And Where Did YOU Come From?

By the question in the title, ProfessorRoush is not trying to be nosy of you, the reader, but of this precocious Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio glaucus) that suddenly appeared as I was puttering around outside, doing some trimming, some weeding, and a little planting.  I was shocked in the moment, first to see any butterflies at all this early in the season, and then shocked again to have it cooperate for these closeups.

You see, really I was out taking stock of things, because for the past few days, I've been in Washington DC, where I took the photo on the right during some moderate rain and wind at 6:41 p.m. (isn't it amazing that because of phone cameras, I will always know exactly where I was at 6:41 p.m. on Friday, April 11, 2025, because the data is forever embedded with the photo)?  If you're going to walk near the White House, I can now recommend doing it on a chilly, rainy Friday night because the streets were deserted at that hour, no protestors ranting and chanting and messing up my "chill", just a few tourists on the sidewalk and a half-dozen watchful Secret Service and Capital Police agents (that I could see at the time).  I was only sorry the landscaping lights weren't on yet, and, no, I didn't ask to knock on the door and see if President Trump was receiving visitors.

I was also fortunate on Saturday to have my return flight fly directly over near our home, and so, on April 12th at 2:40 p.m., I was able to capture this photo from the window of the plane.   Our home and gardens are in the white circle center left, surrounded by the darkened prairie ground exposed from our burn last week.  Click on the photo to enlarge it (hitting "escape" will then bring you back to the blog).  Mrs. ProfessorRoush was presumably not at home at the time and in route to pick me up.

But I digress.   The Swallowtail that prompted this blog entry (a male, easily gendered by its less colorful "eyes") seemed to be focused on the female holly plant sited on the northeast corner of the house, and the inconspicuous white blooms of the holly.  I didn't read anything about holly being a host plant, but both roses and magnolias are larval hosts for the species and there are plenty of those about.  Other host plants include lilacs and Cottonwood trees and those species are each in my yard as well. 

I was saddened that this specimen seems to have a damaged or missing left "tail", and I hope that won't hinder its search for a mate or its long-term survival.   For what little I know of Swallowtails, this male might also be just out of its chrysalis and maybe it just needs to unfold the left tail, temporarily rather than permanently deformed.  Either way, I wish the little guy luck and happy mate-hunting.  As there are either two or three generations of Tiger Swallowtails in a season, depending on the latitude, the Swallowtails I see in September could be his grandchildren.

The White House, from Lafayette Park, 04/11/2025, 6:41 p.m.

Butterflies and Digger Wasps

Today was that rare day in a gardener's world when ProfessorRoush awoke knowing that his mundane garden chores (mowing, weeding and watering) could be at least temporarily set aside and a more seasonal chore could be tackled.  The chore du jour, moved into the limelight after tickling the back of my mind for weeks, was to bush-hog the pasture, cutting down the weedier prairie forbs to discourage them from seeding and shading out the grasses.

I was greeted immediately at the door of the barn by  this gorgeous creature, an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio glaucus), a female, happily ensconced on the purple-leafed honeysuckle growing nearby.  Obviously auditioning to be noticed, it flittered around for a second and then landed within reach, posing prettily as my iPhone got closer and closer, fearless and serene. I've seldom seen one that will hold still within my arms reach, but I appreciated its willingness to cooperate for a good photo.

Perhaps it knew what I was about to do and was implanting its own seed in me.  In a butterfly-state-of-mind, I soon ended up leaving a large area of the pasture (photo, left) unmowed in hope that the many large milkweeds in this specific area would feed the Monarch migration that will soon come through.  If you click on the picture, you'll see that almost all of the tall "weeds" are Common Milkweed.  These milkweeds grow here, and not abundantly elsewhere in my pasture, because this is where the dirt was moved during the excavation of the barn over a decade ago.  The disturbed prairie soil in that area has been the home to milkweeds ever since, silent testimony to how long it takes the prairie to heal.  I did see, from the tractor seat, a single Monarch flitting around the area, so I know more will follow.  I'll mow this area later in the fall, after the Monarchs are gone.

Later in the morning, during a mowing break, I was passing through a garden bed, weeding as I often do along the journey from barn to house, when a little movement of earth and an odd sandy hole caught my eye.  Looking closer, I made acquaintance with none other than what I believe to be a Great Golden Digger Wasp (Sphex ichneumoneus).  I've never seen one before, but a little Web research informed me that these are one of God's more useful and fascinating creatures.  The Great Golden Digger Wasp paralyzes the bodies of Orthoptera (grasshoppers, locusts, and crickets) and places them in these ground nests to serve as food for its developing larvae, thus endearing it to the gardener through its slaughter of our common enemies.

Yes Dear Reader, I am aware that at times my gardening blog has a tendency to morph into a naturalist journal, but even while apologizing for such digressions, I also have to point out that this is one of the risks you take when you follow the meanderings of a curious mind.  I pray, sometimes, that these little side journeys enrich your life.  Join me please; preserve all the milkweed you can for the Monarchs and, now that we know what they are, help me protect all the Great Golden Digger Wasps that want to burrow in our gardens.  The butterflies, digging wasps, and I, thank you!