Poor Literacy Skills and Mathematical Ability in Butterflies

Black Swallowtail Butterfly wing scales

I’ve never written an article for a scientific journal or, for that matter, any other serious piece of literature, but from time to time, the discoveries made in my laboratory (the kitchen table) seem worthy of mention.

Take, for example, the Black Swallowtail chrysalis I had been watching for 13 days, every morning noting color changes, as it hung suspended from a vase of flowers in the center of the table. For much of the 2-week span, I had returned it to a spot in my garden, hoping the humidity and temperature outdoors would be most like its natural setting. Only at day 9, did I bring it indoors, and prepare to capture the emergence with my camera.

The internet is full of caterpillar raising guidelines, a manual of sorts, as the metamorphosis of Black Swallowtails is both educational and inspiring to witness. And my hope to catch it “live,” on a weekend day while I would be home, seemed realistic. By the end of last week, the chrysalis had begun to darken.

Timing is everything.
And being prepared to record an extraordinary event meant a little more homework and a plan.

Consulting the manual, I learned that once the color had changed from brown or, in my case, green to black, the emergence would soon follow. Behind the now translucent cover, the details of the large black butterfly within had become visible.

Before bed last evening, I recharged the battery, cleaned the lens, and chose a spot outdoors with good light. The forecast for the next morning was perfect.
I would easily be ready by 10:00 am—the time most butterflies emerge.

We wake early, and enjoy fresh coffee at the kitchen table and laptops until sunrise. The darkened room makes photo editing easy—a quiet world, less distracting. In the center of it all, the chrysalis, still black, just inches beyond my open screen. Camera, at my side, I watched. With every warm sip, I waited, becoming increasingly convinced that all accounts of a 10:00 arrival would be, indeed, accurate.

One last check of email, just a minute’s lapse…
And I missed it.
8:15 am--the most important moment in his life.

I have concluded that this demonstrates one or both of these possibilities:
1. Butterflies cannot read.
2. Butterflies cannot tell time.

All photos enlarge with a click

Newly emerged Black Swallowtail on Ironweed

Empty Black Swallowtail chrysalis

Metamorphosis

It’s that time of year again. When they dust off the school buses, and the elementary building up the road begins to show signs of life once more.
It is time to go back to school.

I remember first-day jitters and my favorite lunch box. Kickball and the Pledge of Allegiance. And of course, hoping my desk would be close enough to the window ledge to be able to watch the caterpillars in glass boxes.
There were always caterpillars on the first day of school.


I found a small Black Swallowtail caterpillar on Queen Anne’s Lace in the field, recently hatched and still wearing his white saddle. Days later his plump green body nibbled hungrily beneath another umbel--the changes already beginning.


I snipped several stems of his favorite and carried them with me, home. A small glass vase keeps them fresh, as he eats and eats …and eats on our kitchen table.

Black Swallowtail caterpillar tethered to Ironweed

A day of stillness brings another change.


This time, his lovely chrysalis tethered by thin silken strands where his striped body hung the night before, as a newly furled leaf along the stem.


Shed caterpillar skin like a bunched up sock beneath him.
Faint lines upon green, trace the life changing within.


I see wings and eyes on a butterfly’s face.


Metamorphosis, a beautiful form evolving from behind the thinnest curtain, a child’s lesson never old.
A wonder of life to witness, each time, new.

Black Swallowtail chrysalis on Ironweed

Click photos to enlarge
Can you see his face and wings?

Shed skin showing head capsule