It’s March in Lodi, California (elevation 52 ft.) and the well-mated matriarch ladybugs from last year are busy feeding and laying eggs. It is here that our story begins.
Two of a large clusters of orange, football-shaped eggs begin to hatch. The tearing and ripping and stretching of the egg cases looks terribly painful and undeniably laborious but it isn’t. It’s just a-day-in-the-life for ladybug larvae. Two tiny little larvae — call them Jeanne and Mary — complete their hatching struggle and venture forth with only each other for support. At this point they’re very small and mostly black in color. And very hungry. Both young ladies are mostly defenseless and uncertainty creeps into their heads. It is quickly discovered, though, that the Lodi farmer’s field where they begin their lives — the one next door to a large packing plant-yields food for our two newborns: aphids. Mary notices them first and begins her voracious feeding. Jeanne, curious, waddles over to Mary and joins her.
“I could do this all day,” Mary says, stuffing her mandibles with young aphids.
“Let’s then,” Jeanne replies, and giggles. The laughter is contagious and Mary joins her.
Things are looking good at the moment. Both ladybug larvae are sated, feeding and living and loving life to the nth degree. Both are growing plump (a good thing to ladybugs), shedding now and then their old, tight-fitting outerwear and their newest, dull black coats are taking on a new pattern of yellow-orange spots. Our girls are growing up.
“I simply love this new design I’m sporting,” Jeanne says.
Mary replies with a smile, “Isn’t it lovely? Do you know what it means?”
“I don’t know,” shrugs Jeanne, “but I’ve been feeling kind of weird the past couple of days.”
“Hmm, I know what you mean. I feel like napping instead of eating,” Mary confides in Jeanne.
“Yes! Exactly.” Jeanne exclaims. “In fact, I think I’m going to curl up and take a nap right here and now.”
“Hold onto that leaf, though,” warns Mary, “so you don’t fall off.”
Jeanne begins to snooze. Mary looks at her sibling through her heavily-lidded compound eyes and decides to curl up next to her and catch some ZZZs herself. A week or more goes by. The girls don’t know it, but this “snooze” is a part of their developmental metamorphosis. They’re pupating.
“Ohmigod!” Jeanne shouts as she spies Mary struggling — struggling once again — out of her sleeping bag-like pupal case. “M-M-Mary. Is that you?”
Mary, still confused with sleep, opens one yet-unseeing bleary eye and croaks in a new, more mature voice, that, yes, it is she. Hearing her own thickened voice wakes her fully, but she still doesn’t really see Jeanne next to her; she’s busy clearing her throat.
“You’ve, um, changed.” Jeanne squawks in her own new voice. This finally gets Mary’s attention.
“I’m no different than y—” Mary stalls with her mouth hung open.
“No, I’m not, I guess,” Jeanne says as she checks out her reflection in a dew drop. “What happened to us?”
“Dunno,” a stunned Mary whispers as she begins to feel her own body, “but you’re sooo pretty now.”
“You, too, Mar,” Jeanne replies. “You’re hard, round and shiny and orange-red with black spots. So cute.”
“And hungry,” Mary adds, “I am sooo hungry-again.”
“Me, too, let’s eat.”
Jeanne and Mary gorge themselves. Content, the girls are still oblivious to a change in the weather. But things are getting warmer in Lodi, and it hasn’t rained in over two weeks. This marks a period in the lives of ladybugs. It’s time to move.
“I’m hot; it’s making me cranky,” Mary says to Jeanne.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Jeanne replies.
“What we need is some rain to cool things down,” Mary comments.
“You know as well as I it’s not going to rain anytime soon,” Jeanne grumbles.
“You’re right. How do we know this?” Mary quizzes, with a puzzled expression on her face.
“I don’t know!” Jeanne snaps, “I’m the stinking Weather Channel. I just know, that’s all.”
“You know what we should do?” Mary offers half-questioningly, “We should consider leav—”;
Broken off in mid sentence both ladies scan their surroundings for the source of a strange fluttering sound. It appears they are not alone, for around them there are hundreds, no thousands, of ladybugs just like them. And they’re taking flight.
At this Mary peeks under her shell then looks up toward Jeanne with an expression of awe in her eyes. Jeanne is doing the same and looks up herself to join Mary’s awed gaze.
“We have wings,” Mary says.
“Uh-huh,” Jeanne mutters, still fascinated.
Both girls unfurl their wings, straightening and stretching them. They both begin to move their wings up and down simultaneously; up and down, up and down. A shocked Jeanne begins to lift off of the leaf’s surface. Moments later, two feet higher, she looks down and doesn’t spot Mary. Worried she calls out. Mary replies from above. Jeanne looks up to see her sister with the biggest smile of her face that she’s ever seen.
“We’re flying,” Mary giggles.
“Uh-huh,” Jeanne replies, “Weeeee!”
The sisters work themselves ever upward, higher and higher, distancing themselves from the-hotter-and-dryer-than-they-can-ever-recall Lodi, California.
As Lodi becomes a mere speck, updrafts and air currents propel the ladies skyward and somewhat inland. They pass over Folsom, California and then Repressa, the site of a sprawling, secure-looking complex which must be the infamous Folsom State Prison. The elevation of the prison is 250 feet above sea level, so even though the girls seem to be on a steady plane in relation to the ground below, they’re are still climbing.
Some time passes before the girls notice a thinning and cooling of the air. They float-fly over Auburn, California (elevation 1000 feet). Up ahead, twinkling beams dance. As they get closer they realize this must be the ever-popular tourist-trap of Coloma. The twinkling must be gold. It makes sense, Coloma, California is the site where gold was first discovered in the US. It is in Coloma that the Gold Rush began.
“Let’s stop here,” Jeanne pleads, “we could get rich.”
“Silly girl,” Mary mildly scolds, “don’t you know diamonds are a girl’s best friend? Let’s keep going. With them.”
Mary’s pointing now at the air all around them. It’s dense with ladybugs. So much so that some children standing next to a motorhome in the northbound breakdown lane of the gray ribbon which must be State Highway 49 are pointing up at them flashing smiles. The girls can’t hear them, but the children are laughing with delight at the sight of so many ladybugs.
“This is nice. So cool,” Jeanne comments.
“Hmm, it is,” Mary agrees, “It’s so cool — very pleasant.”
“Look down there,” Jeanne points, “it’s so green and pretty.”
“What’s that sign say?” asks Mary.
“I don’t know,” Jeanne replies, “Let’s go down for a look-see.”
The sign says: Welcome to Grass Valley, California, Elevation 2420 feet. The air is getting thin and the weather cool. It’s time for the girls to start looking for a place to settle down. They don’t really know it, but they are in the foothills of the Sierra-Nevada mountains.
The girls soar downward now; the updrafts and air currents no longer in control. The mountain terrain’s looming closer. Around them thousands of ladybugs are doing the same thing. They are headed toward a little backwoods community nestled on a mountain plateau called Rough & Ready, California. The elevation is now only 1885 feet above sea level — like a little sheltered bowl in the mountains. The ladybugs, with our girls in tow, organize and move as a single being toward the maze of mountain streams bisecting Forest Service lands. The ladybugs begin to light on trees and bushes and hollows surrounding these tiny waterways and the meadows adjacent to them. They’re home for the summer (and the winter — until next spring, actually).
“What is this place?” Mary half-asks as she looks around with pleasure, “it’s so green and cool and nice.”
“Yeah,” Jeanne half-replies, “we should stay.”
“Let’s go over and make friends with those other ladybugs over there,” Mary suggests.
Continuation Pages: 1 » 2 » »
