Thursday, February 29, 2024

Link Log for 2.28.24

Clothing, Marketing 


If the young want to know what's "Out" they can always ask the middle-aged, and here's what's OUT:

1. Fashion, as in the whole idea of throwing out things you like (or shoving them to the back of the closet) because a different style is in the store, or buying things that don't particularly suit you because they're in the store. Stores buy things to sell to masses of people who are not you and do not look like you. If it's in the store and it does not suit you, it's clearly there for one of those other people. Leave it for her.

2. New York, if you don't have to live there. The whole city needs to get over itself. Nobody else wants to live in New York and nobody wants to look as if we did.

3. The hooker look. New York "fashion" is obsessed with the hooker look. The hooker look is sexy if you are wearing it in your own personal bedroom for the delight of your own chosen bedmate. The hooker look is ugly in public. So, visible knees, high-heeled shoes, and visible skin between the collarbone and the kneecap, are OUT--except for private showings to people who will never tell. Especially OUT is allowing contact between nasty, dirty pavement and things that were clearly designed for application to sensitive parts of loved ones.

What's IN: Laughing at ourselves. Do not read this link while eating or drinking.


Ethics 

Does the emotional appeal of faith work on T-shirts or Zazzle merchandise? I'm not sure. I don't really think it does. But we are told to publish the ethical teachings of our faith everywhere. On door posts of houses. (Yard signs! Bumper stickers!) On the headbands ancient Israelites wore to secure the head scarves they wore everywhere. (T-shirts! Ball caps!)

Maybe that's because some people just aren't wired to understand what a spiritual experience feels like, and telling them about it borders on being abusive. But everybody can understand that honesty is better than cheating. 


Food (Yuck) 

A Kellogg's employee thinks inflated food prices are good because people will eat cereal for dinner. Hoot! The trouble is...cereal is cheap all right, but it's toxic. People can't eat cereal, even for breakfast, if they want to be fit to work! 


Poem 

The February Thaw is not spring, nor is it meant to be spring. Most of the world needs its winters. But we can anticipate...

Politics 

How bad was what the Lieutenant Governor said? Would I, as a Real Virginia Lady, be offended if the Lieutenant Governor, going by my hair color, guessed that I'm  younger than she is and said something like "Yes sir" or "Yes indeed" or "That's right" just to evade the question of whether to call me "Miss" or "Ma'am"? I would not. I might try tactfully to drop some historical reference indicating that I'm close to her age, but I would not feel that I'd been mistaken for a man. "Yes sir" is commonly used as a mild intensification of "yes," more formal than "Absolutely" or "You got it." State Senator Roem should go to New York and try to teach the people up there to stop including/excluding women in groups addressed as "guys." 


Though there's an alternative punishment--for Roem, and for the people of Manassas. Let everyone know how tacky and self-obsessed Roem acted. Let Roem serve a full term...with the entire rest of the State Senate fully aware that it's political suicide to support anything Roem supports. Let Roem see that silence can fill a room after Roem has said "We had some rain this morning." And, until Roem has resigned, it should.

Book Review: Mail Order Persuasion

Title: Mail Order Persuasion

Author: Farrah Lee

Date: 2019

Publisher: Farrah Lee

Quote: "[A] tiny hurricane that barely reached his armpit blew into the bar like the Tasmanian devil."

Though I appreciate the merits of Neil Young's "Monsanto" song, I think his best song ev-ah was the National Anthem of the Land of Wimpy Guys:

"You are like a hurricane,
There's a storm in your eyes,
And I'm getting blown away!
Somewhere secret where the feelings stay
I want to love you, but I'd just get blown away."

If they had enough fortitude to recognize that they couldn't keep up with us before they caterwauled about how much they wanted, needed, loved, etc., etc., they might deserve a little empathy. 

The fictional hero of this novel, Kellan, at least thinks he has a little more fortitude than that when he meets Poppy. That seems to be her actual name, but it could as easily be a nickname she's earned by being an attention-deficient mess who "pops off" and follows her impulses. She rushes into the bar banging into things and spills wine on Kellan and herself. Only hours later, they meet again at the dry cleaners', and this time she's carrying coffee. Then he comes into Poppy's workplace and orders dinner, she waits on him, they get into a conversation, and she pours water on him. Kellan's dried-out, lawyerly affections are like a desert plant. They sprout and bloom when exposed to liquid. He can't change his plans and stay in Sydney to pursue the "tiny hurricane" that is Poppy. He has to go back to New York on schedule. 

But he thinks about Poppy. He thinks about Sydney, which, like many cities, seems positively pleasant by comparison with New York. When he thinks, he drinks. Before you know it he's drunk enough to tell his aunt that he met a woman on this trip to Sydney who gave him a business card for "an elite dating services" that offers mail-order matchmaking, and although he didn't like any woman he's actually known during all these years well enough to propose, he thinks he wants a mail-order bride. 

Be it known to The Nephews that if any of you did any such thing I'd say that you were in no condition to meet the most pathetic streetcorner girl in Lusaka, much less anyone I'd want you to meet, and advise three years of sobriety before you asked for or accepted a date. 

Kellan's aunt, however, thinks he needs an heir. (She has children of her own who might find a use for his estate some day. She is being very unselfish on their behalf.) So she just fills out a form for him and sends it to the woman he met, who happens to be Poppy's equally desperate, but more disciplined, entrepreneur friend. He talked to her in the hope that she could arrange a chance for him to talk to Poppy, who's been bolting impulsively away, feeling mortified, every time they've met. 

But it's not meant to be. Poppy's life is a mess. Physically thirty-five years old, mentally about thirteen, she's a student but dependent on an open-ended relationship with a man to pay her tuition. She's still doing a student labor job, and she got that because the owner of the business was her parents' friend. The man with whom she's been living would have married her already had that ever been his intention, and is bringing home other women when she's at work, or he thinks she is. Poppy packs her bag and stomps out, although she doesn't even have a car to live in and has to depend on friends to keep her off the street at night. In order to stay in school and rent another place she needs to find a job with a higher salary. She's called in for an interview for a sales job, given a test instead, paid a commission because she does so well on the test, then told someone else has already taken the actual job. 

Clearly the only way to keep this gal off welfare would be if she could marry a billionnaire. Kellan just happens to be one. So her best friend cheerfully draws up a contract. Poppy is acting more desperate, impulsive, and immature than ever when she's forced actually to talk to Kellan--she keeps trying to bolt again--but common sense is clearly not a quality Kellan wants in a wife.

