On Saturday we hiked up Barn Bluff with relatives to look at the river and ?native plants. ? On the trail we spotted a tree we had never identified before. ? It had white, orchid-like flowers. ? The throat of each flower featured purple dots and yellow streaks. ? The leaves were heart-shaped and large; some measured 10 to 12 inches in length. ? There was one small tree just off the trail (perhaps 8 feet high) and a larger mature tree nearby (about 40 to 50 feet high). ? On the walking path were a few shed flowers. ? The leaves suggested something like a basswood, but these leaves were much larger.
In the evening we looked through our tree books and stumbled upon the northern catalpa. ? The book said the catalpa’s native range included southern Illinois, Indiana and Ohio, plus western Kentucky and Tennessee.
A quick internet search revealed that in the mid-1800s, Jonathan Grimes brought catalpa trees from Cincinnati to Minnesota. ? Grimes was the first president of the Minnesota Horticultural Society and started Lake Calhoun Nursery. ? The trees were so popular the Minneapolis Park Board planted some 50,000 catalpas along boulevards. ? The tree on Barn Bluff would be familiar to many people, I suppose, but it was a new find for us.
The catalpa is also called a cigar tree or a bean tree because of the its seed pod.
Last week I saw my first monarch caterpillar of the summer. As kids we would search through the grassy fields for milkweed plants with chewed leaves. We would carefully examine these plants looking for monarch caterpillars. We would put the caterpillars in a jar or aquarium providing a fresh supply of milkweed leaves.
Eventually the caterpillars would form a ? light green “chrysalis” with a delicate golden colored band around the top. In a short time the chrysalis would turn clear and you could see the orange color of the monarch inside. The monarch would break out of the chrysalis and hang from a branch, its wings tiny an rumpled its body fat and black pulsating as it pumped liquid into the wings. As the body got thinner the wings would gradually unfurl to their full size. The butterfly would at first hang in the sun gradually shifting its position, drying its wings – then suddenly and unexpectedly take flight. Somehow knowing how to fly and navigate and live the life of a butterfly.
I’ve watched a similar process with dragonfly nymphs leaving the water. I wonder if every insect with wings does this.
As kids we knew vaguely that monarchs migrated south for the winter and returned in the summer. Here is the part I did not know. The normal lifespan ?of the adult monarch butterfly is only a few weeks. In Minnesota during the summer there may be several generations of monarchs going through their entire life cycle.
It is only the last generation in the fall that migrates south. The migration itself is longer than the entire lifespan from egg to adult. The generation of the fall lives for months instead of weeks. They do not reproduce in their over-wintering spots but hibrentate. In the spring these ancient tattered butterflies migrate north as far as the first milkweed populations(Texas) lay their eggs and finally die. Succesive generations continue to migrate north until they reach us in Minnesota.(someone please comment if I’ve got this wrong)
The milkweed is the food of the monarch caterpillar. Its poisonus juices make the monarch caterpillars and butterfly unfit for most animals to eat. According to Wikipedia, the recently introduced asian lady beatle eats monarch eggs and caterpillars.
Each year I notice the progress of young milkweed plants. Occasionally I look closely enough to see if the leaves have been chewed. Somtimes I revert to the habits of youth and find myself inspecting the undersides of leaves for caterpillars.
In the fall a chosen generation congregates to flutter south over a time period that normally spans generations, using a map that is hard-wired into them, somehow passed from butterfly to egg to caterpillar and butterfly again and so-on to the next cylce. “The Amazing Migration”, It is a cliche’, I know, but if you take a moment to look behind the cliche’ maybe its possible to appreciate the thing behind the worn out expression.
I looked out the window on June 29th and saw a Wild turkey taking a dust bath in a patch of dirt exposed by some landscaping. I thought it was interesting, so here it is.
The Summer Solstice was yesterday. Nature has gone wild. The grass in the fields is waist high, it waves with the ?currents of the wind. The ?aroma of millions of flowering plants mixes ?and travels ?irresistably to the nose of every living creature. ?The occassional thistle, covered with “spitbugs”, ?sways among the grass, clover, purple vetch. Every sort of bug crawls, buzzes and flutters about. Some milkweeds have buds. Wild roses are blooming in the ditch along the road.
There are so many things alive and moving it is impossible to take it all in. I’ve been noticing grass. Enjoying the fact that something I refer to with one word can be so many things. I’ve tried to take photos to show some different kinds, but I have failed several times. If you look closely you can see that different grasses have flowers. They have different leaves and seed heads and lots of interesting textures. It is easy to see but hard to photograph. Here are a few photos from a lot of effort.
The bugs and the flowers and grass ?elicit vague memories ?from childhood. I remember meadow larks, their yellow and black markings. It seems like there should be meadow larks here now , but there are none that I can see. I have seen very few of them in my adult life. ? I imagine they are in decline.
I have seen a ?meadow lark by the High School tennis courts on a couple of occassions. The first time I watched him, intently waiting for the familiar song, ?I missed several key points in my son’s match.
For earth day the students at the school ?planted cedar trees in the medow behind the school. The other day as I passed through the parking lot I noticed a meadow lark there and heard him sing. I wonder if it was the same bird from the tennis court. He was sitting on top of a small evergreen just tall enough to put him 12 inches above the top of the grass. In twenty years the knoll with the beautiful view of the meadow will be a cedar grove. And, at some point, the fields will be houses.
At some point, in my other blog, ?I should write about the fields and horse pastures that surrounded Sunnyside Grade School in the 1960’s. If ?I do I’ll ad a link.
On Saturday I talked with a Frontenac resident who has been a bird watcher for 60 years. ? She said that in the late 1950s, northern bobwhite quail were well-established here. ? She remembers seeing and hearing them throughout the area. ? In the early 1960s their numbers declined suddenly, she said, and soon the quail were gone.
Hoping to re-establish a local population, she and her husband raised quail in pens then released them. ? However, the pen-reared birds did not survive.
Last year, Minnesota Conservation Volunteer ? ?ran a piece about northern bobwhites (July/Aug. 07 issue). ? I was surprised to read that Southeastern Minnesota once supported a healthy ?population. ? ?The quail preferred the grassy hillsides and brushy field edges. ? When I look around, this area seems like good potential habitat.
Any one else remember stories or experiences about northern bobwhite quail?
The wild geraniums are past their peak as are the columbine. The blossoms on the columbine have turned to seed pods that look like something Dr. Suess would draw. If you break open the pods the seeds are still green, but in time they will be glossy black grains. Canadian anemone are in bloom. To me, they look very much like wild geranium, but they are white.
Milkweed plants are showing themselves all over the fields but not in bloom yet. I saw my first swallow tail butterfly of the year yesterday. There are also lots of little blue butterflies that land on wet spots in the gravel road.
Rasberries are in bloom which make them obvious along the country roads. I saw a glossy three leaf plant in the ditch which I decided to avoid. Burning nettles have gotton tall as well.
