The Butterfly Migration Slows

The red admiral flood has slowed to a trickle. Last night there were only three or four on the fence, and daytime traffic is markedly reduced. While earlier waves seldom stopped in the yard before sunset, today’s travelers seem slow and tired. And hungry.

Yesterday also saw a decrease in the number of question mark butterflies. (See the question mark on its wing? That’s how you tell it from a comma…)

As the migration dwindles, painted lady butterflies increase, though I expect their numbers will never rival this week’s surge of red admirals and question marks.

Finally, in case anyone is tired of butterflies, here’s a Yellow-rumped Warbler enjoying a quick bath…

Spring Action

There’s so much going on that it’s hard to know where to look. If I focus my camera on the vultures wheeling overhead, I miss the carpenter bees zooming underfoot. There are crane flies mating and irises blooming and new visitations of wonder in every corner of the yard.

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Little Mysteries

(First, I apologize for the green fence. I blame the weather.)

Second, there’s a rabbit in the rose bed. It’s been there most of the morning, and I have no idea why. It isn’t grazing, just sitting in the rain as if waiting for something.

Third, there’s a squirrel on the fence above the rabbit. A full-alert squirrel, complete with full-alert scolds, waving its tail in agitation.

Fourth, there are yellow-rumped warblers. Flitting and chirping in nearby branches, the warblers add credibility to the squirrel’s alarm. (Because birds are more credible than squirrels…)

But there’s nothing to explain the rabbit’s vigil, or the squirrel and warbler alarm. It’s just a scene, a few moments cut from the yard’s mysterious context.

I feel like a child, plaintive in my need to know. I ask, again and again, “Why?” And the yard, like a distracted mother, answers with silence.

Thunder and Rain

Morning rain escalated into an early afternoon thunderstorm, which, if the forecast is correct, will spawn more thunder and rain as the day progresses. The squirrels and warblers don’t seem to mind, so maybe I shouldn’t, either.