This is the season when we see the most butterflies, at least in the Northern Hemisphere. I’ve always loved them and even bought a butterfly hatching kit so I could contribute to Monarch numbers. Okay, that didn't work out as no Monarchs came to lay eggs there, but I’ve also planted native milkweed, a purple Butterfly Bush, and tons of flowers butterflies love.
So, it was no surprise when St. Bob—wait, just Bob this time—pointed to one of them as it dipped and fluttered through the yard. Up and down, as if riding on bubble of air, it would swerve one way and then another.
“Butterflies always fly like they’re drunk,” he said.
And I watched as it staggered through
the air, exactly as if it had been drinking.
Is this what nectar does to them? Has anyone even checked? Maybe this is why they’re so crazy about my zinnias. Maybe there’s even a secret group called Caterpillars Against Drunk Flying. We don’t know, do we?
I thought about my childhood, chasing butterflies and laughing into the wind. They were probably drunk, too. I mean, they flew like it.
I just never realized it until Bob decided to spoil my butterfly watching for the rest of my life. Now I’ll see them bobbing about and worry that they’re going to hit a tree.
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