A Journey to Paradise, or The Butterflies. Story One.

 

A Journey to Paradise,

or

The  Butterflies.

Story One. 

 This is only the beginning...

Have you ever been to Paradise? Though, what am I asking—you’ll say we’re both alive! And you and I are right here on Earth! You might have heard of "heavenly places" on Earth, but to actually be there yourselves?!

Well, we did! 

Oh, I should probably explain how we ended up in Florida. Fate scatters friends across cities and countries. Of the three of us who once lived in Los Angeles, just a thirty-minute drive from each other, only two remained in LA. One friend moved from Los Angeles to Boca Raton, a small city near Miami. So, the two of us left behind decided to fly to Florida to visit her and, while we were at it, take an Atlantic cruise to the islands. (Allow me to introduce the friends: Oleksandra, Helena, and me, your humble servant.) But I want to start the story of our journey not with the islands, nor with the sunrises or sunsets, but with a visit to a small museum.

This is Butterfly World. The museum is located in Coconut Creek, a town neighboring Boca Raton, which turned out to be about a twenty-minute drive from Helena’s house. (It’s good to live near a heavenly place! It’s even better to have friends living near a heavenly place who are not only ready to host you (!) but also drive you around to museums and parks! Thank you!)

So, off we go to Butterfly World!

Butterfly World has aviaries with birds, laboratories, gardens, a museum, and even something with the scientific name "Insectarium," but that is not what today’s story is about.

Inside a low and—from the outside—unremarkable pavilion, filled with lush tropical vegetation, with paths, trees, bushes, and flowers, with a grotto, a bridge, and a waterfall... (Have I listed it all too dully? Did I forget anything?)... inside "Butterfly World," there are... butterflies flying!

They are simply flying there! 

"And that’s it?!" — that’s your line. "And for this you started the story with such fanfare?! And this is paradise?!" — that’s you being indignant again.

I cannot take all my readers to that museum, but I can tell you a little bit about it and attempt—just attempt—to convey the feelings I experienced there.

Do you remember how, in your childhood, you would walk somewhere in a forest in a meadow with blooming buttercups, vetch, daisies... and suddenly you’d notice a butterfly fluttering nearby? Remember how you ran across that meadow trying to catch it? That’s what bubbles up from the depths of memory the moment you walk in. Except in that pavilion (as the internet says), up to 20,000 butterflies are flying at once.

(Well, I didn't see that many myself; plus, different butterflies fly at different times of day; plus, counting flying and resting butterflies is impossible; plus, a butterfly's life is short, so they have to constantly release new ones to keep the numbers up... But the butterflies flying around us were ve-r-r-y many!)

We arrived in the late morning of a sunny, warm December day; at first, we wandered through the pavilion practically alone, there were few people. You walk along the paths, surrounded by an abundance of flowers, and besides the butterflies, you begin to notice tiny birds here and there...

Soft classical music is playing (in our day and age, no less!), and gradually the anxieties and worries evaporate from your head, and all that remains are these butterflies fluttering before you—bright, small, colorful happiness with wings...

All that remains is the desire to sit down somewhere in a little corner on a bench—thankfully, there are many of them—and just look, and look, and look, thinking of nothing at all, except for the fact that this is that very same paradise on earth, and you were lucky enough to find yourself here...

And you simply fall into a state of thoughtless contemplation of the world. (Thoughtless! Not senseless! — that’s the teacher in me, just in case you were reading mechanically.)

For me, besides just sitting, there is another joy: to run around and try to capture all this delight for memory.

This turned out to be unimaginably difficult (no, running isn't difficult—I’m "still okay," as they say—but photographing butterflies turned out to be problematic), but a few things worked out.

The absolute star of the park is the "Blue Morpho."

This is one of the largest butterflies in the world, with a wingspan of twelve to twenty centimeters. In full spread, they are literally the size of my two palms (now I hear my friends saying I’m exaggerating... fine, not all of them are like that, but some are!). These butterflies, with dazzlingly bright, almost "metallic" blue wings, are originally from South America.

I first saw her sitting modestly on some branch, and I was amazed at the size: large, with a lace-like symmetrical pattern, she was a joy to the eye.

But it took me a long time to understand that this "plain Jane" in flight sparkles with every shade of blue and light blue, reflects silver, and rivets your gaze until she folds her wings—and having folded them, she suddenly becomes practically invisible, she vanishes. It’s in flight that it’s impossible to miss them (though practically impossible to photograph: they fly in zigzags, pausing for literally a second to warm themselves in the sun's rays, and when they land—the wings fold and the fairy tale ends).

Against the background of branches and bark, they are hardly noticeable. But if the wings are open, you don't notice anything else. 