It's a comedy--the first in a series of comedies about rich men and pretty women who are comically clueless, whose weddings Poppy's friend will arrange for a fee. If you think marriage is not the kind of institution where people who act like this couple, at thirty-five, belong, you might laugh, but not in a nice way.

If you like this kind of story you may want to collect the whole series. 

It's fiction, but it's based on fact. There are men, desperate divorced fathers e.g., who don't mind admitting: they're not "in love," and don't expect to be; they're not even looking for a prostitute so much as a nanny, and they're prepared to fund a desperate, usually very young, woman's education, her immigration to the country of her choice, her medical bills or her parents', whatever. The woman gets the legal status of "wife" rather than "domestic help." Sometimes it works. For the only people I ever knew who tried it, it worked because both parties recognized it as a job contract with rules they found more advantageous than the standard job contract, but anything can happen. Somewhere there probably are mail-order couples who have "fallen in love." 

Never mind the other kind of mail-order couples, Poppy's friend may think she can keep the business "elite" and only ever marry idiot girls to bungling billionnaires, but sooner or later such "agents" end up placing orphans in the custody of child abusers. But they have also placed deserving students, cancer patients, even actual refugees, in contact with decent people who fulfill their contracts, even if they don't "fall in love." Good things as well as bad things sometimes happen in this world.

Hemileuca Hera

Hemileuca hera, the Sagebrush Sheep Moth, is one Hemileuca that looks at first glance as if it could belong in the group called "giant silk moths." Though not as gigantic as the Actias or even the Citheronia group, H. hera is larger than the average moth or butterfly, with a wingspan between 7 and 9 cm (2.6 to 3.75 inches). 


Photo from Calscape.

This species has been known and discussed for a long time, but little is known about it. It is so poorly documented online that my 2013 study of what was online about the Hemileucas, at that time, rates around 100 on search engines. Now that's bad. These species posts ought by rights to rate about 100 on search engines, though they are only reviews of existing literature and contain no original field research whatsoever. All I'm trying to do here is put the available information about these moths into one place. That 2013 overview ought to have been displaced by a few hundred that have more to say about hera, by now.

Now THIS is a Blogspot that ought to rate high on any search for Hemileuca hera. This blogger found a litter of about twenty caterpillars outdoors, brought them in, reared them, and at the time of writing had obtained one adult moth--in September, having started in spring/ (Hera often pupate through the first year, so the other nineteen caterpillars might have been alive at the time of posting.) I can't pick just one of her photos and fair use wouldn't extend to copying the lot, so check out the photo essay at:


The genus name Hemileuca means "half white," and accurately describes some of the wings of moths in this genus. H. hera is often almost all white. Wings can be white with only black markings, or white with black markings and a few yellow spots. Bodies are furry and often show yellow or orange. To my eyes, this is a pretty moth.


Photo by California Academy of Sciences.

The species name hera commemorates an ancient goddess. While Pagan goddesses were often listed merely as members of male gods' families, identified with very limited forces of nature like wells or trees, or celebrated as abstract ideals like Justice or Community, Hera was one of the more primitive ones who could be seen as an ancient tribe's attempt to imagine a Supreme Being. Like Athena, Demeter, Diana, and a handful of other goddesses, she was specifically worshipped and claimed as a patron by the feminists of those days. She was worshipped independently until tribal wars caused her to be "married," according to legend forcibly married, to Zeus. Though this "marriage" caused more of ancient Greece to acclaim Hera as "Queen of Heaven," legends suggest that her worshippers thought too many of her powers and attributes had been transferred to a philandering, inferior, merely male notion of God. The tradition of naming the much-hated Hemileucas after goddesses seems misogynist to me, but in the case of hera it might be seen as making sense; this is a large, showy moth. Early Anglo-Americans had a superstitious belief the moths were departed souls; big showy moths were the souls of distinguished but unsaved persons, and hera might have been seen as the ghost of some ancient queen who, in her days of pride and power, let people worship her as God.

The English name fits this species better. H. hera is found in the arid western part of North America, often in dry flat fields where sagebrush and sheep thrive. Its food plants are in the sagebrush, lupine, and wild buckwheat families. It is one of the few animals that will eat Big Sagebrush. 

H. hera is found in Washington state and British Columbia, in Saskatchewan, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and California, but according to the state government it is not found in Idaho. They assert this as if they were proud of having extirpated the species. Marcata is found in Oregon and California. Hera has been found recently in Nebraska and the Dakotas, where its appearance has caused concern. 

Entomologists have debated for a long time whether to classify Hemileuca hera, Hemileuca marcata, and Hemileuca magnifica as closely related species or subspecies of one species. "Lumpers" agree that hera is the most widespread and should be considered the basic or "nominate" subspecies. A web search will find material for marcata and magnifica as species and as Hemileuca hera marcata and Hemileuca hera magnifica. One source on which this post draws identifies Hemileuca hera marcata as a subspecies and Hemileuca magnifica as a closely related, confusible species. At all stages of their lives these moths look very much alike but they show some slight differences, which may be produced by diet alone. Hera and magnifica caterpillars usually (not always) have blackish brown or brownish black skin through all instars, showing colored stripes and bristles as they grow bigger; marcata caterpillars have pale, almost white skin on the undersides. Caterpillars and adults of magnifica can be even bigger than hera with caterpillars often four inches long. Magnifica's life cycle can extend over two years or more, spending the first winter as unhatched eggs and the second winter as pupae, and sometimes pupating through two winters and the summer in between. 

Adult marcata shows even less color than hera. Magnifica are distinguished by their size. The difficulty is that either hybrid or intergrade individuals are often found, and can be hard to classify. As with other closely linked types of Hemileuca, these moths force us to reconsider the meaning of "species." Sblings who ate the same diet at the same time may look different. Individuals who look alike and are attracted to each other may be unable to produce viable offspring. Turning at last to DNA studies to work out once and for all which of these moths are genuinely distinct species and which are variant forms of the same species, Tuskes, Collins, et al. have concluded that only six of the sixty-some named species in this genus may show enough consistent DNA difference to be called distinct species. 


Photo of "Hemileuca hera magnifica" from Huffmantaxidermy.com. Note the egg-loaded female's size and weight relative to a big sagebrush blossom.

Female moths in this species usually start "calling" prospective mates with their scent after their wings have matured. 


Photo from WildUtah.us. Their photo essay shows this moth climbing out of the leaf litter under a brush pile, climbing to the top, and assuming the "calling" position.

