Monarchs at last!

I am late with this week’s post, I know. Last Friday, I neatly whacked off the tip of my left thumb while trimming cobs of corn. This is the first time since that I have been able to have my hand level with my elbow without experiencing serious throbbing pain. I wasn’t up to typing a whole blog post with my right hand while my left hand was elevated.

For years, we have been working on establishing populations of various milkweeds to support monarch butterfly reproduction. Common milkweed colonized the hay field on its own. I planted butterfly weed behind the tractor shed when we moved here. It grew to nearly 6 feet in diameter but is now being outcompeted by bee balm and purple cone flower. It has, however, spread to two other locations by the garage. I spread seeds and transplanted seedlings of swamp milkweed into my wet meadow restoration. The rain did not cooperate, and the seedlings died. I was gratified to see swamp milkweed blooming this year.

Swamp milkweed

Over the years, I have walked through the field looking for damage on the milkweed leaves, the most observable sign of monarch caterpillars. Nothing. Imagine my excitement when I saw this caterpillar on a volunteer butterfly weed by the house!

Monarch caterpillar on butterfly weed by the garage

I checked another butterfly weed by the garage, and found another caterpillar.

And by the tractor shed

When I went out with Hilda to show her the caterpillars, we saw this little toad on the sidewalk. It was not quite as cute as a just-metamorphosed tadpole, but still adorable. We moved it to a safer location.

Cute little toad on the sidewalk, slightly larger than the tip of Hilda's finger

On my next walk through the hay field, I found one caterpillar on common milkweed. I’m sure there must be more, as we have had an exceptionally high number of adults around this year.

Monarch caterpillar on common milkweed in the hay field

The wet meadow is doing well. We started trying to control the reed canary grass this year. Next year we need to get out when the grass is shorter. Our herbicide application this year merely killed the ends of the blades. The bottom is doing just fine.

Obedient plant is spreading.

Large population of obedient plant

Black-eyed Susan is blooming.

Black-eyed Susan

This plant is new this year. I think it is square-stemmed monkey flower.

Square-stemmed monkey flower

Also new this year is New York ironweed.

New York Ironweed

Because Hilda forgot to ask me for my vacation dates before calling the butcher, she and Terry had to wrangle the chickens into the cages without me. When I got back, we had only six hens and six pullets. They are still in separate coops because the pullets are too small to hold their own against the hens.

I have mentioned before, but it bears repeating. Chickens are very Zen. Everything that comes there was is the best thing ever. Because Hilda spoils them rotten, they are accustomed to getting scratch grains every afternoon when she comes out to collect the eggs. As soon as Hilda (or anyone, actually) walks toward the orchard, they come a-running to the gate. In this video, you can see them surround Hilda, take a little practice lap under the coop, and hop up on the box where the treats are stored. One of the black stars jumps up to peck Hilda’s arm in her excitement. This moment is the best ever! I should learn more from chickens.