In contrast to many other butterflies, the "Blue Morpho" almost never drinks flower nectar. They feed on the juice of fermented fruits, tree sap, and even moisture from mud to get necessary minerals. The Morpho has a very unusual way of tasting: their taste receptors are located on their legs. Before starting to eat, the butterfly "tests" the fruit simply by standing on it. In Butterfly World, special trays with fruit are set out.

The "Blue Morphos" especially love overripe bananas.

The entire life of a Morpho butterfly fits into 115 days, of which it flies as a butterfly for about two weeks. For some reason, those two weeks made me happy; I thought the life of a butterfly was only two or three days. It’s nice that these giants live longer.

I found some interesting information about the meaning of butterflies in different cultures. 

In Ancient Greece, a blue butterfly was perceived as a human soul in a state of peace and tranquility. 

In many cultures of Latin America (where the Morpho lives), meeting one is considered a sign that physical or emotional pain will soon pass.

(Don’t worry, she’s alive—literally a second later she folded her wings, sat for another second... and flew off about her business. If butterflies have "business.")

In Christianity, the butterfly is generally a symbol of resurrection (caterpillar—life, cocoon—death, butterfly—the reborn soul). The blue color adds the meaning of divine purity and hope.

(Oh, Helen, so it was a Blue Morpho back then! Did the wish come true? This is where I must tell you a little story.)

In the museum, butterflies fly literally everywhere, and if you stand still, they might land on your shoulder or clothes. 

They are very often within arm's reach; you really want to touch them, if only with a finger. (Touching them, of course, is forbidden.)

I was in a bright blue shirt, and a couple of times butterflies tried to land on my sleeve, but no, I wasn't lucky.

On the other hand, they sat on the shoulder of a man walking by for several minutes, letting themselves be photographed and seemingly not planning to fly away at all.

Just as we were leaving, a huge blue butterfly sat on Helen’s head, and for me—what bad luck—my phone was already in my bag, even though I had been carrying it in my hand the whole time, constantly ready to shoot. At the very exit, I missed such a shot: the butterfly was sitting on the hair of my friend walking in front of me, like a brooch! The attendant simply took the butterfly off her hair with her hand—and we went out through the double doors. (So, maybe at least a small wish came true?)

And do you ever wonder how from a tiny, grain-sized white egg, a caterpillar hatches, eats poisonous plants (information just in case: Blue Morpho caterpillars are poisonous, but we aren't planning to eat them, are we?!). Then this bright, striped, green-brown, bristly caterpillar with a little brush on the end grows to seven or ten centimeters, and inside of her... (well, you know what’s inside a caterpillar, we’ve accidentally squashed them in childhood); then she pupates, hanging under some leaf like a large malachite earring-grape. And from that incomprehensible mass, a butterfly hatches! And not just any butterfly, but a "Blue Morpho"! After that, are you still an atheist?!

Oh, as always, I forget the most interesting and amazing thing: this butterfly has no blue pigment! The bright glow is an optical illusion. The wings are covered with microscopic scales that refract light so that we only see the blue spectrum.

If you look at the wing from another angle, the color can change to purple or almost black.

Semi-transparent wings, a stained-glass window pattern... a feeling of fragility and vulnerability—this is the Malachite butterfly (Siproeta stelenes)—one of the most graceful creatures we met at Butterfly World.

(Well, it’s clear it got its name in honor of the mineral malachite because of the characteristic bright green or yellowish-green spots on a dark brown or black background of the wings, although it seems to me that its coloring is quite far from the usual "malachite" green.) When it folds its wings, it camouflages perfectly as dried leaves.

It seems this is also a Malachite butterfly, judging by photos on the internet, though to me these two greens are absolutely different.

Or maybe it’s Philaethria dido—the green longwing? To be honest, I got confused by them. If you know anything—correct me in the comments.

And here they are in the "dining room," on the bananas.

This butterfly is called the "Paper Kite" or "Rice Paper" (Idea leuconoe). There were more of these at Butterfly World than any others. (Maybe it just seemed that way to me because they either flew slower or flew in a more predictable direction; they were easier to photograph, which I took advantage of).

Their wings are not quite white, rather cream-colored, like they were cut out of tissue paper; they don’t give a feeling of brittleness or fragility. Unlike the "Blue Morpho," in the conditions of the Butterfly World park (where there are no predators and food is always in plenty), the lifespan of a "Paper Kite" butterfly is from nineteen to thirty days. And it can live two or three months in ideal conditions! The whole life cycle is a hundred to a hundred and ten days.

By the way, you can observe the different stages of development yourself.

And then admire the living butterfly, just like in a picture.

