Sunday, August 9, 2026

Web Log for 8.6-8.26

Well, this web log was set up on 8.6.26. at 6 p.m. I'd been awake all day but Microsoft wasted all of the connected hours except for the ones I spent on this week's Substack and on reading parts of two chapters of a very long and "heavy" new e-book. No links there. Nevertheless...

Animals 

Some things bison do, when they're not using stupid tourists as soccer balls:


Serena's surviving kitten? He's an absolute blue-eyed wonder--a kitten born to a Seralini cat, subjected to vicious prenatal and postnatal chemical spray poisoning, yet still somehow born viable and apparently healthy. Everybody loves him. Silver wanted to help nurse him from the day he was born, and wasn't pleased that no help was needed. Drudge is back in his good-big-brother role and obviously loving it. I hesitated to give him a name for the first two months, but he's already figured out that his name is Wonder. Serena teaches kittens these things.

He accepts that he's put in a cage for security at night, but thinks the game is using something to interfere with the locking mechanism so he can get out. He's always eager to bounce out in the morning. He started eating solid food as soon as he was given a chance, digested food easily, still likes mother's milk but could live without it.

I'm pretty sure that he is a social cat. His father doesn't seem to be one, but he is. I greet the adult cats, release Wonder, set down food, turn away. Wonder bounces across the porch, wanting to say good morning, nonverbally, before he even eats. At the end of the day I sit on the steps sharing a bottle of Pure Life water with the cats. As they finish their evening meal, first Drudge, then Serena, then Silver, then Serena again, take turns sitting on my lap, being petted and told how wonderful they are. Wonder scampers off to the sand pit, then takes his turn on my lap. Serena calls him to extract the last drops of milk for the night. Drudge makes sure my lap stays warm. Then Serena calls Drudge to walk a few steps away from where she's been nursing Wonder. Wonder lets himself be caged for the night, but only after he's said good night to Drudge. Did I just see that? An adult tomcat doing a good night kiss ritual with another tomcat's kitten? That doesn't happen with normal cats. Almost anything can happen with social cats!

Health News 

Los Angeles admits that a combination of (1) closing restaurants, thus driving alley rats to forage more adventurously, and (2) allowing people to crowd together on the streets, and (3) discouraging alley cats from eating the alley rats, has brought oldfashioned diseases you didn't think anyone ever got any more back to Southern California. Typhus? What is typhus, you might mutter. Or you might remember it from the endnote at most editions of Anne Frank's diaries: Anne was not directly murdered by gas or shooting; she and her mother and sister died of typhus. Angelenos are now learning more about this antiquated disease.


Typhus is spread by fleas, which travel from person to person when people fail to maintain a healthy interpersonal distance. Ironically, regulations intended to help people maintain better distance promoted contact between street dwellers and alley rats--and, as more people lost their homes especially after the last big fire, contact among huddled masses of street dwellers. 

In addition to alley rats...although the fleas can't survive on possums for very long and although they are most likely to get onto cats or possums when those animals kill the rats, fleas sometimes reach humans by way of cats or possums. But they're most likely to reach one human by way of another human, especially when the humans in question are a homeless family group sleeping in a huddle for security. Fleas are specialized to feed on one species of hosts or another, but they do not know this and may jump onto anything that is or is not a warm-blooded animal, first, and consider whether it's a host animal they can use later. You could pick up an infected flea ANYwhere. Fleas sometimes look for their next host while perched on plants or rocks.

Typhus is a completely different disease from typhoid fever, which is spread by one type of salmonella bacteria. (Both diseases were named after Typhon, an ancient mythological demon of disease.) Typhus is spread by Rickettsia bacteria. (A similar, less fatal infection, sometimes also called typhus, can be spread by chigger mites.) There are two "species" of these bacteria, one of which is easily transmitted between humans even at a healthy distance, one of which is not transferred directly from human to human unless it is spread between humans by an infected flea. What Los Angeles is now dealing with is the flea-dependent type. 

Typhoid fever feels like extreme food poisoning, because it is. The midsection puffs up, the digestive system goes spastic, and fresh red blood may appear in vomit or diarrhea. Most people survive, although they feel miserable, but typhoid epidemics used to cause some fatalities even a hundred years ago. Fevers can spike, causing some risk of neurological or other damage. Chances of survival are improved if patients don't eat, or eat as little as possible, while suffering through the disease. 

Typhus feels like a plain old fever, which it is. Symptoms include a high fever, headache, muscle cramps, aches and pains, sometimes a skin rash. The digestive system is sometimes involved but is not the primary battleground for these bacteria. Most people feel bad enough to call for emergency help right away and can be cured with antibiotics. The flea-dependent kind of typhus is not a serious threat to human society today. Most people always did survive typhus; with antibiotics the death rate from typhus is one in a hundred, or less. Untreated people sometimes show long-term or permanent damage to organs or bloodvessels.

A writer who does not deserve a link suggests that setting out "anticoagulant" rat poison--warfarin--would protect people from typhus or other rat-borne diseases, that the only reason why Governor Newsom isn't doing that is that Newsom cares more about "wildlife" than about people. I can tell this writer a little about trying to control rodents with warfarin:

1. You don't. Rodents are clever little pests. When something that seems edible is spread out before them they watch and see how it affects the first rodent who eats it. Warfarin will kill one or two rodents in a generation. Thereafter the other rodents will ignore it. Before another rodent tests the bait, rats will have had time to ruin your favorite armchair and gnaw holes in your clothes.

2. Warfarin does not kill animals other than rodents. It's popular because it's guaranteed not to kill cats and dogs--or toddlers. However, it avoids killing them by making them sick, and although as an anticoagulant, or blood thinner, a different formulation of warfarin is sometimes used to treat advanced cardiovascular disease, the anticoagulant effect itself doesn't feel good. If your pet, or a wild creature you've been watching, were to eat warfarin you'd very likely spend the next 24 hours wondering whether it was dying. One valid reason not to set out warfarin rat bait outdoors is the high probability of violent retaliation from pet owners.

(And in desert country, like Southern California, much of the native wildlife are rodents--cute, innocent little things, endangered by rats, by the diseases rats carry, and by the things people do to get rid of rats. Such as setting out warfarin outdoors. One bait station might kill one alley rat and twenty wild mice, pack rats, gophers, and groundsquirrels. That's mere pointless cruelty. I don't think the writer was an Angeleno; certainly he wasn't thinking scientifically.)

