Life must cycle

Sea anemones reproduce in a variety of ways: by cloning, (splitting or tearing off a part of the parent's body, which then continues to grow as an adult); asexually by budding: or sexually, producing free-swimming planulae, which find a spot and settle to grow into the adult stage.

Hydroid bud. Released medusas will eventually reproduce sexually. Unlike these, the anemones' buds grow directly into adults.

Clones can be quite large; up to half the parent's body, but the buds and larvae are microscopic. Even the infant anemones, already settled, may be only a couple of millimetres across the base.

Like the ones I found in the clamshell:

One of several patches, on this and a second clamshell. What species? Time will tell.

The orange-striped green anemones outside of their home territory, reproduce by splitting. "At home," they also release sperm and eggs. Whether they consider my tank a home away from home, I don't know.

Orange-striped green anemone. Their colours and shapes are variable, even in the same individual at times.

Are these orange-striped? Probably. See the two at bottom left. The stripes are green.

These little anemones are appearing in large numbers all around the tank. They are obviously not produced by splitting; no mature anemone has been racing all around, dropping bits of himself as he goes. It looks like these grew from babyhood.

Another of the same anemones, on rotting sea lettuce.

And then there's the little blue anemone, rescued from certain death on the beach last October:

Brooding or Proliferating anemone, Epiactis prolifera, about 1/4 inch across. On a third clamshell, with several orange-striped babies, kelp, and green algae.

This anemone has a unique sex life. Young adults are almost all functional females; as they mature they become simultaneous hermaphrodites (having both male and female gonads at the same time, as opposed to being first one sex, then developing into another) capable of fertilizing themselves and others. (From Oregon Coast Aquarium)

She's still young; adults can be up to 2 inches across, so for now, she's female only. Since there are no males, she won't be reproducing for a while yet.

(So the infant green anemones in the clamshells aren't hers; they must have come with the kelp holdfast.)

Once she reproduces, she'll brood her babies for up to three months.

... larvae? ... Live on mother's column (digesting yolk, then catching prey) until at least 3 months old and 4 mm diameter, then crawl off. (From wallawalla.edu.)

She knows her own:

When starved, Proliferating Anemones will ingest young anemones that have become detached from the parent’s base; however, these are normally regurgitated unharmed, even after several hours in the gut. (OCA)

I can't forget Val, the largest anemone in my tank.

Burrowing anemone, Anthopleura artemisia. 4 inches tall and still growing.

These anemones reproduce sexually, which won't happen here, since she's a loner. Or by splitting, which she shows no inclination to do. She's probably had enough of that; when I got her, she was just a blob of torn tissue left on a beach, probably by a bird.

The 'fly who came in from the cold

Such fun I've been having with one little critter!

It started 6 weeks ago, with a yodelling caterpillar. At the end of September, he lived, eating nasturtiums, on my desk for a few days, then he built himself a hammock and turned into a chrysalis. I set him outside in a glass case by the door, and kept an eye on him. The chrysalis gradually lost its bright green colour, fading to a yellowy white. Nothing else seemed to be happening, but of course it was, invisibly; all that rebuilding from the inside out.

I almost missed the next act; I was too late for the first scene. I checked his cage just after breakfast last Thursday, and there he was, out of the chrysalis. Barely out. His wings were still wrinkled, and he was slowly unfolding his legs.

I posted a photo of those legs, the only ones stretched out at the moment. (You commenters are pretty good; you knew it was a butterfly, just not what species.)

9:33 AM, on the inside of the glass case. Three legs

He seemed to discover more legs, as he untangled himself.

9:34 AM Six legs. Cabbage white butterfly, mostly yellow.

9:36 AM

While he stretched, I looked at the empty chrysalis:

The head end is down; the chrysalis is split from the "beak" to the "waist".

It was too cold outside, just above freezing. I left him there for a few hours, but he didn't want to move, so I brought him in and he perked up right away.

A warm corner on a vase by a light.

On a glass bottle.

On the back door. No, he didn't want to go out. I asked.

Next day, on the kitchen floor.

He was a male, as shown by the one black spot on his forewing, and should have been looking for a mate. But it was miserably cold out there, and his friends weren't flying, so I let him stay at home in the warmth. Unfortunately, a spider finally got him. Sometimes I could wish that spiders were vegetarian.