Although seeing a butterfly in springtime is always a joy, seeing one in winter is sure to set anyone’s heart aflutter.
These fragile creatures, known for their marvelous ability to transform themselves from caterpillar to winged wonder, have often been employed as symbols of the soul, hope and renewal.
In late winter when there is still the threat of harsh weather, one doesn’t expect to find such a delicate creature in the woods. My grandson was turning a log over in the forest to examine a shelf fungus more closely when he caught sight of the butterfly.
Though its wings appeared frosted and stiff, we brought it indoors to have a closer look. We were quickly able to identify it as a Mourning Cloak (Nymphalis antiopa), a species that can convert glucose into antifreeze in order to survive the cold. When its wings are closed, showing only the dark undersides, it’s also extremely well camouflaged in dark woods.
What is unsought will go undetected.
~ Sophocles
Too often, we only see what we expect to. Adults usually don’t expect to see butterflies in winter. But a five-year-old wouldn’t have such set expectations, so his eyes would not so easily dismiss the shape of delicate wings for dried leaves. I wondered how many Mourning Cloaks I had missed seeing in the winter woods over the years.
Within minutes of being indoors, the butterfly was opening its wings. Though it looked a bit ragged, it was still alive.
The older we get, the better we learn how to manage expectations. We don’t like to disappoint others and we especially don’t like to disappoint ourselves so we get into the habit of expecting less of everything around us. Yet, surely there’s something to be lost in lowering expectations in order to avoid disappointment. Besides butterflies in winter, what else might we be missing?
High expectations are the key to everything.
~ Sam Walton
Thank you to Joseph Belicek of Edmonton Alberta for identifying this butterfly’s subspecies as hyperborea.
Scott over at Views Infinitum is offering a macro photography challenge to all who are interested. Deadline for submissions is March 23rd. The close-up images shown above were made by using the macro mode on the Nikon Coolpix S8000.
Flandrum Hill 
Grandchildren in the autumn of our lives… Beautiful post!
Thanks Patricia. Autumn? Am I in autumn already?!? Funny how these seasons creep up on you 😉
What a marvelous wonder to share with your grandson! Reminds me of the magical moments in nature I enjoyed with my grandmother, all those years ago… Your grandson is lucky to have your companionship while he explores the world!
Barbara, the greatest wonder is indeed in the sharing. I’m lucky too because we’re both enriched by the other seeing something we can’t due to the limitations of our age and experience.
I am astonished. I had no idea a butterfly could do that. These are wonderful photos, and it’s a wonderful story, and somehow I suspect your grandson is especially open to wonder. A talented grandma is a blessing in a child’s life.
Gerry, I had no idea either. Would you believe they’re able to increase their body temperature by forty degrees? Not only do they use their built-in antifreeze, but they also flutter their wings to heat up their muscles and place their dark wings at a 45 degree angle to make the most of the sun’s warmth.
Yes, he is indeed open to wonder and is a wonder in himself. He has already amazed me with a drawing he decided to do of a monarch butterfly a couple of weeks ago.
How sweet of you to help out this little flutterer! I’ve never seen butterflies in winter – that would surely be a sight!
Milkayphoto, I hope we did it no harm by bringing it indoors. If all goes well, it will have a chance to lay eggs in the spring.
This is a beautiful story and a beautiful butterfly. How wonderful to see color–living color!–at this time of year!
Thanks Pamela. Yes it’s SO very refreshing to see such color in late winter. Just a little taste of all that’s yet to come this spring.
How did the story end ? Were you able to feed it ? Set it out on the sunny deck ? Was this last year’s butterfly and it spent all winter under that log ? There are no flowers yet — howwould it survive ?
Aren’t I just full of questions today ?
Sybil, it hasn’t ended yet. I’ve offered it some fruit as recommended in my Audubon field guide. It doesn’t seem interested. It fluttered around a bit once things warmed up in the window where I had placed it so I decided it to move it to bigger digs in a larger terrarium. It seems content to just hang out. It spent this afternoon at the preschool being observed from a safe distance by all the junior scientists.
