The Garden of my Dreams – Annie Pang

Perhaps this is a strange title for a blog, but it centers around my garden, a friend’s garden, as well as the few shots I got along the Gorge which I have been walking regularly up until my garden called. 

 But I must include a picture I managed to get of a lovely Golden-crowned Sparrow right from my kitchen window.  It posed so beautifully on the suet feeder and considering these birds are ground feeders, I felt I must include this shot first.

 Golden-crowned Sparrow

 While on some of the walks along the Gorge I took very few pictures.  On one walk, even though I had my camera, I was unable to get photos of two of the three butterflies I did see there.  It was quite hot and so they were not landing.  The first one I saw was a Mourning Cloak and what a surprise that was!  I hadn’t seen one along there before.  Then suddenly it was chased off by a Satyr Comma, which landed so briefly I could not get a shot of it either, but could see it clearly.

 On another walk, I was able to get a rather poor picture of a Cabbage White butterfly which I will include below.  It was such a long shot and I was lucky it landed at all, frankly.  It had become so hot in Victoria so quickly that it made anything I saw impossible to photograph at the time.

 

Cabbage White

 But it was interesting to see an Arbutus tree growing out of the rock wall!!  How resilient are our native species.  If man vanished from this planet suddenly, is this not proof of how Nature would just take over and soon cover any evidence of our prior existence?  It is a humbling thought indeed, and also a comforting one from an ecological point of view.

 

Arbutus growing out of the rock wall

 The day the garden called was the day that three generous people from the Gorge Tillicum Urban Farmers group volunteered to come over and help me start getting my garden ready for planting.  The task was far too overwhelming for me to undertake in my present state of health, and so my friends put out a call for help.  Although everyone else in the group was busy, my friends, Kendell, Laurie and Brad showed up on a Saturday and I ventured out to try to do what I could which wasn’t too much. 

 That was when a little miracle happened.  In all the years I’ve had my gardens, I’ve seen only three butterfly species; Cabbage Whites, Western Tiger Swallowtails (not out yet) and Lorquin’s Admirals.  But this year was very different and it transformed me completely at the time.  Brad and I were digging compost and later, Laurie and I found a shady spot to sit and weed….and when I saw a Cabbage White appear I went to grab my camera.  When I returned, I was very surprised at what happened next.  Every time the Cabbage White tried to land, something very dark swooped in and chased it off.  And then it landed – a Mourning Cloak.  I couldn’t believe this.  I’d always gone searching for them when I’d had more aid for field trips, and often never found one, yet here was one in my backyard??  Well of course I took pictures. 

 It took off and returned many times.  It even landed on Laurie’s jeans.

 

Mourning Cloak on Laurie’s jeans

 Then it landed on my head!  I knew it was attracted to my hat so I removed it and stuck it on a pole in the garden, and sure enough, the Cloak landed there many times. 

 

Mourning Cloak on my hat

 Several times it landed on some Yarrow seed heads.  Yarrow, when in bloom is a very good butterfly nectaring source and if I keep the faded blossoms dead-headed it will flower throughout the summer. 

 

Mourning Cloak on Yarrow

Here is a sideview of the Mourning Cloak.

 

Sideview of Mourning Cloak

 The gardens were being prepared for both human and wildlife consumption, especially hummingbirds, bees and butterflies.   The Red-flowering Currant is quite a favourite of the hummingbird although mine hasn’t gotten big enough to be of interest as yet.  Once we have the plants in the ground I imagine they will grow rapidly. 

 

Red-flowering Currant

We were all very happy to have such a visitor to watch us at our labours, as if to bless the garden.  Kendell was good enough to bring along organic snacks for all to sample and so, with a Mourning Cloak in my garden, I had my very first tea party of sorts after our hard work.

