Mylitta Crescent, Phycoides Mylitta

 

Day 306: It's always exciting when something new shows up in my yard, and although I think I may have seen Mylitta Crescents here before, I have never been able to get a photo to confirm the ID. That said, I may be wrong. I'm not good with butterflies and I know it, but although some of the fritillaries have similar markings, there are differences apparent even to my untrained eye. Phycoides mylitta purportedly nectars on several species of thistle, and there's certainly no shortage of those around here! If they were a cash crop, the pasture across the road would be a gold mine. However, like most of the butterflies which have visited my yard this summer, this winged beauty went straight for the lantana, and hung out in the flowers for a good five minutes or more. Overall, the butterfly population has been unusually abundant this year, with a flush of swallowtails unlike any I've ever seen. Like Mylitta, they seemed to favour the lantana even over the delphiniums which usually provide the greatest draw. Is it the colour? This is the first time I've grown lantana here, and I chose a red one to please my own eye without a thought to its lepidopteral appeal.

Butterfly Magnet

Day 254: The Philadephus buds are just beginning to open, and already the Swallowtails are flocking in dozens to nectar at the blossoms. This highly fragrant type (Philadelphus lewisii) grows as a leggy cluster of trunks and may reach heights of 15' or more. It is native to the Northwest, as opposed to the popular shrub P. coronarius. Both are known commonly as "Mock Orange" for their heady scent. Mine towers above the garage roof, serving birds and butterflies alike. At peak bloom, its perfume fills the neighbourhood for a quarter mile radius, particularly on warm afternoons. Although the tree itself is not particularly lovely, the scent more than makes up for its shortfalls. Its ability to draw Swallowtails and Parnassians is a bonus.

Pale Swallowtail, Papilio Eurymedon

Day 238: Yesterday, I saw my first swallowtail of the season, making a bee-line...no, a butterfly-line straight to the lilac. They used to be abundant here, but over the last several years, their numbers have declined. Now admittedly, I only saw one, but that's up from last year's tally, and I hope it means that more will be arriving soon. They are particularly drawn to the lilac and to the delphiniums in my yard (the delphiniums are not yet in bloom). Other local hosts for this species (Pale Swallowtail, Papilio eurymedon) include Red Alder, Serviceberry and Oceanspray. The butterfly can be identified by orange and blue markings on the hind wings, and a slight twist to the "tail" of the wing.

Heather, Comma

Day 166: March is a little early for the Commas to be out and about, so I was rather surprised to find one on my heather yesterday. The day was quite warm for March, peaking at 62 degrees, and in addition to the Comma, there were some small black and white butterflies I couldn't identify as well as a few honeybees and one fat bumble whose weight caused the tips of the heather to droop when he latched on, so that he was always hanging upside-down by the time I'd got the lens trained on him. I am assuming this is a Satyr Comma (Polygonia faunus), since that species is what usually comes to my yard. However, I was unable to observe the underside of the wing where the shape of the white marking which gives the species its common name would have confirmed the identification. Satyr's "comma" looks like a check mark; Green's is rounded, and resembles the comma of punctuation. In any case, both species nectar on the nettle flowers which at the present time are still tight buds. I'm glad Mr. Comma found heather to be an acceptable substitute.

Limenitis Lorquini, Lorquin's Admiral

Day 269: Lorquin's Admiral (Limenitis lorquini) is one of my favourite local butterflies. Purportedly common along the Cascade range, I don't recall having seen one until I moved here. However, my references assure me that they can be found anywhere except the driest parts of the Columbia Basin and a narrow coastal zone in western Washington. The species ranges from British Columbia eastward into Montana, and to southern California. Its colours mimic those of the California Sister, a butterfly birds know to avoid because of its bitter taste. Limenitis lorquini nectars on a wide variety of flowering plants including thistles and Asteraceae. Its larvae feed on willows, poplars, serviceberry, chokecherry and other Prunus trees. It can be observed from May to October in the areas it inhabits.

Pontia Beckerii On Plantago Lanceolata

Day 266: Another score for Team Biota! During one of our recent botanizing exploits, we were minutely examining a rock wall near Box Canyon when something near ground level caught my eye: a white butterfly on an inflorescence of Buckhorn, Plantago lanceolata. The similarity in colour to the individual Buckhorn flowers was striking, a pale yellowish green which seemed almost luminescent. The butterfly was perfectly motionless, so I sneaked in for a close-up even though I figured I wouldn't be able to identify it without a dorsal view. When I got home, I submitted the photo to BugGuide.net. Their response took a little longer than usual, and before I received it, I got a note from Joe and Sharon (my botany partners) saying that they had shown their photos to an entomologist who had identified it as Pontia beckerii (Becker's White). A few minutes later, I had confirmation from BugGuide. Joe later got an email from a contact at BAMONA (Butterflies and Moths of North America). In his words, "...this is probably a first county record for Pontia beckerii in  Lewis County, so it's a great find!"


When you're out hiking, don't just look at the broad views. Sometimes the greatest sights are those within arm's reach.

Up Butterfly Alley

Day 212: I think I shall have to start referring to "Mourning Cloak Alley" by a broader name, "Butterfly Alley" because although the Cloaks dominate it during their early-season flight, it hosts just about any other species you might hope to see in Pack Forest. While I was chasing Commas, another bit of bright orange flashed through the periphery of my vision. Noting where it landed, I turned the camera toward it without moving my feet and zoomed in. It turned out to be a Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta, left), the only one I saw during that day. Margined Whites (Pieris marginalis, right) were abundant as always, and it's possible that other Whites may also have been on the wing. I wish I knew what made that one quarter-mile stretch of the 1000 Road so popular with the Lepidoptera.

Now You See Me...Now You Don't

Day 206: Charles L. Pack Experimental Forest (a University of Washington extension) is a great place to go butterfly hunting. The network of roads and trails sees little foot traffic during the week, and the public is not allowed to enter in vehicles. It's a quiet place unless there is logging going on (it is, after all, an experiment in forestry management), and that is so infrequent that I have only encountered it a few times in the last twenty years. You won't find wildflower meadows there, but you will see a variety of habitats, and there's one in particular which I've dubbed "Mourning Cloak Alley."

I'd thought to find Mourning Cloaks today, but they had an early start and seem to be done for the season. What I found instead were Green Commas, Margined Whites, two Red Admirals, a few dozen Blues which I lack the skill to separate, and a little black-and-white checkerboarded fellow I've enlisted professional help to ID (I suspect it's Pyrgus ruralis, the Two-Banded Checkered Skipper).

Of all the above, the Commas were the most cooperative...too cooperative in the case of this particular specimen. It insisted on landing at my feet, sometimes in front of me, sometimes just a few inches behind. I had to be very careful when I moved to avoid stepping on it. When the wind blew, it opened its wings and laid them flat. When the breeze stopped, it folded them and became almost invisible. Hard to believe that a bright orange butterfly would have any success at playing "Now you see me...now you don't," but the Commas have it down to a science.