3. A combination of natural predation (free-range cats, dogs, possums, raccoons, hawks, owls, and skunks) and lack of extra food supplies does get rid of rodents. Alley rats overpopulate on humans' food waste. Wild animals and birds produce more young when they get a richer, more varied, higher-protein diet. Leaving pet food out for nibbling-at-will is often blamed, and is likely to bring infected rats into contact with house pets, but alley rats congregate near humans' garbage cans and dumpsters. Rats gnaw on peelings, bones, shells, etc., as well as the parts of food humans consider edible. Rats eat, and like, food that humans regard as spoiled and unfit to eat. Rats chew on wood and will eat paper and plastic, so food packaging is another attraction that stimulates rat reproduction. Burning or burying these things is another important way to keep rodent populations low in residential neighborhoods. 

Music 

Judas Priest. (These links came from a report on a fundraiser that tried to offer something for everybody...Judas Priest and Dolly Parton and general musical diversity run wild.) Note, however, that no writer anywhere should have any sympathy for the idiot boy in "Breaking the Law." We know what financial desperation feels like, and what we do with the feeling is write. 



Generated by the computer of "A Wise Moose."


Rush...trying to play along with the computer game version of one of their popular songs. They could play actual rock music but it turned out they couldn't play the game "Rock Band."


Rush playing the song onstage:


Dolly Parton. (Yes, there was a time when pop culture expected this kind of attitude from women. I was really too young to be listening to this song when it came out, but I listened, and my mother said, "What a stupid song! No matter how pretty the other woman is, or how rich or whatever else she may have, do you want to wear her underwear? If he wants that other woman, let him go to her. Good riddance to rubbish." Mother was the beauty expert and Dad was generally considered a good visual match for her, and the four, later five, of us were all at home by nine o'clock every night. I think this attitude helped keep my husband at home at night, too. If he hadn't been, he knew I would've been on that overnight Greyhound and gone. To women who don't have a house of their own, may I suggest packing the cheater's belongings in a U-Haul and parking it in front of Jolene's house? It is refreshing to hear the story behind the sweet, I'm-so-helpless-and-pitiful-I'd-scare-most-men-right-into-another-woman's-arms, song on this video...meh. I still wouldn't want to pick up Jolene's underwear. I still favor the U-Haul approach. The only way to be married in a city swarming with Washington courtesans is to learn how they think.)


The Killers.


Kentucky All State Choir. (Right, so you're not supposed to dance to the National Anthem. Sing along. It's a workout for the diaphragm muscle.)


Carl Andrewes.


Hank Williams.




Johnny Cash.


The Kiffness.


Politics, and Mental Health

Wisconsin has a candidate running for Governor who is literally a mental patient. She finds it "incredibly painful" that people celebrate Thanksgiving, staying home and eating turkey, while she and her husband are trying to sell ramen noodles. Seriously. They built a restaurant to serve people the cheap junkfood college students can cook by turning on the hot water in the dorm room. They haaaate Thanksgiving! How not?!

This Francesca Hong also admitted a drastic overreaction when people didn't realize that she spoke English. Per-lease. It does get stale, but it's an opportunity for anyone who belongs in the public eye, even as a businessman, to do a little self-promotion. "Too many old White people who didn't think we spoke English," indeed. Politics, poor child, is full of old White people. Not just nice harmless retired ones at a family-style restaurant, either.

Clearly Hong is unfit for public office, but should men say even she is "crazy" or even "emotional"? I think, the less men say about Hong, the better. Let women publicize the fact that she's been hospitalized and apparently still suffers from a phobia of her potential electorate. Men should get to know her opponent and, if that opponent is less than heroic, surround person with an awesome support team. 


Politics, Philosophy of 


Posted on X by James Lindsay Anti-Communist. Found on the Mirror.

Technology 

The "guitar hero" plagiarism-bot-generated video linked above is danceable all by itself, and Scalzi's thoughts about it are worth reading...especially the comments, in which people mention that using that plagiarism-bot your browser tries to encourage you to use is feeding those "data centers" nobody wants. 


What can we do to discourage the "AI" maniacs? The situation may seem hopeless. You can all but literally smell how moist some eager beavers become as they push plagiarism-bots into your face. Still, we need to make the effort, whether it saves the Internet or not. Your browser has a "settings" page. For most of you, that page is reached via a button with a vertical row of three dots on it, just below the top right field on your Chrome screen, below the "close window" button. It's worth going through the "settings" every few months, anyway. Make the time to shut down all things "AI"-infested, today.  

Book Preview: Doing Something New

(I received a review copy of this book through Net Galley. It's been discouraging for me and for many writers when picture books, graphic books, and art books either didn't come through my e-mail, or came through missing the illustrations that really make these books. I'm delighted to report that Net Galley's new E-Reader showed all the pictures in this picture book, in full color and charm. As regular readers know, review copies are often sent to reviewers  by publishers before books are available in stores, so that bookstores can launch new books by displaying reviews as soon as the books arrive. Doing Something New should be available in stores on Tuesday. If you want a Christian picture book for a primary school or even kindergarten child, perhaps one who seems apprehensive about starting school this fall, go ahead and order it now; it's that good.)

Title: Doing Something New

Author: Mitali Perkins

Illustrator: Andres Landazabal

Date: August 11, 2026

Publisher: InterVarsity

ISBN: 978-1-5140-1332-8 

Quote: "Jesus, now I come to you, at the start of something new."

This is a rhymed prayer for primary school children. The words are applicable to many situations. The pictures make it clear that it's about a brother and sister, probably of north Indian descent, starting a new school year. For the sister, who seems older, it may be a different school; for the brother what's new might be going to school at all. They face unnerving situations--being chosen for a team before a game, meeting a classmate whose eyes seem unfocussed (the brother), meeting a classmate who just doesn't want to be friendly at all (the sister), worrying that people will think they're odd if they say grace before meals. They ask Jesus to help them be bold, fair, and kind.

The pictures are excellent--lifelike, with readable "feelings," showing a diverse contemporary crowd at school and a first-century Judean setting in their memories of the life of Jesus. The Beatitudes are printed in some of the pictures.

One thing that jarred, on first reading, was an odd phrasing: "Help me be a bit as bold." In the US and UK we say that someone is "not a bit as..." (whatever) as someone or something else. Flipping this phrase into a positive sentence seems odd and foreign. (Perkins' afterword mentions a family of Bengali descent who lived in many places around the world.) This could become an illustration of the kind of behavior the characters model in the book. People in countries where other languages were traditionally spoken sometimes adopt English as an international language; sometimes they speak it in novel, unanticipated ways. Sometimes someone whose first language is not English uses words in ways that are clearly "wrong," like Andrei Codrescu's "buy this bus" when he meant "pay to ride this bus," and sometimes whole communities who have adopted English use words in ways that may be new, but make sense and may even have something to teach us. "Help me be a bit as bold" is worth sitting with for a few minutes. I can understand why the publisher allowed it.

