In Which We Get Lost Finding Butterflies

Marlon (above) reacts to having his picture taken. Three students and I (below) in official CR Biker Bike Club Ussie before ride.

Ride 2 of the MMU Bike Club: Marlon expresses his displeasure at having his photo taken, and then organizes our small crew for the photo.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“We are going wherever you lead us,” Marlon answers.

So, instead of going south along Cedar Lake, I take the three students north on the Cedar River Trail. We are supposed to return to campus by close to 5, so it can’t be a long ride. Along the way, at a construction zone, I accidently turned into a street rather than the trail, so for about 10 seconds, they proved the folly of following my leadership as we were briefly lost. Still, the trail was never out of sight, and the point was to ride, right? There were perhaps a few sarcastic remarks as we made pointless parking lot loop, but I consider that all fair comment.

Then, at 42nd Street, I ask if we turn around or push on to go to Noelridge Park.

“We push on,” Marlon answered. “We’ve only been riding for 15 minutes.”

He is a man of few words, but they do work.

We rode on. I was on Clarence, my commuting hybrid bicycle, while they were on the heavier, older hybrids or mountain bikes owned by MMU. I was pushing it a bit, and asked if they liked the speed. They were fine. Those youngsters on their heavy, slow, old bikes have no trouble keeping up with an oldster on a much lighter, faster bike.

Well, there must be a reason CR Biker rides bike tours but never a bike race.

Anyway, we continued north until the side street that leads to the back end of St. Pius X. We went to the next short street just south of the church that cuts over to the north end of Noelridge—I was taking them, as a destination, to the city flower gardens.

The young woman on the ride, a local, had been there before, but not the two men. They did enjoy the flower beds. However, I wasn’t aware of the Monarch breeding area, and the woman with us was, so when she pointed them out we rolled across the grass to go see them.

On Cedar River Trail heading north. Besides mocking me for getting them lots, students noted I was often not pointing camera at them--it's not easy to shoot over your shoulder while riding a bike. This one worked.

At Noelridge Park. If you look at upper part of picture, you can see butterflies undergoing metamorphosis.Student (below) takes unofficial Bike Club Ussie.

And, they were very cool. They are mesh shelters protecting clumps of Milkweed plants used to breed butterflies. At first, I didn’t notice any butterflies—and it was the woman with us who again had to point out the sight—she noted the multitude of chrysalises hanging from the tops of the shelters.

Hmmm. It puts the bug back in my ear. Milkweed planting time is later in the fall just before the ground freezes, in this climate—I think it is time to revive the MMU pollinator garden project. Maybe we can get seeds in the ground this year…

Anyway, we headed back to campus. This second  club ride was shorter—about 8 miles, compared to the 15-mile ride the club took last week, but we needed to get back earlier, too.

Ride 2, I think, was very nice, butterfly nice. And now I have a cool idea for a project to try to sell to the club …

Sun streaming down on our way back to campus. Nice afternoon for a ride!

In Which Gender ID Proves Difficult at 12 mph

Beautiful blue sky and perfect weather made this a day to ride. My sister and I did a bit over 55 miles today, a decent RAGBRAI practice day. Here and below, images on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail north of Hiawatha and and Robins. Lot of traffic on the trail today.

Up until today, this summer’s bike rides have been missing one of the common, pretty sights of this season in Iowa.

There have been no Monarch Butterflies. I thought I was sort of imagining it, and then I read a story Friday in The Gazette. For some reason, they have not posted a link to it, although it was in the paper, but the story reported that, after a rough winter, the diminished Monarch population is spreading north much more slowly than normal this year—and have just started being seen in our area of the state.

So, on the Cedar River Trail just beyond Cedar Lake near the Quaker Oats plant, when I saw a Monarch flit by this afternoon, I did a quick stop. “Monarch break!” I shouted at my sister who was biking with me.

But she (the butterfly, not the sister) was too quick and my point-and-shoot digital camera too slow. Ms. Monarch got away, no picture taken. Monarchs are easy to spot, with their distinct size and orange color, and if you see one well enough to glimpse the back wings well, you can sex them quickly. If the back wings each has a visible, sizeable black irregular dot that would send you to the dermatologist if you saw it on your arm (the spot, not the butterfly, which would simply be a thrill to see on your arm), you are dealing with a male. No extra back blotches means female.

Milkweed near Cedar River Trail between Quaker Oats and Cedar Lake--actually, on the shores of the south finger of the lake. It was in this area that I saw a Monarch, but failed to catch its picture.

Ms. Cedar Lake was sans dots, hence a girl. My elation at finally seeing a Monarch was only slightly diminished by not having caught its image—mostly, I was just glad to see you, madam. Now, go find a boy butterfly and make some fertile eggs, please. We have plenty of Milkweed just waiting for your babies to munch.

Anyway, back to the biking. This was the second of two rides, today. The morning started with a breakfast date, in which my wife and I met my sister and her wife at Riley’s. Then, my wife, sister and I want on a ride of about 12 miles or so out to the trail at Lowe Park in Marion. I rode my new hybrid bike for this ride, and about 11 a.m., stopped at home to swap the new, as yet nameless bike, for Argent. I wanted to ride the longer ride today on my RAGBRAI bike.

