Butterflies flutterby #phenology

More, and more types of, butterflies have been flittering and fluttering around the property over the past week. White admirals and red admirals (but no Admiral Kirk) have joined swallowtails to brighten our days. We've had a report of a monarch sighting from the Better Half but not seen any ourselves. Looking at the growth stage of our milkweed, that may not be surprising. There's not a lot of forage for caterpillars yet.

white admiral

Photo by J. Harrington

Ruby-throated hummingbirds have been regularly coming to the nectar feeder we attached to a window in our study. The feeder is about 10 or so feet above ground level. As far as we can tell, we haven't spilled any of the sugar water nectar. Nevertheless, somehow multitudes of small, what my mother would have called "sweet" ants, have discovered the feeder and get themselves trapped by entering through the hummers' feeding holes.

red admiral

Photo by J. Harrington

Downy woodpeckers have reappeared at the oriole/hummingbird feeders, but no signs of orioles over the past few weeks. Rose-breasted grosbeaks and goldfinches have been regular visitors and an occasional mourning dove and cardinal shows up on the ground under the front feeder. One or two hen turkeys keep scratching under the feeders hanging on the deck railing, which sometimes complicates letting one of the dogs out to take care of business.. All in all we seem to be settling into a satisfying, if not particularly exciting, Summer pattern.

Did you know that today is the birthday of William Butler Yeats? In honor of that, and our wishes for a peaceful, rewarding Summer for each of us, let's enjoy one of his poems. If your tastes run more toward music than poetry, we heartily recommend the Waterboys' An Appointment with Mr. Yeats.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

By William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

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