She arrived on May 18th, 2020, the 40th anniversary of the Mt. St. Helens eruption. From my yard I watched a twinkle of butterfly blue drop onto a newly-planted Ocean spray, where she promptly laid eggs and left. I found seven in the four foot shrub.

Daily, I monitored the Lilliputian arrivals, and soon began to see in every insect, every gastropod a potential predator. June 1st the eggs hatched and my vigilance increased until that ominous, maggot-laden fly dangling from a silken thread robbed me of sleep. Next day I brought five larvae inside to “safety.” You who have reared butterflies may understand that oversized Whoville inspector feeling. It’s not hard to provide their needs, but roll call can be challenging at such a scale. A scan of fifteen pages of my journal reveals typical woes and joys: some deaths and some new caterpillars on fresh fodder, as well as a litany of “firsts.”

June 13th – witnessed 1st movement. 2nd and 3rd intstars noted.

June 17th – saw 1st frass eject from the top end, and a black head emerge from the bottom end, to bite a flower bud and quickly withdraw.

June 18th – 1st drowning. Somehow, one had squeezed through stems and plastic wrap. I found its body while refilling the bud vase. How does one do CPR on a 5 mm caterpillar? I laid the L3 body belly-up on a leaf, and gently stroked it with another leaf. It jerked! Not knowing other vital signs to check for, I suspended the limp form in its leaf gurney, tucked into massed white Ocean spray buds. It may perhaps tarnish my serious mien to admit my utter joy at finding Lazarus avidly feeding some hours later.

The firsts continued, through two apparent alien parasite takeovers, one visibly moving inside the larva’s body. All four instars, followed by the nerve- wracking wandering stage and the beautiful prepupal purple culminated in chrysalides from June 28th – July 5th.

July 11th the first two eclosed, and number one became a chickadee snack on her maiden flight. By the 21st, I had released the other four, all females, with joy and relief.

Had I made any difference at all? Hardly worth mentioning, I suspect, except that all the Red osier dogwood I had planted as an attractant is now merely backdrop for the Holodiscus discolor I have been planting ever since. This past spring, I located Blue larvae in May and marched on past…to my nettle patch, where the Red Admirals return regularly, since the brood of theirs I reared. I’m always watching my willows, especially when the Mourning Cloaks and Green Anglewings arrive, but I thankfully have too many of them to check. They honor me simply by showing up.

All photos by Cathy Clark.

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