By Betty Culpepper
Have you noticed the small number of butterflies this summer?
Even the cabbage lopper moth is scarce. Until the beginning of this month, I had spotted less than a half-dozen Monarchs, painted ladies, admirals, swallowtails, fritillaries, question marks, sulphurs, etc. Lately there are a few more monarchs and swallowtails sampling the flowers of the lantana, cosmos and melampodium and I’ve even seen a Monarch or two dip briefly onto the parsley to lay eggs. Yesterday I spotted the first large black swallowtail caterpillar on the fennel and saw swallowtails laying eggs on the dill.
In Canada, where the Monarch fall migration begins, Professor Orley “Chip” Taylor, University of Kansas, reports that conditions in the north have been extremely favorable to the Monarchs and their populations are higher than usual. Their problems will be to find sufficient nectar and moisture in the extreme dry conditions over Oklahoma and especially Texas as they flap their way to their winter home in Mexico 1,000 miles away.
Do you remember many years ago watching as multiple layers of Monarchs drifted above, covering the sky from horizon to horizon as far as one could see? I stood in my front yard mesmerized as I watched the unbroken streams and multiple layers of butterflies fly over, quiet and mysterious.
The exceptional heat and drought have played their part in locally diminishing these aerial beauties but there are many other causes as well, among them destruction of habitat — for example the logging of timber in their winter home in Mexico; clearing of land for housing developments and business, which leads to a lesser supply of milkweed for their larvae’s food source and nectar to feed the butterfly; overuse of chemical fertilizers, insecticides, genetically modified corn, air pollution, etc.
More and more I feel it is the duty of each of us who has access to a small or a large plot of land to help preserve the balance between the needs of humankind and the requirements of nature. Wild creatures and plants have the same requirements as humans: shelter from the elements in a safe neighborhood, an adequate year-round supply of food and moisture.
Gardeners, landscapers, horticulturalists, educators and just plain folks can be pro-active in educating others in the need to provide for and preserve what is left of our scattered and tattered ecology by planting and maintaining plants in our yards and acreages to feed, shelter and attract butterflies, birds and other wild things.
The beautiful butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberose) is probably the most beneficial plant one could choose to attract and feed the monarch during their fly-over this October. Their flowers come in shades of orange, red and gold which provide pollen and nectar for the butterfly and the foliage feeds the caterpillar.
The Greater Roadrunner (Geococcyx californianus) doesn’t seem to have suffered from weather extremes. Nearly every time that I’ve driven a few miles outside Norman I’ve seen a roadrunner or two. Usually I encounter no more than two or three in an entire year. I have a very special fondness for roadrunners because, you see, unlike the cartoon coyote that never quite outruns or outwits his nemesis, the speedy roadrunner, I once caught a mature bird.
Catching a roadrunner was really a fluke. I was probably about 12 years old and spent every free minute (between chores and field work) of summer vacation roaming up and down the creeks, sometimes in the company of younger siblings but mostly alone. One morning, I skipped down the path that ran under the trees between the creek and the fields looking for adventure or whatever came next. Over to my left in a Virginia creeper-covered brushy area creek-side, I spotted movement. A roadrunner was doing her broken wing routine — she probably had a nest nearby — so I sort of followed/directed her to a small draw th at ended in a green-briar covered cul-de-sac that formed a small briar-topped cave. She didn’t notice the trap until I rushed her, then it was too late. I threw myself upon her enfolding her skinny feathered body in my bare arms.
I was so excited by my catch that I hardly felt the deep scratches that she inflicted. Still, I held on and ran to the house. I put her in what I thought was a secure pen and went to get Mom. Somehow Ms. Roadrunner squeezed out through the narrow bars. All Mom saw was a blur as the bird ran/flew back toward the creek. Oh well, I would have released her in a few minutes anyway.
I wish today’s youth could have the leisure time and the opportunity to loaf upon the bank of a clear-running stream and watch the crayfish (crawdads we called them) go about their business; boss crawdad pulling one large lobster-like red claw upstream on the hard-packed red sandstone creek bottom in the company of numerous smaller pale gray crayfish.
Or to experience the wonder when chancing upon a school of shiny black catfish fry looking like fat tadpoles with whiskers sunning themselves in a spring-fed pool at the head of a miniature canyon.
Or, heaven forbid, make stupid mistakes like jump in a small creek pool without first checking what other creature might be enjoying a swim (Once I found myself on the opposite bank from a water snake — it was quick to leave as was I.)
Betty Culpepper writes for The Norman (Okla.) Transcript.