They say that in Butterfly World, they receive high-quality nectar that sustains their strength much longer than in the wild.

This butterfly has a slow metabolism; it leads a very "energy-saving" lifestyle, not wasting much strength on fast flight or sharp maneuvers, preferring to glide smoothly in the air currents. (Did you draw a conclusion for yourself? No? I’ll draw it for you: eat high-quality food and don’t run—do everything smoothly—and you will live longer.)

And they also say this butterfly is poisonous! And since the "Paper Kite" is toxic to birds, it doesn’t need to be in constant stress or hide. (Here is another piece of advice for you: "Absence of stress and staying calm prolongs life!" Live like the "Paper Kite"—the patriarch among butterflies—and your life will be long and happy. Although, you knew that even without me.)

Searching for all the names, continents, habitats, and peculiarities... to be honest, I didn't want to. I just wanted to remember the beauty, tenderness, and fragility of God's creations and admire them, if only in photographs.

I keep talking about butterflies and butterflies, but someone actually thought of opening such a unique museum—a wonderful, wild idea came to a person’s head!

Once upon a time, there lived an electrical engineer. He was successful and owned a firm in the communications field (NDR Communications). His name was Ronald Boender. And—Florida got lucky—the engineer retired, and his life's time was freed up for a long-time hobby. Raised on a farm in Illinois, he had loved nature since childhood. After moving to Florida in 1968, Ronald began growing butterflies right in his garden. His passion was so strong that, as they jokingly said in the family, "the hobby got out of control." In 1984, he founded MetaScience, which supplied butterflies to universities and zoos for research. Many of the breeding methods he developed then are still used in the world today. Boender helped create the Laboratory of Endangered Species at the University of Florida. His efforts played a key role in saving a rare butterfly—the Schaus Swallowtail—which was on the brink of extinction. Boender joined forces with Clive Farrell, the founder of the London Butterfly House, to open a museum in the States and implement the English concept in the US. Ronald Boender opened this museum, Butterfly World, in 1988. Now the place is unique; it is the largest butterfly park in the world and the first such exhibition in the Western Hemisphere. In that same year, 1988, Boender launched a national program to teach people across America how to create butterfly gardens in their own homes. Thanks to him, almost half of the elementary schools in his county got their own butterfly gardens.

And also, besides entomology, Ronald was seriously into music. He founded a Christian choir in Fort Lauderdale and the group Acappella Singers, who performed concerts and recorded albums. And notice—all of this after retiring! So, my dear friends, the creation of the beautiful is possible at any age. At the very least, let's not give up!

I swear that when I started this story, I didn’t know this—I didn’t know these words! Even then, as we walked through the pavilion with my friends, sitting on the benches here and there, chasing butterflies with the hope of capturing them for memory, we said that if there is paradise on earth, it’s here, among the beautiful flowers and butterflies fluttering around to the melodies of Mozart and Vivaldi (and not just them). And now, reading an article about Ronald Boender, I found a phrase said by him in an interview with the New York Times: "I just decided to create something so beautiful that people, coming here, would say: 'I guess this is what paradise looks like.'"

This is exactly what paradise looks like.

P.S.

Oh, I’m trying to "shove the unshoveable": to combine several stories into one. I’ll just have to add them.

1.

The museum itself is pleasant; there’s a place to walk, a place to sit. It’s filled with flowers that you don’t notice at first—the butterflies reign here, the flowers serve. If there were no butterflies, the story would be dedicated to the flowers. 

And over all of this is the blue sky.

2. Into the "Insectarium" (remember that fancy word?), I ran in alone; my friends stayed outside. 

It turned out to be a rather large room where there was a fairly heavy smell of some chemicals. On the walls were collections of insects. 

Where are our jewelry pieces compared to this! Any butterfly would give a head start to the brightest sparkling diamonds and precious stones! Just look.

If you have a question about where all these butterflies come from: the butterflies are brought to the park as pupae from special farms all over the world (Costa Rica, Malaysia, the Philippines). In the museum's laboratory, you can see entire rows of suspended pupae that look like jewelry. Some specimens are very rare.

3. And there is also a souvenir shop at the museum. Also, just look.

A Paper Kite! It would be great to launch one in our California mountains; it would be beautiful. Or you could decorate a child’s room.

Would you turn down butterflies like these on a Christmas tree?

And the panel of butterflies on the dark blue wall of my bedroom would look fantastic.

And that little blue handbag would go with many of my dresses and trousers.

It’s a good thing I gave myself my word (about ten years ago now) not to buy anything on trips, otherwise this little shop, like many others like it, would have ruined me. 

But what remains for memory is this story.

Girls, thank you.