How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
Satchel Paige
I like the sentiment behind it: age is just a number. If you expect to be a certain way because the calendar says you should, well, it will probably be self-fulfilling. Instead, let’s take the saying “Act your age!” and turn it upside-down: “Your age is how you act”.
Of course, this can sometimes lead to trouble. My brain keeps thinking I’m in my 20s, and tries to make my body do things the way I did then. I end up paying a price later on in the form of very sore joints. So even when I act like I’m in my 20s, my body brings me back to reality. The same is true for some other biological realities, such as bearing children, but for the most part, your age doesn’t control what is possible.
So if you were to find out that your birth certificate was a forgery, and your real age is different, what would you guess it to be? I know that for myself and others who I have asked, it’s always younger. So why get hung up on a trick of the calendar? Go ahead and live as fully as you can, and don’t dwell on that number.
I was very excited when I discovered the huge crop of Eastern Black Swallowtail eggs a few weeks ago, but at the same time I also knew that that would mean having to deal with several caterpillars that wouldn’t make it all the way to adulthood. There can be many reasons caterpillars die: poison/insecticides, virus/bacterial infection, or just a genetic fault.
A healthy crop of caterpillars!
I took the photo above after changing the food supply and water for one of the enclosures. Those critters strip the rue and parsley pretty quickly, and many of their droppings end up in the glass. I also change the paper towels at the base of the enclosure, as it is also littered with caterpillar poop and pieces of the plants. I count at least 13 caterpillars in that shot; there are probably a few more hidden on the other side.
But when I clean out the enclosure, I often find several caterpillars on the floor of it, unresponsive. I remove them to a separate container, in case they are infected. A couple of days ago, I gathered 6 such sad critters from the two enclosures.
I puts bits of food in front of them to see if they start munching, a sign that they are still healthy. In the photo above, both #1 and #4 eventually “woke up” and began eating, so I returned them to the enclosure with their siblings.
#2 didn’t look very good at all. In the 15 minutes between when I placed them on the paper towel and when I took the photo, it had oozed a blackish liquid. It did twitch for a little while, but was soon dead.
#3 just looked deformed. I don’t know if it had some disease or a genetic fault, but it didn’t last long after this.
I had some hope for #5 and #6, as they are in the “J” shape that that swallowtail caterpillars form themselves before shedding their skin to become a pupa. They were smaller than pre-pupas typically are, but these little guys have surprised me before. I’ve had a few that laid on the bottom of the enclosure like this, and after a couple of days I’d look in on them and they had become chrysalises! They eventually emerged as perfectly normal adult butterflies, so I was hoping that that would be the case for these two. They were both wriggling from time to time, similar to the motion they make when getting ready to molt into a chrysalis.
Unfortunately, it was not to be. #5 turned dark and stopped moving in a few hours. #6 remained twitchy for 2 days before finally dying.
It’s always hard to see these tiny creatures hatch from eggs, and slowly grow bigger and bigger, only to die suddenly for no apparent reason. But it’s part of nature, and it helps to keep in mind that by keeping them away from predators and keeping them well-stocked with food, a much greater percentage do make it maturity. All you can do is your best to help them along.
I don’t much feel like writing at the moment, as I’ve just returned from the dentist, and had a new hole drilled into my upper jaw in preparation for getting an implant to replace a tooth. The numbing agents are wearing off, and my face is starting to throb.
I don’t keep records, but back in college I had several cavities, and being broke, went to the cheapest dentist I could find (cue the rant about American health insurance). Fast-forward to my 30s, and my new dentist told me that all of those fillings were failing, and some had new decay under them. They needed to be replaced, but one in particular would require removing so much material that a new filling wouldn’t be feasible; I would need to get a gold crown. They were really expensive, as insurance only pays a tiny fraction of what they cost (cue another rant). But, they said, gold crowns are permanent! So I got the crown.
Move on to my 50s. When reviewing my x-rays, the dentist said that there was new decay under the crown. “How was that possible?”, I asked, “I thought that crowns were permanent”. Turns out that “permanent” is a relative term, meaning “about 20 years”.
The decay had spread into the tooth’s roots, so I had to also get a root canal before they could replace the crown. Now that should be that!
Jump ahead to a couple of years ago, and my x-rays showed some smoky area in the jawbone where the tooth was located. An infection! Once again, my question was “How was this possible?”. Apparently the root canal didn’t get every single bit of bacteria, and they had now spread into the bone. The only way to treat it was to extract the tooth, surgically remove the infection, let the bone regrow, and then drill into it for the base of an implant to replace the extracted tooth.
So I started down that road. Each step requires months of healing in between. Finally I had the base inserted in my upper jaw for several months, and the x-rays showed it to be solid, so we proceeded with the next step: removing the inner threaded section that will hold the replacement tooth. This is pretty routine, but when the dentist began unscrewing it, I nearly jumped through the ceiling! Oh man, I hadn’t felt intense pain like that before!
Needless to say, that was not normal. It turns out that in a very small percentage of cases, the soft tissue grows faster than the bone, and infiltrates the implant base. This soft tissue is chock full of nerve endings, and when it got caught in the threads it hurt like hell! The only thing to do at that point is remove the entire implant material (after injecting me with lots of anaesthetic!), and start the whole process again.
