Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Red Spotted Jezebel

The beautiful, and wonderfully named, Red Spotted Jezebel (Delias aganippe) has been frequenting our garden.  They are particularly fond of the Buddleia which has been a mass of fragrant purple, here a male is resting on my garden foe, cleavers. The caterpillars of this species eat mistletoe, which is abundant in our neighbouring bushland.

The history of the name Jezebel is fascinating and a little sordid, check it our here if you're interested. A little disparaging a name for such a beautiful butterfly.

The Yellow or Australian Admiral (Vanessa itea) resting on my drying washing. Far more noble a name, although I wonder what the male thinks about being a Vanessa. The food plant for their caterpillars are stinging nettles, of which there must be a number nearby, as many of these can be seen in our local area. I do love the butterflies of Spring and look forward to seeing the Painted Ladies and Common Browns that will come a little later in the season.

The delightful hum of bees being busy can be heard throughout our garden. On the advice of a friend I have been eating lots of beautiful blue Borage flowers of late, they are best munched early before the bees steal their nectar. They taste quite delicious,  a little like cucumber,  and are meant to be very good for you, read here for more.


  1. Isn't that just gorgeous? You are so clever to get such beautiful shots...so glad you shared them with us x

  2. Jode took the words right out of my mouth it's gorgeous. My favorite around here is the monarch butterfly, but nothing here has colors quite like your jezebel.

  3. You are so good at getting photos of the lovely butterflies. They always seem to hear me coming and fly off (perhaps I need to learn to walk stealth like?).

    Yum borage is great isn't it? And bees are just mad for blue


In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
Margaret Atwood

“She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
"Winter is dead.”
― A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young