To Be Taught By a Butterfly

Me out catching butterflies.

Catching butterflies with a net is an art if you don't want to hurt the delicate beings. The easiest way (easy unless it is a fast flying species in which case you must be extremely quick) is to locate a butterfly that is busy nectaring on a flower. You hold the net in your dominate hand and swing gently, not unlike a forehand shot in tennis (remember I said gently). The arch should end on an upstroke, then a quick clockwise circle so as to make the narrow end of the cone-shaped net flip over the rim of the circular frame. This ensures the butterfly cannot fly back out. It is also a move to be done delicately, as the little creature can become trapped between the folds of the net and metal rim, with fatal results.

I spent several summers in the hot Pennsylvania heat at Fort Indiantown Gap chasing and catching a rare insect called the regal fritillary, a beautiful orange and iridescent black butterfly similar in size to a monarch. Regals love to nectar on the bright orange butterflyweed and would become so fixated on drinking that you could pluck them right off a flower with your fingers. This was part of a mark and recapture study used to estimate population sizes. To do that, I catch the insect, write a tiny number on the wing using a Sharpee Ultrafine Point marker, and then let them go.

Me marking a beautiful female regal fritillary. Notice #7 on my shoulder, my tribute.

One day I took a civilian employee of the Army with me to help catch and mark regals. He was in charge of natural resources on the base and was eager to get his feet wet, so to speak. I showed him the proper technique for catching a butterfly, and watched as he practiced on invisible insects landing on flowers. When he looked like he had it down, I sent him off on his own. It wasn't long before he shouted, "There's one!" He ran to the flower where the regal was nectaring, wound up, and swung like he was Martina Navratilova. My heart sunk. I quickly took the net and peered inside. Flapping helplessly on the bottom was a female regal fritillary, her right wing completely broken in half.

He, of course, felt horrible. In his excitement, he had ended the normal life of a butterfly that was one step below being listed as a federal endangered species.

I carefully took the regal out of the net and tenderly placed her in a small cage - if I left her there in the field, she would die a very unpleasant death (at least by my standards). So I made the decision to take her home. On her remaining wing I saw #7, my lucky number. That was the beginning of our three months together.

Caring for Seven was no easy task. She had to be fed sugar water numerous times every day. She could not fly and perch like her former self, but instead made her way around the two foot square screened cage by walking. To teach her to drink, I had to carefully hold the edges of her wings between my fingers, then take a pin and insert it in the center of the coil of her proboscis. I would unwind the long tongue so that it would touch the syrup. Once the tip hit the water, she drank eagerly.

Over time, Seven began to deteriorate. Parts of her wings began to break off. She was living an unnatural life, one much longer than she would have had she been flying free in the fields. But it was during this time that she was the greatest teacher.  No matter how difficult her challenges, Seven would persevere. She would still climb up the side of her cage, with little left but stubs where her beautiful wings once were, and sit in the warm sunshine. By this time, I had to physically hold her body while helping her feed. Many times a day. We shared a bond that is hard to describe.

I went on a trip to North Carolina to attend a spiritual retreat, and Seven rode right along with me. We stopped several times throughout the day, me eating my sandwiches and she eating her syrup. At the retreat, many women spent quiet time with her, watching and listening with their hearts. Each one felt moved by the experience. Butterfly is known to be a teacher of rebirth, Seven taught many things.

The day George Bush senior was elected president, Seven went to the Spirit world. I placed her tiny body on a square of white silk and sat under the full moonlight with her. This little being had been an intimate part of my life for three months and my heart was saddened by her passing. But then I saw her Spirit rise out of her body with full gorgeous wings and fly upward into the moon. The love of Butterfly is beautiful.