The swallowtails of summer

Thanks to my wife Sue's landscaping our home with bird- and butterfly-friendly plants, I don't have to travel far and wide to revel in the swallowtails of summer.

It wasn't always that way. When we first moved into our single-wide shaky-shanty at Sun Mountain 20-some-odd years ago, all there was for landscaping were a few native grasses (way too much cheatgrass), juniper, sagebrush, rabbitbrush, and a whole lot of knapweed.

Now we live in a double-wide shaky-shanty, the knapweed's gone, (still way too much cheatgrass), same old junipers and sagebrush, rabbitbrush and bitterbrush, a kitchen garden - and hundreds of butterfly- and bird-friendly native plants. On a warm day in summer you can almost hear the insects and birds humming a happy tune (especially the bluebirds). All it takes is water.

The only thing I feel badly about is that the monarch butterflies found Sue's jungle of showy milkweed only once in all the years we've lived here. But it's those swallowtail butterflies that make up for 'em. Like with my six children, I can't have a "favorite," but it's tough. Especially on a warm day that has the breath of summer in it, and along comes a swallowtail butterfly lazily bouncing through the warm air, singing its heart out.

Singing? Granted, I have never heard a swallowtail sing, but I have the faith to believe they do. We homo sapiens are handicapped, that's all; try as we may, we just cannot seem to get on the right frequency to appreciate the songs of nature.

Even winter can't stop them, no matter how cold it may be, the force of life will sing on; nature's special anti-freeze protects the snoring butterfly. Even at 20 below zero, the contents of the silken container with the changing insect inside (chrysalid for a butterfly, cocoon for a moth), is as snug as a bug in a rug.

In spring, the case splits open and the struggle for life begins. Tightly folded wings pop out into the air and immediately begin to inflate, not with air, but with the precious life-fluids of the butterfly. The abdomen slides out, followed by the thorax and then head. The antennae are rolled up tight, but as soon as the head clears the case, they begin to unroll and sense the world around the butterfly. What delicious aromas, tastes and music must flow into the insect's sensory organs!

Then, the new insect steps out of the shell to bask in the sun. The wings go from that shriveled, shapeless mass to become the magnificent organs that will allow it to fly; to show its colors for protection from predators, and recognition by one of his or her kind to find it, mate, lay eggs and continue the species.

Just watch the next swallowtail you see, I'll bet you will almost hear it singing as it bounces along from one flower to the next. And if you really want to get involved, plant things in your yard that birds and butterflies enjoy. Then you're really living.