What I find most annoying about moths as a whole class of animals is that, if you are touched by or even downwind from a moth in heat--and most of them are in heat, most of the time--you will then be followed and pestered by moths of the opposite sex, wanting to meet the one who left a trace of its scent on you. You can't even smell why a half-dozen male moths are parading around, e.g., your elbow, wanting to know where the female moth's gone. You didn't even see her. It's like constantly getting calls for an ex-housemate, only instead of ringing your phone moths tickle you. I'm sure it's a great consolation to this young man that heras are too big to fly right up a human nose. (Never pick your nose while standing downwind from a lonely moth.)


Photo from Damoosie at Inaturalist.


Photo from Butterfliesandmoths.org.

Like other Hemileucas these moths usually seem to mate face to face if they can, and stay together, smelling and touching each other, before and after the reproductive act. (Sometimes, INaturalist documents, they become more exuberant. Photos exist of males hanging or flying upside down during the consummation of moth love.) However, if they live to mate again, both males and female will look for a new partner, both preferring one who has not mated before. Moths release the greatest number of fertile egg and sperm cells the first time they mate, which is often the only time, though males and females will mate a second or third time if they can  When a couple finally tear themselves apart, the male flits off in search of another female, and the female flits off in search of a good place to lay her eggs.

It takes the female moth half an hour to an hour to lay her eggs, placing them in a cluster on a host plant. After laying she rests for a while. She does not eat or drink. She has only one thing to do--find another male, if possible, and lay more eggs.

Hemileuca moths' prospects for second and even third mating seem dismal due to the moths' strong preference for virgin brides or bridegrooms. 

Like other Hemileucas they fly in the daytime, but are seldom seen. They can live up to a week but many, due to stress and predation, live only a day or two as moths.

Hemileuca eggs are laid in clusters, and for the first three instars (changes of skins) the caterpillars live in clusters. Instincts tell the they are safest when they can feel a siblings bristles against their own on either side. As a group, although cold-blooded, they enjoy some insulation during hot afternoons and chilly nights. If threatened the whole litter will thrash about to sting as much of a predator as possible. While some Hemileucas seem to sting passively, and hera can do this too, simply curling up with the bristles out and letting the bristles sting anything that gets in their way, observers say hera also positively move to sting anyone they perceive as likely to disturb them.


Photo from NebraskaLepidoptera.com.

With the fourth skin comes a change in social orientation. The caterpillars are now big enough that each one needs a food plant of its own, and vulnerable to fungus infections that spread from caterpillar to caterpillar. Now they want space as much as they wanted togetherness last week. Their bristles give the immunity to one another's venom, since bristles touch only other bristles. Nevertheless they will maintain a good healthy distance from one another until they become bristleless, cuddly adults.


Photo by Nicky Davis, whose photo essay at https://www.wildutah.us/html/butterflies_moths/moths/h_m_hemileuca_hera.html shows these little sagebrush eaters growing through three instars. They didn't spread far apart because they were enticed to stay relatively close together by humans, but they grew big enough to be ready to live on their own.

Hera caterpillars typically have bristles that form rosettes, with all the tips at about the same distance from the body, in two rows on the back, and branched barbs on the head, tail, and sides. A scientist who volunteered to test this found that contact with rosette-shaped barbs hurt more than contact with branch-shaped ones, because rosette-shaped barbs bring more stings and more venom into contact with the skin. 


Photo by Tom Murray.


Detail shot of the bristles by Rjlittlefield.

The best cure for stingtingworms' stings is--duh!--prevention: don't touch the caterpillar. Since this advice, though good, is not useful if you are walking under a tree when a fat, clumsy caterpillar falls off an upper branch, curls up with its bristles out as it falls, and drops down your neck, the recommended first aid is to run a patch of duct tape over the sting skin, sticky side down, to pick up any stinging hairs stuck to the skin. Then dab, don't scrub, or immerse if feasible, in cold water. Vernom will gradually break down in the body in a few hours or days. Anaphylactic shock is not common, but possible.

However, hera's habits make this species less likely to drop down anyone's neck than tree-feeding species are, and the caterpillars also tend to stop growing while they are just a little over two inches long. They are an exception to the rule that the adult moth's or butterfly's wingspan approximately equals the length of the caterpillar. Like all Hemileucas they are very unpleasant to have around, but, unlike some Hemileucas, they do give everyone else a fair chance to avoid them.


Photo from ProjectNoah.org. Their photo essay documents that this dark individual showed up more clearly when photographed in the shade than it did when photographed in the sunshine.

As in most Hemileuca species, hatchling caterpillars are black. In later changes of skins, stripes along the sides appear, bristles show color, and the bristles on the back form rosettes. Individual variations are observed. Some caterpillars have tan rather than sable skin. 

Hemileuca moths usually have one generation per year. Hera moths fly in late summer, depending on location. Eggs laid at any time between July and September hatch early next spring. Caterpillars grow through six instars before pupation. Weather is thought to be a primary factor, but not the only factor, determining the length of the moth's life cycle, since some siblings mature in one year while others do not. 

Some caterpillars, however, go through a seventh instar, pupate through the winter, and eclose 

They have a few predators, mostly tachinid flies and tiny wasps that lay eggs on the caterpillars' thick skins. A caterpillar's skin is made of chitin and, though thinner than our fingernails, seems to be about equally insensitive. Fly and wasp eggs hatch into microscopic maggots, which bore into the caterpillars and parasitize their insides for a few days, then gnaw their way out and pupate in little cocoons tucked among the caterpillars' bristles. Parsitized caterpillars usually survive for a few days but are unable to reproduce, so the parasites control populations of caterpillars that are otherwise a great nuisance. The best way to control populations of these caterpillars is to make sure nobody sprays poisons that might harm the wasps and flies. 

There are records of larger predators eating part or all of a Hemileuca caterpillar. Collins and Tuskes saw a robin eat a baby hera and apparently live. A Canadian researcher saw a stinkbug, whose proboscis was slightly longer than the caterpillar's bristles, puncture a Hemileuca grotei caterpillar and drain its body liquids. A web search pulled up two photos of stinkbugs attacking hera caterpillars, too. However, though the moths are apparently less toxic than their black, white, and yellow or orange color scheme seems to advertise, the caterpillars are venomous and at no stage of its life is this species very appealing to predators of its own size or larger. Tiny insect predators are humans' main allies in keeping Hemileuca populations low. 

