Butterflies

When thinking of a butterfly most people imagine small delicate creatures with amazing wing colours and patterns. In Britain for instance, there is the Peacock butterfly recognisable by the ‘blue eyes’ on its wings and it is found in gardens, woodlands, parks and coastal areas. The Red Admiral is a big, beautiful butterfly which migrates from North Africa and Continental Europe to British shores over the summer. Another migrant butterfly to Britain is the Painted Lady which flies in from the desert edges of North Africa and the Middle East and can be found in any part of this country.

Butterflies usually live on a liquid diet of nectar which they access from deep within flowers using a long tongue called a proboscis. The buddleia shrub is especially favoured by butterflies and for that reason it is sometimes called the ‘butterfly plant’. Butterflies will also eat ripened or rotting fruit which is turning into liquid making it easier for them to access. There is also the suspicion that rotting fruit such as apples or pears may be turning into alcohol and the butterflies appear to enjoy a few pints in the sunshine - just like humans in the beer garden on a sunny day!

Although some butterfly larvae are carnivorous, they stop this behaviour upon reaching adulthood and begin to eat nectar. However, there are some butterflies that have an almost dark secret where their dietary habits are concerned. These butterflies do not eat nectar for food but are in fact carnivorous and predate on carrion.

In southern England, there is a carnivorous butterfly called the Purple Emperor which feeds on rotting animal flesh primarily in woodland areas. It appears that because of its carnivorous nature, groups of people in July each year, the butterfly equivalents of birdwatching ‘twitchers’, can be found wandering around woodlands leaving out rotting fish, rotting meat, animal corpses and even faeces as bait for the Purple Emperor. According to some Purple Emperor chasers, urine-soaked fox dung is the favourite food bait to photograph this elusive butterfly.

Image of a Purple Emperor butterfly (BBC, 2015)

The Purple Emperor spends much of its time 250 feet up in the oak forest canopy where it defends its space aggressively, even attacking birds if they get too near which is not standard butterfly behaviour! Getting them to ground level can be tricky hence the foul smelling and probably foul-tasting food traps to lure them there. Unfortunately, the Purple Emperor only survives each summer from July to the end of August. However, numbers seem to be rising in part due to conservation efforts particularly in the Southwest of Britain to preserve this stunning butterfly.

In South America there is a butterfly family called the Riodinid which contains around 1300 different types of butterfly. These butterflies are also known as ‘metalmarks’ due to small metal looking marks on their wings. The adult Riodinid butterfly feeds on flowers, mineral deposits in damp sand and mud “puddings” but its favourite food seems to be rotting carrion. In a field study in Ecuador, rotting carrion placed in food traps was the most frequently recorded food source for the Riodinid butterflies. Other types of food bait were used but were not eaten as much as the rotting carrion.

Image of Dyson’s Swordtail (Rhetus dysonii, Riodinid) from Ecuador

It may be that by diversifying its food sources and diet these types of carrion-eating butterflies are more capable of adapting to changing environmental conditions thereby giving their species a better chance of survival in tough times than other non-meat-eating butterflies. The Riodinid is a very successful species and this success may be in no small part to its varied dietary habits.

Another butterfly deemed to be carnivorous is the Harvester butterfly of North America. Some argue that the Harvester is carnivorous at the larvae stage only where it eats hairy aphids. Others indicate it eats hairy aphids as an adult as well. However, the adult Harvester butterfly seems to be from another planet with its alien looking eyes and its larvae seems to possess the face of a monkey as the images below suggest. Either way, the Harvester butterfly is widely considered to be the only carnivorous butterfly in North America.

Images of Harvester Butterfly pupae with ‘face’ and Harvester Butterfly with 'almost ‘alien’ eyes

So, the next time you are in a garden or a park or in the woods, whenever you see a butterfly, just remember, some of those beautiful nectar eating creatures have cousins who eat decaying meat for a living.

Butterfly

Butterfly, butterfly, why do
you flutter by butterfly?
Why don’t you rest
a while, spread your wings,
cool down and let things
wander by.
Open your beauty and smile
in the joy of just being, sitting
there, seeing the day unfold,
bright, brash, bold
in summer’s garden.
Have a sweet drink of nectar
from the buddleia, cornflower
or the aromatic Rambling
Rector rose.
Then rested, refreshed
you can be on your way to
whatever fun and adventures
life conjures up on this
lovely, warm, sunny day.

Thanks for reading and please leave a comment as they are always welcome.

Dermot.

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Tapestry - Heavenly Stitches

 

‘Just another stitch in life’s rich tapestry’

I don’t know where the original quote came from but I used to say it a lot. I’ve heard variations of it on television programmes and read it in books but where it started eludes me. My dad heard me say it and loved it so much that he made it his own and drove me mad with it at least once a day. That was long ago. I used to say it at work back in those old days, 1970s, so I probably picked it up from a colleague. More recently I’ve heard ‘a dropped stitch in life’s tapestry’ when something has gone pear-shaped or not according to plan. I might try it out. There’s usually plenty of scope.

Somewhere in the attic, probably buried beneath other unfinished projects and my children’s  old school books, is my three-quarters completed tapestry of The Last Supper. No small starter kit for me. It was straight in for the epic masterpiece. The intention was to gift the finished work to the church I belonged to at the time, Raikes Parade Methodist. The church closed in 2003 and I think I’d already ‘rested’ the tapestry in favour of having a go at cross-stitch.  I’ve had one on the go for years. Not in the attic, well, not yet, anyway. It’s in the foot-stool where I keep needlework projects. Untouched for a while but not given up on. I struggle to see what I’m doing but I was given special magnifiers for Christmas which I hope will solve the problem. It might give me the incentive to dig out The Last Supper which was becoming quite a work of art.

A better work of art was my sister’s tiger, a large, beautiful tapestry that took her hours to do. I remember helping with the intricate embroidery details on the eyes. It’s so long ago that I could still see what I was doing. The finished tapestry was on the landing wall at the top of her stairs and looked stunning. I’ll have to ask her about it.

My young, impressionable music head was – and still is – dominated by The Moody Blues, but there was always a little space for other things. My fondness for female singers has always been limited to my daughter and not many others. One of the ‘not many’ is Carole King and her album which I love as much now as I did in the early ‘70s, Tapestry. I was spellbound by her soulful, almost mournful voice, and captured by her way with words. ‘You’ve Got A Friend’ spoke to me when I was down and troubled, nearly most of the time in those days.

I hope my dad's tapestry continues in Heaven, as I try not to drop too many stitches.

Carole King’s lyrics, poetry to me,

Tapestry

My life has been a tapestry
Of rich and royal hue
An everlasting vision
Of the ever-changing view
A wond'rous woven magic
In bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see
Impossible to hold

Once amid the soft silver
Sadness in the sky
There came a man of fortune
A drifter passing by
He wore a torn and tattered cloth
Around his leathered hide
And a coat of many colors
Yellow, green, on either side

He moved with some uncertainty
As if he didn't know
Just what he was there for
Or where he ought to go
Once he reached for something
Golden hanging from a tree
And his hand came down empty

Soon within my tapestry
Along the rutted road
He sat down on a river rock
And turned into a toad
It seemed that he had fallen
Into someone's wicked spell
And I wept to see him suffer
Though I didn't know him well

As I watched in sorrow
There suddenly appeared
A figure gray and ghostly
Beneath a flowing beard
In times of deepest darkness
I've seen him dressed in black
Now my tapestry's unraveling
He's come to take me back
He's come to take me back

by Carole King

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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