portoricensis

[Mark Walker]

"I think I'll go back to San Juan"
 
"I know a boat you can get on"
 
Bye bye
 
On November 25th my family and I flew from Miami to San Juan, Puerto Rico.
We had no idea we were going there just one week prior, so the whole thing
amounted to one huge adventure by all accounts.  "My family" included Maria
Fernanda, my wife of 18 years, my two children (Christian 16, and Gabrielle
11), and Alicia, my mother-in-law.  The trip to the Caribbean would be the
first for the ladies since they left Cuba back in 1967.  Puerto Rico made
for an excellent homecoming for two exiles that considered their original
homeland strictly off-limits.
 
You should have seen my mother-in-law as she sucked in the sweet tropical
air, sitting for hours gazing out at the setting sun over the ocean horizon.
She confessed afterwards that she wished she would have chosen Puerto Rico
as their final destination after leaving Castro's Cuba with empty pockets
(and suitcases).  Instead, they ended up in Los Angeles by way of Tampa,
Madrid, and Sydney, Australia.  Puerto Rico would have been so much more
like home.  Of course, had they never reached Los Angeles, I would never
have met Maria, and I would never have produced such wonderful children
("Maria, I just met a girl named Maria - and suddenly it seems...La La La La
La La La La").
 
Puerto Rico is a beautiful place.  I'm sorry that I have never ventured
there before.  The coastlines are picturesque, the interior is filled with
rugged mountains flowing with streams and rivers, the climate is delicious,
and there's even an expansive cloud forest loaded with hiking trails.  I
found it clean, modern, and friendly - and I didn't need a passport to fly
there from the U.S.  This last minute trip was deemed a "family holiday", so
I was allotted very little time (and little opportunity) to search for and
study the butterfly fauna.  Instead, we spent most of our time body surfing
the north shore, hiking through interior forests, rope-swinging into lush
waterfall-fed pools, snorkeling the coral reefs at Steps Beach near Rincon,
swimming at a secluded cove near Guanica, exploring the forts and
cobblestones of Old San Juan, driving through historic Ponce (where Alicia
was reunited with a childhood friend she hadn't seen since Cuba), and
trekking through El Yunque - a spectacular rain forest that is actually part
of what is called the Caribbean National Forest.  Being who I am, of course,
I could not help but take every opportunity to look for signs of
lepidopteran life.  
 
Though there were butterflies seen everywhere, I was a little surprised to
find that there were not many on the wing - the one exception being the
drier southwestern side of the island.  This rain-shadowed terrain reminded
me very much of my native Southern California and the wildest portions of
this were categorized by a xeric scrub forest habitat loaded with cacti.
Here I saw lots of leps on the wing - including tons of Kricogonia lyside
(Lyside Sulphur), bopping about the trees in a manner similar to what you
might see in Texas.  There were a lot of Pierids flying in this arid
landscape, both white and yellow, and I was unfortunately not able to
identify them all.  There were certainly plenty of Phoebis sennae (Cloudless
Sulphur), as there were all over the island, but there were also P. agarithe
(Large Orange Sulphur) and an occasional P. philea (Orange Barred Sulphur).
There were also Aphrissa statira cubana here.  I identified both Appias
drusilla (Florida? White) and Ascia monuste (Great Southern White), but
might possibly have seen Ganyra Josephina or maybe even G. punctifera - as I
saw large white Pierids but didn't have the opportunity to pursue them.
Other interesting leps of this region included the leafwing Anaea
borinquenalis and the only hairstreak I identified on the island - Strymon
acis mars.  These could be found flying, along with Hemiargus hanno watsoni,
about the flowering trees that grew right down to the beach itself.
 
I saw not one Swallowtail during the entire excursion.  Interesting - since
they were relatively common on Jamaica almost exactly one year ago.
 
