Flight – Page 2

Monarch Metamorphosis: As with this butterfly, it’s change that gives us wings

June 24, 2015 by Melodye Shore

We delight in the butterfly but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty–Maya Angelou

I posted most of these photographs to my Facebook page, in real time, but it seems to me a miracle this grand deserves an encore performance. Enjoy!

April 1st. A Monarch butterfly visits the milkweed plant that I’ve tucked into a container garden, alongside a fuchsia.

April 27. I missed the egg stage altogether, but look! A Monarch caterpillar is munching the milkweed plant that its mother visited a few weeks back.

When I first discovered it, the very hungry caterpillar was inching its way across my backyard patio, having just discarded its skin. Ever the ~~hovercraft~~ watchful mama, I supervised my husband as he scooped up the butterfly-to-be with gentle hands and nestled it into soil at the base of the milkweed. Nimble little thing, it climbed to the topmost branch and started nibbling.

May 29. Cirque de Caterpillar! The J shape signals its readiness for the next phase of metamorphosis. In this photograph, it’s creating a silk pad on the underside of the fuchsia leaf, after which it’ll connect its hook-like appendage (cremaster) to the pad and twist about–an aerobatic hokey-pokey that helps ensure the cremaster is firmly attached.

Sheer magic! The caterpillar sheds its skin one last time, revealing its fragile beauty. The chrysalis hardens and dries overnight, and by daybreak, it’s transformed itself into a beautiful jade pendant, with a gold band around the top and gold flecks near the bottom.

May 30. Royal Baby Watch begins! In 9-14 days, on average, the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly will be complete. The green turns more opaque, and the golden ‘necklace’ is more pronounced. See how the tiny beads sparkle in the sunlight? Although entomologists have hypothesized about their purpose, they haven’t yet settled on an answer. Beauty sometimes exists for its own sake, am I right?

June 12. Although it’s now 3 days beyond the normal hatching period, I’m reminding myself that the transformation is sometimes delayed by cooler weather. Only 1% of Monarchs survive every stage of the egg-caterpillar-chrysallis-butterfly cycle. Grim statistics, but I’m wearing my rose-colored glasses.

June 17. Well,would you look at that! Our Monarch is a full week overdue for eclosing (“hatching”), but it looks as if its royal debut is imminent! The chrysalis turned dark green this morning, and the walls are thinning. By nightfall, barely visible but unmistakable…Monarch butterfly wings.

June 18. I’m up at dawn, so I don’t miss anything. The chrysalis is nearly black now, but pressed against the sides as they are, the wings look like stained glass windows. I take take the full measure of the chrysalis, double-check my camera equipment, and readjust my tripod.

June 18, 10:45 a.m. The chrysalis is inky black, but fully transparent, and you can see breaks along the bottom.

Cracks develop along the backside first, where the wings overlap.

June 18, approximately 11:45. Within the space of about a minute, the bottom of the chrysalis bursts open and the butterfly emerges, head first. He unfurls those gorgeous wings, climbs the nearest leaf, and rests there for about an hour. He’s helpless at this stage, given that his wings are wet, but never fear! I’m keeping an eye out for potential predators.

The emptied chrysalis is the best of form and function–truly, a work of art.

When an ocean breeze drifts through the backyard. His Royal Majesty seems to enjoy it. He turns his head from side to side, spreads and retracts his wings, clings to a fuchsia branch and wiggles his antenna.

About two hours later, he gets the urge the fly. Rough going, at first. He careens around the flowerpot. Flutter. Flap. A running start, then wheeee, he takes to the skies!

(My video’s too large to post, but you can watch his inaugural flight at this link).

The Monarch lands on the sweet pea butterfly bush at the edge of our flowerbed. He assumes elegant poses, as if to indulge this paparazzo’s fascination. My camera’s battery runs out before his patience.

The sun is directly overhead when he takes off again–flawless wings, gliding across an impossibly blue sky. I am at once wistful and ecstatic, and grateful for the opportunity to witness this metamorphosis.

Oh, and I’m happy to report that Monarch butterfly returned to my garden again this morning. I’ll be watching for tiny eggs in my milkweed plant…

UPDATE: After reading more about Monarchs this morning, I’ve changed the gender references in this post. The black pouches and thin veining on the hind wings help identify this beautiful specimen as a male. (source).

And now we are empty nesters

February 23, 2015 by Melodye Shore

It was still dark this morning when I snicked the front door open. Just a sliver, mind you–I didn’t want to startle the remaining hatchling, but after two solid days of pounding rain and intermittent winds, I worried that she might be cold and wet. But there she was: cozy as could be inside her dry little nest. How wise Walela was, to have built their cushiony home under a roof overhang!