Some spiders can eat the moths, and Argiope aurantia is capable of secreting an odor that may lure a scent-smitten male moth into the spider's web. This has been better studied in connection with some other Hemileucas bu anything that thins populations of this species is worth knowing about. Any of the Hemileuca, Automeris, or Saturnia caterpillars nicknamed stingingworms can tempt people to try to spray the pests away. That approach never works; poison sprays always kill more predators than pests, so in the next generation you have more pests relative to fewer predators, so the company looks forward to selling you even more spray and a formerly minor nuisance becomes a serious nuisance. If you want to reduce your chance of exposure to stingingworm venom, never spray poison; let natural predators maintain balance in the environment generally. (If you actually find a stingingworm, of course, finding a heavy stick and doing what comes naturally is unlikely to alter the balance of species.) 

Wednesday, February 28, 2024

How I Amuse Myself in Waiting Rooms

In answer to the Long and Short Reviews prompt at 
 
I knit.
 

 (That one's no longer available, but you can order a doll dressed to match any family-friendly book from this web site: $10 for approximately 12" tall adult-or-older-child-type dolls, more for other types of dolls that are more of a challenge and usually take more time and yarn. Knitwear can be designed to fit a doll you supply.)

The Internet Without Google?

Rumors have circulated that Google-as-we-know-it may cease to exist. What I saw last night suggested that that may be true. 
 
Other browsers exist. I switched to one of them. Other blog sites also exist. Live Journal is not reliable enough for regular use, though some posts may go there. Both Word Press and Live Journal run their ads on blogs at no benefit to the blogger or readers, which makes them options I'd prefer not to consider.
 
Posts at this web site have been backed up and can be mass-migrated to a new site when I find one that's suitable. Or new blog posts may go into newsletter mode. Newsletter mode should allow us to maintain the current format (Sunday: Christian; Monday: butterflies; Tuesday: cuddly pets; Wednesday: fluff; Thursday: serious article; Friday: poem). 

If web-searching and link-sharing cease to be available, well, that'll be a sign from Life telling me to dedicate more time to spreading Glyphosate Awareness in the real world.

Face it, Gentle Readers. The big tech companies are not friends of free speech, free enterprise, or fair exchange. The Internet has served us well for longer than I expected; much longer than most people I know, in real life, believe is possible.

From e-mail newsletters I fully expect to go to printed ones. It would be pleasant, but I don't really expect, to have the Internet long enough to finish even the butterfly series, although I'll try. 

(Seriously? At the rate of one butterfly species a week, it would be pleasant, but none of us can really expect, to live long enough to finish the butterfly series. Although I'll try.)

Book reviews will continue to be posted...wherever they fit.

Save this link in case you come online and find Blogspot gone: cat_sanctuary.livejournal.com. 

If you want to be sure of maintaining contact, send an e-mail to the public e-mail address for this web site, PriscillaKing2020@outlook.com. I don't sell friends' e-mail addresses.

New Book Review: First Love in Bar Harbor

Title: First Love in Bar Harbor 

Author: Amy Rafferty

Date: 2023

Publisher: Amy Rafferty

Quote: "But the biggest love you'll ever feel is for your own children."

While this short novel is about romantic love, it is not a romantic novel. It's realistic to the point of pain. Despite all the reasons why she doesn't want even to date Logan--he's her brother's friend and they've made it a rule not to date each other's friends, he's about to ship out with the Navy, his engagement to the "sweetheart" actress of the moment has been reported in the newspapers--she "falls in love" and spends a night with him. All we're told is that she spends a night with him. And the story ends with a burst of... motherly love.

Rafferty says this is the prequel to a series, so we can imagine that Hope and/or Logan will find romantic love in the volumes to follow.

By itself, First Love in Bar Harbor is a good book to hand to teenagers who've not lived through similar stories with their own friends.  

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

Petfinder Post: 2023 in Review, Part 4

In considering how much good these Petfinder posts do, it's possible to be overly optimistic. The majority of last year's photo contest winners reportedly were or "may have been" adopted. "May have been" can be a cover-up. Some of these animals have been placed in homes on approbation but others may have been transferred to other shelters. Some animals die in shelters. Most of the shelters that work with Petfinder say they don't kill unsold animals, but when animals are sick and nobody is stepping forward to pay vet bills it can be tempting to diagnose them as incurable and euthanize them. These outcomes tend to be reported under the "may have been adopted" umbrella, too. We don't know. All Petfinder knows is what the shelter staff report. Still, these were especially appealing animals. They may have been adopted.

So. Torti from Blountville may have been adopted.

Fergie, thought to be a mix of Shepherd and Retriever, is still seeking a good home in New York.


...hints at some possible problems. Fergie "had a rough start" and is not expected to fit in to just any group of other dogs. She's been house-trained and leash-trained but prefers to sit around looking out the window rather than go out and interact with the world. She has enough Shepherd genes to appeal to people who want a watchdog or even a guard dog, and enough Retriever to be , in practice, more of a house pet. She's a beta dog, a follower. Somebody out there has (or is) the right leader for Fergie.

Minnie, who started out as a mini-hound but grew rather large when fed, has positively been adopted.

So has Bailey from Atlanta.

Miss Polly Toes in New Jersey is still looking for a home, too.


She has four good feet. She's shown side-stepping across her left forepaw to show the extra thumb toe on her right forepaw. Spreading it out when she cross-steps on it shows that she has some use of the extra toe and may figure out some creative things to do with it. Miss Polly Toes is described as sassy and bossy, like my beloved Serena though possibly not as gentle as Serena usually is. They don't mention her showing any empathy with people she's slapped. Serena really did learn from being told "ouch, that hurt"--I know, I wouldn't have believed it before I'd seen it. I'd think it would be worth trying to encourage this clever cat to be more kind and gentle with humans. Cats who would rather play a good fast game, with something they can safely swat like a toy, can be a ton of fun to know. It's not what a person who's been slapped would see, but sassy, bossy Serena has a truly loving heart. Miss Polly Toes just might have one too.

Seattle and siblings may have been adopted.

Vera, Penny, and Lilith from Atlanta are still looking for a home together. 


I think it's possible that the Weird Sisters, who obviously have found a place where they can stay together and a person to purr and snuggle with there, are remaining unadopted because of money. I think it's possible that what they need is a sponsor to make their foster human feel comfortable in admitting that they have been adopted. 

Anyway I re-featured the Weird Sisters again earlier this month. Let's move on.

Flower has definitely been adopted.

Egypt may have been adopted.

Martin may have been adopted.

Molly has positively been adopted.

Duchess has really most sincerely been adopted.

Triscuit has probably been adopted.

Olive is still up for adoption, though in a city shelter. Wow.


