My Balcony Butterfly Queen

It’s one of those blustery March days—warm one minute, chilly the next—and a slight coolness still hangs in the air. I’m nestled on the sofa, coffee in hand, gazing out the window where the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the leaves of the kumquat tree on my balcony.

*I love this kind of cool winter sun,* I think, taking a sip of coffee. *It’s not blazing hot, but delivers a welcome, deep warmth, like a gift in the snow.* I savor the quiet moment.

I get up and slide open the screen door, stepping out onto the balcony to enjoy the plants. My old jasmine bush, which I’ve had for over ten years, has managed to bloom a few early flowers. I lean in, and the delicate, refreshing jasmine scent instantly lifts my spirits.

My gaze drifts over to the kumquat tree, also over a decade old, and I spot them: three caterpillars of varying sizes, located on different leaves, munching away furiously.

*Well, at least the kumquat tree is dense and thriving; they can eat their fill,* I rationalize.

I must confess, I’m terrified of bugs and ants, especially the fuzzy ones. Just looking at a hairy caterpillar is usually enough to give me goosebumps.

Because of this fear, I don’t often prune or tend to the plants myself; my husband, A-Zhi, is the one who waters them. I often joke with friends that any plant that survives on my balcony is basically a "survival of the fittest" type, possessing an iron will to live. I feel a slight twinge of guilt toward the plants as I think this.

“Those look like they are some kind of butterfly larvae,” A-Zhi’s voice says from behind me, as he steps out onto the balcony.

“Really?” I ask.

“They look like it,” he confirms. “Plus, I know butterfly larvae love to eat citrus leaves. See that one? It’s lost its fuzz and turned a smooth, bright green. That’s definitely what butterfly larvae look like.”

I immediately grab my phone and Google “butterfly larvae.” Sure enough, the green caterpillar staring back at me is an Eastern Black Swallowtail larva.

A Race Against Nature

The larvae grow incredibly fast. They eat all day, their bodies ballooning rapidly. As their color deepened to green, the distinct markings of the swallowtail caterpillar became more prominent.

Just one day later, I went back out to check on them. Only one remained of the original three.

*Could the sparrows or other birds that often perch on the kumquat tree have eaten them?* I wondered, sharing my suspicion with A-Zhi when he joined me.

“Most likely,” A-Zhi nodded. “Fat, juicy caterpillars are a delicious feast in a bird’s eyes.”

The lone survivor, meanwhile, had grown plump and still, barely moving.

“I think this one has stopped moving because it’s ready to start pupating,” A-Zhi suggested.

“Oh no! What if it gets eaten by a bird now?” I worried.

Despite my initial fear of bugs, the days of observation had made me fond of this little creature. It was now a cute, plump little thing. I knew what a swallowtail butterfly looked like, but I was so excited to witness the metamorphosis firsthand that I couldn't bear the thought of it being snatched away.

“Why don’t we move it inside for now?” A-Zhi offered. “We can move it back out when it’s closer to emerging.”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” I agreed happily.

A-Zhi found some garden shears, clipped the branch the larva was clinging to, and brought it inside. He pulled out some wide paper tape and neatly secured the branch to the side of a wooden cabinet next to the living room TV.

Pupation and Waiting

The wooden cabinet was perfectly situated. From the sofa, we could look up and constantly check on the larva. It remained motionless on the branch, its markings still strikingly beautiful.

Slowly, I began to notice subtle changes. The larva’s body seemed to shrink and dry out a bit. Having never seen the pupation process, I grew worried.

“Is it turning into a dried-up bug?” I asked A-Zhi nervously.

“I don’t know, but I hope not. We can only keep watching,” A-Zhi, equally inexperienced, could only reply.

*We’ve done what we can to give it a chance,* I thought. *We moved it to safety away from the birds. If it doesn’t make it, then that’s fate.*

A few more days passed. The chrysalis slowly became transparent, and I could faintly see the colors of the butterfly starting to show through.

“Is it about to emerge?” My hope flared up again, mixed with nervous excitement.

“A-Zhi, come here quickly!” I called to him in the room.

He rushed into the living room. “Look! Doesn’t it look like it’s about to break out?” I said excitedly.

“I think so. I better move it back to the balcony,” A-Zhi replied.

He carefully peeled the paper tape off the cabinet, replaced it with a fresh piece, and taped the branch to the tiled wall underneath the balcony railing.

“Taping it here means birds won’t fly down to reach it, ensuring it’s safe during this final stage,” he said thoughtfully.

For the next few hours, A-Zhi and I constantly walked onto the balcony to monitor the chrysalis. It felt like a carefully guarded child.

The Grand Entrance

From noon until night, the chrysalis showed no movement.

After a long night, the first thing I did upon waking was hurry to the balcony. Even though it was safely taped to the wall, being out of sight for hours made me anxious.

*Phew!* I relaxed. The chrysalis was still in its spot, unchanged.

Around noon, A-Zhi noticed something: the chrysalis was vibrating slightly.

“Ai! Hurry! The chrysalis is moving!” he called loudly. “The butterfly looks like it’s about to emerge!”

I ran out to the balcony immediately. It felt like the countdown to a celebratory fireworks display, waiting for the exact moment to cheer. We held our breath.

Slowly, the vibrations grew stronger. Then, a small opening tore in the thin membrane of the chrysalis. As the shaking intensified, the opening grew wider, and a magnificent Eastern Black Swallowtail butterfly burst free.

The Transformation

Its large black wings were patterned with striking patches of crimson and white. It stood regally with its wings folded, looking like an elegant, wealthy queen.

A-Zhi and I exchanged smiles.

“It’s truly beautiful,” I whispered happily.

“It is,” A-Zhi agreed. “It’s amazing to actually see this process.”

After about half an hour, the butterfly’s wings were fully extended and dry. After pausing for a moment longer, it fluttered its wings and soared away, disappearing from sight.

Watching the beautiful figure fly off filled me with pure joy. *I wish it a flight toward a better tomorrow,* I thought.

I went back inside, poured a fresh cup of coffee, and settled back onto the sofa. Outside, the winter sun still shone warmly on the kumquat leaves.

“Ai! I found a few more eggs on the kumquat leaves in the other section!” A-Zhi called out, sounding like an explorer who'd found new land...

Could this be the start of another beautiful encounter?