I am a primatologist who spends twelve hours most days in the company of a thirteen year old chimpanzee named Bow. I am also an editor with Inverted-A Press.
I am almost never alone now. When not with Bow, I am either accompanied by the kitten or surrounded by the dogs. This makes chasing butterflies a little difficult.
Bow oversees all backyard activities
When in the backyard, I am supervised by Bow in all my activities. For Bow, it's not always what he can touch -- sometimes just seeing is good enough. While Brownie and Leo can come in close and physically interfere in what I am doing, Bow can make vocal commentary, which can sometimes have a similar effect.
Yesterday afternoon I saw a red-spotted purple butterfly in the backyard.
But coming in closer for a better look was a challenge.
First the dogs had to come in closer, and later Bow had his say, which was distracting, so that I lost sight of the butterfly.
Eventually I found it again, but the situation was less than ideal. It isn't much better on the other side of that eight foot fence, though. In the front yard, after a rain, the butterflies like to warm themselves on the outer road. That's where Nala the kitten comes in.
Nala looks innocent while a Pearl Crescent flies right over her
Nala will innocently plop down on the warm gravel road and start rolling around, placing herself right in the path of an oncoming pearl crescent.
The butterfly flies right over her and she hardly notices.
Sometimes Nala does seem to be interested in the butterflies, but the method that works best is not when she chases them, but when she lies still.
Can you see the butterfly hovering right over Nala's right eye?
Only rarely can I capture a picture of a Pearl Crescent sans kitten.
It is easier to get closer to the butterflies if there is not also a cat or dog or chimpanzees in the vicinity directing all activities.
And the obeservation of a Monarch that chooses our side of the fence over the neighbors is much easier without the presence of a cat critic.
Bow's outings are important.
But so are mine.
And sometimes the views that give us the greatest peace of mind are not those closest to hand. It's not always what you can touch -- sometimes just seeing is good enough.
The wide open spaces that I don't own can give me the most perspective.
Over the weekend, I visited a different place and saw different scenery.
I saw some beautiful landscapes, but I also noticed the butterflies. Everywhere you go in Missouri right now, there are butterflies.
The butterflies that I noticed were just like the butterflies at home: pearl crescents, common buckeyes, and even a passing red-spotted purple flying high. But there was one important difference: they were not my butterflies. I knew it, and they knew it, too. And so they did not stop to say hello, but just went flitting by.
"Aya, you can't own a butterfly," someone might want to say to me at this point. "You can't own any animal at all, because they have souls of their own." And I would beg to differ. You can tell who is yours and who isn't, by the way they behave. This is true of dogs, cats, and chimpanzees. And it includes human beings, too! Can you go up to strangers and give them a hug? Unless you are mentally challenged, you know there are boundaries. The boundaries may not be marked with a fence or a property line, but they are just as real!
Back home again, I went out into the backyard and mowed it yesterday, while Bow and the dogs did their own things. Everybody was glad I was back, and I was glad to be back. And since it was my own backyard, I could even stop in my work any time I wanted to, and take pictures of butterflies.
I saw what I thought was a question mark butterfly on the trunk of a tree, and while I was trying to get closer, a great spangled fritillary landed on my leg and then flitted off and landed again on my shoulder.
This never happens to me any place but at home, on my own land. But it has been happening more and more frequently lately, as if, after fourteen years of living here, the butterflies finally know and trust me.
With Bow and Brownie looking on, the butterfly remained on my shoulder for a good long moment.
Brownie watching as the butterfly moves freely on my shoulder
Then it flew away. Nowhere else than on my own land has anything like this ever happened to me.
People talk about how property lines and state boundaries and borders are all artificial constructs and how when the world is viewed from outer space, all that disappears. But we don't live in outer space. We live right here on earth, and when you get closer, really close, you can see that the property lines make a big difference in the behavior of every living being they affect, even if they are not marked from above.
The wildflowers on either side of the fence may look exactly the same, but when the neighbors mow their pasture, my flowers don't get cut down. And on some level of visceral feeling, I think they know it, and it alters their behavior. My butterflies trust me, and the butterflies that are not mine do not.
Trust is not something you can give somebody else as a present. Trust has to be earned. I have that with Bow. Bow has that with me. And that's what ownership is all about. And if you don't believe me, then take it from Nabal the Carmelite, in my novelVacuum County.
If you have ever raised a teen-aged boy, then you know they need alone time. It is no different with Bow. There was a time when he was a tiny baby, clinging to me for dear life and upset if I walked away for a moment. But that time is not now. He is thirteen, going on fourteen, and sometimes he tells me in no uncertain terms that I need to leave.
