Monday, September 12, 2011

Bees and butterflies

Before the wet weather hit I was enjoying hunting for bugs, with my little one, in the garden.  



 Just hilarious how doused in pollen from the Pigface, these bees were, quite a party going on in those gaudy Mardi gras flowers.




There seems to be less butterflies around the garden this year, our tree sized Buddleia is normally full of action. I think Spring hit so quickly the caterpillars haven't been able to keep up. The Eastern Spinebills are having a great time in the garden - gosh they're hard to photograph, so fast and a bit too high.






This beautiful Australian Painted Lady (Vanessa kershawi) paused and let me photograph it as it basked in the sun, felt like we were watching each other.  Lay there so happily on the mulch until the little one attempted to pick it up.

We often see these butterflies around our place but I would loved to have seen a mass migration like the below report from years gone by, a sky black with butterflies, imagine that.   

"In 1889, the Australian Painted Lady was reported to migrate in such great numbers that they blackened the sky. Trains were unable to get traction because so many butterflies were resting on the tracks! Such mass migrations have not been reported for some time."

More great facts on Painted Ladies, and how to attract them without a trip to Kings Cross, here, I do love the butterfly names.
 
http://www.butterflygardening.net.au/PDFs/factsheets/AustralianPaintedLady.pdf

1 comment:

  1. Gosh, your garden pics are stunning, Kirsty! Seeing the eyes up close on the butterfly - amazing.

    Mardi gras time for the bees? How funny. I have to say I've only seen one butterfly around our home so far this spring..and just a couple more of bees. Hard to imagine the butterflies being so thick that trains couldn't get through - what a sight this would've been!

    ReplyDelete

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