After some 104+ efforts to follow, approach and ‘shoot’ these large Phoebis yellow butterfly Spring-Summer ’16, the frustration continued to build. Shooting our yellow butterflies usually results in disappointing images, due I suppose to the yellow itself, a complex soup of visual light spectrum physical principals, I suppose. Almost all of these exposures were at the Butterflies & Blooms in the Briar Patch Habitat in Eatonton, Georgia.
They are so big, so eye-popping, and so numerous in the Briar Patch that I have to consciously control my impulse to keep shooting, shooting and shooting . . . till I get it right. Mostly I am successful in that, remembering the co$t of my Fuji Velvia slide film, Dwayne’s Photo processing and Rewind Memories Scanning.
Back home in chilly Pittsburgh months later, I pitched Oh! too too many into the trash can. This one survived that culling.
She is a fine looking Phoebis sennae, sporting the greenish-yellow wing color and hindwing white spots (2). What she cannot do, is repair that huge missing part of her left hindwing (and forewing). A fighter jet would be grounded in the same situation, happy to have made it safely down. Sweet Phoebis here enjoys no such attention, and continues to fly very well, as I witnessed. No medical centers, PCP’s, Urgent Care offices or local clinics for butterflies. That fly on as able.
Jeff
yet another awesome thought/shot! bypassing the perfection and focusing on the wonder….bird bitten? brier torn? who knows, but you see past that torn wing into the wonder that is winged and delightful! thanks again for reminding us that lifes scars add to the wonder that just is
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I almost believe this butterfly purposely selected this particular flower blooming with a beautiful reds to coordinate with its beautiful green with red spots splattered on its wings. Amazing the patience you have to get this perfect photo shot.
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Thanks. She seems just about to set her proboscis, to take nectar. When I shoot as this, I am thinking, if I capture well, it will be shared, and friends old and new will see novel butterflies, and their own horizons will be . . . .
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