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.
There was a time when I suspected I had seen a Monarch butterfly on my property. and it flew circles around me very fast, so it was impossible to take its picture. In those days, all varieties of milkweed were flourishing on my property, and Great Spangled Fritillaries were quite common and accessible. But the Monarch was rare and elusive.
Yesterday, standing out in the field, in an area I like to call the meadow, where a variety of wildflowers bloom, I had no trouble at all spotting and filming and even taking still photos of a Monarch butterfly.
There were no Great Spangled Fritillaries in sight, and also no milkweed. In fact, the milkweed flowers this year were all eaten by deer, so that even when an expert on milkweed asked me to help him by gathering seed, I could not. The flowers were never given a chance to become seedpods. If milkweed is to continue to grow here, it will have to propagate from the root and not from seeds. This is the reality when the deer are this plentiful. But the side benefit is that there is relatively little poison ivy growing in the meadow, because the deer appear to have eaten it down, and they also left generous trails around the flowers, which allow me to walk unmolested among the flowers.
Yesterday, standing in the field and texting to a far away friend in California, I was able to see not only a Monarch, but also a Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly feeding side by side on a thistle plant.
The Pipevine Swallowtail was more flighty than the Monarch.
But when Swallowtail flew off, the friendly Monarch came and joined him, and the two continued feeding close together.
I have held Pipevine Swallowtails in my hand before. This is soon after they emerge as butterflies, when their wings are not yet dry, or after an injury. But when they are in their prime, they flutter so much that it is hard to get a good picture, because they are constantly flapping their wings.
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They flap their wings so much even when hovering over a flower, that the closeups are a little blurry.
In any event, if there had been any doubt whatever that there are both Monarchs and Pipevine Swallowtails coexisting in my meadow, then this should set those doubts to rest. But sometimes it's not that no one believes you. Sometimes it's that they just don't care.
When I showed Bow my butterfly pictures yesterday, he quickly scrolled away from them, looking for pictures of himself, instead. In the same way, I don't actually believe any longer that if I could only "prove" that Bow can spell, it would make a big difference. Mankind is so transfixed by its own marvelous image, that most people, and especially those in the scientific community, would not look at proof that takes away from our stunning image.
But just when I thought that nobody was paying any attention to my butterfly images, I got a comment from Scotland, about the thistle flower. "Wow! I didn't know that Scottish thistle grew in the USA!"
There was in fact another person locally who told me the thistle was an "invasive". If so, good for it! Here is a song about the thistle that I like to listen to in my spare time.
Yesterday, there was an internet outage. It was a beautiful day, though, so both Bow and I spent a lot of time outdoors, he in the outer pen, and me just wandering around outside.
I saw a box turtle that was around fifty years old.
I spotted a Great Spangled Fritillary Butterfly on a purple milkweed in the pasture.
The milkweed there is surrounded by poison ivy, so I could not get very close.
The video of the butterfly embedded below is worth watching, if only for the bird song and other nature sounds.
I spent some time in the front yard recording videos and podcasts for my Anti-Romaticism series, and then I went out into the backyard to be with Bow. But about then, Bow started to show concern, and there was a smell of smoke in the air. So I went into the house and back out through the front door, to try to find out where the smoke was coming from.
The view of the fire from my pasture
The smoke led me down the path in the pasture to the southern border of my property, where the air was thick with it, wafting across the property line.
About this time, I could hear sirens. The local volunteer fire department was on its way.
The view of the neighbors' field from te road
Try as I might, I could not see into the neighboring field well enough to understand what was going on there, because the trees and shrubs are so thick at the border. So I walked back down the path and up my driveway to the road, and down the road to my neighbor's field. I stood at the side of the road, and this is what I saw.
The fire was under control. It would not spread to my land. But the field was black and charred, and plumes of smoke still wafted in the air. I went home and reported to Bow that all was well, It was about time for lunch, so we forgot all about it and concentrated on our food.
Today, after lunch, I attended a neighbor's open house with my daughter. A lot of other neighbors were there. Somebody mentioned that burning field yesterday. "I was thinking of you, Aya," somebody else said. "I know you stay indoors a lot, so I thought you might not know what was happening."
I guess I have a reputation for being a recluse and a shut-in, but Bow and I actually do spend a lot of time outdoors, so much so that he gets his required vitamin D, and I am getting a bit of a tan.
"What caused the fire?" I asked.
"As near as we can make out, they were out baling the field,when both the hay and the combine caught fire."
Aha! "I thought it was something like that," I said.
So we had refreshments and talked about local vegetation. "What's that orange flower that blooms out beside the road right now?" one of the ladies asked. "Butterfly plant?" "Milkweed?" "Butterfly milkweed." "Yes, that's the one." And another person was talking about yucca and how to get rid of weeds surrounding it. Hey, I know these plants, I thought. I am not a complete newby anymore.