Brad, Kendell and Laurie

 GTUF, short for Gorge Tillicum Urban Farmers, is a group dedicated to producing our own food on the land we have.  Being on my own now, that task is overwhelming as I mentioned, but I do hope, with enough helping hands, that many will benefit from my gardens this year.  I just want to see the land used and my gardens there to welcome the butterflies and other insects.

 Later that day, Laurie emailed me a picture of two butterflies for identification.  They were two more Mourning Cloaks and it appeared that they were mating on the side of her Mason Bee box.

 

Mourning Cloaks, photo by Laurie

 The next day I was invited over there to see what I could find in their garden.  There was a fair bit of activity but my camera was only able to get this honey bee and a Paper wasp, or Thread waisted wasp, Mischocyttarus flavitarsis, as well as a Bumble Bee.

 

Honey Bee

Paper Wasp

Bumble Bee

Laurie also had a different Bleeding Heart than my cultivar, and she felt it was probably the indigenous one. 

 

Bleeding Heart flowers

Meanwhile, here at home, there was activity at night as well for awhile.  I turned on my porch light and this attracted two different moth species.  The first was a good sized one and although it decided to plaster itself on a window far above the ground, I was still able to get a serviceable shot.  This moth is known as the Crucialis Woodling Moth (Egira crucialis) and it was a welcome sight indeed.

 

 Crucialis Woodling Moth

The other moth I have found a few times is a “micro moth”, Alucita montana, or Montana Six-plume Moth and I have even found it in my office tonight as well as outside.  Here is my best picture taken as I write this now in my office.  The little guy let me get really close!  Originally I was going to show this moth taken outside, but this picture turned out better.

 

Montana Six-plume Moth

 Although I was certain I saw a Green Lacewing outside, I couldn’t get it to land so there were no shots to be had until a later date, but I did manage to find this male Cranefly at the time (family: Tipulidae).

 

Cranefly

Here is the Green Lacewing I got at a later date, again, at night.  It was another long shot, but better than none.

 

Green Lacewing

So while I am still here in my home I am trying to enjoy as much of the wildlife as I can find.  The Mourning Cloak returned briefly the next day, but then was off.  They are mating now and I suspect, worn as they are looking, they will live longer still before they depart this world. 

In closing, I will leave you with my best wishes, as well as a poem and one last picture of my Bleeding Heart cultivar.  It is the food source for my favourite butterfly, the Clodius Parnassian, that I doubt I will see again since I cannot go back to the hills where they are found.  But one never knows….one never knows.

 I did once find one in a very unusual place that was not too far away….but then that is another story I may tell sometime….

 

The Garden of my dreams

 

What soothing balm does Nature bring

what wonders in the garden

with butterflies and birds that sing

with trees that fence my yard in.

I wander in my solitude

along the Gorge at times;

a Cloak of Mourning greets me there

and speaks to me in rhymes.

But there are times that come along,

and suddenly there’s life

for Nature sings her special song

and sings away my strife.

And in the Garden of my dreams

outside my very door

an ocean full of sunlit beams

now calls me to its shore.

The honey bee is buzzing and

the moths might come at night

for life is always all about

and flying to the Light.

May people join their hands to help,

to save my bit of land.

May kindness shown stay with me now

and help me understand

that Bleeding Hearts have beauty too

and Nature always heals.

May faded blossoms bloom again,

through cracks in concrete seals.

Though hardship faces all of us

in Nature must I trust,

to have this Phoenix  rise again

from ashes and from dust.

 

 

Bleeding Heart cultivar

 

© Annie Pang May 9, 2013.

 

 

 

 

The Second Flight of the Margined White – Annie Pang

“I don’t think we should go”  I muttered over and over, but John was indifferent to the potential waste of time and precious little energy I had as well as the depression that had come with my ongoing disappointments.  He silently kept packing the few supplies we would need and so did I as I paced back and forth putting stuff by the door.  On this day, I felt like a piece of walking bad luck. The butterfly season had been alarming in so many ways.  It wasn’t just the lack of butterfly numbers in Victoria, but my entire world, it seemed, had gone missing and in its place had come only chaos and bewilderment.

