One of the Comments received asked where our post of a Mourning Cloak butterfly was? That was a fine question.
I remember several opportunities that I ‘ve had over these many years . . . in each case as I carefully, and I mean carefully set up/made my slow approach/check exposure/held my breath (for this may be my, shall I say favorite butterfly) . . . I would watch this magnificent butterfly fly away, leaving me with zero or surely too few images to hope to score a winning image.
Nymphalis antiopa is one of the most beautiful butterflies that I have ever seen, anywhere. When viewed up close in good morning light on one of those days when the sky is baby blue and the air is fresh, the blue, maroon and yellow of the dorsal, that is upper surface are indescribable.
They are seen in March through June, vanish and then are seen again in late August through early November. Adults overwinter.
Shortly after my wife passed, I was on a trail in Raccoon Creek State Park and noticed a large butterfly flying about 30′ above the trail. I watched it go further down the trail, turn and fly back again . . . then it disappeared. I’ve gotten kind of good at following flight, so I was puzzled at how I had lost track of this one, which I now knew as a Mourning Cloak. Moments went by, I remain in place. I suddenly realized that it was on my hat. I remained transfixed. Frozen in place. Then . . . it flew up and up and up and went down the trail, turned, and came back again, still 30′ up . . . and continued on its way. I cried . . .
I love Mourning Cloaks. This image is my best of a dorsal view. Enough.
Jeffrey
The Mourning Cloak is also my favorite butterfly. I still remember the first time I ever saw one, in the Nichols Arboretum, in Ann Arbor. I was walking alone in a rather cathedral-like space of the park (very tall tree canopy and lots of airy space). Bobbing and dipping in the air, came this beautiful, large, mostly dark butterfly, but with the creamy-white edging along the wings. I was startled by the beauty and ran home to look it up in a book. …Ever since, I’ve felt a special connection to them. Regards, J.
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