One of my yuccas in full bloom
They talked to my daughter about her choice of college and about dorm life, And when we left, the hostess sent cookies for me to give to Bow. "Tell him they're from me!"
Bow relaxes while I work on the painting of the Liberian chimpanzees
We are never very long apart, though we may be doing different things. Bow knows the issues that I am grappling with. Or at least, he knows something of them, as seen from his own unique perspective. I am not implying that our thoughts on the subject are at all the same.
Sometimes a small butterfly can cast a big shadow. Sometimes when we are not sure what to do, we look for omens and portents in nature. I went for a walk yesterday afternoon, and along the gravel road that is my internal driveway, Common Buckeye butterflies were strewn as far as the eye could see. There were so many of them! But every time I approached one, it would fly away into the grass, and all the others would regroup behind me, and so I could never seem to get a clear shot of any of them. Meanwhile, as I was chasing butterflies, a tiny snake came by on the road, overtook me and slithered along at great speed.
That little snake is in a big hurry! I thought, and I started to follow it till it disappeared out of sight at the main road. Then I checked my mailbox. There was only an advertisement for life insurance. Does that mean anything? I thought.
Then I turned back and went along the road, and all the little Common Buckeye butterflies scattered every which way and would not let me take their picture. So I sat down on the road to rest and to collect my thoughts. And just then a single Common Buckeye butterfly came out from the grass onto the road, headed in my direction.
It twirled around in a circle once, then kept getting closer and closer, opening and closing its wings, so that eventually I had to back away from it in order to keep it in the shot!
I got all the pictures I could possibly want, and all thanks to the butterfly who came to me.
Sometimes the very best thing you can do is sit still.
Do not chase the dream. Let the dream come to you.
But that is so hard to do, because it means losing control! It means the butterfly is calling all the shots. And who wants to grant so much power to a butterfly, no matter how beautiful?
It is warm and sunny, but not too hot. Bow spent a lot of time playing with Leo in the outer pen this morning.
Here is Bow starting his display. And below Leo responds eagerly.
Here are Leo and Bow bouncing up and down together.
But even when Bow has his feet firmly back on the ground, Leo lingers in midair.
Then, little by little they calm down, and the exercise is over.
After a period of calm, just for good measure, another less strenuous exercise session begins.
And that's just part of the morning. I mowed the backyard again. It is easier, now that it's not neglected. Ordinary work on an ordinary day. But there was a song in my heart, because someone had paid me a compliment. A professional compliment on my achievements with Bow. And I'm not going to repeat it, but my heart was glad when after lunch, I went out to film the butterflies.
I was going for another view of one of those tiny little white-underneath-blue-on-top butterflies, and I sat down on the gravel of my internal road to film the butterfly in the grass. But another butterfly was clamoring for my attention, and it settled on my bare leg.
Talk about a self-selecting butterfly!
"Don't look at that other tiny, pale butterfly!" It seemed to be saying. "Look at me! I'm gorgeous." But then it flew away, and as I got up to my feet, I noticed that there was a butterfly on my shoe!
And then another butterfly came by and now there were two!
And then one of them spread itself out, so I could see just how beautiful it was.
When you have been spending your entire life chasing butterflies that eluded you, it is a real morale boost to have the butterflies finally come to you!
Yesterday, the Great Spangled Fritillary butterflies returned to my purple milkweed. And there was much rejoicing!
Great Spangled Fritallary Butterflies on my Purple Milkweed
They were here last year at about this time, and now they were back.
I would have liked to get closer to get a better picture, but two factors were at play to keep me from doing so: the purple milkweed is surrounded by poison ivy plants, and butterflies -- even the Great Spangled Fritillary -- are flighty. They will seldom sit around posing for pictures if you insist on getting close. Not like bumblebees, who will let you come in for a tight shot and let you film them for hours.
In this rather long video starring a bumblebee, even a dragonfly makes a brief guest appearance. But no, that was not the guest I was longing to see.
Happy as I am to be reunited with the Great Spangled Fritillary butterflies, and to see the bumblebees and the honey bees and all the many other insects enjoying the milkweed, there was one guest that I especially longed to have take refreshment on the milkweed. But every time I went to check what was going on there, I saw many other insects, and not that special one.
I was able to stick my head in between the fence boards to get really close to the bumblebee.
But still there was no Monarch butterfly, the guest for whom all this milkweed is supposed to serve as a special incubator. I went for a walk after seeing the Great Spangled Fritillary butterflies, and I actually managed to locate the lost Common Milkweed that I thought had been eradicated. It was pushed up right against the fence, and its buds were looking underdeveloped.
My Common Milkweed Yesterday
Because it was surrounded by poison ivy and honeysuckle, the plant had somehow sprung up right against the wooden fence to the pasture.