One of the gems of Puerto Rico is the islands own endemic species of Calisto
- Calisto nubila.  I saw this shy flyer in virtually every woodland habitat
I explored.  The genus is fascinating, being found only in the West Indies
and having reportedly (Smith, Miller, and Miller, Butterflies of the West
Indies and South Florida) as many as 40 different species described there.
Last year I enjoyed C. zangis on Jamaica.  It could take a lifetime to enjoy
all 40 (but what a life that would be!).
 
No doubt the highlight of my butterflying in Puerto Rico was experiencing
Archaeoprepona demophoon.  This spectacular forest dweller comes from a
genus of drool-evoking tropical butterflies that are characterized by dorsal
iridescent blues and greens.  Demophoon is no exception, and several were
seen up close and personal during one of our many forest walks.  They
favored patrolling the trail, and would swoop down and swiftly glide past
you, only to alight high on a tree trunk or under a high-hanging leaf.  Like
so many other leafwings, they are virtually invisible when they rest.  This
species has a good amount of whitish scaling on the underside, but otherwise
the drab brown ground color provides incredible camouflage.
 
Another exciting (and somewhat surprising) find was a good number of Danaus
plexippus (Monarch), flying in a pasture near San Sebastian and touting
thick and heavy black scaling.  All of the literature I have studied
suggests that these Monarchs do not participate in the migratory behavior of
their northern and western cousins.  Apparently, the dividing line runs
diagonally SSW to NNE somewhere between Cuba and Hispaniola, isolating the
bulk of the migratory flux from the southern Antilles.  Does this mean that
the Puerto Rican individuals spend their entire lifespan on the island where
they were born?  I vouchered one of these, and am fascinated at the subtle
differences.  Interestingly, there exists another Danaid that flies
exclusively on Hispaniola (Danaus cleophile), similar but very different
from D. plexippus.  This would provide further evidence that something
interesting is occurring, and a reminder that we are witnessing natural
history in action.
 
There were other tropical leps that we sighted with frequency, including the
common Heliconius charitonius (Zebra Longwing), Dryas julia (Julia),
Siproeta stelenes (Malachite), Euptoieta hegesia (Mexican? Fritillary),
Junonia genoveva (Tropical Buckeye), Anartia jatrophae semifusca (White
Peacock), Marpesia petreus (Ruddy Daggerwing), and a population of
interesting Biblis hyperia (Red Rim) with excessive white scaling at the
dorsal forewing tips.  There were, of course, plenty of Eurema species on
the wing - including Eurema leuce antillarum (a first for me), Eurema lisa
euterpe, and Eurema elathea (another first for me).  I may have also seen
Pheobis argante, but could never make a positive id.  Another bug that I
should have looked for more specifically was Rhabdodryas trite.  This large
yellow sulphur would be very difficult to identify or distinguish from P.
sennea on the wing.
 
Few skippers were recorded, though a stunning individual of Panoquino nero
showed up in a remote section of El Yunque.  We saw Nyctelius nyctelius,
Cymaenes tripunctus, Wallengrenia drury, and Pyrgus oileus in other sections
of the island.  One gorgeous little orange skipper (Choranthus vitellius)
seemed to be the most common of all - showing up in a number of habitats
that we ventured into. 
 
Beyond these highlights, I saw little else that caused severe head jerking -
but as always, even the common bugs can bring big smiles (especially in late
November!).  During one of our incredible forest swims Christian caught a
fine little brown snake that shone golden in the sun like a cat's eye.  He
was quite surprised to later find that snakes are all but non-existent in
Puerto Rico.  We'll have to attempt to identify later which species it might
belong to.
 
After staying for just one day in a quaint little apartment known as "El
Tranquilo", part of the enchanting seaside cottages known as "Mary Lee's by
the Sea" in Guanica, my wife and her mother have vowed to return.  Next time
they will choose to stay only there and lounge for days admiring the vast
expanse of surf and sea.  Perhaps they'll choose to curl up and enjoy a good
book.  Maybe they'll just sleep and listen to the melodic sound of waves
lapping against mangrove.  Ahhh.  Meanwhile, you KNOW what I will be doing.
 
Mark Walker.
 
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