Butterfly Clouds & Butterfly Flowers

One of the treats of summertime is butterflies. In Middle Tennessee the powder-winged creatures abound. Of late I have found myself walking through what could only be described as butterfly clouds, areas where butterflies flutter by and over and under and around again. Clouds generally consist of one type (species?) of butterfly, the names of which I know only a few. The other day in Macon county I encountered clouds beside streams and along dirt roads. Generally the butterflies were a smallish orange-and-brown type, although thinner clouds (those with fewer butterflies, but still flying about in a cloud formation) seemed to consist of the larger tiger swallowtails or those black-and-blue ones whose name escapes me now, but which I knew when I saw them. No matter.
 

This morning, again in Macon county, I encountered a new butterfly formation. Driving along a narrow country road I saw an oddly-shaped something in the middle of the road. It might have been the tip of a branch with wilted leaves dangling, or a bit of fallen deadwood. When I came upon it, the formation exploded into perhaps two dozen butterflies of various shapes, sizes, and colors. The car approached and they swarmed up and away. Berating my fading vision (once upon a time I might have distinguished the formation for what it actually was, without having to break it apart to identify it), I drove on. Not three miles later I hit another such formation. This one was smaller, but it exploded in a similar fashion--the butterflies swarming up from a distinct spot on the roadway where they had been huddled head-to-head in a ruffle-winged cluster.

Then I encountered such a formation while I was on foot. Walking up a long country drive, having left my vehicle behind lest any farm animals behind the gate pass through, I saw what could only be described as a butterfly flower. A gorgeous mound of the fragile creatures piled together atop something of great interest to them. As I approached, again the collection disbanded, allowing me to only capture two laggards that stayed until I could reach the pile. Having missed the photo of the butterfly flower itself, I thought I'd like to see what was of such interest to them. The object rose up a bit in the center like an Echinacea or black-eyed Susan flower, but the photograph reveals that the center of this magnificent flower, the item which drew so many butterflies to land and unfurl their long tongues, was but a small, soft dog pile.
 

The lesson here? I am unsure, but it seems to be that if one man's weed is another's flower, and one's trash is another's treasure, then it follows that one's pile of crap provides fine dining for another. Yuck.

Post Script: My 2010 Census Crew Leader (for the NRFU VDC operation) is familiar with the phenomenon of butterfly flowers. A horsewoman, she sees butterflies flocking in droves to fresh piles of horse manure on her farm. She believed the're deriving moisture from a source that is stable, unlike open bodies of water which tend to move. We have not yet experienced the phenomenon on our farm, though, as the chickens are quicker to arrive than the butterflies. And yes, they, too, arrive for the fine dining experience--in this case, a hot meal.