It's no fun having a "hole in one."

A tachinid fly maggot emerges from a monarch caterpillar and slides down a white mucus string. (Photo by Kathy Keatley Garvey)

A hole in your butterfly habitat.

So, here it is September of 2016 and we're at home rearing monarch butterflies as part of our small-scale conservation project to help the declining population. 

The project involves growing several species of milkweed in our pollinator garden, and when we see caterpillars, we "bring them in." We fill a broad-based, narrow-necked Patron tequila bottle with water, add milkweed and 'cats, and tuck the bottle inside a zippered, pop-up mesh habitat (some call it a cage) to protect them from predators (like birds) and parasitoids (like tachinid flies). The butterfly habitat occupies a corner of our kitchen counter.

A tachinid fly nectaring on lavender. (Photo by Kathy Keatley Garvey)

So, one day in September, I think: "Why keep the monarch habitat on our kitchen counter when it's so nice and shady and breezy by the crape myrtle tree in our backyard?"

So, I place the habitat on a wooden bench next to the crape myrtle.  Ah. Mother Nature at its finest. Several caterpillars are in the "J" position (their position before they pupate) and several are chrysalids.

All's right with the world, right? Wrong.

The unexpected happens. The caterpillars begin shriveling.  The chrysalids turn gooey brown. And right before my eyes--I happened to be in the yard at the time--I see tachinid fly maggots "bungee jumping"  from their hosts.  The maggots are sliding down their white mucus strings. Gleefully sliding, I think.

What?

Tachinid flies, you see, lay their eggs inside a living host, such as a monarch caterpillar or chrysalis. They eat the host from the inside out, kill the host, and maggots emerge. They're white at first but darken and harden to the color of coffee beans as pupae. The adult flies emerge, all ready to mate and start the life cycle all over again.

But how did they get into the thinly meshed habitat? How?

It is then that I notice a single, tiny, ragged hole in the netting. And oh, look! Another tachinid fly is trying to slip in.

I photograph Exhibit A, B, C and D; clean the cage with bleach and water; and vow that the butterfly habitat is best inside, not outside.

A hole in one is no fun.

Ready for those June weddings?

Coming to an altar near you...a bride and a groom. "When you marry in June, you're a bride all your life."--Anonymous.

"Look happy," say the wedding photographers as they focus on the bridal couple, and then single out the bride who will be a bride all of her life.

But if you engage in insect wedding photography, you'll find that June is a good month for insects, too. 

Take those tachinid flies. Have you ever focused on them?

Monarch moms and dads--those who rear and release monarch butterflies--hate tachinid "weddings." They hate the bride, the groom, their families, and all future offspring.  It's a hate-hate relationship.

That's because some members of the Tachinidae family are parasitoids, that is, the flies lay their eggs inside a living host (larva). The fly larvae eat the tissue from the inside out, killing the host.

That's good if you're trying to control cabbage white flies, cabbage loopers, alfalfa loopers, fall armyworms, variegated cutworms, codling moths, oriental fruit moths, peach twig borers, obliquebanded leafrollers, omnivorous leafrollers, oriental fruit moths, peach twig borers, pink bollworms and other pests. It's a "natural enemy" thing. See UC Statewide Integrated Pest Management Program.

That's bad if you're trying to rear monarch butterflies. You're appalled when your caterpillar shrivels and dies, and several fly maggots emerge. Or when your brown-stained chrysalis turns to goo, and out pop several maggots.

But back to insect wedding photography. We've never managed to catch tachinid flies feeling a little...uh...well...amorous. This amorous feeling is not mutual; to be honest, I still haven't forgiven them for what they did to our small-scale, rear-and-release monarch project last year. 

Still, as a insect photographer, I consider myself a guest in their habitat. 

So, yes, I walked away. I did. No insects were harmed in the making of these photographs.

Strange thing, nobody ever says "as green as a green bottle fly."

'Cept maybe an entomologist.

You've heard:

• As green as an emerald
• As green as a lizard
• As green as a gourd
• As green as grass
• As green as bottled glass
• As green as it gets

But as "green as a bottle fly" (or blow fly in the family Calliphoridae)?

No. Most people cringe at the very sound.  They associate green bottle flies with their larvae, aka maggots, which eat rotting flesh. These insects lay their eggs in cadaver tissue. At crime scenes, forensic entomologists can determine the time of death by examining the developmental stage of the larvae.

And, of course, maggots are used  medically in maggot therapy (to consume dead tissue around live tissue).

Then there's Maggot Art, coined by a former UC Davis entomology major, Rebecca O'Flaherty. At the annual UC Davis  Picnic Day, children visiting Briggs Hall (home of the UC Davis Department of Entomology and Nematology) engage in Maggot Art, picking up a maggot with forceps, dipping it into non-toxic, water-based paint, and then letting it crawl on a white sheet of paper! Voila! Maggot Art, suitable for framing! (See Bug Squad, "Me and My Maggot."  Some of the young artists get quite attached to the maggots and ask their parents if they can take them home. Of course, the answer is "Yes!"  (Not!) Want to try Maggot Art? Mark your calendar for April 22, 2017 when the 103rd annual UC Davis Picnic Day takes place.

Green bottle flies can also be beautiful. Have you ever seen an emerald green bottle fly sipping nectar from a red flower, such as Lantana? When the light is just right, this little insect can make you say "Wow!"

Plus, it's a pollinator. It gets a little recognition, but not much, during National Pollinator Week.