Gathan Beaga


Tatty old butterflyAlright then, how about this picture I took at the weekend of a tatty old Monarch butterfly?

I found it half dead on the lawn, and brought it inside for B₂ to have a look at.

She insisted that it be called Prickles.

After she said good-bye, I opened the window to let it fly away. It fluttered down like a dry leaf, landing on its back on the concrete path outside the window. I did not draw this fact to B₂’s attention.

This reminded me of the day in February when I untangled one of the big summer cicadas from the patch of long grass in which it had been caught. I felt pretty good as I let it climb onto the tips of my fingers, ready to take flight. I flicked it high into the air to give it a head start… and just at that moment a bloody starling curved down from nowhere and took the cicada at the top of the arc. So much for giving power to the underdog, for fighting for the little fella. At least the starling got a feed, I suppose.