Monday night was a little cooler than the weekend evenings but apparently it was warm enough to get one group of night singers going, the snowy tree crickets. Shortly before dusk those around my house in Noyac burst into song. As is typical, their opening chorus was short lived but louder than usual, drowning out for a second the noise of the very busy traffic along Noyac Road.
I’ve never heard anyone utter anything nasty about butterflies. About moths, yes, but not butterflies. In just about every other animal group, particularly within the many insect families, there are hordes of species — bedbugs, mosquitoes, yellow jackets, termites, carpenter ants, deer flies, weevils, locusts, what have you — that have been called every curse word in the book. But butterflies have been spared. Why?