Recommended to all Christian families, this book would make a nice gift to a family or a small church school where other needs may outweigh the need for shiny new picture books.

Friday, August 7, 2026

Book Review: The Saturdays

Title: The Saturdays

Author: Elizabeth Enright

Date: 1941

Publisher: Holt Rinehart & Winston

ISBN: 0-03-035760-8

Length: 175 pages

Illustrations: drawings by the author

Quote: "Why don't we put all our allowances together once a week and let one of us spend them?"

In 1941, children who were ten, twelve, and thirteen were considered old enough to spend $1.60 all by themselves in New York City, doing "something really good...something we've always wanted to do." Although they later decide it might be even better fun to take these outings as a family, their father finds this "An excellent idea...I was going to suggest it myself but I much prefer having it come from you."

Mercy. Why does a book as old and quaint as this one even have an ISBN? Because it's a good book; because children liked it, and kept it in print up into the 1980s.

One of the kids goes to an art museum where she bonds, for the first time, with an old family acquaintance who grew up in France and once ran off with Gypsies. One goes to the opera and, on the way home, adopts a dog. (Both the dog and the old lady reappear in the three sequels to this book.) One gets her hair professionally "styled" and meets a woman who ran away from an abusive home at thirteen. Their younger brother goes to the circus, gets lost, and makes himself sick on junkfood. During one of their shared adventures they explore Central Park, where one of them falls out of a boat.

Then their Saturday adventures take a more alarming turn, with a furnace disaster and an unrelated fire. After that they really are "luckier than other people," as one of them observes in a sequel, because the old lady comes to their rescue and they'll never have to live in New York City again.

When I was eight, ten, twelve, I thought the four "Melendy Family" books were the best series ever written for children. I still do. (Tom Sawyer and its sequels have child characters, but the books were written for adults.)

One thing I enjoyed was that Enright refused to write down to the child reader. I first read her books, stretching my mind around the unfamiliar words, at age eight. My brother made me read them aloud to him when he was six. We thought a good story was worth learning to understand phrases like "rust-colored buds on the ailanthus trees" and "prickling of camphory fur" and "leaping and pirouetting." Actually, I thought that was a major part of the pleasure these books offered.

Enright did this even in Thimble Summer, the one of her books that won the Newbery Award--possibly because it was about normal children. The Melendys, and the children in Gone-Away Lake, are definitely gifted and talented. I think my brother and I enjoyed these books so much more than Thimble Summer because we appreciated the message that there were other talented freaks like us in the world. In The Saturdays the children are merely interested in the "classical" arts; in sequels one becomes a professional actress, one a church musician, one a dancer, and there's never any doubt that even the baby brother will eventually be a brilliant engineer. More refreshingly, there's never any hint that a talent for engineering rather than the arts makes him inferior to or different from his artsy siblings, either.

The Saturdays is recommended to all fans and collectors of this author, and to all gifted and talented children.

Bad Poetry: Bones

Prompted by the Poets & Storytellers United. Content warning: bones, decomposition rate of. 

In a damp and fertile land
things don't always go as planned.
Mrs. Johnson finally got
a permit to use a plot
on the farm, as fit she found,
for a family burial ground;
hired men to find, exhume
from a marketable room
in a larger cemetery,
her son's coffin, with his bones.
Of the job they were not wary.
Protestants expect no moans
from a soundly sleeping spirit
looking forward to inherit
mansion in eternal bliss.
But they weren't expecting this:
though they dug up the whole plot,
six by six by six, found not
one board of the coffin there,
nor a skeleton, nor hair,
but one little blackened bone,
moldering fast away, alone
where it must have lain between
where the hands and ribs had been.
Just one finger joint remained!
All the rest Nature had gained.
Rich, fresh, loamy was the soil,
just a hint of black like oil
stained where body had been laid.
For one finger they were paid;
carried to his father's land,
buried as his mother planned.

Thursday, August 6, 2026

Web Log for 8.5.26

Glyphosate Awareness 

Smelling smoke? Yes. That, too.


Is it worth reading this Moms-recommended, garbage-ad-infested fantasy about "glyphosate detox"? It might be...though then again, if you already knew that you need to limit consumption of charcoal or bentonite clay because they adsorb nutrients as well as toxins, and that herbs, honey, and wild plants can be heavily contaminated with glyphosate too, you might not need the article. But at least this article does acknowledge that all those healthy, tasty, tempting raw fruits and vegetables, just dripping with juices and vitamins and trace minerals and so on and so forth, may be more toxic than corn or soy (because people have been leaning on the corn and soy farmers longer). Spinach? Avoid handling. Strawberries? Try not to inhale their glyphosate-laden fragrance. 

I went out to feed the cats at dawn this morning and drank in the lovely fragrance of peaches. Feral Elberta peaches from my own tough little tree that never heard that peach trees are fragile. They are, of course, poisonous. Drive-by spraying is not being treated as the violent crime it is. While we starve ourselves of berries and cherries and early apples, let's at least lean heavily on Congress to get the bitter clingers to glyphosate into the institutions where they belong--where they'll never again have money to buy poisons or see green plants to spray poisons on.


Music 

LeAnn Rimes.


Jelly Roll.


Dove Cameron.


Dorothy.


Serena Ryder.


Two versions of "Ode to Somewhere."


Vaccines 

A pharmacist looks objectively--providing questions more than answers--at the data about COVID vaccine reactions and tries to begin to imagine the process of looking for answers to the question why these vax were so deadly for some people and, apparently, harmless for others. (Though, for most people who took them, the COVID vaccines were useless for their intended purpose. This web site called that and does not consider it a question worth further study. We already knew that virus mutate and that, for all the reckless haste with which COVID vaccines were rushed to the market, most people were getting vaccinated against the coronavirus they were already carrying around, whether or not they felt ill...and not getting vaccinated against the coronavirus that was going to attack them a few weeks later. That is just the nature of vaccination for any novel disease. Patients gamble on whether a vaccine against a pathogen they already harbor will do them additional damage and on whether it will be of any use agaisnt the pathogen they're being vaccinated for. In the case of things like rabies, people generally feel that the benefit is worth the risk. In the case of things like COVID, for teenagers...)

Wednesday, August 5, 2026

Book Review: Katrina

Title: Katrina

Author: Sally Salminen

Translator: Naomi Walford

Date: 1937 (English)

Publisher: Farrar & Rinehart (English)

ISBN: none

Length: 367 pages

Quote: "'Ay, Sanna--pick flowers always,' she whispered inaudibly."

