Sometimes realization is painfully slow. At first, upon seeing these two silvery blue butterflies I thought I was lucky enough to see them at play. I readied my camera, moved in slowly, and snapped pictures as I approached.

The intensity of the action made me wonder if perhaps this was the beginning of mating. My soul full of gratitude at such an excellent chance to capture nature and beauty in action with my trusty digital, I kept snapping pictures.

But I was curious about the butterfly on the plant. It didn’t seem to be moving at all. The action of the other was so intense, so full of energy, flying in, fluttering wings against the still one, diving from every angle, that I began to wonder if it was an attack!

Then I saw it.

Look closely. You’ll see it too.

The still butterfly didn’t move because she couldn’t. She’d been trapped by a spider and life was gone from her. I was stunned, touched, saddened. Her mate continued to fly, urging her to fly away, be free from the spider’s grip, but it was too late.

I wondered at the cruelty of nature. And I had so many questions. Do butterflies have feelings? Was there grief in that butterfly’s movement? Did he know she was gone? Was something so small in my human eyes an enormous loss to Mr. Silvery Blue?

With softly spoken words, I urged him to fly away. She’s gone, it’s too late to save her, be safe yourself. And gradually, he fluttered across the field and was beyond my sight.

I silently asked my lost companion to welcome her at the Rainbow Bridge. He loved to play with butterflies when he was here with me, why not while he waits for me there?

And, of course, I took a few more pictures to honour her spirit.

Namaste, silvery blue.

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