Last week I introduced Richard Louv’s concept of nature deficit disorder, and his theory that helping children develop a connection with nature may prevent a variety of health and behavioral issues

Ever since, I’ve been thinking about those three butterfly chrysalises on the milkweed stems in my friend Arlene’s house.  I found myself wondering if anything was happening . . . if the pupae were wiggling around, or if there was any sign of a baby butterfly emerging yet from one of the green pouches.  I had shown the pictures to Bean, and when she visited me last week she asked when the butterflies would hatch.  I know I studied this process in school, but I couldn’t remember how long they took to metamorphose.

So I used Bean’s second favorite way of learning new things:  Google

(Her favorite way to do research is Siri because all she needs to do is “ask Siri” and she doesn’t need a grownup to type in the search request.)

I typed in

How long does it take for a Monarch butterfly to leave the chrysalis?

and this is what I found:
The process from egg to butterfly is weather dependent and also depends on the regional climate. It can take about four weeks in the peak of the summer in warmer climates. The egg takes 5 to 10 days, the larva/caterpillar and pupa/chrysalis each take about 10 to 14 days.

In winter, autumn and spring it takes a lot longer.  .  .

Courtesy of ZoomSchool.com

.  .  . When the pupa is ready to hatch, the shell will be transparent and you can see the dark colours of the butterfly’s wings folded up inside. The transformation happens suddenly and if you turn away for a few minutes you will usually come back to find a butterfly.

Thank you to the Monarch Butterfly New Zealand Trust for that lovely answer!

Now Bean wanted to know what a “pupa” was, so I Googled that next:

The Pupa

We learned that the pupa is the stage in a butterfly’s life when it is encased in a chrysalis and undergoing metamorphosis.  So now I understood why pupa and chrysalis had been used interchangeably.  I told Bean it looked like we would just have to wait on the butterflies.  Meanwhile, we were experiencing the joy of nature at my house as well, so we turned to the fish tank.

Bean’s Fish Tank

Back in May I wrote about raccoons raiding my fish pond and eating all the fish (For the full story, read Grieving the Goldfish).  Both Bean and I missed the fish, so a couple of months later we went to the pet store and selected a five-gallon aquarium and a variety of furnishings to match a 4 year old’s whimsy (a mermaid, “of course,” and a cartoony lobster, along with some plastic seaweed (our local pet store didn’t have the real stuff) and multicolored gravel.  And two goldfish.  We’ve all been getting along quite nicely ever since.

Except that goldfish are dirty.  Just a few weeks later we were back at the pet store purchasing a vacuum pump to remove the poop and algae that had accumulated.   That helped a bit, but the tank still got murky in just a few days after cleaning it.

While I was at Arlene’s last weekend, we went to a more fish-oriented store, and I came home with real seaweed and two Mystery Snails.  (They’re called that, honest!)  The plan was the seaweed would balance the ph in the water, and the snails would eat the algae.

But it turns out that goldfish can be a bit rough on little snails.  These two fish get fed quite well by their 4 year old caretaker, so they have grown phenomenally.  Within hours of their arrival, the snails were being head-butted by the fish, and were taking turns hiding under the filter and behind the lobster.  Back to Google, where we learned that large goldfish had been known to eat small snails.  “If the snails fit in their mouths” wrote one commenter, “they will disappear into it.”

We’ve had the snails and the seaweed for a week now, and so far the snails haven’t disappeared.  They sure hide a lot, though, and one of them has a cracked shell.  It doesn’t look good for the snails.

The Butterflies Emerge

Eventually I heard from Arlene.  A series of texts with photos at breakfast time Sunday:

Two weeks ago

Today. See the wing? We should have butterflies by tomorrow.

Well, that was pretty exciting.  I awakened Monday morning thinking about them. Had the butterfly emerged? I would be seeing Bean and wanted to give her the news.   Noticing that the second photo showed the milkweed stalk still in a vase inside her house, I texted:

“I’m envisioning butterflies flying around your kitchen . . . are you going to take the babies outside before they emerge?”

Several hours passed before I had an answer.  “2 hatched but seem to have wing issues – not sure they will survive.”

Nature is miraculous, but it isn’t always joyful.  Sometimes it’s downright sad.  I guess we should keep planting milkweed, friends.

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Note:  My growing understanding of the plight of Monarch butterflies began when I read Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver.  I highly recommend her book, which skillfully interweaves Monarchs, climate change, and a great story.

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