and are threatening one of the wonders of our natural world. Droughts and cold fronts play a role in the demise of the Monarch Butterfly migration too. Monsanto carries most all of the blame for the killing of the essential host plants — milkweed.

Fragile life is wiped out or not ever allowed to begin when their host plant milkweed is absent.

Caterpillars never become instars or butterflies without milkweed.

Milkweed is more than just a host plant for the Monarch Butterfly. The dainty falling florets are important sources of nectar for the monarch and many other creatures. We need to recreate the lost habitat for all the life that depends on milkweed, and for the rights of the plants to live as well.

Hummingbirds are great pollinators too. Milkweed is ever giving.

Let's all plant more milkweed by all means, but also we need to call, write and sign petitions to our representatives in Congress and the Secretary of Agriculture, Tom Vilsack, demanding they stop supporting gmo crops and the outrageous use of poisons poured and sprayed over our food and  landscapes.

Perhaps even more importantly, we could act against giants like Monsanto in how we spend our dollars in our daily lives. By asking questions and following our convictions in what we purchase, we can make changes one dollar at a time. One person at a time eventually adds up to millions of dollars not supporting harmful chemical corporations.

I hope we heed this warning of our beloved Monarch Butterflies, and that the decline that has been happening over the last decade will see a turnaround soon. I am fearful, but will persist in hoping that children and adults alike, along the migration route, continue to enjoy observing both the joyous metamorphosis and the incredible migration of the Monarch Butterflies.

Stepping into September Haze Ironweed Holds Center Stage

August gave us cool days dressed in flannel and comforter nights . . . the coolest August I can recall since my transplanting to New England just thirty-eight years ago. Mostly busy days filled the weeks that passed in tones of green, with worldly guests and migrations stirring motes of dust, pollen and memories . . . both lived and dreamed. 

The last hours of Augustus suddenly lead into September's first dawn . . . breaking through a thick haze of clouded air with bolts of zagged light only Zeus could throw around this old farmhouse. I was sure the power would go out or worse, but we were spared, this time, and when the new, once seventh, month took hold in a fresh day . . .  the air was less heavy with only empty threats of lightning and downpours. Frightening storms floating off to the east . . . the air refreshed, and heaviness lifted, a page on the calendar is turned . . . and the small purple florets of Ironweed takes center stage in the middle meadow garden.

At last a Monarch settled long enough for me to catch its portrait whilst sipping from the teeny petals of Ironweed . . . this being only my second glimpse of a Monarch Butterfly in the garden, this year, so far.

Ironweed stately stands reaching nearly the eight-foot height of Joe-pye weed, adding a bright brush stroke of regal purple to the landscape painting. Touches of yellow come into play with Rudbeckia and Solidago.

Greater Spangled Fritilaries join in the feast of Ironweed. 

One worn out from weeks of flight throughout August with a fresh Fritillary September emergence.

Autumn, but three weeks away, will paint the apples in deeper red hues. 

By now, many of the bouncy snowballs of Annabelle's Hydrangea are carpeting the garden floor revealing the Tree Hydrangea beginning to blush in the background.

Viburnum seeds, nearly gone, have filled the bellies of Cedar Waxwings, Catbirds, Robins, Flickers and more resident Aves.

Though we miss the many songs and calls of birds, now gone or silent, Katydids and grasshoppers create such a cacophony between every blade of grass falling like a mysterious, musical mantle over the inky nights.

Not quite a violin, but there are actions within these wings striking together in atonal harmony.

Grasses cut a soft and feathery feel amongst green striking stalks . . . catching light while slicing through the canopy of sky, enveloping Flower Hill Farm, and tickling the muse of darkness.

September will summon silky tassels from within these taller Miscanthus greens. 

This tiny, iridescent juvenile's parents have long begun their migration southward bound. I continue to delight in the antics and jewel-like presence of the young Ruby-throated Hummingbirds . . . though knowing they too will be parting soon. Enjoying the days with all the many treasures without clinging . . . knowing ephemeral joys are for moments only . . .  we move with gratitude into September's ways.

Peace blossoms with justice . . . would that it could be alive in the hearts of all humankind. Our voices, pens and keyboards must be loud like the Katydids wing-songs filling congress and our president's mind with woe for what they may be about to sanction. Life is precious and fragile.

Flower Hill Farm Butterflies of 2012 ~ Fritillaries

Todays segment of 'Flower Hill Farm Butterflies of 2012' features the boldly flecked Fritillaries. It seems the only Fritillary that flies about our gardens these days is the Greater Spangled Fritillary Speyeria cybele. Early on, I mistakenly identified these butterflies as Aphrodite Fritillary, but the eminent Lepidopterist Randy Emmitt pointed out that the large beige band near the edge of the outer hindwing indicates that these are in fact Greater Spangled Fritillaries. 

I do so enjoy these butterflies whatever we humans tend to call them. There is but one single flight period for the fritillaries beginning in June and stretching into early September.

Giant Ironweed Vernonia gigantea is a native butterfly magnet with nourishing nectar for many butterflies and bees. I would never call it a weed, for it is very showy and stands beautifully with other late summer plants. The flowers are lovely especially when wearing strikingly, speckled wings.

Monarch butterflies frequent this valued native too. 

