Striptease ahoy!
...well, not exactly. (Sorry.)
Ten monarch chrysalises in the garden today! YAYYY! *throws confetti everywhere* There may be more; I haven't crawled around at a caterpillar's-eye level to search. I think I'll have time to do it tomorrow.
I got to see the latest one transform from J-hook to chrysalis this morning. A J-hook is exactly what it sounds like: the caterpillar finds a spot it likes, secures itself by its last pair of “feet” (anal prolegs) with silk (like a spider's), hangs upside down, and curls its thorax (basically like your neck and shoulders) upward in a kind of frozen chin-up. Then it stays like that for between one and several days, occasionally flexing its head up slightly. (The time depends on the temperature; hotter makes the J-hook period shorter.)
As it develops inside, the caterpillar’s segments grow fatter, and seem almost to glow with a strange yellow-green light.
When it's ready to change, the caterpillar does its chin-ups faster and more vigorously. The black tentacles on its head dry out and twist like Twizzlers. If there’s any breeze it lifts them like tiny ribbons. Then, the caterpillar’s body starts to ripple as it strains to break open its quickly drying skin. It may stop and rest once or twice, for a minute or two, before starting again. (This is the point at which I start worrying; sometimes a caterpillar gets tired, the skin dries up, and it dies.)
Finally, the caterpillar begins to undulate in earnest. (I know it probably can't hear me, but I cheer it on. “C’mon c’mon c’mon.”) Suddenly the skin splits at the back of its neck and, with intense contractions rippling up and down its body, it slowly wriggles out of the drying skin, revealing a yellowish-green creature. It doesn’t look like a chrysalis yet, but clearly it is no longer a caterpillar. It all takes about five minutes.
Imagine that you are in a “mummy” sleeping bag all zipped up. Your arms are tied close against your body and your legs are tied together all along their length. Your limbs are useless; the only way to get out is by wiggling as much as you can, as hard as you can. And the bag is shrinking, getting tighter all the time...
I almost forgot to mention that you’re hanging upside down by your feet. Oh, and the bag isn’t actually zipped up. It’s sewn up.
Back to the caterpillar. The crumpled up skin is bunched at the top of the former caterpillar - what used to be its back end -- like a pile of striped pajamas. The still-transforming chrysalis does a slow belly dance (I am not making this up) for another five minutes or so. Gradually, it becomes shorter and thicker, and its color turns less yellow and a softer green. The discarded pajamas may fall off, or they may just sit on top like a bad wig.
I’ll try and post some of my photos soon. In the meantime, here’s a video of the event that I hope you’ll enjoy. It’s got music and everything.
Also, everything you ever wanted to know about egg to chrysalis, and more: Caterpillar growth and change
Ten monarch chrysalises in the garden today! YAYYY! *throws confetti everywhere* There may be more; I haven't crawled around at a caterpillar's-eye level to search. I think I'll have time to do it tomorrow.
I got to see the latest one transform from J-hook to chrysalis this morning. A J-hook is exactly what it sounds like: the caterpillar finds a spot it likes, secures itself by its last pair of “feet” (anal prolegs) with silk (like a spider's), hangs upside down, and curls its thorax (basically like your neck and shoulders) upward in a kind of frozen chin-up. Then it stays like that for between one and several days, occasionally flexing its head up slightly. (The time depends on the temperature; hotter makes the J-hook period shorter.)
As it develops inside, the caterpillar’s segments grow fatter, and seem almost to glow with a strange yellow-green light.
When it's ready to change, the caterpillar does its chin-ups faster and more vigorously. The black tentacles on its head dry out and twist like Twizzlers. If there’s any breeze it lifts them like tiny ribbons. Then, the caterpillar’s body starts to ripple as it strains to break open its quickly drying skin. It may stop and rest once or twice, for a minute or two, before starting again. (This is the point at which I start worrying; sometimes a caterpillar gets tired, the skin dries up, and it dies.)
Finally, the caterpillar begins to undulate in earnest. (I know it probably can't hear me, but I cheer it on. “C’mon c’mon c’mon.”) Suddenly the skin splits at the back of its neck and, with intense contractions rippling up and down its body, it slowly wriggles out of the drying skin, revealing a yellowish-green creature. It doesn’t look like a chrysalis yet, but clearly it is no longer a caterpillar. It all takes about five minutes.
Imagine that you are in a “mummy” sleeping bag all zipped up. Your arms are tied close against your body and your legs are tied together all along their length. Your limbs are useless; the only way to get out is by wiggling as much as you can, as hard as you can. And the bag is shrinking, getting tighter all the time...
I almost forgot to mention that you’re hanging upside down by your feet. Oh, and the bag isn’t actually zipped up. It’s sewn up.
Back to the caterpillar. The crumpled up skin is bunched at the top of the former caterpillar - what used to be its back end -- like a pile of striped pajamas. The still-transforming chrysalis does a slow belly dance (I am not making this up) for another five minutes or so. Gradually, it becomes shorter and thicker, and its color turns less yellow and a softer green. The discarded pajamas may fall off, or they may just sit on top like a bad wig.
I’ll try and post some of my photos soon. In the meantime, here’s a video of the event that I hope you’ll enjoy. It’s got music and everything.
Click to viewAlso, everything you ever wanted to know about egg to chrysalis, and more: Caterpillar growth and change