A Watched Pot

Never Boils

Of course that's not true, but for those of us with our eyes on the insect world, it sometimes feels that way. Like watching paint dry (except FAR more exciting), we have been watching caterpillars, desperately hoping to catch one at the moment it becomes a chrysalis.

Change happens slowly and then all of a sudden, it's over. Yesterday afternoon, the signs were all there. While we attempted to illustrate them, the caterpillars were focused on getting high (literally—trying to climb as high as possible), dragging behind them embarrassing toiletpaper-stuck-to-shoe trails of silk.


As soon as we returned them to their tent, they crawled up to the roof. This morning, we arrived to find that three fat ones had hung themselves—butt attached to the ceiling, head down—in the shape of a "J." Mrs. D. spent a good bit of the morning with half her head and a hand lens in the bug tent (it was cute—I wish I had a photo for you). She watched as they wiggled and squirmed, dancing the Transformation Twist! A strange cross between upside-down crunches and a herky-jerky inverted bellydance, it hurts my abdominal muscles just to watch. The next step is that their skin splits open as they shimmy out of it, revealing a shiny new chrysalis! Somehow, this is the moment we always miss.


Ms. A and I spent lunch with our eyes riveted to caterpillar J's, determined to catch them in the act. No skin-splitting shimmy. "Maybe we could rig up some sort of bell system with the caterpillar so that when the skin starts to break open, a bell rings?" mused Mrs. D. "I'm serious," she insisted.



After dismissal, we checked them one more time. "Wait--which one were we waiting for?" Mrs. D. asked. Incredulous, I looked in, and, lo and behold, we missed it again! Five gorgeous green and gilded chrysalises dangling from the roof!
"What I want to know really badly now is how do the caterpillars breathe inside that chrysalis?"--S.M., 1st grade
“What I want to know is how those gold dots get on there and WHY.”—Ms. A


With all the critters in our classroom, Monarchs are not the only ones doing the Metamorphosis Mambo.
"In my Mystery Bug container something new is in there. Probably the old bug went through a transformation into a new bug."--M.M., 2nd grade
Our Mystery Oatmeal Bugs (which everyone has easily identified as mealworms--sadly, this particular lesson was not effectively mysterious this year) have transformed themselves into pupas.

Now those, we've managed to catch in the act. While Mrs. D and I were playing and preparing for worm fun, she opened up the mealworm container to make sure these newly purchased creepy crawlies were still alive. "Oh, come look! Hurry! Hurry! This one's changing right now!" Sure enough.
We've got pupating happening all over the place! Ms. A finally got tired of asking and suggesting and just brought in a silkworm and left it. "Your kids will enjoy watching it!" she promised as she scurried away without it.

Something's in the air in here because as soon as he arrived, he started doing a dynamite little disco dance (or picture one of the zombies at the end of the Thriller video), bobbing back and forth, weaving his cocoon.
Of course, most of this, too, happened while we weren’t looking. We arrived in the morning to find the handiwork of this all-night knitter. (Millions of these little creepy critters' cocoons are boiled down every year to make use of the silk fibers.)

The things that must go on in our darkened classroom when I turn out the lights and go home! Lately, I’ve begun to fantasize that a mirror ball and ABBA music are involved. Caterpillars rip off their skin in a shocking shimmy-shake. And apparently worms, usually underground and unseen, come out to dance!

I’ve got my own worm experiment going—because I was curious. I layered sand and dirt (“like an icecream sandwich,” say the children), topped by chunks of apple, in two containers, and added six worms to one of them.

I naively expected to return the next day to find that the worms had carved tunnels through the layers, mixing sand and soil . . . but change happens slowly.It was several days before we noticed they had tunneled down through sand into a lower layer of dirt at opposite corners. (The children have hypothesized that these separate entrances are for feuding family members.) Our worms were becoming adventurous--prompted, I'm sure, by the raucous caterpillars' bad example.

It turns out worms are not particularly fond of apple chunks. They do, however, enjoy apples sliced into long, shoestring-potato chef-julienned worm treats.
Yes, those will do quite nicely. Apparently, all the best worm eateries are serving them that way. Notice that the apple slices have been dragged to the corners of the bin? We never see them doing this! Are you beginning to understand my visions of "Dancing Queen" worms shuffling apple slices across their dark and dirty dance floor?

We have spent so much time with critters that I received this unique birthday wish from a first grader, "Dear Ms. S., Happy Birthday! Hope you find many bugs!" Awe . . . . . . .

Changes

I'm a little mealworm,
Short and wiggly.
Here's my
antenna,
Cute and jiggly.

Now I am a pupa,
Squat and white.
How did this happen?
I'm a sight.

Now I am a beetle.
What is
this?
I really hate
Metamorphosis.

—John Scieszka, Science Verse

What We're Reading:
Science Verse by John Scieszka
Insectlopedia by Douglas Florian
Animal Poems by John Hollander, Ed.
Beast Feast by Douglas Florian
The Girl Who Loved Caterpillars by Jean Merrill
Jack’s Garden by Henry Cole
The Magic School Bus Meets the Rot Squad