The Common Milkweed is pushed up against the fence and late to bloom
But this could not account for the failure of the Monarch butterfly to show up. All these conservationists have been telling us for years: "Monarch butterflies only lay their eggs on milkweed, and the caterpillars only eat milkweed." (Source: http://www.monarch-butterfly.com/monarch-conservation.html) So whether the plant ever flowers or not should not be the issue for Monarch propagation, as long as the leaves and stems are there. Where had all the Monarch butterflies gone? Didn't they like my milkweed? I was disappointed.
And then, across the pasture, I spotted what looked remarkably like a Monarch butterfly. It flew in my direction, and I started filming it, but even though it was very close, it kept flying around, dancing circles around me at high speed, and when I looked at the video, all I could see was that I had been moving the camera erratically -- but no butterfly visible! It was as if the butterfly had been taunting me, offering evidence of its existence that only I could see! Watch the video above at normal speed, and you will probably come to the conclusion that I was imagining the whole thing!
If you stop the video at this spot, you can catch a glimpse of the Monarch butterfly
Just like the rabbits on my land, the Monarch butterfly was showing itself to me, while using highly evolved evasive maneuvers to ensure I could never catch it. To see how very fast it was going, we need to take account that in the above still from the video I had my camera pointed at an easterly angle. But a few seconds later, the Monarch appears in a shot aimed due south.
The Monarch by the ripened service berries
Even though I was facing south now and it had just come in from the east, already the Monarch had reversed its direction and was heading back the way it came.
A few seconds later, I caught a glimpse of it with my camera facing north, but the butterfly was already headed east. This is what flying around in circles at high speed looks like! In between these relatively clear shots, the butterfly was moving faster than my camera could follow. If I had not thought to pause the video on my computer and take screenshots, I would probably have ended up discarding this video, like many previous attempts to film fast moving butterflies.
So yes, there was a Monarch butterfly on my property all along, but it would not stop and pose for me on the purple milkweed, like my more cooperative guests, the Great Spangled Fritillary butterflies and the bumblebee. Sometimes the speed of a subject will prevent us from seeing what is going on right before our very eyes. We had the same problem with Bow before he started using our hands as a pointing device. Our intern Carrie Stengel discusses the problem in the video below.
I have been characterized by some people who read this blog as "an innocent" with a rich "inner life", implying that I imagine everything that goes on with Bow, and in particular his ability to spell words. But did you know that the first time Bow spelled out what he wanted, instead of pointing at lexigrams, it was not with me?
It was with our new Project Bow intern, Eden Michaelov.
It was Eden who decided to put the letters up on the glass that day. And it was with Eden that Bow first spelled.
When I realized that Bow would not point on his own, and that this was going to be characterized as a Clever Hans effect by anyone who saw it, I could have given up. It would have been the smart thing to do, because there is no profit in what I am doing now. I could just pretend I did not see the pretty butterfly, and all would be well with the social world. I could maybe have gotten a job doing something else. That's what Herbert Terrace did the moment his funding ran out. But the kind of madness that I suffer from is that when I see a butterfly that no one else can see, I keep trying to think of ways to make them see it. The facts do not change, just because people cannot see.(And in fact, others have seen what I saw: everyone who worked with Bow since 2007 has seen him spell.)
It is not a crime against society to fail to fall into line with the current consensus. The greater crime is to recant under pressure, like Joan of Arc or Galileo. Rather than being an innocent who sees visions that are not there, I am a scientist who has an open mind to the existence of uncooperative butterflies.
Yesterday it got so cold that we started heating in the pens again. Outside, in the real world, though, there is no heating, and life still goes on. In the woods, it is some of the tiniest trees that are turning color first, while the bigger ones are still green and leafy.
Out in the pasture, one of our volunteer persimmon trees is completely bare of leaves, though the orange-colored fruit is hanging on, like bright Halloween decorations.
There is nothing spookier than a bare tree that gives fruit.
You would think that in this kind of weather, both the butterflies and the flowers would all be gone by now. But no, yesterday I saw a lone Great Spangled Fritillary butterfly on a thistle flower. Next to it was a stand of persimmon trees that had not yet lost their leaves.
Some people age rapidly, others take their time. There is always the last flower of the season -- the last butterfly.
Bow does not let the weather keep him from going outside, though he asks to come in more frequently now.
He gets his exercise in the outer pen, then examines himself to see that nothing has gotten injured while he is frenzied and carried away.
Then when he is ready, he comes in and asks for his blanket, which is by now frayed at the edges and has a hole in it. But not to worry, he'll soon be getting a new blanket for Christmas. This one has lasted much longer than its predecessors.
Bow is becoming more mature and more responsible. He is a chimpanzee of good character, and he's in this for the long run, like the last butterfly of the season.
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