An Incomplete Cycle: Wildlife Wednesday, September 2019

I’m a proud and punctilious pollinator gardener. Even so, sometimes gardening goals are thwarted by circumstances well beyond pollinators’ needs and gardeners’ plans.

For years, I’ve grown passion vine in my garden.  Early on, I grew a Purple passion flowerPassiflora incarnata, that my mother gave me.  The original vine happily draped itself along a wooden fence, regularly attempting to clamber over perennial shrubs standing in its way.  Over time and with increasing shade, the passion vine declined, but to this day and in their best imitation of unwanted weeds, strands of the plant continue to pop up underneath the shade of the large oak tree .  The Gulf Fritillary butterfliesAgraulis vanillae and I know that these are not obnoxious weeds, but that the vine serves as a nursery and food source for the juvenile stages of the butterflies.

Some years ago, I planted another variety of passion vine, the Blue passion flowerPassiflora caerulea.  It grew along a trellis which separates the back garden from the compost bin and garden work space.   I enjoyed observing the blooms when they happened, but even more, I was entertained by the ebb and flow of a vine full of foliage, which hosted busy, hungry caterpillars who gobbled the vine to its skeleton state.  I knew that the vine nurtured the development of a new generation of Gulf Fritillary butterflies and that knowledge more than compensated for the stripped, and let’s be honest here–temporarily unattractive–vine.

P.  caerulea is evergreen during our milder winters, but dies to its roots when temperatures dip below 25°F for extended periods.  The vine didn’t return after a couple of very hard freezes during the winter of 2016.

I purchased a new P. caerulea two years ago and planted in a different spot so my garden would continue to host Gulf Fritillary butterflies.  Last year was the vine’s first year of growth and didn’t see many fritillaries around.  I wasn’t particularly fussed about the lack of flying orange beauties because each year is different: some years there are scads of a particular insect, other years that insect might be scarce, but something else is plentiful.  So nature goes.

Recently, this well-worn Gulf Fritillary flitted around the passion vine over the course of a couple of days.

She stopped at various points along the vine, curling her abdomen to oviposit,  doing her bit to continue the species.

Do you see her lovely golden egg on the left side, toward the bottom left of the right side leaf?

I’ve seen a few caterpillars on the vine, good sized ones at that, but not many, and certainly not in numbers representative of the adult fritillary action around the vine.

Additionally, while there’s some foliage damage, there aren’t the number of munched leaves I would expect with a healthy crew of baby fritillaries feeding on the foliage.

So, what gives?

For a while, I was concerned that maybe I’d purchased a plant treated with the neonicotinoids. Neonicotinoids are pesticides toxic to insects and used in the agriculture industry to control insects considered pests.   The neonicotinoid downside for pollinators is that butterfly and moth host plants with insecticide-fused foliage and flowers kill the insects reliant upon those host plants.  Caterpillars (larvae) eat the foliage, ingest the poisons, and before the caterpillars morph to their adult stage, they die.  The peril for pollinators becomes obvious when a landscape plant, promoted and sold to support the life cycle of a pollinator (egg, caterpillar, adult), carries an insecticide and delivers that insecticide to larvae. The larvae will never morph to adult pollinators.

I purchased the passion vine at a nursery whose products I trust and I recall asking whether the plant was grown with neonics; the answer was a firm ‘no’.  As an aside, when I’ve purchased milkweed plants for monarchs, I always look for aphids on the leaves–and buy the plants with aphids.  Aphids are fond of milkweed and while rendering the plant somewhat unattractive, their presence indicates a pesticide-free plant.  Neonicotinoids are especially effective pesticides against aphids, so aphids serve as a good canary in the coal mine indicator of whether there is a deadly insecticide in the plant. When I see a milkweed plant with perfect foliage–no aphid in sight–I’m suspicious about the possibility of a neonicotinoid tainted milkweed and I don’t purchase it for my garden.  Until fairly recently, the nursery trade used neonics in growing some plants, but with evidence of how the damaging the pesticides are to pollinators, many growers have ceased, or soon will, using these chemicals.

Even if–and it’s a big if–the passion vine I purchased was originally grown with neonics, the chemicals are probably depleted by now, or in such small quantities, that there is no real impact on the larval stage of fritillaries.