Back when "Katrina" was a human name and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn was considered a great novel, this book was considered worth translating into several languages. Resemblances to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn would seem too many to be coincidental (Sally Salminen's ill-fated young couple are called Katrina and Johan, Betty Smith's are called Katie and Johnny), but Katrina was published first.

The same things happen to both couples; the stories end differently, suiting the cultures in which they were published. Both cope with malicious gossip, resentment of the heroine's energy and intelligence, a foiled rape, a boating accident, lots of untimely deaths, hopeless poverty, and the way the heroine builds up the ego of a man she's able to love only in a compassionate, almost motherly way. Katrina is, technically, a farmer rather than a charwoman (although she does a bit of charring), and Johan is a chatty, happy-go-lucky extrovert rather than an alcoholic, but you get the idea.

However, what made A Tree Grows in Brooklyn a distinct (and more successful) novel is probably the cultural flavor. Katrina stays with the heroine to the end of her life, and although she's earned a few successes and Salminen lets her enjoy them, a novel that fails to end before the main character's life does can be a sad read. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is sometimes considered positively inspirational because it ends with Katie still fairly young and looking forward to happier years.

Then, too, there's the detail that A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is told primarily through Katie's daughter--who is not much of a heroine, but who is able to appreciate her mother's heroic qualities in a way that could become maudlin in an impersonal voice or unbearably self-centered in Katie's own voice. Katrina's daughter dies, and although her sons grow up to have what might have been told as happy stories, their stories are told through the voice of their longsuffering, somewhat self-pitying mother, whom they grow up and leave.

Considering that one novel ends with a wedding and one ends with a death, the emotional quality of the endings is remarkably alike...then again, the whole genre of Socialist Realist fiction was all remarkably alike.

And how realistic was it? Selma Lagerlof was a Swedish farm girl who wrote about the hard times, and the good times, of Swedish farm families. Her books weren't nearly as gloomy as Katrina. Then again, Lagerlof wrote from mainland Sweden, and Katrina is set on a small, crowded, isolated island where poverty might actually have been harder to escape from.

The tuberculosis motif is probably true to life. Every book I've ever read about Sweden at this period (admittedly that's only about a half dozen books) mentions it. Everyone had the disease; the only question was whether they'd resist it long enough to die of something else first.

This book is not recommended to anyone looking for a cheerful read. It might appeal to someone looking for a good cry, or, more likely, to someone looking for insight into the popular appeal socialism had at this period, or the history of Sweden or of Aland island.

Web Log Long Weekender for 7.31-8.4.26

When I have been online, I've been "Wrapped up in Books"--e-books--and once again, advance review copies, so another review of an older book pops out of the can for Friday. I've not spent a full day online all weekend long. The Internet's been here. I've been out. And of course, ignoring all the hours when "updates" could have been run without anyone noticing, Microsoft has to hijack the computer when it's in use. I mean, who cares who paid for the computer, who pays for the office, who pays for the electricity, who pays for the connections, or who pays the computer operator? Those are mere mortals! Microsoft is a god!--Microsoft's boyboss thinks. Microsoft is flying too close to the sun and needs to melt, molt, plummet, and drown.

Animals 

Honeybees were endangered. Then they were putting native bee species in danger, out-competing the native bees due to the help they get from humans. Now, in North Carolina, they're endangered again, this time by the yellow-legged hornet. 



The yellow-legs are smaller than European hornets--about the size of our White-Faced Hornets. If they "invade" my neighborhood, I expect Jimmy Skunk will enjoy them. 

Five minutes of puffins just being cute in Maine:


There are still large puffin colonies on the coast of Maine, though their populations have declined in reactions to various threats, including human-caused warming of their water and resultant changes in their food supply, over the years. 

Why bears should be walled into nature preserves well away from tourists, with room to breed and forage only in places humans don't go. Live video does not actually show blood.


Glyphosate Awareness 

Remember, most females of all species do not show the Seralini Effect, in which the female does not show reactions to glyphosate or various other toxins herself if, and because, her body can store those toxins in a placenta and produce defective offspring. (Women who show this trait think it's horrible and there's no reason to imagine that females of other species feel differently.) In a random sample of the US population it's not really surprising that a large study found a strong correlation between glyphosate and premature birth generally, but not between glyphosate and premature birth caused by major birth defects or between glyphosate and premature birth early enough in pregnancy to amount to abortion. In most of the cases studied the babies were at least born alive; the study didn't follow how many of them lived even one full year.


I live with Seralini cats, so I tend to forget that not all pregnancies always become tragedies when females are exposed to glyphosate and not all females need those tragedies as protection from even worse things. For some females, a baby who survives glyphosate exposure long enough to start eating solid food may not seem like a total blue-eyed Wonder. Serena's kitten ate his first solid meal on Sunday. (With his much older sister and nephew, who, being social cats, had been waiting to show how fond and protective they'd be since he was born.) If he survives this month, Wonder will be his name.

He does seem to have a good chance of surviving. He seems to be having no trouble digesting solid food. He bounces, he pounces, his favorite thing this week is biting everyone but I think he'll outgrow it. When allowed to go out and meet Drudge and Silver, although Silver had obviously been wanting to help nurse him from the day he was born, he and Drudge bonded on sight. 

Meanwhile, although I observe that smoke is easier to avoid and less immediately toxic to me than glyphosate vapors in the air, and think of each day's trash fire as relief for the cats and me, some ask whether large-scale wildfires are breaking down glyphosate residues or spreading the poison from Canada to the US...I will say this. Even for good True Greens who have lived for fifty or sixty or seventy years with a sense of guilt about what our pollution's been doing to Canada's forests, there is a verifiable sense that it's payback time.


Should parents of "transgender" offspring be blamed for the anguish these young people endure? Or should the blame go to those who make "endocrine disruptor" chemicals and spray them recklessly into the air? Secretary Kennedy has been saying it's the chemicals for a long time. I agree. Not that there may not be the occasional parent who deserves blame for telling children garbage like "If you don't want to play football and/or fight in a war, you might as well be a girl" or "If you want to accomplish anything in life beyond having babies, you might as well be a boy." But in the absence of these chemicals even parents like that, even teachers and psychologists like that, even whole communities spouting that kind of mental toxic waste, have historically produced very few "transgender" offspring. Hearing stupid talk is not what makes teenaged boys grow breasts...and lactate.


History 

Vince Staten reminisces, briefly considering all the history involved, about the centennial of Kingsport's main high school. (When Gate City wants serious competition, this is where the competitors look.)


Music 

Belle & Sebastian.


Don Dixon.


