American Beauty

Say hello to Vanessa virginiensis, the American lady butterfly! I came across this beauty sipping on purple flowers in the Arboretum's pollinator gardens on this sunny Tuesday afternoon. That bed of flowers is a favorite of the butterflies, and it sits right next to a variety of milkweed that must be especially tasty, for it is always covered in monarch caterpillars.

I was on my way to a meeting on campus and I didn't have much time to spare. It was sunny out at this point, but strong storms and downpours were expected later in the day. I was hoping they would hold off until after my meeting. But of course in the meantime, I managed to spare five minutes to walk through the gardens and check for monarch butterflies. A girl does have her priorities, you know.

I was also there to keep a watchful eye out for the praying mantis, whom I discovered last week, well camouflaged among the green stems and hoping for a tasty butterfly snack. Of course, I had removed the predatious fellow to another part of the gardens, where it might feast on something other than butterflies.

Before this, I was always visiting the gardens for myself: I hoped to see butterflies simply because I love butterflies, and the sight of even one of them fluttering about or sitting on a flower brightens my day. But now that I have learned that the gardens may also be full of barely visible dangers, I worry about the mantis - or some other artful predator - creeping back and feasting on (what I think of now as) my butterflies. Yes, like the Little Prince and his rose, which he protects from harm, I think of them now as my butterflies, for I too have fought for their lives.

The American lady (or American painted lady, I've seen it called both) is distinguished from a similar butterfly, the painted lady (V. cardui), by the number of eye spots on the ventral sides of its wings. The painted lady has four small eye spots, while the American lady has just two larger spots. The American lady also has a white spot on its forewing (not visible in this shot).

I had been looking for monarchs, and I spotted one and photographed it. But then I saw this smaller butterfly fluttering around, and I photographed it too, noting that it was one of the painted ladies but not sure if it was American or not. Photograph now, research later, I thought to myself.

That's one of the things I treasure most about my camera: I use it as a tool for identification of creatures in the natural world. When I see new (or faraway) creatures, I take pictures, of course. And then I go and download them, do some researching online, and learn all that I can. You can read more about this beauty on the Butterflies and Moths of North American Web site.

The tune to accompany this image . . . the Commodores came out with a song, Still, back in 1979. That was the time when roller skating rinks and shopping malls began to be popular in the U.S. The song was a favorite slow-dance number on the skating rink floor for several years following its release. Couples would skate together, facing each other, one facing forward and the other facing (and skating) backward, wrapped in each other's arms. I thought it was the most romantic thing ever.

When the music began, the overhead lights would darken and the strobes would come on, and everybody who wasn't part of a "couple" would head off the floor to grab a snack or to play a pinball game, or just to hang out and watch the other couples skate/dance. How often I remember hearing the opening strains of music to this song, along with these words . . . "Lady, morning's just a moment away . . . " And it would conclude, "I do love you still." Have a listen: the Commodores, with Still.

Lady, I do love you . . . still.