Now when I say that he tells me in no uncertain terms, I do not mean that he is not polite. Sometimes he even makes it sound as if it is about me. He will spell out that I should go outside, and if I ask him why, he says "because it is good", and he makes it sound as if he is thinking about my well-being, and it all seems so sweet. But certain clues on my return let me know why he needed that alone time.
Do chimpanzee get embarrassed? Yes, if they have been raised with humans. And even though Bow has less privacy than a normal human teenager in the arrangement that we have here, he does contrive to do some things in private.
Bow looking at models in the fall issue of Bazaar
Have I been thinking about his social needs? Of course. Do I want him to have chimpanzee friends and a girl friend? Yes. But his chimpanzee friends can't be savages, either. Bow is civilized. He needs civilized friends. Friends who knock on his door, respect his privacy and do not just come barging in. He also needs to be shielded from "inspectors" who think they can come and look at him any time they like. He needs the right to privacy, the right to refuse admission and all the other rights that he has come to take for granted. And if he works, he needs the right to negotiate over pay, and the right to set limits as to what he will or will not do. The people who talk about chimpanzees being "legal persons" actually don't intend to give the chimpanzees in their "sanctuaries" any of these rights. It's a sham.
So, yes, I go on these long walks chasing butterflies for my own amusement, but also to give Bow a breather from having to constantly behave like a gentleman around his mother. And sometimes he tells me in words, which are spelled, but at other times he very gently takes me by the shoulder, turns me around and points to the door. He is so sweet in the way he firmly, but with all due respect, lets me know when my presence is not needed.
A Monarch Butterfly in the neighbors' pasture across the fence
Lately, in my long walks, it has come to my attention that there are, in fact, Monarchs among us. I spot them in my pasture. I spot them in the neighbors' pasture. But they are always far away, and when they fly, they fly high, and I can never seem to get the same sorts of photos of them that I can of the Common Buckeye, the Pearl Crescent, the Red-spotted Purple or the Eastern Tailed-blue. Not to mention the Great Spangled Fritillary when the purple milkweed is blooming.
Yesterday afternoon, I spotted a lone Monarch in the neighbors' pasture across the fence, and as I was watching, it actually flew over the fence, almost straight at me, but in zigzags. over my head, right past my left eye, and through my orchard to my pasture. But I did not get one clear shot!
The Monarch in Flight Moving Closer
The best that I could do was see a very small portion of its wings as it flew right past my face.
Can you tell it's a Monarch from this snippet of its wings?
And even though it was my own pasture it disappeared into, I could not follow it there. Too much poison ivy!
The Monarch flying through my orchard
In the evening, when I went to feed the kitten in the barn, I saw a Monarch resting high in an oak tree at the edge of my woods.
A Monarch resting on an oak leaf
This is my chance, I thought. It is evening and the Monarch is resting, so I can come in for a better shot.
Monarch flitting away
But when the Monarch saw me, it just flitted away. I guess even butterflies need their privacy! They want to rest far from prying eyes.
I have not caught sight of a single Monarch butterfly since that day one flew circles around me. Maybe all the Monarchs have already set off on their annual migration, and that was just the last goodbye. But the Great Spangled Fritillary butterflies are here to stay.
Yesterday, before the storm, the butterflies and the bees were congregating around the milkweed flowers. I could not help wanting to see them, and I crowded in as close as I could to get a better look. I got a touch of poison ivy for my trouble.
Even when the wind picked up, the Great Spangled Fritillary butterflies were hanging on for dear life.
The bumblebees and the honey bees were buzzing about. But the butterflies kept on with their task, undismayed by the weather.
I expect that the Great Spangled Fritillaries will still be here in late August or early September. Last year I spotted them on the thistle flowers, their wings frayed and torn with not much more wear left in them, but still visiting every flower they could until the very end.
Some people migrate and some people stay put. Then when they meet again, sometimes they forget that they are all sprung from some common source,
This animated map shows how humans migrated across the globe.
Posted by Business Insider on Thursday, May 21, 2015
Bow was born in Missouri, but he has ancestors from Africa
Recently there was something in the news about someone pretending to be an African-American who was "not really." Actually, all Americans are African-American, in the sense that whatever convoluted path we may have taken, our original ancestors were from Africa. This is true even for those called "Native American." Maybe if we all filled those government forms that way -- every American an African-American -- then that would put an end to racial discrimination by the government once and for all.
I think the same kind of convoluted thinking about ethnicity that allows only some American-born humans to be called "African American" when everyone has ancestors from Africa is also at play in labeling chimpanzees as exotic animals. Bow is American-born, while I am an immigrant from another country. Bow's mother was also American-born. At what point does an animal stop being labeled exotic? Why should it matter where our ancestors were born? Didn't all of us come from the same place anyway?
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