My wife bid us a fond adieu, and we, my sister and I, were off. We went south as far as Tait Cummins Park on the Cedar River Trail, and then turned north. Lunch was a bit off trail—we cycled over to Burgerfeen. The first butterfly incident was before lunch.

Trained for RAGBRAI lunches by eating burgers here for lunch.

It wasn’t going to be the last. When we got to the north part of Hiawatha, just a little south of the Boyson Road trailhead, another Monarch crossed our path. My sister noticed it first (I don’t think she saw the Cedar Lake one) and pointed it out, but it was gone before I got my camera unzipped.

I could see it was a Monarch, but it also flitted by too quickly for me to identify the gender.

“I was going to say something about how difficult it is to sex Monarchs at 25 mph, but I decided it wasn’t appropriate,” my sister said.

True. It would have been totally inappropriate, because we were only going 12 mph.

We rode up to Lafayette, and while we rested there before the return journey—the gorgeous afternoon was getting warm enough to feel a bit toasty to bikers—the next incident took place. Another Monarch flitted by, again too quickly for gender identification and too quickly for me to unlimber my camera. I had to be content with a blurry image of a Cardinal that was yelling at some other Cardinal in the distance.

Cardinal in an Oak at Lafayette, yelling at some other distant Cardinal, heard but not seen. Cool, true, but not a Monarch Butterfly.

And so our ride was coming to an end. It was a gorgeous ride. I thoroughly enjoyed the morning outing with my wife, and also the second, longer RAGBRAI training ride with my sister.

No picture of a butterfly? No matter—I saw them, there are a few that have finally made it to Iowa, and I hope everyone is planting Milkweed this summer.

And then we got to the woodsy area just south of the Boyson Road trail head. And in the same spot as before, a butterfly decided to put in an appearance. I yelled, stopped, and got out my camera.

Monarchs are not particularly shy creatures. They have distinct coloring because they are meant to be seen—their youth, spent gorging themselves on the mildly toxic Milkweed plant, gives them a taste that birds hate, so being seen by birds who should know that this particular bright patch of protein is not worth the eating, is part of their identity. They don’t try to hide. But they are also quick, strong flyers. Trust me—I’ve been paced by a Monarch while I’m riding down the trail at 15 mph. They can move.

But there was some Milkweed by the trail that our Ms. Butterfly was apparently interested in, just long enough for me to get a few quick images before she flitted off. That butterfly can sure flutter by.

She wasn’t drinking, which would have distracted her more and kept her in one place longer and allowed me to get better images, but at least you can see her.

Welcome, Monarchs. May we see you and your kin next week on RAGBRAI. I’ll watch for the stands giving away Milkweed seed bombs and heave a few for you, if I can. Photos:

Look in the lower part of the image, center. And below, a blow up of that area of this photo.

Lady monarch on Milkweed leaf.

And again.

In Which an Indifferent Deer Roams

These MMU students presented a research report on Monarch butterflies. It made me want to plan some milkweed on campus.

Hyacinth at Noelridge Park.

Today turned into a bike adventure day.

First of all, I attended a poster presentation event as part of Mount Mercy University’s “Scholarship Day.” One of the posters was about Monarch butterflies, and it got me thinking again about my “bikers for butterflies” concept.

I am taking part, I hope, in an MMU Bike Club ride tomorrow—I am still hoping to get the club to consider planting milkweed in a butterfly garden on campus as a service project, and maybe to get involved in an effort to plant milkweed along bike trails around Cedar Rapids and beyond.

Butterfly women, are you interested, too?

Crab apple at Cedar Lake.

I was on campus a bit later than usual because my wife began teaching a men’s health class, and I was her opening day guest speaker. My topic was the image of men in the media. I managed to use a Tom Petty music video to make a point. Or get to the point. Or roll another joint. You don’t know how it feels to be me.

Crab apple at Noelridge Park.

Anyway, it was getting on towards 7, with the sun low in the sky, as I straddled Francis and headed out. It was such a pretty, sunny late afternoon that I headed to the trail and went south, first, to ride around Cedar Lake. And there, just for your viewing pleasure, I snapped some photos.

Cedar Lake and moon.

Then I headed north, but before going directly home, I diverted to go down the Lindale Trail to the Boyson Trail—my aim was to get to the other side of the Bowman Woods hill so that I could ride up it for RAGBRAI training.

And I snapped a few more photos—sunset along the trail and a deer that, despite popping out of the woods as the sun slipped over the horizon, was still in enough light to be captured. It did not seem concerned by me or Francis—it was an indifferent deer, out for an early evening snack, which it enjoyed maybe 20 yards from me.

If it had a bike, I’m sure it would have ridden it. Because it was that nice of an early evening, a good time to spend on a bicycle.

Deer along Boyson Trai.

Sunset along Boyson Trail.

Noelridge Park crab apple.

In Which I Have A Brilliant Plan

Sunday sunset on Cedar Lake.