Yes you are full of questions today 🙂
My heart flutters like the wings of the butterfly imagining that such a juxtaposition can occur. This feels like a Zen koan: “Can a butterfly exist in winter?” The heart answers YES even though the rational thoughts insist it cannot be so. It is like the koan: “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” The butterfly, covered with snow, provides the silent answer. (OK, Amy-Lynn, I am feeling very philosophical/spiritual the last couple of days.) 🙂
Kathy, thank you for such enlightening words. Silent answers always have the most impact.
What a lovely post Amy-Lynn. I think you’re right about not seeing what we don’t expect to. I am so looking forward to my grandchild coming, so I can have experiences like yours with her.
It’s very spring like here in the UK. Lots of flowers already. My camera is itching to get out again, but sadly I must work!! Hey Ho!!
Lynne, we’re still waiting for the flowers here.
You will be amazed at how much your grandchild will show you about the world that you had not realized you had forgotten.
Nature never ceases to surprise us. It does take a 5 year old to see what we are blind to. There’s a lesson in that for all.
Your camera did well in macro mode and than you for the link.
Thanks and you’re welcome Scott. Nature and children never cease to surprise me too 🙂
[…] at this latitude, but over in Nova Scotia Amy-Lynn of Flandrum Hill has a wonderful post about the Mourning Cloak her grandson discovered. You will like […]
What a beautiful post and great contribution to Scott Thomas´Assignment on close-up photography ! I am thankful for the happy moments you shared, the unexpected discovery brought by curious eyes. Your pictures of the butterfly have a watercolour feel about them. I love this !
Thanks for the interesting quotes too.
Thanks Isa. The butterfly’s wings are so velvety. I was hoping that would come across more in the photo. I hadn’t thought of the watercolor effect until you mentioned it.
As soon as I saw those blue spots – blue, like a scallop’s eyes – I recognized a Mourning Cloak!
I remember visiting the Butterfly Sanctuary in Pacific Grove, CA. It was set up as a resting place for the migrating Monarch butterflies. It had rained the previous night, and one weary butterfly was trapped in a puddle. I carefully picked it up, let it rest in my hands, then placed it on a nearby bush. It immediately spread its wings, to dry in the thin sunlight.
It was such a beautiful adventure – and this is such a beautiful post: thank you!
Aubrey, yes they are the same blue as found in the eyes of a scallop. That is so cool that you noticed that!
Handling such a delicate creature is pretty wonderful isn’t it? A butterfly sanctuary would be quite the place to visit.
Glad you liked the post.
What an amazing story! Makes me wonder now if I’ve ever passed over one of this amazing butterflies. I hope your story ends well, thanks for sharing it.
Karma, I’ve since moved the butterfly to a larger terrarium and it seems quite content, opening its wings frequently and moving about. I found out how to feed a butterfly in captivity and hope to release it as soon as the temperature outside is a bit warmer.
Fantastic your musing on expectations and disappointment, how very profound and how very true. I just texted it to a friend because it fits in with some things we were talking about the other day. Hope wanes as you age. But truly low expectations get you what you hope for; less than you imagined, less than there is.
Meg, hope is indeed so frail, especially as we get older. We can become so jaded after a lifetime of disappointments. Yet as frail as it is, it can survive despite all odds.
“But truly low expectations get you what you hope for; less than you imagined, less than there is.”
That is so true. Thank you very much for adding such a wise comment.
It sounds like you and your grandson are an excellent team out in the woods, and this is a really interesting butterfly. I’ve only ever seen photos of them before, and didn’t know that they had the ability to endure such cold temperatures. Thank you for coming by my site and leaving such a helpful comment. Look forward to more of your posts. -Cait
Cait, the best teams have people with different strengths and that we have.
Thanks for stopping by 🙂 I’ll be looking for those sawfly cocoons now here too.
