Even if butterflies aren't free, they're worth it

Perhaps the heat and humidity have got to me but I find myself pondering how it might be that, the more we look, the more we find signs of some form of life in about every nook and cranny of Earth, but, so far, we've found no signs of life elsewhere in the universe. These thoughts have been triggered, in part no doubt, by the continuing and frequent encounters with Summer in Minnesota's deer flies, mosquitos, etc. Once again the dog and I returned from our post-lunch stroll with my fingers covered in her blood, which I acquired by smooshing the deer flies biting her muzzle and around her eyes.

What good are deer flies? What feeds on them? Could the local ecology thrive without deer flies? I found myself wondering if it was time to reread Rachel Carson's Silent Spring, since the pros and cons of deer flies versus DDT seemed to be reaching a toss up. But then I remembered that the late Gene Hill, hunting and fishing scribe extraordinaire, managed to write credibly about why there are ticks. Perhaps, if he had lived longer, he might have done something similar for deer flies. I suppose that leaves us, or at least me, in the "mine is not to reason why" mode. No doubt my dog would react to a deer fly mask about as well as she does to a COVID-19 mask. She doesn't like masks. They  keep her  from eating and drinking and licking but doesn't mind at all if I get blood all over my fingers, especially if it's from smooshed flies that were biting her.

swamp milkweed in bloom

Photo by J. Harrington

I find butterflies much preferable to biting insects. Sometime soon I hope the swamp milkweed around our "wet spot" in the back yard will come into bloom. That should attract monarchs and other butterflies, unless I mowed to close to the rim of the  wet spot last Autumn and took out the swamp milkweed. We should know in the next week or two. I'm also contemplating planting the pretty orange butterfly weed milkweed in the location where asters have failed to survive. Maybe using the tiller to loosen the soil and adding some fertilizer will help.

Song of the Builders 

by Mary Oliver

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God -
a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside
this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope
it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

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