That this city shelter cat still has a web page tells us a lot. The shelter staff don't seem to include any would-be authors but they have indicated, having lived with her for most of a year, that Olive is a sassy, funny, playful Manx kitten. (Her tail's not cut off by the photo; she really has a short tail.) That faded-tiger coat that almost has an extra cat face on the side? How could anyone not adopt her? Well...some Manx cats are distinctly one-person cats, and when they land in shelters it's probable that they have lost their persons. They politely put up with other humans' company and remember the ones they loved, but with patience and kindness you can persuade them that you're not bad in your way. 

Link Log for 2.26.24

Three pleasant links:

Education 

In a world where civilized, ethical human beings could coexist peacefully and sustain an Internet--not that I'm saying we live or ever will live in such a world, actually--what would education look like?


Music 

Europeans attempt a classic song...


Scent 

Unlike powder and paint, I never took any vow not to wear perfume. I like perfume, myself--in small reasonable doses, of course. Some people overdo it, or expect perfume to compensate or not Doing Number Three. But a small judicious hint of scent? Why not? This is why not. When working as a home nurse I had patients whose reactions to flowery (and some fruity) scents were like Judy Dykstra-Brown's. I didn't like to walk in and watch a patient begin to droop, visibly, until person finally asked, "Are you by any chance...wearing any...perfume?"

"Well, not perfume, on this job, but a little underarm deodorant..."

"I...thought so. Oh please, could you go and wash it off!" 

I've not given up my underarm deodorants, nor my scented soaps. Unscented soap has a scent of its own that is not very nice. But, reflecting on the fact that there's likely to be at least one perfume-sensitive person in every crowd, I have stopped buying cologne. 






Book Review: Sandusky Burning

Title: Sandusky Burning

Author: Bryan W. Conway

Date: 2020

Publisher: Bryan W. Conway

ISBN: 978-0-5788172-8-6

Quote: "The pay was low, the hours long, and the work was oftne unpleasant."

Though it's marketed as a crime thriller, the Book Funnel edition of Sandusky Burning that I received during the Booktober Blitz is not a crime story at all. It may be building up to one. It's a sample that tricked me because the first two or three chapters of this book are longer than some full-length genre novels from Book Funnel. There is probably a plot, if you read the full-length book as it was printed, and that plot probably involves crime and may pick up speed and intensity as it gets going. 

What I have is, instead, a study of a cheap, run-down trailer park and the people who live and work in it. They're not the nicest set of people. The women workers are cheap foreign labor and are expected to work two jobs, one legitimate, one not. The women may have been coerced into prostitution while the men seem to have got into their second jobs, also illegitimate, on their own. They take drugs or sell them, spy on each other, steal one another's stuff. Some of them are nastier than others. Some of them may be decent fellows, on the whole, but they certainly are not gentlemen. 

Conway is a professional writer. This book is at least standing on the steps of serious Literary Fiction, showing a detailed and sympathetic consideration of the different kinds of people doing entry-level jobs, their plights, and their relationships with one another. I've never worked in a trailer park but, based on my experience working in factories and restaurants, I'm inclined to think some real study of entry-level workers went into this book. I found myself starting to recognize the characters' names without looking them up, even take an interest in what the author's going to let happen to them next.

And then what happens next is a nasty little note saying you don't get the whole book free of charge, as the promotional page may have made you think. I don't think very much of people who use that kind of trick. 

The writing, the vivid portrait of a gritty but obviously loved city in the Rust Belt, should appeal to readers who like male-oriented adventure stories written with skill and empathy. Should we buy books from people who send out chopped-off chapters that pretend to be books? Meh. Maybe it's at your public library.

Monday, February 26, 2024

Calling Out Food Brands (Post for 1.25.24)

This is a bonus post. It was going into a link log, but it's just too long. So, I'm still about a half-dozen posts behind where I ought to be, this winter. Let's count this as the post I didn't write for 1.25.24.

There are enough food items you don't buy if you believe it might be sensible to follow the Bible's guidelines about what not to eat, right? I don't insist that food be certified kosher because I'm not an Orthodox Jew. It may be that I avoid food that Moses pronounced inherently unclean just because I was a sucker for a misbelief, which circulated in the mid-seventies, that people had a really hard time with "swine flu" if and because they were exposed to it by ingesting pork, whereas people who didn't eat pork merely had "sore-throat flu," which was less bad. 

Well, that was wrong. Sore-throat flu was swine flu. Same virus, milder reaction. It might also have been spread by eating pork, but it spread through the air. People who kept kosher and/or vegetarian, or who just avoided pork, tended to be more health-conscious and, on average, a bit healthier, although some people are health-conscious because they're anything but healthy. So the pork-free might have suffered less from swine flu than the pork-fed. An alternative explanation is that swine flu, like COVID, circulated in a year when a demographic generation was reaching the end of its average life expectancy in any case, and most people who died of swine flu were, like people who died of COVID, geriatric patients who succumbed to pneumonia, and most people who had swine flu probably felt worse than most people who had COVID, at the time, but were less panicky and worked right through it. Teachers sort of hinted that it would be all right by them if people would just stay home on the final day of swine flu when nausea was the dominant symptom, but lots of school lunches reappeared on school floors anyway, because it did not always take exactly 24 hours for each dominant symptom to give way to the next one. Some people fast-forwarded through the sick headache stage directly into being sick.

Nevertheless. I had sore-throat flu, but not pneumonia, and my parents told my surviving grandmother that this was because we didn't eat pork or other things proscribed in the Bible. So for the rest of my life I just never have. I may have inadvertently eaten things that had pork in them--you don't know whether the chicken, turkey, or beef sausages from a company that also makes pork sausages are really 100% pork-free--but I don't knowingly eat pork. I've never wanted to. I think all meat is sort of yucky if you think about it, but pork is extra-yucky. But that's just me. It's none of my business how many other people eat pork and like it but I will say that people who eat a lot of pork smell different from people who don't, to me, and not in an alluringly exotic way.

So anyway...that was enough of a food quirk to separate me from other people, but there was also cheese, which I didn't think of mentioning first because my body does not regard cheese as food. That deep internal reaction that is generally described by a word that violates this web site's contract is, in my case, that cheese is vomit or a synthesized version of it, what the bleep are you trying to pull, and back out it goes. It's none of my business whether other people like cheese, either, but I will mention that blindfolded tests show that people can't smell a difference between parmesan cheese and human vomit. And other kinds of cheese are generally agreed to smell worse than parmesan.