Irene Cara. (How is it possible that the girl who sang this song of teenaged energy is dead already?)


Billy Joel.


John McCutcheon.


Boy George.


Cranberries.


Politics, as Practiced by People Who Should Have Gone into a Different Line of Work

After her public pronouncements on the benefits of living among other Black people, Kamala Harris moves into a typical California almost-all-White neighborhood:


Writing, Contests for 

Anyone can enter this contest, free of charge, but it is the Society of Classical Poets and they are strict about classical forms. Classical haiku did not always meet the strict syllable count, mention a season, or "make life" if only a brief life (butterfly, cherry blossom, I mentioned a fungus); haiku submitted to this competition have a better chance if they do all of those things. Odds are against even the members of the Society winning the prize. The goal is a beautiful collection of classical haiku. 

Note that the senryu, which is about humans, is a separate form. In a classical haiku readers usually don't see humans at all, or at most we see humans as a mass of movement and color seen from a distance, colorful robes, stately movement of a procession. And in traditional haiku, which of course were Japanese, there are traditional lists of words for each of Japan's twenty-some traditional weather phases; non-Japanese poets have a choice whether to use translations of these words, or do the best we can with words that pinpoint seasons in our weather cycles. (Apparently Japanese poets weren't content with "spring, summer, autumn, winter"; their lists were more like "the main heat wave in July, the somewhat cooling storm system in July, the next heat wave toward the end of July, the first chilly nights of August, the heat wave of late August...") 

I didn't know these things when I started this web site. Some online poets had the benefit of a free haiku course taught online at the Carpe Diem site around 2012-13. I didn't; I'm passing on what I've learned from them, especially Kim M. Russell, whose notes on her poems so consistently summarize what she had learned and was trying to use in each poem.


This is neither a haiku nor a senryu, though it has seventeen syllables. It just came to me when I was writing the haiku for the contest...

Hard to get feet 
out the door 
when writing pleasing
haiku--just one more!

Writing, Ethics of 

Megadittos. 

Reasons I've Stopped Reading (or Watching) a Series

This week's Long & Short Reviews prompt asks why reviewers have stopped reading (or watching) a series. 

For me the most usual reason has been inconvenience. If a series seemed worth reading at the public library, and the library had volumes one and two, or volumes 1 through 93 (as in the case of The Baby-Sitters Club), I've often read the existing volumes in order. If, however, more volumes came out later and the continuity of reading the series of library books was broken--maybe the librarian decided not to order volume 94, maybe I'd moved to a different neighborhood where the library didn't have that series--I've not usually made any effort to keep up with the series. Two or nine or ninety-three volumes have seemed like enough. 

Then there's the sheer size of some series. I liked Nancy Drew, in grades two and three, but not enough to read all sixty volumes. Just two volumes of The Hardy Boys and three of The Bobbsey Twins felt like enough. 

There are series that are generally agreed to have lost their inspiration, the later volumes having been cranked out just to sustain interest in the volumes the author really enjoyed writing. Anne McCaffrey wrote two unforgettable trilogies about her fictional planet Pern, then published another book set on Pern every year for years afterward. Everyone remembered the Dragonriders and Harper Hall trilogies but did anyone remember any of the later volumes? 

Some have similar feelings about Piers Anthony's Xanth series. For nine volumes, this quirky fantasy-adventure-comedy series impressed even critics. The philosophical questions raised in Night Mare were even considered seriously in some philosophical and religious books of the 1980s. Perhaps it was just the reputations of their different publishers that made critics feel that later volumes like Vale of the Vole and Zombie Lover contained no serious thought but were just comedies based on puns. Certainly, though, as Xanth became familiar to its readers and its author, its plots have grown thinner. If you like Xanth you don't ask every volume to be as philosophical as Night Mare. Not everyone likes Xanth. I like Xanth and would have gone on collecting all the volumes if I'd had the money to spare. 
 
I suppose all fictional series will become harder to believe beyond a certain length. Readers could suspend disbelief in Lenora Mattingly Weber's Beany Malone and similar children's stories where each school year or term brought a child protagonist a new adventure, even if that meant that Beany Malone belonged to two different demographic generations, being a teenager in the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s. Readers suspend disbelief in cartoon strip series like "Blondie" and "Peanuts" where the characters never matured noticeably in any way, because a cartoon strip captures a moment rather than a stage in someone's life. If "Blondie" and "Peanuts" had been published as graphic novels I'd imagine that even primary school readers would notice that the characters have stayed the same age for an unconscionably long time. The number of years the Baby-Sitters Club spent being thirteen wasn't even decent. A story worth putting into a book ought to have some effect on its characters. Lord Peter Wimsey stayed believable, and likable, because he and his fellow characters learned from their previous adventures; Agatha Christie's characters seemed to be muddling through the same stories over and over, as Dame Agatha aged, because they didn't. 

Tuesday's Book Review: Woven by Hand

Title: Woven by Hand

Author: Ramses Wissa Wassef

Translator: Denis Mahaffey

Date: 1972

Publisher: Hamlyn

ISBN: 0-600-03876-9

Length: most pages not numbered

Illustrations: most pages consist of full-color photographs

Quote: "My wife and I decided to...prove the artistic potential of the group of children."

To prove, yes; to improve, no. That's the trouble with Woven by Hand.

In the village of Harrania, in Egypt, between 1951 and 1971, Ramses Wissa Wassef and his wife set their elementary school students down in front of simple looms and let them weave tapestries. The result was Modern Primitive Art. Primitive Art was very fashionable in 1972. Both the children's original work, and this book about it, sold well to the international art community and helped some of the children stay in school as long as they did.

The children were carefully shielded from any kind of criticism, or any opportunities to study the work of adult artists, Wassef seems to be bragging in his introduction to this photographic retrospective of the children's work. At the time this was trendy...even if the children's work was deliberately, artificially being kept primitive.

The children were, in fact, paid for their work. "The finished tapestry was measured, and the child...received a sum corresponding to the area...The real value of this system is that it frees me completely from the task of checking the hours of work." It also "freed" the teachers to keep the profit if some tapestries turned out to be more valuable than others, and "freed" the students from any hint that this might have been because some tapestries were more pleasing to the eye than others. Wassef does not discuss this interesting ethical wrinkle.

The children are well along in middle age by now. Their tapestries have faded, if not biodegraded, by now, and if any of the children have grown up to be artists, they probably feel that it's just as well. They did quite well at weaving simple geometrics and images like tangled vines and gnarled trees, but my guess is that even ten-year-olds would have welcomed more instruction in how to make representational art more representational than some of the village scenes these children wove into their tapestries.