As I’ve observed the eggs laid by the adult fritillaries, I’ve also kept an eye on the rogue Purple passion vine “weeds” in my back garden. Interestingly, I haven’t seen any eggs or larvae on those passion vine bits either.

The plot thickens.

What also thickens is the caterpillar goo that I’ve seen on a couple of occasions on the passion vine.  This glop of slime is all that remains of a good sized Gulf fritillary caterpillar.  Clearly, this larva will never be an adult butterfly.

I haven’t found any fritillary chrysalises this summer, though they’re very good at camouflage and I’m not necessarily a keen cocoon sleuth.

Why am I observing so few late stage (larger) caterpillars and why are the fritillary larvae not evolving to chrysalis stage? Is there something–parasite or disease–preventing the full life cycle of the Gulf Fritillary butterflies in my garden?  I’ve noticed lots of wasp activity, especially around the passion vine, and there are other insects which also parasitize and kill caterpillars, as well as a variety of viral diseases which kill butterfly larvae.  Could it be that the early stages of caterpillar development are thwarted and others are nipped in later stages?

The truth is that I don’t know why there are adult Gulf Fritillaries in my garden, seemingly healthy and regularly laying eggs, but with few caterpillars developing, and so far, no observable chrysalises.  In reading about Gulf Fritillary butterflies, I haven’t found anything similar to what I’m witnessing this summer with my vine and its butterfly buddies.  The adult fritillaries I’ve seen are hatching and maturing somewhere, and then flitting to my garden.  The cycle appears to glitch once they’re here.

In life–and in the garden–answers are not always clear and solutions sometime elusive.  I’ll continue observing the Gulf Fritillary activity as time trundles on. I hope that I’m able to witness the Gulf Fritillaries return to their full cycle of life:  mated adults, laid eggs, offspring nurtured and matured with consumed foliage, and a new generation of valuable pollinators in place.

For more information about neonicotinoids, check out these links:

Buying Bee-Friendly Plants: Neonicotinoid-Free Nurseries, Growers, and Seed Sources

Neonicotinoids and Bees, Xerces Society

EPA Cancels Registrations for 12 Neonicotinoid Pesticides, The Scientist

Do you have unsolved critter mysteries in your garden?  Please share your wildlife happenings and remember to leave a link when you post here and happy wildlife gardening!

The Blooms of August

I don’t want to bore, but it’s hot here, I’ve complained about the heat in earlier posts,  and I want to be done with it.  That said, the heat isn’t done with me or the garden, so I’ll stop whining and get on with raptures about the awesome, heat-loving blooms of August.

The Lemon Rose mallow, Hibiscus calyphyllus, is a perennial which grows and blooms in a fairly shady area of my garden.  There aren’t blasts of blooms each day, but always one or two lovelies brightening the garden with butter yellow petals paired with a rich maroon center.

 

Hands-down, the best summer bloomer I grow is the Texas native Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus var. drummondii.  A perennial shrub which grows in any condition, it’s a star in my garden. Drought tolerant, it’s also an excellent wildlife plant.  The petite hibiscus-like flowers are brilliant red and never open, but that doesn’t deter the pollinators.

A Southern Carpenter bee nectar stealing from a Turk’s cap bloom.

Though “stealing” nectar, the bee is pollinating. Check out the pollen grains on its bottom and wings. The pollen grains will be transferred to other flowers as the bee moves on to other flowers.

The sprinkling of red is a cheery greeting each sultry morning.

 

Another August-happy mallow is the Althea, or Rose of SharonHibiscus syriacus.  Some (like mine) are simple in petal formation, others are double-petaled and ruffly.  I can’t remember what cultivar I have and I’m hopeless about keeping plant tags, especially with impulse purchases–which this was.  Regardless, the Althea has proven  a nice late summer flowering shrub.

Also, my honeybees are big fans!

I grew up in Corpus Christi, Texas along the Gulf of Mexico.  My mother grew a number of these lovely shrubs–pinks, whites, lavenders– in her garden and I always wanted one of my own.  The Althea is typically a great bloomer after rains, awash in sweet lavender goodness.  There hasn’t been a drop of rain since early July and I water sparingly, but the lavender ladies are open everyday for business.