So that’s where I am today: after several months of bone regeneration, they drilled into it and inserted a new implant base. Now I just need to wait several more months to see if this one is good.
Remember that large collection of butterfly eggs that I found almost 2 weeks ago? They’ve been eating, pooping, and growing non-stop ever since.
For some reason it seems that some grow faster than others. I generally keep the very little ones in a small plastic container with their food, as it helps to keep them from wandering off. But once they get big enough (third instar if we’re being technical), I transfer them to a larger mesh enclosure where I can provide more food, and where they can eventually pupate.
About half of the growing caterpillars outpaced their siblings, and so I transferred them to the larger enclosure first. The rest went into a second enclosure a few days later. Now that first group has grown to the point where they are ready to pupate.
When they’re ready, they stop eating, purge any undigested food from their stomachs, and search for a place to attach themselves to transition to a chrysalis. In the wild they can travel pretty far – when I used to let them grow outdoors, I’ve found their chrysalises attached to plants over 25 feet away. To get to those plants they would have had to crawl down the pot they were in, up a two-foot tall stone wall, and then across the garden to the plant.
Being in an enclosure limits their ability to find an attachment site. Sometimes they climb the enclosure itself and attach to either the sides or the top (as Lazarus did), but that’s not ideal, as it makes it hard for me to attend to the others without disturbing them. So I create what I call a Pupation Station.
The new Pupation Station
They are pretty simple: I find a branch with a Y-shape to provide a stable base, cut sections of branch at a slight angle, and then glue them to the base. Most of the time the wandering caterpillars find it, and choose to transition there. Here is a photo from last year’s crop of caterpillars, where 5 of them attached themselves to the branches:
5 Swallowtail chrysalises
So as I mentioned, the first group has already begun the pupation process. Two of them have purged, and have attached themselves to the ceiling of the enclosure. The rest are looking pretty pudgy, and I suspect that they will soon join them.
2- week-old big fat caterpillars
I took the above photo during a feeding/cleaning session. I remove the bundle of parsley and/or rue from the container of water, and separate the stalks with caterpillars from the rest, which is discarded. I take a bunch of fresh parsley, add the stalks with the caterpillars to it, and tie the base with a rubber band. Meanwhile I empty the glass that holds the water, as it is pretty gross from all the caterpillar poop that drops into it. I’ve started adding some round glass pieces to help prevent the caterpillars from drowning, so those have to be washed too. Then everything is carefully re-assembled and placed back into the enclosure.
Speaking of not drowning, I noticed this morning in the enclosure for the slower-growing caterpillars that one of them was partly submerged.
Saved by the glass pieces!
It looks like it had fallen down from the parsley leaves into the water, but since the glass pieces are there, it was able to crawl back up the stems to continue feeding. It made me very happy to know that I had learned from the bad experience of the past, and that adding those pieces saved a caterpillar from drowning.
Recently an online discussion about film vs. digital photography got me thinking. I absolutely love digital photography, and would never consider going back to film. Sure, it’s really tough to match the richness of color of Kodachrome 64, or the detail and subtle gradation of 4×5 black and white film, but to me, those are not the most important things when creating art. Those considerations are more like a measure of craftmanship than critical elements for conveying an idea.
However, I am so grateful that I grew up in the age of film photography because of the discipline it instilled in me. Every time you pressed the shutter button, you were spending money. Period. Contrast that to today, where images cost nothing: take a bunch of bad shots, who cares? Click the little trash can icon, and they’re gone. Doesn’t cost a cent.
If you were a poor, struggling student, as I was at the time, buying film was a good chunk of what was left of your money after paying for rent, food, and other essentials. So if I saw something interesting to photograph, I didn’t fire away, taking several exposures from a few different angles in the hope that one would be what I needed. Instead, I composed the image in the viewfinder, looking at it from various angles, and through this process learned to recognize what was important for the final image. Most of the time I walked away without taking the shot, because on further reflection, it didn’t seem worth it.
What if I had had lots of money to spend? I believe that I would not have developed the visual discipline that I have today, as there would never have been a need to limit what I shot. Without that discipline, I don’t believe that I would have become as good a photographer. Even today, with all my digital equipment, I still shoot as though every exposure means something.
In general, scarcity forces one to become disciplined. For example, when you grow up in an environment where food is in short supply, you learn not to waste anything, and to only eat enough to keep going. Back in the early days of computing, when both disk storage and RAM were expensive, you coded in a way to ensure that your program would fit into memory, and would require as little space as possible when written to disk. That parsimonious approach resulted in the “640K Ought to be Enough for Anyone” quote that Bill Gates never said, but keeps getting repeated anyway.
There’s something to be said for learning how to get through tough times. It’s a delicate balance, though – too much scarcity can damage you physically and/or psychologically. My mom grew up as one of six kids in a family during the Great Depression, and it definitely left its mark on her. She wasn’t a full-blown hoarder, but she definitely had a hard time throwing things away – “you never know when you might need it!” was her refrain. And we were not allowed to be fussy about the food we were served at mealtimes: you had to eat every bit on your plate before you could leave the table. That experience has had an effect on me, as I really hate to throw food out. Maybe it’s my mom’s voice still echoing in my mind.