(This set of two pictures comes from yesterday’s photo session. I didn’t get pictures of Jennifer in the nest this morning.)

Whew, what a relief! With a steaming mug of vanilla-hazelnut coffee at my elbow, I posted a blog update, in which I predicted she’d fledge sometime today.

Not an hour later, my husband called me to the door. The nest was empty! I grabbed my camera and snapped a picture. Just one, inadequate though it might be, to honor the nest that served Walela and her brood so well.

I lowered my camera to my side, and stood silent for a few minutes longer. And here’s where the magic happened, as it so often does when we’re willing to stay in the moment…

Jennifer returned to the fuchsia plant and perched herself on the slimmest of branches! She must’ve sensed Walela’s whirring approach, because with one eye focused on me, she turned her head and opened her beak.

I didn’t capture the feeding itself, but seeing as how I’ve posted so many pictures and videos, here and on Facebook, I’ll bet you can easily imagine it in your mind’s eye by now.

A small part of me is sad, of course. Who wouldn’t be, after cheering them on, for days on end? But more so, I’m celebrating. It rarely happens that both hummingbird hatchlings survive from egg to fledge, so I’m thrilled to know that Sunshine and Jennifer beat the odds.

Finding my voice, and taking wing

February 23, 2015 by Melodye Shore

In you is all of Heaven
Every leaf that falls is given life, in you
Each bird that ever sang… will sing again, in you. —A Course in Miracles

I’m still reveling in my experiences last week with the Harlem Gospel Choir. More to come about that, and soon, but I first need to find adequate words with which to express their shimmering magic.

In the meantime, how about a hummingbird hatchling update?

When last we visited their nest together, the siblings were doing flight simulations. Four days later, on February 19th, I witnessed something rare and wonderful.

Walela’s babies been riding the wind currents all day, hanging ten on the edge of their nest. Whew, scary! If the video’s jumpy in a few spots, it’s because I was more than a little nervous. But when the winds died down, the birds were safely ensconced in their nest, seemingly unruffled by their wild ride.

Later that same evening, I climbed our rickety wooden ladder, cell phone snugged to my ear so I could talk to my sister Sheryll while also snapping a few last pictures before nightfall. Quite the balancing act, I must say, but boy howdy, was it worth the effort!

They were playing a game of do-so-do on their cottony perch, when suddenly…well, see for yourself. The bigger hatchling hovered over its sibling for just a few seconds, propelled itself backward and then soared on tiny wings over the red tile roof that sheltered it, from egg to fledge, in Walela’s nest.

The next morning, our new fledgling had nestled into the birdbath beyond my kitchen window, about 15 feet from its former home. Sheryll called it Sunshine, and that seems fitting for this tiny bird with shimmery feathers. (I took this next sequence of pictures through my front window, so they’re a bit blurry. But oh, are you as happy to see him flourishing as I am?)

Walela’s nurturing her baby while it gets acclimated to life beyond the nest, as mamas are wont to do.

Over the next several days, she’ll show Sunshine how to forage for food and survive on its own in the wild.

Motherhood is hard work!

Hovercraft mama that she is, Walela also watches over the hatchling that remains in the nest, preening its pinfeathers and practicing flight maneuvers on its own.

Here’s what it looked like, the day after its sibling fledged. Lonely, you think?

Walela visits often. I took these snapshots yesterday morning.

We’ve since decided to call her Jennifer (“Jenny”), in memory of Reverend Jennifer Durant, who inspired many, living with ALS as she did–with a featherlight spirit and a heart filled with joy.

She still has a few pinfeathers tucked into her tail, but I suspect Jenny will be taking to the skies sometime today or tomorrow.

No ordinary eggs, these

February 14, 2015 by Melodye Shore

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for a bird to learn to fly while remaining an egg.
We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad. — C.S. Lewis

Walela’s hatchlings are 15 and 17 days old now. *sniff* Time flies, and wow, haven’t they grown?

When they’re not snuggled side-by-side in the nest, waiting for Walela to bring them another meal, they’re flapping their wings and wriggling precipitously on its edge.

This video footage shows them for the survivors they are. It ends on a really sweet note, but given all their daredevil aerobatics, it’s not for the faint-of-heart.

They’ll fledge within a week, so while these flight simulations seem scary to us as bystanders, they are critical to the hummingbird babies’ ultimate survival.

Here’s a shorter, tamer video, for the good eggs among us who might’ve watched only a portion of the first video through splayed fingers. So funny, the way they poke Walela’s chest with their growing beaks, as if to say, “Mom, Mom, is it lunch time yet? Mom?” And see how she preens their pinfeathers at the end?