Duskies

Duskies
by Scott Bradley

Apparently, the little duskies are among the first butterflies to mature in the spring. I have been admiring them in the garden for a couple of weeks now. When it comes to butterflies, these have got to be among the drabbest. They are a dirty-black — no iridescence, no vast wings — just a simple butterfly.

Yet what a wonderful miracle! Alive! The progeny of millions upon millions of descendants. Only a few weeks ago it was a pupa that somehow survived the hard winter. And I know that if I looked more closely, I'd see wonderful detail in its wing shape and texture. Closer still, and I would see that it was covered in millions of near microscopic scales. How beautiful! I cannot but marvel at and give thanks for every one I see.

Earth is covered in life. Literally. Look out the window. Amazing. Take a glass full of ocean and after a day it will stink — it was full of life you could not see. Surely there must be other such worlds? Probably so, but this is the only one we know. Where does this thankfulness come from?

Tiger swallowtails have now made their appearance. These are the high and fast flying flamboyant lords among the local butterflies. Yet, though I marvel at them as well, still I smile most at the unassuming duskies.

Were these insects susceptible to the folly of egoic pride, each would most likely look down at some other and derive illusory meaning therefrom. Yet these silly swallowtails have never seen the vast iridescent blue of Morpho morpho — now that's a butterfly!

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