Fritillaries also love our non native butterfly bush. We only have the one plant which dies back each year. I have never seen a seedling. If you live in a more temperate climate, Buddleia can and does become invasive through seeding, I believe . . . so you might be sure to deadhead or consider alternatives. I confess to loving my sole bush, as long as it behaves, that offers long plump, purple, panicles of blooms for all sorts of butterflies and bees to land upon. A little Skipper sips near the Greater Spangled Fritillary. Hummingbirds also love this native of China. Climate change may well make this species an unwelcome visitor, but for now it is a showy and giving member of our garden just outside the farmhouse and studio.

A Painted Lady nectars along side two Fritillary butterflies.

Joe Pye weed Eutrochium purpureum, is another great native that Fritillaries, along with other butterflies, moths and bees are attracted to for its bounty of nectar. This tall member of the Asteraceae family is a comely, compatible companion to the impressive Giant Ironweed.

The wide beige band between the two rows of white markings is clearly illustrated in the image above. Again, this is a telltale sign that the butterfly is a Greater Spangled Fritillary and not an Aphrodite. I imagine the name greater spangled is for the glint of the white, silvery-spotted wings.

The first instar Fritillary caterpillar overwinters here beneath or near a violet plant its mother Fritillary would have fastened its egg to towards the end of August or early September. Once out of the egg the tiny caterpillar eats only the egg casing before dropping or crawling down to find a leaf or other detritus to serve as protective cover throughout the winter. Remember not to be such a fastidious gardener and instead leave safe houses for lots of overwintering caterpillars, chrysalises and butterflies.

The Fritillary caterpillars, that survive the birds and rabbits, will awake in May when the violets begin to leaf out and munch their way into June, until they feel an urge for change and seek a safe rock or log where they can privately morph into a brown chrysalis. With the passing of two weeks or so a butterfly will emerge . . . the males usually emerge first flitting about seeking a suitable female who pushes her way out of the chrysalis a bit later than the males.

Speaking of males, I was drawn away from my writing this morning by these toms way down by the forest edge.  I could not lift the lens that would make these more vivid images. Wild Turkeys are busy stepping around lifting up leaves and debris in search of some of those overwintering delectables I have been writing about in this series of butterfly posts.

Shooting into the sun does not make for very vivid photos either but I love the way the tom's wattles are lit up by the bright early morning light. I am afraid the Wild Turkeys notice my presence, when I step out to get a better look, and quickly take off to the lower lands and into the cover of the forest.

I usually hear Wild Turkeys before I see them . . .  for there is some impressive courtship and alpha male vocalizing going on right now. I note a few hens in a lower field, while the toms are still stepping out together. There will be a split up soon and a group of toms will go off on their own leaving the dominant gobbler to care for the hens. I hope they have not found too many of the overwintering caterpillars and chrysalises and yet I want these beasts to be healthy and happy too.

My first 2013 sighting, just this morning, of a Palm Warbler  Dendroica palmarum. I notice at once that this little guy is busy scurrying along the ground looking for those tiny morsels of caterpillar and chrysalis like the robins, turkeys and bluebirds. I am so amazed any butterflies ever make it to fly in our gardens and fields.

This sweet songbird may have made it back here from Florida or as far as the Caribbean.  

Next up on the Butterflies of 2012 I will share some of our resident Skippers and then a post on the Monarchs before the grand finale. 

Great Spangled Fritillary Butterfly Friends

Great Spangled Frittillaries share the landscape of Buddleia.

Far away from Flower Hill Farm an enchanting city nourishes a friendship 

before only known through the virtual world. 

Endearment abides as we take in the nectar of Venice. 

Venetian intrigue with the delightful and dear Hattatts! 

Flower Hill Farm BUTTERFLIES OF 2011 ~ Favorite Fritillaries Part Two ~ Surprise Ending!

Flower Hill Farm's Fritillary parade ends with Great Spangled Fritillaries dipping into purple petals. Buddleia Black Knight, considered a noxious weed by many, barely survives in my northern garden. It is a magnet for butterflies, thus its common name of Butterfly bush. The complimentary colors are very striking enhancing the longwing butterflies beauty. 

There are many old-fashioned ideas and ways of being that I aspire to. I do not, however, care for the old-fashion nets that people take out into nature to capture butterflies. I rather like the way we capture butterflies in our photos and let them live out their lives in the gardens. Studying a creature while it is animated and alive is a far better way to observe and understand its life. Collections of dry, brittle and lifeless butterflies with pins stuck through them is one old-fashioned collection I can do without.

Ironweed is another favorite for butterflies and this Great Spangled Fritillary takes advantage of the nectar hidden within the last tiny florets.
Do you ever wonder what became of the fifth and sixth legs of some butterflies? If you look closely you can see one of those tiny legs next to the spotted eye of this fritillary. I am not as familiar with these as I am with monarchs, who use those tiny legs to prick and taste milkweed for freshness. Some scientist believe butterflies are evolving to have only four legs. I think those tiny legs come in pretty handy to aid in balance and . . . well we will see what time tells.

Back in a mostly drab color time . . . 

Purple sunrise skies are still a treat many a chilly morning. 

Yesterday, winter gave me a particular surprise! 

White . . .  like the snow falling outside right now . . .  and orange tones similar to the Fritillary butterflies appears on a familiar bird. But something is off? 

A sneak peek at a bird post coming up soon. 

Can you identify this bird? 

Meanwhile it is Friday and time again to fly away to Sweden to visit Katarina and join in on the old-fashion prompt.