Saturday, September 1, 2007

Monarch days

It isn't a swarm. It's more of a gathering. All of a sudden monarchs. Tree to tree, as if looking for their tribe. Having crossed the lake, it's time to rest and collect in the silver maples. At dusk they look like miniature bats, drunk on nectar. They have so far yet to go.

6 comments:

michael salinger said...

Yes,
Due to the relatively dry summer we had, which necessitated less late night rumble truck spraying of insecticide to kill barbecue antagonizing mosquitoes the, butterfly population has exploded

dixiedreams said...

i was just thinking about butterflies today. i wonder at what point in the cocoon the designs appear on the wings. i wonder if this is like fingerprints on a fetus--are they unique, though seeming the same? oh, the research to be done....

Amy said...

Salinger, your name was bandied about last night...
And Dixie, you better get on that research. That's a question I would never have thought of.

Nin Andrews said...

Wow, that sounds incredible. I never liked Monarchs when I was on the farm. They would land on wet cow shit and then flutter over to my bare shoulder or arm when I shoveling out stalls and I suppose I should have been honored by their friendliness, but they left these tiny shit prints . . .

michael salinger said...

my name bandied about in such rarified air? - i do hope the remarks were disparaging, i wouldn't want to sully my rep...

Amy said...

Nin, tiny shit prints would be a great title for your next book!

And Salinger, cut out that "rarefied" crap...