If you recall, the last time we had been to Cowichan Station I had spotted a single Margined White butterfly during the last of its spring flight and I couldn’t see, with butterfly numbers so low this year, how I had possibly let myself miss my records of previous years’ dates, when I had done my trips in July for the summer flight of this species.  I was late, but then everything was late this year, so why was I so resistant to going?  The butterfly was calling to me again, but I was only hearing the fear inside.  Time had passed quickly this last month and now John insisted we go even if I was feeling agoraphobic.

Once again I found myself traversing the Island Highway, John driving as I spun wool in my lap almost mechanically until I realized I was missing the beautiful vista of the scenery driving over the Malahat.  I wish I had taken a picture or maybe several, but I don’t think anything could have done it justice.  Gone was my tiny little world of troubles, opened up by the vast expanse of forest, sky, mountainside and waters, far below us, as we climbed higher and higher away from the city.

But the day was hot, too hot for me and I remained overly worried that the butterflies would not be there.  It was a forty minute drive to Cowichan Station, maybe longer, and by the time we arrived there the heat had become suffocating.  No butterfly would be landing to sun in this.  I hadn’t wanted to make this trip just to see them because that was never enough.  My camera was hungry.

Things seemed different from the previous month as we parked by the old building. The angle of the sun had changed a great deal.  Vegetation had grown dense and tall, was bearing fruit or flower.  There were lots of daisies in bloom as well as yellow, dandelion-like flowers.  The hogweed had finished flowering and was going to seed making it seem later than last year, maybe too late.  We walked along the rails anyhow as we had come all this way and had nothing to lose.  There was no sign of life that belonged to any butterfly though plenty of honey bee-laden thistles so we kept trekking along the tracks and I took pictures of one thing or another out of frustration, while the sun pounded down on me.

While I passed a few patches of Herb-Robert I still saw no butterflies.  Time passed – we took solace in the cooling shade of trees and ferny areas and finally came around a curve, into a sunny glen beyond a tunnel of Big-Leaf Maples…..and there they were, like summer snowflakes flying up and down, back and forth – at least 10 or more just in that sun-bathed spot, sometimes landing on Herb-Robert to nectar but not very often and certainly not long enough for me!  I could tell this wasn’t going to be an easy time with the temperatures so warm.

Obsessed with getting any pictures at all, I moved in as one butterfly landed beneath some vegetation and took a number of very poor shots that were out of focus and in poor light.  I gave up and let them have their summery flights of fancy, which were more likely for territory and mating rituals.  We decided to walk further and return later because this was their turf and they weren’t going anywhere else.

Up ahead, in another sunlight clearing we spotted a second horde of Margined Whites, and as we slowly crept up I found one that was hungry and wanted to land, and then another and another!  Engrossed, I got one in the sun, its wings an opaque-white with an almost greenish tinge as it nectared on Herb-Robert.  Then it was off, but I’d gotten my first decent shots and was feeling better, much better.

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity in front of me.  A female had landed on a long, wide blade of vegetation and there was a very persistent male butterfly wanting to mate with her. What luck for me!  They might mate or she might choose another but either way, at least for the moment, she didn’t seem to want to budge.  I saw her raise her abdomen, her way of rejecting his advances, yet as he persisted I had the opportunity to get fairly close and take a number of shots of her in the oh-too-bright sun.

Happy me!  But eventually, another male approached and then another and suddenly they were all spiraling in a furious, white flurry …

Up, up, to the brilliant sky.

“Bye, bye, butterfly…”

I was pooped.  We had walked a long way and I was all for heading back.