In Woven by Hand "The Mad Bull" looks as much like a two-toed cat as like a bull. "Women Going to Market" and "Caliph Ali and His Two Sons" have birdlike faces; conversely the people in "Palm Sunday" have no noses at all. I suspect that the child who wove "The Flooded Village" would have appreciated a chance to see how the boats could be made to look more like boats on a river than like cards laid out for solitaire, and the child who tried to weave "The Calves" would have welcomed material in colors other than watermelon red and denim blue as well as a tip that real calves do not have gory fangs. Children do not actually see the world this way. They see the same shapes and colors adults see, only from lower angles, and some children growing up at this period have expressed a preference for help toward making what they drew look more like what they saw, rather than rhapsodies about their "unique visions."

Was the benefit of sales of "authentic primitive art" worth the cost of failing to help the children bring their work closer to what their "unique vision" really saw? The ethical debate Woven by Hand raises is still interesting.
 
So are the tapestries. Despite the shortcomings of the ones that try to suggest real-life pictures, the more abstract tapestries are appealing. They all have a "definitely different" look that might inspire a needle art project today.

Petfinder Post: Bulldogs and Manx Cats

Today's "Censored Dog Breed" is Bulldogs. Some people think they are excessively ugly. For some people they are phobia triggers. From the humanitarian point of view they're not a very functional breed, unless you actually need help to herd bulls; those flat faces and stocky bodies accompany a set of breed-typical health problems that need routine care, add to veterinary expenses, and shorten the dogs' average life expectancy. 

As with Manx cats, existing bulldogs can be good pets, but there are valid reasons to breed the special Bulldog genes out of the pool. 

Those short noses breathe heavily and "snore" loudly. Some people say Bulldogs snore even when they're not asleep. They really do tend to be short of breath, and it's horribly easy for them to overheat. 

Those wrinkly faces trap moisture, dirt, bacteria, and fungi. Though dogs don't sweat through their skins, Bulldogs' wrinkly faces retain enough water and saliva to produce rich crops of pathogens. They need daily grooming to prevent painful skin infections.

Those short coats don't look as if they'd shed a great deal...but they do.

Some Bulldogs have hip and leg joint disorders. A show-quality English Bulldog stands no more than 15 inches high at the shoulder (and can't raise its head much higher) and weighs 40 to 50 pounds. Though most of this weight is muscle, and the dogs can usually move well on those stubby legs that look as if they were always out of joint, sometimes the trait goes too far and the legs really are out of joint. Even when the dogs walk and run well, they can have unusual difficulty climbing stairs and swimming--they're not able to paddle as naturally as other dogs.

Many Bulldogs have surprisingly delicate digestion and pass a lot of stomach gas.

Bulldogs who are kindly treated are usually described as friendly, loyal, calm, brave, reasonably good with other dogs and children, easy-going, and even snuggly. As the American Kennel Club says, "They might weigh 50 pounds, but that won't stop them cuddling up in your lap, or at least trying to." They are not the most intelligent or trainable breed. They are generally considered stubborn and hard to train. They love to chomp, pull on things with their strong jaws, and play tug-of-war, even with their leads on walks. 

Still, if you don't mind a little extra work and aren't put off by the look of a Bulldog, why leave a good, deserving dog to languish in a shelter? 

The cats...I've ranted about Manx cats here before. They can be excellent pets. They tend to bond with one person, and if you are that person, you'll know it. Often they have wonderfully laid-back, mellow, friendly purrsonalities, tolerate petting by their person's friends and relatives, and may even make good visiting cats in nursing homes. The ones who live to grow up can have as long, healthy lives as other cats. (Some Manx cats do live with horrible-sounding disabilities.) The trouble is that so many Manx kittens don't live to grow up. If you love a cat who has a defective tail, have it sterilized.

Zipcode 10101: Cokey from Massachusetts 


Cokey is available as a foster dog. That means you can get to know her well and feel sure that she fits into your family before you shell out $575. About a year and a half old, she's been a pet who's lost her human. She is said to like demonstrations of affection. 

Maria from Allentown 


Some Manx cats' digestive systems don't develop normally. Regular readers will remember the one who starved to death, not because he wasn't offered Kitten Chow and cooked chicken, but because he couldn't digest anything but cat milk. It happens. Maria digests food but is imperfectly litter-box-trained, which in her case they think may improve as she grows bigger and sronger--she's still just a kitten, the smallest of the litter, a bit developmentally delayed. Apart from that they say she's friendly and sweet and very good with other cats. They hope to find her a home where she'll have another kitten, or kittens, to play with. 

Zipcode 20202: Lincoln from DC 


This organization places all adoptable animals in foster homes--they don't have a shelter--so if you want to adopt him, you might as well start building a collegial relationship as a foster human. Lincoln is said to be clever for a Bulldog--house-trained, crate-trained, understanding a few commands. At age 3 he weighed 48 pounds. They warn that he may be friskier than most Bulldogs. He likes walks and games. 

Sasha from Herndon 


They warn (?) that she knows she's beautiful, but she's a friendly, affectionate pet. 

Zipcode 30303: Renita from Decatur 


Renita is a mixed breed and weighs over 60 pounds. She is described as house-trained, crate-trained, knowing at least a couple of commands, and willing to "be your shadow." 

Storybell from Newnan 


Just another alley cat who was trapped and "rescued" by the Humane Society from the horrors of family life. Storybell was left behind as her kittens were adopted. She is described as a cuddler.

Monday's Book Review: Dog Handling

Title: Dog Handling

Author: Clare Naylor

Date: 2002

Publisher: Ballantine / Random House

ISBN: 0-345-46539-3

Length: 319 pages, plus an excerpt from the author's next novel

Quote: "She was getting married in a few weeks and the strain was wreaking havoc with her brain and hormones. In short, she wanted to have mad sex with every man who walked past her desk."

With this line on page 2, Naylor gives readers fair warning: The protagonist is not what most romance readers would call a Nice Girl. Actually she's pretty trashy.

The level of the comedy in this allegedly comic romance is consistently trashy; on page 171 the author actually gets away with a joke about a stage being "surrounded by hordes of seamen, or semen, whichever." Since my relatives are Army and my ex-brother-in-law is Navy, I felt no overwhelming urge to throw the book into the nearest incinerator, but you might.

I have bought other allegedly romantic alleged comedies that I thought had no redeeming social value, and discarded without trying to sell them. So this one does, in my opinion, have some redeeming social value...but not much. Specifically, it suggests, more tactfully than you might have expected from the perpetrator of the "jokes" above, that women in search of romance might find more of it if they'd try thinking about something else now and then. You know, back off, stop being so needy, give men a chance to do some of the pursuing...Grandma told you that, but perhaps reading it in a romantic comedy is more fun.