But nooo. This was not enough. As a child I was skinny and sickly and undergrown and a deadweight in any sport and a drag on any kind of outing or vacation. As a teenager I matured more slowly, with more angst, even than most teenagers, who are bad enough Heaven knows. As a theoretically young-adult at university I managed to have mononucleosis for most of two years without even having kissed anybody. This led directly into the polycystic ovarian syndrome and sterility. Then, passing over the encysted gland cancer scare and the viral arthritis scare and the Norwalk Flu melodrama in my twenties, we come to the celiac sprue that appeared in my late twenties, which forced me to face the fact: I am a celiac, the descendant of four generations of female-line Irish celiacs. I finally stopped refusing to consider that possibility once the only other alternative was colon cancer. No pork, no cheese, AND no wheat. What the bleep was I supposed to eat now? But I went gluten-free, and became healthy and strong and cheerful. And Mother and the surviving relatives on her mother's side of the family also went gluten-free and felt better than they'd felt in all their lives before, too. So I don't eat wheat and, frankly, I don't miss it. I liked wheat-based food at one time. I don't now. Once you learn that something is harmful to you it doesn't taste good any more. Wheat is not inherently harmful to most people even in Ireland. If your body digests wheat, good luck to you, enjoy it.

But then. Glyphosate. Good Lord. In 2016 and 2017 I could hardly eat anything sold in a store except garlic and onions, which (like a few of the spices) come with their own built-in pest repellents and don't seem to need a lot of spraying. Meat and eggs were the safest things (although they're not 100% glyphosate-free if the animals were fed contaminated food) but flavorings used with them might contain "Roundup Ready" soy. Day after day after day I wrote this blog on a diet of African coffee abd what grew in my not-a-lawn. Some corporate brands responded quickly to the pleas of fellow celiacs and me for glyphosate-free food, and let's review the honor roll again...

Planters nuts 

Zatarain's rice mixes

Fritos corn chips

Bush's pinto beans (but only the pinto beans, for years!)

Hunt's plain tomatoes and Garlic & Herb pasta sauce

Dole pineapple

Clif "high-protein" candy bars

M&M's

Jif peanut butter

While Cheerios, Quaker, and Nature Valley cereal products...tried but failed to meet the need for clean cereal products. For a while Cheerios were celiacs' favorite cereal. Then they were contaminated. Then the plain ones were clean, but the fancy flavors weren't. Now there's another, differently toxic, contaminant causing different patterns of reactions in some people. It's hard to keep up,. Farmers are failing to get with the program. We have to forget all about that stupid old twentieth century greedhead idea of "high input, high yield" monocropping and start rotating crops, relying on hand cultivation and working with naturalk predators to control nuisance species, in other words going back to farming the way people did before about 1930. It's a long road. Farmers might as well start sooner than later. Whenever they start, there will always be a price toi pay for having poiisoned land with "pesticides." 

(When I started doing Glyphosate Awareness chats my intention was to cut farmers some slack with regard to the "pesticides" they were not spraying directly onto food, but yes, farmers, you have to break those addictions too. Vicious Spray Cycles really do make harmless nuisance species into major menaces to crops. And yes, I know it's hard. I watched my father do it in the 1970s. Years we could plant acres of corn, beans, tomatoes, potatoes--crops that traditionally do well in our part of the world--and hardly have a fresh-picked meal for ourselves, let alone a crop to sell...I'm sorry. If you'd taken the plunge in the 1970s you'd have had time to adjust by now.)

We still don't have a glyphosate ban but things are so much better than they were a few years ago, as food manufacturers are observing the bottom-line benefits of keeping glyphosate out of the food supply. Even store brands of corn, peas, and green beans are likely not to have had glyphosate sprayed on them these days. Coconut, which I avoided for many years, is available (in "good" expensive brands) in a clean, edible condition. Pricey specialty foods, not available in all the big-chain supermarkets and certainly not competitively priced when they are available...aren't as much more likely to be glyphosate-free as those who pay for them have a right to expect. 

Frankly, this web site's mission is not to promote pricey specialty foods, even though some of them are being made by entrepreneurs like Grandma Bonnie Peters. This web site is not elitist. This web site expects its readers to think for themselves, educate themselves, read and do research, as the elite do; it does not expect them to spend money as only the rich can. I'm not rich and I don't expect most of my readers are either. The readers I can picture in my mind are mostly in the 15-to-25-year-old age bracket, in which, traditionally, Americans think there's something wrong if someone does have a lot of money. I have seen some specialty foods that claimed to be glyphosate-free, and I'm all in favor of that, but I've never seen the actual foods even offered in a store. 'S up with that? Clif Bars came out of these years as a popular brand that is now in most big-chain supermarkets and even some local convenience store, so they're on the list now, although in 2019 I thought of them as a specialty item. Other brands failed to cross that line.

So, yes, the food brands endorsed here are mostly owned by the evil Blackrock corporation. I regret that. Food that the average American can look for just is owned by Blackrock and we have to deal with that, for the time being, although it's certainly something we want to change. I'm all in favor of food that people can buy from trusted local organic farmers but I have no way of knowing who their trusted local organic farmers might be. Probably those people sell only to a list of friends, or at most to a local farmers' market, and don't want their names on the Internet.

Meanwhile, as this web site has noted, some food manufacturers have reacted tot he COVID panic and the resulting economic mess in the tackiest, most disgraceful way--raising prices, lowering quality, and reducing the amount of product sold for the same price. 

We can thank those who bought into the anti-soda-pop hysteria, fed by the wine companies but actually originating from those who wanted to raise the prices of Coca-Cola and Mountain Dew, for the fact that one litre of an overadvertised flavor of soda pop now costs (a) more than twice as much as two litres of the same brand cost in 2020, and (b) often three times as much as a local, less advertised brand of soda pop that may taste better anyway. So long, Coke, it's been good to know ya...now anybody who has any sense is drinking RC Cola, or maybe Frostie. Those who refuse Mountain Dew may be few, but their number is increasing., Last week I went back into the store that had the big sale on Mountain Dew, where I'd bought the bottle that relieved the cramps after this year's round of Norwalk Flu. After the sale they still had the same sad, dusty-looking bottles of Mountain Dew on the same shelf. 

But even our President called out some brands for shrinking the product and raising the price. Not counting soda pop. Left-wingnuts officially don't count soda pop as food. Left-wingnuts know that people are more likely to vote for proven-to-fail left-wing ideas under the influence of alcohol. 