As we passed the large leaves of Thimbleberry bushes, a flash of swirling orange flew up to the side.  I swear it was the same area as in previous years where I’d seen at least one Satyr Comma and this was no exception except that there were two of them.  Only one landed but in the heat, there were only side shots to be had for the butterflies had no need to sun with opened wings.  I took the best ones I could although the angles were awkward.  And then, I saw a lovely little dragonfly and at first thought it was another female damselfly, but it wasn’t.  It was some sort of spreadwing.  I took the best shots I could, but the lighting for this camera was either too harshly overexposed or too dim and it simply did not want to focus on the spreadwing very well.  This was my very first sighting of one and so, once again I became very frustrated.  But the shots were good enough for a small peek at what I saw; a young female Emerald Spreadwing!  My thanks to Terry and Rob Cannings for helping to identify it.  I have only given you a small glimpse below with the following picture of the Satyr Comma.  When it is older it will look more like Terry’s most excellent picture of a mature female Emerald Spreadwing which he most generously offered to let me use.

I also spotted a number of European Skippers that had not been in evidence only an hour earlier.  I had never seen them in this area before, but as Cowichan Valley was covered in rural farmland and these skippers seemed to travel with the transport or presence of Timothy hay, I’ve since learned, it wasn’t all that surprising to see them here.

The day grew older.

Back at the initial clearing where we’d seen the first cluster of Whites, I spotted one that was flying low as if looking for a place to land, always a promising sign for getting pictures.  It finally did alight in a shady spot by the rails to nectar on yet more Herb-Robert, which seems to be the Margined White’s favorite flavor of flower that I’ve noticed here.  I pretty much had to lie down on the tracks but I got my shots and it was fascinating to me how the light played with the images of this creature, now making it translucent.  I could see its body and spirit through its wings in these shots, both magical and nymph-like.  At the end of my tale I will leave you with a double sonnet and the best image I was able to get lying there in the peace and heat of the abandoned rails.

I can’t explain to you why these butterflies are more beautiful to my eye than the Cabbage White.  Is it because they are less plentiful in general and not found at all down in Victoria?  Is it because I must come this far to find them?  Perhaps so, or perhaps it is because they are a butterfly of this land, because they belong here and they have their territories that I know about.  Perhaps it is because they give me hope by their reliable continuance….at least for now.  This place has not been altered or disturbed recently and there is no development going on.  The tracks have been deserted for years, although when the train came along in previous years, it never bothered these Margined Whites though we’d had to scramble up the side of a slight rising next to the tracks as the train came whistling around the corner to whoosh by, only a few meters from our noses.  I looked over my shoulder at the sad and ghostly image of the overgrown railroad as we went back to the van, and a part of me hoped that the train would someday return so that others might once again travel through this lovely place, this lovely land where snowflakes fly in summer, and once again they could marvel at all this beauty.  Maybe it would help us stop to look at what we all have to lose if we keep disturbing the habitat of our lovely bit of nature that is left.

And I don’t think the butterflies would mind the odd passing of an old friend, be it a train or someone seeking hope…with a camera…

Return of the Margined White

 

I promised you, remember?  They’d return

and bathe their wings in Summer’s golden light,

but you must walk the rails amidst the fern

while watching for my children’s drifting flight.

Like purest snowflakes, floating ‘round the bend,

you’ll see them settle on a bloom to feed

and what a dance amongst them you will spend,

and how much patience you, my dear, will need.

For they care not how far you came to see them,

their lives too short for them to want to waste.

You’d know things wiser if you tried to be them

and then, perhaps, more wisdom would you taste.

You’ll hear their call and, if you’re quiet and still,

they’ll let you and your camera drink your fill…

You see, my dear, behold the summer flight

returning as I told you that we would,

our wings still margined but of lovely white

and I would be there like this if I could.

We butterflies are only here so long

before our time is over and we’re gone

so heed our calling, listen to our song

that you have always so depended on.

Then we will land because we see you here

and we will tease you – lead you here and there

until you’ve lost your worries and your fear,

until you left behind your every care.

And landing on a tiny bloom to feed,

we let you seize this time with us you need…

        © Annie Pang July 2012