Of course, for the Idiot Girl protagonist of this novel, thinking about something other than her mad crush on one guy (not the long-dumped fiance who made her want to have mad sex with every man who walked past the desk) means thinking about another guy. Which means flopping into bed with him. And although she has a few supportive male friends, some of whom are even heterosexual, all the guys with whom she flops into bed impress me as being inconsiderate, rude, conceited, to the point of being funny but very anti-erotic.

The question that comes to mind is whether today's real twenty-somethings treat each other this way and continue speaking to each other, in London or even in Australia. (In Washington, they'd probably end up taking each other to small claims court.) I hope there is no place on earth where the dating game is played with as much hostility as Dog Handling suggests.

Despite Naylor's courageous, possibly even groundbreaking, introduction of a Fundamental Rule of Practical Feminism into a romance novel, Dog Handling cannot be given full marks for uplifting womankind; the girls are about as obnoxious as the guys. On the other hand, if you're over age thirty, this book will probably help you feel better about being too old to date anyone the age of Naylor's characters.

Monday, August 3, 2026

Butterfly of the Week: Ruby-Spotted Swallowtail

(This link-and-photo-loaded post may overload some browsers. If I receive reports of problems in the e-mail, I'll break it up for you.)

Arbitrarily I'm going to call an end to the genus Graphium, although we spent enough time there for scientists to propose reclassifying and renaming, meaning that there are valid Graphium species names we have yet to study. The article on Graphium wenlinga was frustrating to write and, no doubt, to read. In a few more years, as Asian scientists and naturalists publish more about the newly named species, it should be possible to write better articles about them.


Photo by Tania102, September, Veracruz. 


Same butterfly, showing his gorgeous underside.

The next genus in the Swallowtail group is Heraclides, "Sons of Heracles." Heracles was said to have been the strongest man in all Greek history. He was not described or portrayed as a giant, though he was usually drawn with massive muscles. The Heraclides aren't always the biggest Swallowtails in their range, but they run large; they include Florida's "Giant Swallowtail."


Photo by Danisoroldani, September, Ecuador. Wings are often held away from the body and can even have a cut-away look, like the wings of some sphingid moths.

The first butterfly on the list is Heraclides anchisiades, the Ruby-Spotted Swallowtail. It is found from the southern tier of the United States to Chile. A fair bit of what's been published about it is written in Brazilian Portuguese. In the US it lives only in the southern point of Texas, but strays have been found as far north as Kansas and along our southern border.


Photo by Jeffharding, November, Peru. Like some of the tropical Asian Swallowtails, Heraclides can move their fore and hind wings independently. 

Anchisiades means "son of Anchises." A few different characters in ancient literature were called Anchises. The best known character called Anchisiades was Aeneas, the Trojan warrior in the Iliad. Heraclides anchisiades is not very toxic to predators and looks very similar to Parides anchises, which is very toxic. Some scientists think Parides anchises, which moves slowly, also gains some benefit from resembling Heraclides anchisiades, which can lead birds a merry chase.



Basically a tropical butterfly, Heraclides anchisiades looks huge to North Americans, with wingspreads often over 4 inches and caterpillars often 3 inches long. It doesn't look much like the Giant Swallowtail but gets mistaken for it, anyway, because if it's not a swallowtail of giant size, what else could it be? It is also confused with India's "Mormon" swallowtails, some of whose color patterns it really does resemble, and with Hyalophora cecropia, which is just ridiculous. 

It is well represented on social media, with many photos and videos available free to admire online. Here are some pretty videos.









This one's not so pretty but it does document how peaceable the caterpillars are. Subjected to all sorts of threatening, harassing behavior, most don't fight or flee, but freeze. One seems to be the designated osmeterium-waver for the family.


This family seems to have two osmeterium-wavers but most of the caterpillars will let themselves be picked off their perch in a solid sheet:


Papers have been published describing the parts of each section of its body, and its caterpillars. Google didn't do well translating this article into English, and the photos didn't show properly, but those of The Nephews who have tried to stay in touch with their grandmother's friends from Brazil may enjoy reading it in Portuguese.


It is fairly common in the places it frequents; sometimes its size, gregarious habits, and taste for ornamental shrubs and citrus trees, can make it a nuisance. 

Male Heraclides are often observed pollinating, but they spend some time composting. They are sometimes found at puddles and occasionally, as shown above, lick sweat off human skin or clothes. 

In South America Heraclides anchisiades is sometimes called Rosa de Luto, the Mourning Rose. Among North Americans who like fanciful names it has been called the Ruby Black Phoenix, or Ruby-Spotted Cattle Heart.  (Like a good composter, Heraclides anchisiades may be found among cattle, fanning its wings, sometimes into a position like a Valentine heart. Or some might see a resemblance between the shape of some individual's spots and the shape of an actual beef heart. Whatever.)

Currently five subspecies are recognized. Each has been given a few other names.

H.anchisiades anchisiades may or may not have a white spot in the middle of the forewing. The size and shape of the reddish spot on the hind wing may vary. Their hind wings show short tails or none. Females tend to have slightly larger wings with slightly larger spots than males, though the size ranges of wings and spots overlap. They are found across the wide northern section of South America.


Photo by Joao_Pedro01, January, Brazil.

They are not nearly so abundantly documented as the subspecies capys and idaeus.

H.a. capys are less likely to have a white spot in the middle of the forewing, and are found further south, southern Brazil to Argentina. The forewing pattern may be better described as solid black toward the body, with lighter, sometimes translucent, grayish or brownish black toward the tips, and sometimes a border of paler spots between the two sections.  (Capys was the name of one of Aeneas' friends, and also of his grandfather.)


Photo from ButterfliesOfAmerica.com.


Photo by Belweyermanns, April, Brazil.


Photo by Andressaultravioleta, April, Brazil.


Photo by Negromonte_Ion, August, Brazil. Caterpillars have that humped back all Swallowtail caterpillars have, but may be more likely to stretch out their necks ahead of their humps and make the humps less conspicuous. Some Swallowtail caterpillars seem to curl down into their humps and present themselves to the world as cones. (And yes, if you could say to any Swallowtail caterpillar, "You're ugly!" would it say, "Thank you, I try," or "Thank You, Lord"? Caterpillars don't get any prizes for beauty.)

H.a. idaeus are found from the US to Colombia and Venezuela. They may have fewer, smaller, or no white spots on the forewings and more red spots on the hindwings. (In the Iliad, Idaeus was a messenger and mediator between the armies.)



