Butterflies are Free

What makes a butterfly flutter its way above a hot sandy beach, just a few feet above the scorching surface? When it could choose a path over water, or over coconut groves or rice paddies? What makes thousands of others do the same?

The beach here where we are staying near Puri is private to the hotel. It is accessed via a 2 km dirt road through protected pine forest. Not only is this beach for hotel guests only, it is completely undeveloped and deserted, and at times Dean and I have been its sole users. It is a wide, sandy expanse, perhaps 300’ wide between the waves’ edge and the irregular forested border of the dunes, and it seems a vast seering desert when we are retreating at the end of a visit. The beach is remarkably straight and disappears from sight to the south and north in the bright haze of the day. For as far as we can see, there is not another soul, and the

waters edge is frilled with endless bands of surf crashing against the shore. It is perfect for body surfing, walking, beach combing, and that is what we have been doing when not carefully arranged in the shade of our two beach umbrellas, reading and lolling about.

Even so, we are a bit hesitant to leave our belongings with the umbrellas and walk along the beach together, so usually one wanders while the other minds the shady fort. It was on one of those

occasions on our first day at the beach that I first noticed the flutter-by.

Dean had gone off on an amble along the beach to look at the array of beach stuff to be seen. There are many little holes in the sand from which appear tiny sand crabs which scuttle at astonishing speed across the sand on tip-toe, or rush to the brink of their holes at the sight of an approaching human. There are mysterious larger holes, perfectly formed from 4-6” in diameter and curving downward for 8-

12”. Some tiny holes are surrounded by artful bands of tiny sand balls, all carefully arranged by the hole’s inhabitant. There are some sea shells, mostly broken in the surf, and crab carapaces, but most intriguingly, there are many turtles. It is at first a somewhat grisly sight to see large, dead turtles at fairly regular intervals of about 100+ feet, near the top of the tide line, partially burried in sand and nearly always being investigated (and ingested) by the little scuttling beach crabs. However, it is interesting to observe the various stages of decomposition, right to the point of many white, dry, clean vertebral, skull and limb bones shing in the

sun. Funnily enough there is no smell, although this may be a blessing only of the constant sea breeze which makes our exploration of the sunny beach possible without withering in the heat. Although there are plenty of the turtle carcasses on the beach, they are but flecks on the vast expanse of sand and are not a detriment to beach enjoyment. It clearly is the time for turtles to lay their eggs, and perhaps the larger holes are the egress of the hatchlings, who knows. We have not seen evidence of small turtles yet, but understand that hatching may occur any time soon, presumably under the safer, cooler cover of darkness.

While Dean was vanishing along the beach. I ventured to the water’s edge to wet my feet while still maintaining watch over our possessions. Why? When the only other beach occupant were the two fellows who provided the mats and umbrellas? While approaching the water I saw the first butterfly go by, a large, Monarch-like insect with black front wings

edged with pale yellow dots, and orange-red back wings and body. It was 3-4” across. It fluttered by slowly and liltingly just a few feet in front of me.

Then there was another, and another, and as I looked north out over the water and up the beach, I could see hundreds coming my way. It was a most thrilling and unusual sight, as they flitted up and down, but always southward, and always within about 10 feet above the beach and the water. They defied photographing.The air was not thick with them, but it was more butterflies than I had ever seen at one time, and I realized that they were migrating according to some invisible force. Later I found one on the beach, perhaps tired or injured but still very much alive, and carried it gently to show Dean. A few minutes later it took off again.On and
on this went all day, with batches of hundreds swooping by, negotiating the increasing breezes of the day and determinedly making their way south.

When we returned in the late afternoon to the hotel, there were some flying southward there as well, but we did not see as many, perhaps due to the lateness in the day. The next morning there were fewer, and by later in that day, virtually none. Since then we have seen only the expected number of butterflies from our balcony, one or two every few minutes.

So to my growing list of favorite things about India, I now add this butterfly flurry.

Oh. And bobbing in the waves and picking up ‘beach treasures’ on our private sandy beach, of course.