It's an old post but it contains a useful graphic illustrating the List of Shame:

Breyer

Doritos

Gatorade

Keebler

Oreo 

Pepperidge Farm

Tostitos

Turkey Hill
 
Wheat Thins

Some of these brands used not to belong to Blackrock, or even Con Agra. Some of these brands used to be some of our favorites, or our parents' favorites. My elders bought a Pepperidge Farm cookbook and talked about that being a good brand...well it was a good cookbook

Turkey Hill deserves a special extra bash, here. Whoever is currently running that company should not be making decisions about which color shirt to put on. It should be prison-issued. Selling smaller boxes of Turkey Hill ice cream is minor. Pulling the more interesting flavors off the shelves, showcasing the flavors derived from some combination of corn syrup and coal tar, would...qualify Turkey Hill to be on the List of Shame, but not to be specially called out. But, as mentioned earlier at this web site, Turkey Hill did not just stick with making ice cream flavored with corn syrup and coal tar (the fake fruit flavors containing no actual fruit, or nuts or chocolate or even vanilla). They went on producing the flavors that you can tell contain real ingredients, the actual nuts and chocolate chunks and so on, but they embedded the nuts, chocolate, dried fruit particles, etc., in a matrix of vanilla ice "cream" that is no longer based in actual cream, but in ANTIFREEZE. 

Seriously.

If you put a carton of Turkey Hill vanilla "ice cream" into the fire, which is probably the best place for it, it won't explode but it will burn brightly once the cardboard ignites. Real ice cream is wet and will stop the cardboard igniting until it's baked dry, which takes several minutes. Turkey Hill vanilla will actually, once it heats up, send up flames.

If you left a carton of Turkey Hill vanilla "ice cream" on the floor, not that I recommend this, but if you wanted to save the cost of paying the vet to euthanize an old sick dog...

President Biden's special partiality to ice cream, often pale-colored ice cream that looks likely to be vanilla...is probably not an issue. I'm sure the White House staff have put an embargo on Turkey Hill, which used to be marketed in Washington, only twenty years ago, as an independent farmers' product, full of Mennonite farm goodness. "Your minimum daily requirement of Lancaster County," they advertised to people who drove up to Lancaster County every month. And now...feh. The Mennonite farmers of Lancaster County are too peaceable to do this, but somebody ought to run the Turkey Hill "people"--if they are human--all the way across the New York state line. Lancaster County is too decent a place to be associated with an abomination like this.

No information is available about whether unsold Turkey Hill "vanilla ice cream" has been delivered to the DC inner city schools and, if so, whether it's killed any students yet.

There are a few Turkey Hill flavors that are still ice cream--probably slower-moving flavors left over from last summer, before they started using propylene glycol as a primary ingredient--and this web site recomends not buying those either. Let the fools on the Turkey Hill brand drown in their unsold slop. They don't deserve a penny of your money, or anyone else's. They don't deserve to be able to get any kind of money, ever again. Let them eat antifreeze.

New Book Review: Mrs Moto Meows About Murder

Title: Mrs. Moto Meows About Murder 

Author: Ellen Jacobson

Date: 2023

Publisher: Ellen Jacobson

Quote: "Are all your humans out of the room?"

This is a cozy, comical, cute animal-detective story. With a little help from two friendly dogs, Mrs. Moto, the pretty Japanese Bobtail cat on the cover, fnds out who "murdered" (tore to pieces) her favorite catnip mouse toy and, along the way, who stole the cash out of the cash register/ 

This one might be too silly even for fans of Mrs. Murphy, or then again, because the crimes and their solution are kid-sized, it might be a great story to share with a fourth grade student. Or class. It's a short, funny, cheerful little story. 

Butterfly of the Week: Ludlow's Bhutan Glory

Even rarer than Bhutanitis lidderdalii are the three other species in the genus Bhutanitis. Bhutan claims only one of the four species as its national butterfly, and lidderdalii isn't it. Lidderdalii is found in other countries as well as Bhutan. Bhutanitis ludlowi is found, to the extent that it's found at all, only in Bhutan as a resident. It has been believed extinct. It is still a grear rarity. It's been called the "holy grail" species for butterfly watchers to find.


Photo by LC Goh.

Ir'a been celebrated on a postage stamp.


If not the first, the second living human known to have seen this butterfly alive has a Blogspot blog.


Because ludlowi is so rare, trafficking in its dead bodies is illegal, but that is not stopping trafficking from taking place online--at least in theory. (As collectors pointed out with regard to lidderdalii, people may pay high prices for butterfly carcasses they'll never see.) Search engines are not responsible for people who choose to conduct illegal business online, but did Google really have to sell the carcass traffickers a sponsorship

Again, some people who are interested in conservation of Swallowtail butterflies think the best strategy is to sell "collectors" on the idea of having perfect specimens that were reared in captivity and killed upon eclosion. In this group we find, for instance, Zhengyang Wang, whose studies of Asian butterflies this web site has cited before.


Others favor the happier and more modern idea of shifting butterfly watchers' interest to seeing living butterflies and, if lucky, collecting good clear pictures that preserve a moment of interaction between living human and living animal. This web site is in the latter group, partly because I remember "collecting" a few moth and butterfly specimens--not rare, but beautiful, including Luna moths and Monarch butterflies, all of whom had died of natural causes--and being dismayed, and disgusted, by the speed at which they turned into nasty blobs of dust that attracted tiresome little beetles. The beetles that eat butterfly carcasses are a different species in the same family with common carpet beetles.

Nothing but corporate greed can be said to eat beautiful butterfly photos. Mold won't grow on them, nor do they have an odor, at least unless they're printed with smelly ink. They don't take up much space, either, even when printed. Your family can't complain if you collect digital pictures of butterflies. If you stored them electronically on a device the greedheads decided to make obsolete, they'll be lost, but there are ways to deal with that.

In any case, anyone collecting butterfly carcasses should be aware that, unless you are an official government-managed museum engaged in well-regulated trade with another official government-regulated museum, buying or selling Bhutanitis carcasses is illegal. The bodies can be confiscated and you can be fined for trafficking in them. Although most butterflies fly for only a few weeks and then donate their bodies to whatever finds them, it's hard to prove that you did not kill a living butterfly when you have its body, so you could in theory have to pay a large amount of money for picking up a body that you personally saw fall out of the air and die of old age.

And, meanwhile, "ecotourists" who want to admire and photograph living creatures are likely to be a nicer, cleaner grade of tourists than usual, something the modest and tidy people of Bhutan can appreciate. Ecotourists are likely to appreciate cultural traditions, and not to complain that only a sustainable number of them are able to visit the habitats of rare lifeforms that might be harmed by too much contact with exotic humans and the germs we carry. Total win-win.