Photo by Ag18, November, Mexico. The color is produced partly by the angle at which light hits the butterflies' wings; nevertheless, individuals can fade to brown and orange rather than black and red.


Photo by Harlin20, January, Honduras. Some photos of egg-laying females show black and pink colors, but in this case the female shows that tendency toward more faded, lower-contrast, browner coloring than the male. But it's only a tendency. She's not exactly hard to see.


Photo by Felipecastilla, October, Colombia. The female's abdominal section normally looks black, but shows rings of yellow underskin when she stretches to lay an egg. To predators, at this vulnerable moment she may look more like a wasp they don't want to eat.


Photo from ButterfliesOfAmerica.com. The second instar is yellowish green. Working efficiently as a family, they are munching up these leaves. They can be quite alarming, even threatening to a young or damaged tree. 


Photo by Luisguillermomx for INaturalist, July, Yucatan. Instinct tells them that collectively they can disguise themselves as a knothole. These are "maturer" caterpillars.


Photo by Juancruzado, May, Nuevo Leon. One caterpillar in this group has been provoked to show his osmeterium. 


Photo by That_Boy_Gustavo, July, Honduras. Parides anchises caterpillars have that hard-to-swallow-looking texture with lots of little bristles all over. Heraclides anchisiades are comparatively almost smooth, at least pebbly rather than branched, but there's a resemblance. Subspecies idaeus sometimes show a vestige of the girdle effect Parides, Battus, and Atrophaneura caterpillars share. 

H.a. lamasi are relatively little known. They are found from western Ecuador to northwestern Peru. (Lamas is the name of a place in Peru.)


Photo by Marleenc, April, Ecuador.'

Two perfect museum specimens and a few more live action shots of H.a. lamasi


H.a. philastrius are found on Trinidad island. The spot on the forewing may be yellow. (Philastrius was a fourth century author, the Bishop of Brescia; for a while he was remembered as a saint, but few remember him at all now.) INaturalist doesn't even have a page for them.


Museum specimen from ButterfliesOfAmerica. Scallops are consistently irregular, with the inner section of the hind wing being shorter so that the next section looks like a short "tail," as if these butterflies were trying to grow "tails" and not quite succeeding.

Adult butterflies are pollinators, especially attracted to flowers in the genera Hamelia, Igna, Ixora, Lantana, and Senecio


Photo by Andres Hernandez for smithsonian.com. The flower is Ixora chinensis.

Eggs resemble round yellow beads. This is one Swallowtail species that seems to know the benefit of safety in numbers. Although the caterpillars eat their own eggshells and shed skins, they don't eat those of other caterpillars. Female butterflies are thus free to lay up to seventy eggs at a time, all on one leaf, and as the caterpillars hatch out, they line up side by side, touching one another, and munch munch munch until they burst. Though good for the survival of the caterpillars, this is not always good for their host plants. They can be very efficient feeders. 

Generally they rest during the heat of the day on a trunk or root, usually of their host plant, and eat at night. Litters may mix.


Photo by Stevenw12339, January, Yucatan.

Clumps of full-sized caterpillars found on one tree have included over 100 individuals. Full-sized Heraclidd anchisiades caterpillars are the size of adult human fingers; these clumps look massive and can do as much damage as they look as if they would, though the trees recover. 

They're also quite good at the gross-out as survival strategy many large caterpillars use. There are subspecies variations; all tend to be yellowish and can manage to resemble both tiny snakes, and large unhealthy bird droppings, at the same time. Like all Swallowtail caterpillars, they have humped backs that conceal osmeteria, which in this species are  orange.

Individuals separate from the crowd to pupate; pupae are camouflaged as short thick broken twigs.


Photo by Pedrosantoss, August, Brazil.


Photo by Macelocosta, April, Brazil.

Although the caterpillars hatch and molt more or less in synchrony, with most of the litter maturing and pupating at the same time (sometimes a few are still side by side), they don't all emerge from the chrysalis at the same time. For no obvious reason some eclose in a few days, and others wait for months, one or two butterfly generations. Anyway, adults find mates, and the whole thing starts again...


Photo by Fabiobabi, February, Brazil. 

This blogger claims to have reared one living butterfly from an egg surgically removed from a dead female butterfly:


As the timing of these photos shows, these tropical butterflies are active continuously throughout the year. The life cycle takes a few months. There are local generational cycles, but there are always anchisiades at every stage of life, somewhere. The life cycle of tropical plants takes place at a similarly furious pace. Caterpillars may seem to be killing a plant when they are actually pruning it back to a rate of growth that allows it to survive. 

Still, a phalanx of caterpillars who instinctively form part if they can't form all of a knothole shape, when they're on a plant you are trying to cultivate, can be an alarming sight. They may be part of the Creator's plan for the way tropical rain forests work. They are not part of the chemical agriculturists' plan for the way a factory farm should work. They can't possibly be good for immediate crop yields.


Photo by Sckell, September, Brazil.

There is a Green strategy that actually benefits individual butterflies as well as farmers: stopping monocropping.

When it's easy for butterflies to overpopulate, never having to travel in search of the caterpillars' next meal or the butterflies' next host plant, they often do overpopulate. An unthinking appetite for dead skin keeps many large butterflies and moths from overpopulating--by producing inadvertent, and in some species it's not even always inadvertent, cannibalism. This control mechanism does not operate in Heraclides anchisiades. Siblings get some safety benefit from lining up side by side, so they stay in close-knit families, even merging with other families in heavily populated areas. 

So Nature rolls out a different control mechanism. Heraclides anchisiades are vulnerable to infestations by mites and fungi. There is, D. Lewis observed, abundant documentation of these parasites. This recent paper seems to have been first published online.


You can find individual butterflies that look "crusted" or "rusted" with layers of parasites covering large sections of their wings or bodies. From citrus farmers' point of view this may be a lovely sight to behold. Papers have been published about rearing the butterflies in laboratories to cultivate more virulent strains of parasites. 


Or just getting control of their population, thinning it down, in order to exploit the butterflies commercially. So many of the Asian Papilios, Parides, and Atrophaneuras that look similar are rare or endangered. Couldn't anchisiades wings be exported for use in making junk jewelry in Taiwan?


A Colombian community farm-reared the butterflies successfully for use in junk jewelry.


For the butterflies it means death, and probably discomfort that the butterflies can't do anything about. Individual butterflies are probably happier when their populations are sparse enough to keep parasitic infections down.

Humans can help by planting, instead of acres of solid citrus trees one after another, mixed orchards where trees planted next to each other don't host the same butterfly species. Keeping Heraclides populations sparse helps maintain a healthy distance among butterflies, reducing infections and also reducing the number of caterpillars feeding on any specific tree.