Well, blog pals, I’ve had a busy Weekend. On Sunday, I did a lot of yard work and went to a daughter’s house for a fun family barbecue—and then, around 7, left for a late ride along the Cedar River Trail.

I rode The Beast because Francis suffered a flat tire Saturday night when I rode north to Schultz Road along the Cedar Valley Nature Trail.

Anyway, Sunday’s sunset on Cedar Lake was grand, but I caught a flash of light as I circled the lake. It was dim by then, and I was running with lights on—so I thought maybe the flash was simply an optical illusion, a trick caused by my own front flashing white light. It couldn't be lightening.

It was lightening. There was more as I returned north. The good news is that the Cedar River Trial has been resurfaced around Cedar Lake and is open again. The bad news is that rain started to pelt down before I make it home, which made me glad I was on The Beast. I don’t worry as much at getting the winter beater bike wet, and The Beast has nice wide tires to grip damp asphalt. Luckily, I made it home before the rain really got heavy, so I was only damp, not drenched. Even luckier, the lightening had been off in the distance and didn't kill me. I prefer it that way.

Anyway, my plans today were more ambitious. You may recall I've toyed with the idea of doing the Karras Loop for the first time during RAGBRAI this year. That would make for a 105-mile day. I wanted to put in some serious miles today to see if I could possibly ride that far.

But, what with one thing and another—a failed attempt to get my bike computer working (I think it’s permanently dead) and a successful, but time consuming, attempt to change the front flat and install a new water bottle holder—it was about 11 a.m. before I finally headed out.

I took the new traffic light route Cate showed me to cross Center Point and hit the trail, then turned north and rode. It was warm and muggy, but gorgeous. I had several snacks and some sports drink tablets with me, so I thought maybe I would make it to Urbana.

I wouldn't. I snacked first in Lafayette, then headed north to Center Point. My plan was to eat lunch there, and then head farther north. But when I go there, my lunch wasn't with me. In a middle-aged memory moment, I had left my lunch box on a picnic table in Lafayette.

Well, plans changed. As I headed back south, I was really hoping the lunch box was there—I wanted that honking huge peanut butter and Nutella sandwich that I had packed.

When I got close to Lafayette, my heart sank a bit—I could see there was no lunch box on the picnic table I had used. But then, I noticed the fence. Someone had seen that a lunch box had been left at Lafayette, and had placed it on the fence. All my stuff was there—my snacks were intact.

Happy days, Dawson. My munchies are on a fence.

So I munched my PB&N as I contemplated the brilliant plan that I had also been thinking of on the hungry trek south from Center Point.

It has to do with butterflies. According to a recent article in The Gazette, there are efforts afoot to aid the ailing Monarch Butterfly by planting more milkweed—but one of those efforts is to put milkweed in natural flower plantings along roads.

Which sounds OK, but Monarchs, which are avoided by birds because they taste terrible, apparently, are often killed by cars.

A butterfly I saw today.

My brilliant plan was prompted by the fact I had just seen a Monarch beside the trail. It also may be related to the caterpillar on a milkweed plant I had seen during the recent Tour the Raccoon ride near Des Moines.

Instead of planting more milkweed plants along roads, put milkweed along bicycle trials. Bikers would love to see the butterflies, and bicycles are a low mortality risk for Monarchs. Trust me on this—in 45 years of bike riding, I think I have yet to run down my first butterfly. They can’t move fast enough to avoid an SUV barreling down an interstate at 70 mph, but can easily flit away from a 15- to 20-mph bicycle.

Maybe bike groups could join the cause. Maybe I could talk the Green Club at MMU into sponsoring a mile of milkweed plantings. Maybe I could form a new group: “Bikers for Butterflies” or “Pedals for Flowers” or “Gears Aiding Monarchs” or something like that. Are you in?

Milkweed along trail north of Lafayette.

Of course, it’s possible that the few milkweed I saw on the trail represent deliberate planting that is already underway. If so, great. If not—well, let’s get those milkweed in the ground. We need to encourage more Monarch sex—and not among English nobility.

It was a hot day. I don’t know how efficient the organ between my ears was being. But the idea seemed hopelessly appealing to me—and still seems like a good one although, to be fair, I’m sitting at my laptop after consuming two beers, so maybe that has something to do with the brilliance of the plan.

Anyway, after recovering my snack pack, I continued south. I stopped at a bike shop in downtown Cedar Rapids, and used two gift cards I’d received at MMU to buy a back bag for my back rack. The list price of the bag was $50, but after the gift cards, I only owed the tax, which was $3.50. A pretty good deal, if you ask me.

I’m just over 1,500 miles for the year. I credited myself with 45 for today, but may have ridden more or less (dead computer, my mileage figures now are rough estimates). The rear bag will be helpful on RAGBRAI and useful during the school year, I think.

Still, the main thing I’m thinking about from recent rides is butterflies. And bike trails. A good mix?

Installed new water bottle holder before ride, and purchased back bag late in the afternoon. I may need more training, but Francis is pretty much RAGBRAI ready.