Wonderful story, Amy-Lynn. It’s quite common for a number of butterfly species to hibernate throughout the cold winter, occasionally even emerging if there is enough sun to warm their wings. I’ve trudged through deep snow here on sunny days in January and sometimes seen a few colourful butterflies flitting about. While some overwinter in the egg or pupal stage, it’s surprising how many spend the cold season as adults. If you were to take it outside again it would simply find an out of the way spot, usually in a crevice or behind some bark or stones to keep out of the wind and way of predators, and wait for the real warm days without harm. Overwintered adults will mate as soon as the weather warms and then usually die. But it’s amazing that it outlasts the winter at all!
Julian, butterflies flitting about while there’s still deep snow on the ground would be quite the sight. What a beautiful contrast their colors would make against the white snow.
The plan is to take the Mourning Cloak out again on a warm day so the difference in temperature is not too much of a shock – but we’ve had very few warm days recently. It’s been much colder than usual for this time of year.
Beautiful story – in so many ways. Grandchildren open us to such wonders, perhaps preparing us to drop the cloak that encases our soul. I’ll never forget the first time my infant daughter opened my eyes to the world around me. I was pushing her stroller down Fort Street, Victoria, B.C. Canada. She pointed upwards so I looked. At the top corner of a six-storey building, was the carved head of a camel. Huh? What was a camel’s head doing there? It was a beautiful piece of carving – and every time we went along that street afterwards, we looked for the camel. A few months later the building was torn down, camel and all. If it hadn’t been for my daughter’s little finger and voice saying something that sounded like Look! I never would have known an unappreciated camel lived above Fort Street for many, many years. In this case, the wonder was man-made, in later years she showed me moss and mushrooms that stunk to high heaven, until one day I said ooh, that mushroom really smells and she confessed that she just farted. It still makes me laugh today, and my daughter is in her thirties. Thank you for your delightful story.
Brokenpenwriter, there’s no end to what a child can show you about the world that you thought you already knew. Rooftop camels and winter butterflies are in the same league. Thank you for adding your stories 🙂
You are right about the managing of expectations,- I haven´t really thought about it that way before, I think I will start to increasing mine a bit. What a wonderful blue color on the little spots. I have just seen two butterflies in my little barn, perhaps they are alive. I will be careful with them, when I start my spring cleaning. Talking with a 5 year old is just wonderful, they have so many questions and thoughts about everything. It is impossible not to feel enriched after such a conversation.
Giid, I hope you get to see those barn butterflies flitter about a little before they leave on a nice spring day.
Conversations with young children truly are enriching. They teach as much as they ask, all with a little wonder mixed in.
Nice story and the Mourning Cloak is my favorite butterfly! Down in Kentucky, we are seeing our first butterflies of the year emerging and waking up from their cold sleep.
artistatexit0, I had never seen a Mourning Cloak before – you must have seen many for it to be your favorite! It seems like we are still a long way off from spring here in Nova Scotia. I’ll bet it’s pretty in Kentucky at this time of year.
I don’t see the Mourning Cloak as often as I would like to…so, when I do…it’s special. I believe the same or similar species in Europe is called the Camberwell Beauty. Nice blog…I enjoyed my visit and will do so again.
Lovely photos and I enjoyed learning about this interesting butterfly. There’s so much wonder in nature!!
Jennifer, I enjoyed learning about this butterfly too. Its discovery was a starting point for introducing me to a new world of wonder.
If only we could switch on the child that we were every now and again. Short of that though, grandchildren work. I wonder if any butterflies overwinter at my latitude and altitude. If so, they are much tougher than me.
It would be wonderful to find one as you have found this treasure.
Cindy, spending time with children certainly helps us make that switch to a mindset that’s open to wonder and discovery.
My guide says that the Mourning Cloak is found everywhere in North America except the High Arctic so it could very well be in your neck of the woods in Alberta. If you do manage to find a way to switch on the child, you may very well find one 🙂
[…] used her camera’s macro setting to show us an almost unbelievable sight: A winter butterfly found by a 5 year old boy who did not know it was something […]
What an amazing creature.
It is indeed burstmode. Sort of makes you wonder how many other creatures have secret attributes that we have yet to discover.