 

August heralds the purples in my garden:  the turning from green to purple of the fruits of the American beautyberry and the blooming of native Drummond’s Wild Petunia, Ruellia drummondiana.

I became enamored with this perennial when I managed a garden where it grew prominently in shady areas.  I left for vacation one late July-August during the typically hottest and driest time of the year and just before I left, the automatic sprinkler system stopped working and wasn’t repaired until after I returned two weeks later. Needless to say the garden was dry with wilted, unhappy plants all around–except for the ruellia.  Not only were the ruellia fresh as daisies, but blooming their ruellia hearts out.

That’s a plant I want!

I collected some seeds and while it took a few years before I enjoyed my own wild petunia fest, they’re now a true staple in my increasingly shady garden.

 

Another excellent shade-to-part-shade bloomer which scoffs at heat and drought is the Mexican HoneysuckleJusticia spicigera.

Mexican Honeysuckle is a funny plant in that it doesn’t have particular bloom period.  I’ve seen it bloom in deep winter, early spring, late fall, and at the height of summer–it seems to do what it wants, when it wants. You have to admire a plant that blooms on its own schedule.

 

I grow Firecracker plantRusselia equisetiformis, primarily for its ferny foliage, but when the tubular crimson flowers appear, it’s a treat.  Tiny native bees also love the flowers, but are hard to catch with my camera.

                                                        

Early morning August sunshine highlights unopened firecracker blooms.

 

This is the last hurrah for the Big Red Sage, Salvia penstemonoides.  It’s a beautiful summer bloomer, but is nearing its seasonal show for the year.  I’ll leave the bloom stalks for a little longer, just in case a bird might fancy a seed snack.  I look forward to their magenta magic next summer.

 

The Big Red sage rocks a deep, dramatic color, but the blooms of  Branched foldwingDicliptera brachiata couldn’t be more different.  I have no idea where this plant came from, I’m assuming a nice bird deposited a seed or two in my garden at some point.  It took a while to identify the plant when I first noticed it growing and blooming several years ago.  I look forward to seeing the delicate little flowers each August and September.

The flowers are the opposite of ostentatious.  In fact, I have to search for the little blooms as they’re hidden among the foliage.

 

Back to the bright are the bougainvillea that I grow in containers.  I’d prefer to keep them on the patio overlooking my back garden, but shade is the name of the game there, so along the driveway they sit, soaking in sunshine and calling attention to themselves.

 

This particular bougainvillea grows in an upright form, rather than with more typical arching branches.

My mother-in-law gave me this bougainvillea 20-some years ago and I’ve kept it going since.  I root prune every few years in early spring when I remove the bougainvillea from its garage winter home.

Since it’s been so hot, I’ll finish with some cool white.  The two Mexican Orchid treesBauhina mexicana  that I grow have provided spidery beauties all summer with no breaks in blooming.

The little trees are really rangy shrubs and are drought and shade tolerant.  Large butterflies and a variety of bees are constants at the blooms.  This particular tree’s flowers are white with a subtle hint of pink, whereas its mother plant, my other orchid tree, produces pure white flowers.

August is a tough month here in Texas, but there are blooms which make the late summer heat bearable.  Please check out The Blooming Garden for profiles of monthly blooms and remember fellow Texans–autumn is just around the corner.

Too Hot, Too Cool

Truthfully, I haven’t had the courage to follow too closely, but here in Austin, we’re at about 30 days of over 100º F for this summer, with most of those days occurring in August.  I’m ready to pull the plug on the August oven, but I’m having trouble finding the cord.

The garden is holding up well, even with afternoon heat which delivers a tired, wilted look–for both garden and gardener.   August in Texas is always hot, but thankfully it also ushers in the cool purpling of the American beautyberry, Callicarpa americana.

The diminutive pink beautyberry blooms of June are long gone and the replacement purple fruits will remain until birds eat or cold withers–which ever happens first.

Autumn is coming–eventually.  The cool of the purple must suffice and for now, that’s enough.

Joining today with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette.   Check out her beautiful Flutter and Hum for musings of various sorts.