I Was In The Wrong Place

I suddenly realized yesterday that I'd been looking for Monarch butterflies to show up for years in the wrong place. And it has unfortunately started an "earworm".   

♫ I been in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time. 

I'd have said the right thing, but I must have used the wrong line. ♫

Thank you, Dr. John (Malcolm John Rebennack, 1940-2019)!   

Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) 

You see, friends, Manhattan Kansas is near one of the major migration routes for Monarch butterflies, and I know that, but I could never figure out why I didn't come across more than an occasional one.  Every year, when I bushhog the pasture in late June, I take special care to go around and preserve a large area of native milkweed that first cropped up on disturbed prairie soil from when we built the "barn".  I always hoped that it would draw the monarchs down from the heavens during their Southern migration period, but, watching for them, I seldom saw any.

Western Ironweed (Vernonia baldwinii)

I was out again yesterday on the bushhog, cutting down some summer forb overgrowth, particularly a few patches of Western Ironweed (Vernonia baldwinii), and stopped immediately when I saw the cloud of butterflies feasting on the delicate purple blooms.  Whites, Sulphurs, Skippers, Fritillaries, Monarchs, Swallowtails; they were all out feeding in the early hot afternoon. 

Western Ironweed closeup 

Of course, being butterflies, they wouldn't sit still or let me near them, so I captured these images on 5X from a distance.  I was especially proud to catch the Monarch and Painted Lady (Vanessa cardui) captured on the same plant (top right), and both nearly in focus!

Jim Mason's Pocket Guide to Common Kansas Butterflies is a great online resource for butterfly identification, and shows valuable "folded" wing pictures of most entries, but it couldn't help me with this one! 

I've never read that Monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus) feed on Western Ironweed before. Veronia sp. are included in a rather long list of  "adult food sources" on the Monarch butterfly Wikipedia page, but so are half the other plants in my area.   Otherwise known as Baldwin's Ironweed, it is a common invasive weed on the prairie, and cattle won't eat it (which means deer won't eat it either!).  Now that I know it is an important nectar plant, I'll have to let clumps grow in my landscape in the future.  

Spiritual Prairie Union

 "The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament sheweth his handywork." Psalm 19:1.  

If a gardener knows any scripture at all, it should be this phrase.  ProfessorRoush has been witness to the wisdom of this Psalm every morning this past two weeks as I drive past a gorgeous heavenly display of two common prairie forbs sharing the same space, purple Western Ironweed (Vernonia baldwinii) and white and green Snow-On-The-Mountain (Euphorbia marginata).   There are few times when I see such showy native plants so wild, yet so perfectly sited to contrast and enhance each other that I can only stand and marvel, jealous of the Gardener who arranged them in combination.

Western Ironweed

I took the picture above in the worst possible conditions for photography; sun setting behind the subject, light rain on the horizon, dusk settling into the valleys.   And yet the beauty of the prairie shines forth from this chance clumping, this union of the blooms of August each drawing in their late pollinators, offering last seasonal meals in exchange for stirred chromosomes, the dance of wildflower and insect continued in another year.

Snow-On-The-Mountain

Neither of the colorful perennials above are rare on the prairie.   Western Ironweed, so drought tolerant and tall in the heat of summer, is a common pasture weed on the Flint Hills and difficult to eliminate from my garden beds.  This member of the Asteraceae is shunned by cattle for its bitter taste, who thus help it to spread in overgrazed pastures, eliminating its competitors while letting it grow.  Snow-On-The Mountain, a poinsettia relative, is also found here in nearly every disturbed spot of ground, popping up randomly in my garden beds next to grasses and roses, and anywhere else it can find a bit of moisture and sunshine.  In contrast to the ironweed, this euphorbia pulls easily from the ground with bare hands, and although it's bitter, milky sap is said to be as irritating as poison ivy, I seem to be impervious to its toxic nature.

The ubiquity of these wildflowers might suggest that their serendipitous adjacency has occurred by mere statistical chance, but I refuse to tempt disaster by agreeing.  ProfessorRoush, not normally disposed to quote scripture, nonetheless feels here a higher design, a greater Hand in this natural combination.  Maybe you have to be here, at this spot, with the waning sunlight and smell of rain in the air to appreciate this moment.  Better yet the sight is simply spectacular every morning with fresh sunlight and cool breeze and living prairie all around as I drive to work.  All I know for sure is that these two plants, every day, brighten my morning, the gift of living made manifest as my day begins.  And I am thankful for it and for my life shared with the prairie.