The Jester

Why don’t cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny. The same can be said for Monarch (Danaus plexippus), Queen (Danaus gilippus) and Soldier (Danaus eresimus) butterflies as well as other brightly colored showy species. Most predatory species, particularly birds will avoid the flashy flying insects because they do taste funny. Or awful. These three regal caterpillars feed on milkweed which contains alkaloids which will be necessary for breeding as adults and act as a chemical defense against predators. Once the caterpillar goes through the metamorphic process, bright colors act as a reminder to potential predators that these insects are poisonous. A predator may try one once, but if it survives, and they usually do, they probably will not do it again. This form of defense is known as aposemitism. If it’s brightly colored, best to move on to something else on the buffet line.

And then there’s the Viceroy (Limenitis archippus), orange oligarch of the Lepidoptera and faker in the first degree. Viceroys are said to effectively display Batesian mimicry. They look like the other poisonous members of the king’s court but are they poisonous? It has been long believed that they have evolved to look like a poisonous species which has provided them the defense necessary to avoid predation. Although their larval form feeds on host plants other than milkweed, it’s now thought that Viceroys may in fact be poisonous themselves. If anything the Viceroy is the Jester playing predators and naturalists the fool.

In the swamps of South Florida, the Viceroy looks similar to the abundant Queen butterfly rather than the rare Monarch. The individual that lit upon the back of the alligator prompted a debate regarding its identification. While someone claimed Monarch, I insisted Viceroy and pointed out the black band across the hind wing. They remained insistent and I, the Jester, suggested they move closer for a better look. 

PAC-119 - Monarch Watch Part II

Do you like movie trilogies? The first episode is so incredible/profitable that a second episode is rolled out regardless of a cohesive plot. Typically Part II is the dour, depressing, hopeless drama in the saga. A requisite cheery ending is doled out despite the passage of decades/principle actors and we spend endless wasted hours complaining about how it didn’t live up to the initial movie.

I’m warning you now – you will get a Part III. It may be months from now and the main character will be dead.
Our lead is PAC 119, a tagged Monarch butterfly discovered in October of 2010 at the St. Mark’s national Wildlife Refuge in Florida. The conspicuous blue dot on an otherwise orange and black butterfly is relatively unobtrusive to the insect as it bursts in effortless puffs from flower to flower, feeding on nectar. Where this butterfly picked up its tag is a mystery and where it will end up can only be resolved in a suspense filled follow up Part III in 3-D and UV. But for now we know this much, the tag reads:

TAG@KU.EDU
Monarch Watch
1-888-TAGGING
PAC 119
(The coding was changed to protect the anonymity of the butterfly)

The nine millimeter in diameter, adhesive backed tag was placed delicately on top of the mitten-shaped discal cell, a tagging practice that doesn’t impede flight and increases the chance of recovering it. Tagging and recoveries give insights into fly ways, distance traveled, peak migration and survival rates.

PAC 119 is a distinct set of numbers and letters that allows Monarch Watch to track it when recovered. I’ve passed along this butterfly’s location and from here the insect will head south where it will overwinter in a select range of coniferous mountains of Mexico. Unusually harsh winters have decimated the Monarchs hoping to ride out the winter months here and illegal logging is a persistent threat to the 20+ acres of forest that is home to most of North America’s butterfly kings.

So how will our leading lepidopteron fare? Will PAC 119 survive the flight across the Gulf of Mexico? Will it arrive safely at its alpine alcove? Will it succumb in the frigid forest? Tune in next time and see.

South of the Border–Monarch Watch Part I

When I was a kid our family made an annual summer migration from South Florida to Upstate New York and back again in the fall. It was an arduous trek that I liken to that of the Monarch Butterflies that are completing their southern migration as I type.

The circadian cue that prompted our northern departure was an overdose of vitamin D and the ability to roast ants with a magnifying glass at 9 pm in the evening. Too much sun. Time to head north. This was a huge relief for me and my siblings who grew up with no air conditioning. It was also an opportunity to avoid flea season which as I look back now was something that was probably unique to our home.

Our 1200 mile journey required many stops to rest and feed. Monarchs stop at nutrient-rich, nectar-loaded flowers before resuming their flight. We seemingly stopped at every Burger King and Arby’s along the Atlantic Coast.

The return trip was no less exhausting and the ravenous fleas waiting back home made it all the more dreadful, but “South of the Border”, the tacky highway tourist trap between the Carolinas was a refuge, a sombrero-adorned landscape, illuminated like fireflies at night like with festive green and orange lights. To my parents it was a Venus flytrap. They knew they shouldn’t stop, but they couldn’t help it. It meant we were half way home and it made for a fun rest stop full of as much Mexican culture as Arby’s was full of nutrients.

For migrating butterflies there is no shortage of dangers. Windshields, predators and exhaustion surely claim thousands each migration. Not all of them intend to make it all the way south. Some lay eggs and it will be that generation that carries on the migration south.

At the St. Mark’s National Wildlife Refuge on Florida’s panhandle coastline, the last of the Monarchs are gorging themselves on sugar-rich nectar before casting themselves from the shore and heading across the Gulf towards Mexico. There they’ll ride out the winter before heading back north again.

As I take photos and watch the spectacle of Monarchs, Fritillaries and Buckeyes feeding on salt bush and goldenrods, I search for inner calm as hundreds of no-seeums, aka blood sucking midges, feast on me. I’m reminded of the fleas and as much as I’d love to stay, it’s time to go.