Bhutan is the home of a fantastic number of butterfly species, for its size. As a country it has other interesting features--mountains, Golden Langur monkeys, a child monarch. The old King provided for a peaceful transition to a democratic form of government but the tradition-loving people, like the British, still like the idea of having a king, so the King they have now is currently eight years old and said to be able to perform his ceremonial duties with a precocious solemnity, suited less to his age than to his station in life. Many other things in Bhutan are unique or nearly unique to Bhutan, and people in Bhutan aren't shy about hoping to find evidence of even more unique endemic subspecies.


If you ever go to Bhutan you will want field guides to the wildlife there. To be able to recognize all the beautiful things we see on a nature walk (even when we are close to home, and the wildlife is familiar) really takes a suitcase full of field guides. As this free-for-the-printing field guide to the Swallowtail butterflies of Bhutan observes, about 800 different kinds of butterflies are known to live in Bhutan. One book has room for nice clear pictures of the 42 of those species that are Swallowtails.


So what does this very rare, special, protected butterfly look like? Well...it looks a great deal like lidderdalii. One thing we learn from searching the Internet for information about ludlowi is that writers and photographers aren't always sure which species they're talking about. Lidderdalii is the Bhutan Glory. Ludlowi is Ludlow's Bhutan Glory, properly. Not all sources are proper about this.

Older sources didn't even make a distinction. Frank Ludlow didn't prove that ludlowi could be considered a distinct species until the 1930s, and it was not as if a lot of museums had a lot of specimens that needed to be relabelled when ludlowi was recognized as a species. Then "pesticide" spraying became common, several living things became less common than they'd been, and it was 2009 before anyone could prove beyond all doubt that ludlowi survived in the remote Trashiyangtse valley in Bhutan. (It had been reported in China, but was not confirmed to be living there.)


Photo from conservationleadershipprogramme.org shows that males and females look very much alike; the easiest way to tell which a butterfly is is to see whether or not it lays eggs. Females are usually a little larger, but the relatively few butterflies meausred have not varied much in size, all with wingspans of 4 to 5 inches. 

Butterflies probably don't know that humans have defined international borders. The general rule with moths and butterflies is that females fly wherever they find suitable places to lay eggs, and males fly wherever they find females. (Swallowtails sometimes do things differently. In some, not all, Swallowtail species, females are ready to mate right after eclosion while males take a few days to hang out with other males and develop spermatophores, and females flutter around the edges of males' territories, watching their prospective mates grow up.) When their food plant and weather conditions are found on both sides of a border, so are the butterflies. Ludlow's Bhutan Swallowtail probably does visit China, and has also been found in India: If it is not molested and finds unsprayed Aristolochia vines growing up uncut flowering trees, it may become resident in those countries. 


In 2020 it was found in Phrumsengla National Park. Though shown sipping nectar from low-growing summer asters, it's still flying at about 3,300 metres above sea level--more than a mile high! All species of Bhutanitis are such high flyers that ludlowi is sometimes called the "Mystical" species, the idea being that humans enter "mystical" states of hypoxemia when we visit its habitat.

Every source seems to spell the place name differently. One word or two? Trashi or Trasi? Yangse, Yangtzee, Yangsi, Yangtsi? The most correct spelling wouldn't use our alphabet so there seems to be no consensus. It's a scenic nature preserve in eastern Bhutan, and the presence of this rare butterfly was taken into consideration during discussions about allowing farmers to raise buckwheat in or near the preserved land. This blog post was written during the period of discussion, in 2012.


Since few people are able to visit the nature preserve where this butterfly lives, a video recording of the highlights of a visit has done fairly well on Youtube:


What made ludlowi a distinct species is that, while living in the same general area and eating the same species of Aristolochia, it consistently looks different--though only slightly different--from lidderdalii. Its wings are broader, and the pinstripes are grey rather than white. Its life cycle has been studied in detail by Tshering Dendup et al.:


In the earlier stages of life ludlowi are even more distinctive: eggs are paler in color and tend to be laid in piles, and hatchling caterpillars are yellow rather than blackish. The differences seem to matter to the butterflies; they're not known to hybridize. In both species the mother butterfly perches on the edge of a leaf and carefully places a batch of eggs, by ones, on the underside. Ludlowi covers a pile of eggs with a transparent sticky layer that helps hold the pile together. 


While other Bhutanitis eggs are laid in small flat clusters of 20 to 50, ludlowi are laid in a pyramidal pile of 60 to 140. Eggs are smaller than those of the other species. Caterpillars are apparently more gregarious. Larval lidderdalii line up wide by side to nibble at the edge of a leaf while they're small enough to fit on one leaf, which continues to grow while they chew it up. Once the caterpillars grow a little bigger, they go their separate ways. Larval ludlowi separate into smaller groups as the caterpillars grow bigger, but seem to feel safest with at least one side touching a sibling all through their caterpillar lives. 

Hatchlings of this species do eat their own eggshells. There their appetite seems to stop. They do not go on, as some shell-eating caterpillars do, to eat nearby eggshells with their younger siblings still inside them. A time-lapse video showed that hatchling caterpillars approached and touched intact eggs, apparently heard or felt siblings inside, and left the eggs alone. This might seem like basic survival intelligence but it's closer to real survival intelligence than many Swallowtail caterpillars get. Small slow-moving animals can get a lot of survival benefit from sticking together, camouflaging themselves as something large, amorphous, and probably not edible. 

Caterpillars eat their way through eight skins, each creatively ugly in a slightly different way. The general idea seems to be to look like something already rejected from the body of a very sick bird. The caterpillars are, in fact, toxic to birds. They start out amber-yellow with big black heads, then molt into light gray and then darker gray skins with red-orange warts. 

Bhutanitis ludlowi can pupate for long times. A brood being cage-reared under normal weather conditions remained in the pupal form for 188 days. They can take their time developing through each of the other stages of their lives, too, so that the whole life cycle can be over in six weeks or can last two years. In laboratory conditions that seemed optimal for survival, they spent a little over five months being caterpillars, a little over six months pupating, and about two weeks flying, mating, and laying eggs. Eggs took two or three weeks to hatch.

They have few predators but a kind of snail and a kind of spider are able to eat them, and are most likely to attack helpless pupae. Some ants, wasps, and mantids also survived eating individuals of this species, according to this illustrated report.


Even more illustrations, perhaps more than you want, including close-up photos of tail ends::