A Visit with Chris Marshall

Realkrit's Blue Butterfly, Utah 2023  photo Bob Hillis

   Recently my compañero, Sr Roberto Hillis, queried regarding the use of  a net, from a philosophical standpoint. in the pursuit of Lepidotera.   He had just spent over an hour taking a picture of a small, elusive butterfly,  Realkrit's Blue, and was wondering how we felt about the use of nets in pursuit, identification and photography of butterflies. Before going on, I gotta tell ya that Bob is seeing some killer shit in the Rocky Mountains. I mean, who has ever heard of Realkrit or his obscure (by West Coast standards) little blue butterfly?   Bob and Kim have invited all of us to join them in St. George, Utah next May for a butterfly extravaganza.  Let's get ready to party!

   Bob Pyle is the leading lepidopterist in the Pacific Northwest.  Despite the fact that he lives in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles from any institution of higher learning, the academics from around the country, not just here in Oregon and Washington, defer to him.  Keeping in mind that he is not intimately associated with a collection, one should, I suppose, accept his position on the taking of butterflies for identification and photography. 

Robert M. Pyle, the Dean of Lepidoptery

   Bob Pyle says, " Compared to habitat destruction the taking of a single butterfly is insignificant."  Or to put it another way, it is just fine for Bob Hillis to net that butterfly, take it home and cool it, take its picture and release it, knowing fully well that it is not going make it back to the spot where it was captured.  Adios amigo.

   Sandra and I have collected butterflies for photography a few times, but now that we have a better camera,  we sometimes find ourselves taking the camera into the field and leaving the net sitting on the floor of the back seat.  At least here in the PNW,  photographing butterflies in situ is a sport unto itself.   And with the right equipment its not too difficult ...most of the time.  

    Of course, if we are going on a hike, we take a net or two, two sets of binoculars and two cameras.  Thus, we are ill prepared for netting if a strange  butterfly zips by.  We are taking better pictures, but, as you will see, we are missing out on some identifications.  And as a final philosophical caveat, I hate killing things, so maybe this is OK.

   A situation like this came up yesterday.  It was a cloudy day, but it was the day we had, so we wandered up to Dougan Falls.  We got there a bit before noon.   It was cloudy, breezy and the thermometer in the car said it was 63 degrees outside.

The Western Meadow frit, Dougan Falls, June 2023

  Our fist two stops yielded no butterflies.  Luckily, as we waited at our favorite spot, the sun came out, and things started to move.  I spotted a Western Meadow Frit on a pile of dirt.  He cooperatively flew to a thimble berry leaf where he flattened out and pirouetted until his wings were in the perfect position to catch some rays.  
 

   He was a happy little sun bather and I had the camera handy.  At my leisure I took a pretty good picture.No net required. 

  Then, from across the gravel road, Sandra hailed me.  She had a small dark butterfly and together we chased it down the road until it flew into the forest.  We stopped for a moment and then she said, "Look, there's one right around you!"  And indeed this little black bug was circling me.  I got a pretty good look for a couple seconds at this small flying insect.  The nets were in the car, so we had no opportunity to capture it.  Of course, it flew into the forest, preventing photography.  I then retrieved the net and waited for ten minutes, standing in the road with my butterfly net, looking like a refugee from the local mental institution, but no more little black butterflies appeared. 

Clodius Parnassian, Dougan Falls 2023

   Playing the sour grapes card, Sandra wanted to write it off as a moth.  It was chubby, all right, but I think it was a skipper, possibly a duskywing, of which their are two species on the wing at this time of year in Skamania County.  Its debatable whether we would have successfully netted this fast flier, but as it was we never got a chance to try. 

   The sun continued to go in and out and we were treated to another hour of butterflies.  There were lots of tiger swallowtails and Lorquin's Admirals.   And at one point we were visited by two or three Clodius Parnassians, one of which did somewell positioned  nectaring, so I could snap this picture.  Look carefully and you can see the cherry red dot peaking out under the right forewing. 

    We've already brought these butterflies home, chilled them and taken some excellent pictures, so there was no reason for any netting.  Suffice it to say, their little ghosts  linger over my guilty conscience. 

   Which brings me to the next part of the story...  Last Wednesday Sandra and I visited the Insect Museum at Oregon State University in Corvallis.   We had been invited, after a fashion, by Paul Hammond, who is the bull goose Lepidopterist at that fine institution of higher learning.  We sort of wandered in unannounced, and were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a friendly giant wearing a necktie.  

   This well dressed colossus introduced himself as Chris Marshall, the curator of the insect museum at OSU.    We talked about butterflies and he was regretful that Paul Hammond wasn't in.  It remains to be seen if Paul would have shared this sentiment or Chris's cordiality.  We looked at his exhibits in the hallway and we talked about me donating a paper mache butterfly to the Insect Museum.  I don't know which was cooler, the weather outside or Chris's reception to my offer.  Actually, he was very nice and we may send him a butterfly just to see what he does with it.  

  Later in our visit he told us of  a convocation that OSU holds each October in which people interested in butterflies convene at Cordley Hall to share their experiences.  There are academics, talented amateurs like our dear Caitlin LaBar, and a variety of other characters.  Chris mentioned one gentleman who, at this gathering, sells jewelry made from butterfly wings.  

    Chris kept saying that he had to get back to work, but made no strong effort to shoo us along,.  I asked for a picture and he went to one of the large metal cabinets in which the butterflies are kept, brought out a tray and posed with Sandra.  Count if you can, the butterflies in that tray, then multiply it by several thousand, for there were so many rows of these large metal cabinets.  Do you remebber Carl Sagan ,the astronomer, saying, "billions and billions and billions?"  Such is the infinite number of deceased butterflies in the museums around our United States. 

   While he allowed that he, too, doesn't like to kill anything, I got the distinct impression that Chris thinks its just fine to catch and preserve insects.   

The Redoubtable SKG meets the Colossus

   Chris and I looked through a few drawers, attempting to find the butterfly from Malaysia named for Pierre Lorquin.  I saw some beautiful butterflies, but not the right one, and finally it was time to go. 

   While this was interesting in its own way,  and perhaps a little depressing, I hope it gives Bob Hillis  a perspective on the loss of one butterfly from the environment.  So let's lift up our chins, do what we can to protect the diversity of host plants and enjoy the miracle that God has given us in the fascinating multitude of insects.

jeff

A chilled Lorquin's Admiral gives his all as a model.