Never say "pipe down" to a pipevine swallowtail.

It's a butterfly we treasure.

You may have seen it nectaring on your butterfly bush. It's black with blue iridescent upper wings and orange arrowhead-like spots on its inner wings.  

Butterfly expert Art Shapiro, distinguished professor of evolution and ecology at the University of California, Davis, says on his website, Art's Butterfly World, that Battus philenor is "unmistakable and very conspicuous as both a larva and an adult."

So are the eggs. The eggs are red or rust-colored, while the larvae or caterpillars are black with red spots. 

Shapiro describes Battus philenor as "the signature riparian butterfly of our region, occurring along streams in foothill canyons and on the Central Valley floor, essentially everywhere where its only host plant, California pipevine or Dutchman's pipe, Aristolochia californica, occurs."

The butterfly, also nicknamed "blue swallowtail," is found throughout North America and Central America.

"Adults are eager visitors to many flowers, including wild radish, California buckeye, blue dicks, Ithuriel's spear, and Yerba Santa," according to Shapiro. "In summer they regularly nectar at yellow starthisle when there are no native plants in bloom."

"This species is warningly colored and inedible to vertebrate predators," Shapiro writes. "It derives its protection from the toxic aristolochic acids produced by the host, which it sequesters; females even pass these along to the eggs, which are also protected (and are brick red, laid in bunches of up to 20, and quite conspicuous). Eggs are laid only on young, tender, growing shoot tips and the larvae must begin by feeding on these. Initially they feed in groups. As they get larger they scatter and can tackle large, mature leaves. But because these react to feeding damage by becoming more toxic and unpalatable, a larva will feed on a single leaf only for a short time and then has to move on. Eventually most or all leaves end up damaged, but few are badly damaged. The larvae also feed eagerly on the immature fruits, which look like small bananas with fluted edges. In big swallowtail years little if any seed ends up being set."

The adults live about a month.

So, let's enjoy them while we can! We followed this one around on our butterfly bush (Buddleja davidii) this afternoon as the sun dipped low in the sky. Usually, we see only the side view, but this one provided a dorsal view, flashing its colors.

Blue. Brilliant blue. iridescent blue. 

Is any other blue so glorious?

Talk about greed. Talk about gluttony.

How much food does a banded garden spider (Argiope trifasciata) need?

For 30 minutes, we watched a well-fed banded garden spider catch bee after bee in its sticky web that it had cleverly anchored between two lavender plants. It's all about location, location, location! Go where the floral visitors are.

Then it would race toward the struggling bee or hover fly, inject its poisonous venom, and wrap it for later eating.

At last count, there were 20 spider-wrapped prey dangling in its pantry. Build it (a web) and they will come.

Seven deadly sins? Wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy and gluttony? Well, deadly for sure. A predator at work.

Then a smaller spider arrived on the scene and made the fatal mistake of engaging the resident spider. As soon as the intruder touched the banded garden spider, it, too, joined the trophy menagerie. 

Another encounter, another prey, another wrap. 

That's 21.

(Note: See more information on garden spiders on the University of California Statewide Integrated Pest Management (UC IPM) web site.)

Nobody lost their head today.

Oh, in the people world, all across our nation's workplaces, they did. Eyes rolled, tempers flared, outbursts erupted and some angry assailants went into what my ol' journalism professor aptly described as "a blithering rage." Now, there are rages and then there are rages. But there is only one "blithering rage."

But in the insect world, nobody lost their head, at least not in our bee garden.

A gravid praying mantis nestled in the lavender patch suddenly found herself with company. The camouflaged mama-to-be  proved difficult to see: she looked like a cross between a thick brown twig and a dried-up blossom. Her companion, a lean green machine bent on spreading some DNA, approached her. He resembled a thin blade of green grass. Now you see him, now you don't. Where'd he go? Oh, there he is.

The two made quite a couple. A bloated Lady of the Lavender and a young agile Mr. Mantis who could have easily graced the cover of the Gentlemen's Quarterly. 

We watched them for several hours as they moved from the lavender patch to the sedum. Butterflies fluttered overhead, and honey bees nectared from flowers just inches away. The couple ignored them.

We were positive that someone was going to lose his head. A "gotcha" moment. A little extra protein. A healthy ootheca that would not be denied.

It never happened.

The last time we saw Mr Mantis, his head was firmly attached to his body, thank you.

The Monarchs are on the move.

In the late summer and early fall, the Monarchs (Danaus plexippus) head for the California coastline or central Mexico to overwinter.

"Monarchs west of the Rocky Mountains travel to small groves of trees along the California coast," according to Monarchwatch.org. "Those east of the Rocky Mountains fly farther south to the forests high in the mountains of Mexico. The Monarch's migration is driven by seasonal changes. Daylength and temperature changes influence the movement of the Monarch." See map. 

It's a good day when we see a single monarch in our Vacaville, Calif. garden re-fueling for the migration. It's a great day when we see two. It's a super, super wonderful day when we see three. It's a time for cartwheels, handstands and pirouettes.

Only a Monarch can get us that excited. Gulf Fritillaries, Western Tiger Swallowtails, and Anise Swallowtails come close. Mourning Cloaks, Painted Ladies and Acmon Blues? Not so much.

The aptly named butterfly bush  (Buddleja davidii) draws them all, offering nectar they can neither resist nor refuse. Another nectar favorite in our garden is the Mexican sunfllower (Tithonia). 

The female Monarchs are still laying eggs on our milkweed. The result: two chrysalids are hanging in our butterfly habitat container  (purchased from the Bohart Museum of Entomology, University of California, Davis),

Soon, we hope, two more adults will begin that amazing migratory journey to Santa Cruz? Pacific Grove? 

Who knows? Right now they're precious jade-green jewels studded in gold. We can see the outlines of the treasures they hold.