Butterfly Effect

Note on photo above: By some chance, the mating curled up dragonflies landed on this curl of a stem.

Standing In The Rain

It rained about 3 times on me today while I was out on the field.  After being bored with whatever he was doing, the Alien from KL picked the wrong date to come back into the field... and tagged along with his expensive film camera. 

Which resulted in him and me standing under a banana tree with him explaining how the banana tree is designed to provide shelter because the leaves and stems are designed in such a way to direct rain pelting from above to the roots.

This he explained, while the rain dripped on both of us.

Sometimes there are defects, he explained cheesily, flashing his huge dimples. 

Note on photo above:  The markings don't really match exactly... so I'm not sure that this is a blue jay.

Butterflies In The Rain

Sometimes you can tell a change in weather when the butterflies don't come out when there's sunshine (cos maybe it's going to rain) and when they come out in the rain (cos maybe it's just passing rain).

Today the butterflies came out repeatedly in the intermittent sunshine between the rains while we repeatedly retreated and emerged from the shelter of the banana tree. 

Note on photo above: Butterfly in the rain.  As the rain pelted down, the butterfly lowered its tails to the ground and folded its forewing behind its hindwing as if it was trying to minimise exposure to the rain. 

This butterfly fluttered and eventually settled to drink feverishly, ignoring the rain.  Excited by its strange disposition, I forgot myself and continued to shoot it in the rain for a little while before I came to my senses and wrapped my precious camera back in my raincover.

Note on photo above: Compare the wings in this photo while it was out in the sunshine versus the one of it in the rain.

Note on photo above: The usually skittish peacock pansy was dull and listless and sat peaceably on a rain speckled leaf while I shuffled around it noisily.

In the rain, even usually skittish butterflies seem to lose about half their energy and sit around as if half asleep.

Note on photo: Skittlebug cruiser even allowed an underside shot.

Butterfly Banter

I attended a small seminar today which was organised by Yoda of the Butterflies and featured a overseas entomologist and a maths professor who had documented the life histories of (if I remember correctly) about half or more of the species of butterflies in Singapore.

It was all very good and very nice and everyone seemed way over their heads in their interest in butterflies.

Compromise

I was disheartened to hear talk about alternative urban environments for butterflies as if their natural environment was so against the world's ideals of 'advanced economies' that it shouldn't be allowed to exist and that we should compromise.... find a way for butterflies to hang around in artificial environments... while we continue to have our way with everything else.

Note on photo: The skittlebug king of skittlebugs even stopped for a proper pose on a leaf.

I'm frightened to say that I am not diplomatic, am not able to consider alternatives, not able to compromise.  Which usually leaves me outside of any acceptable options, refusing to participate in any future that doesn't believe in respecting Nature beyond artificially keeping her alive in a cage.    

Note on photo above: Dad and bro at Mum's grave.  Bro looks like wolverine... without the great bod and Adamantium claws.

The First Year

I can't believe it.  We survived the first year without:

1) Mum's cooking

2) Mum's housecleaning

3) Mum trying to keep us all together

Forever Smiling

I woke up late.  Rolled out of bed like a log.  Took so long to get dressed that by the time we left the house, it started to pour.  After a whole load of running and forgetting stuff and getting confused and some amount of miscommunication later, we ended up at Mum's grave with flowers and me with massive headache and feeling just generally half asleep.

I turned to leave, taking my last few photos, feeling, in my dizziness, that Mum's story had ended with a smile, a happy ending.  Inexplicably.

Note on photo above: I took my Dad and bro for a meal after the visit.

The Recollection

The funny thing about Mum's first year death anniversary was that some days before the anniversary, I began inevitably to recount and recollect what I was doing at that hour one year ago as if I was walking backwards.  Or reliving the days again.  As if half of me had time-machined myself back one year ago, while the other half busied itself with the business of present living.

I remembered sleeping on the hospice couch for nights.  And being on half days for an unimaginable number of days, eventually stopping entirely and going on unpaid leave.

I remember eating a whole load of olives and bread and apple juice.  I even remember where I bought them (Carrefour) and who I was with when I bought them. 

I remember the smell of the hospice room, the warm air in the hallways, the pale colour of the bathroom tiles, the critters in the garden, the taste of hospital food, the neon hospital lights in the night, the people crying in the lobby.

I remember running out onto the road at night and screaming on the highway.  I remember the specials on the menu of the hospital canteen, the sweet smell and colour of liquid morphine,  Mum's endless coughing, the feel of her wasted arms around my waist as they changed her diapers and straightened her bedsheets, her doctor's gait, how he reminded me of Mr Bean, the temperature of her room, the way the sun shone directly into my eyes in the morning and faded to blue by evening.

I remember hugging my Sigma 150-500mm in the garden, thinking quietly.  I remember the falling water on a pane of glass, the names of people on furniture around the hospice, how to attach the head support to their wheelchairs, the colour of Mum's hospital gowns, the thorns on the plants just beneath her window. 

Note on photo above:  My Mum had these...frogs' eggs soup because there is a traditional belief that they help people with lung problems.  I don't know if it's true.  But they taste pretty good...if you're not queasy.

The Depiction Of Life

I just tried to upload the album of black and whites I made last year.  Strangely Vox wouldn't let me.

I guess that's good too.  Maybe it's not good to remember too much of the sad stuff.

Note on photo: My Dad and bro ignored me after I insisted that they don't eat sharks' fins soup.  And after that they felt a little ripped cos that was all the fin they got in their soup.

Note on photo above:  The restaurant was just next to the bird park.  So I photographed these little adorables with my mobile camera after we exited the restaurant.  They so remind me of Tic-Tac, Raymond's little buddy.

Note on photo: On a completely unrelated note, while I was moping around the malls, a group of drummers passed by to remind me how completely random life is.

Note on photo: My first female malayan plum judy...

Short Shoot

You wouldn't believe it but after the visit and the restaurant and the birdies, there was time to shoot before hitting the mall to mope.  

Note on photo above:  The topside was not purplish red but almost completely like the underside from what I could barely spy between her pretty little shoulders.

Note on photo above:  I just like the way the wings and tails had all hit the sun in such a way when the butterfly ran away that it all looked so magical.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note on photo above: The royal butterfly decided it was above me... and it was.  Like at least half a metre.  I got the above shots by *actually* lifting the camera away from my face while trying to look roughly through the viewfinder from the distance so that it would be closer to this uppity little butterfly.

Royal butterflies are difficult little royal things.  The chocolate royal persistently sits in little leaf boats and stares at me out of its emerald eyes.  I can't think of the butterfly whose name sounds more like Magnum ice cream than this little fella.

Note on photo above:  This is not what I would normally pass as a good photo but I just like the way the shadowy red hue from the flowers falls on the butterfly while its iridescent tail glimmers in the shade.

Small Reprieve

I had a reprieve from working after putting my nose to the milestone for several 12 hour days so I ran out like a madwoman into the embrace of Nature before I lost my mind.  I have never been this afraid to look at my mobile before.  Just about everybody calls me, from bosses, to vendors, to colleagues and subordinates.  I can feel my muscles tense up everytime I see "X new messages" on my mobile whenever I look at it or when I get a phone call from an unknown number.

Unfortunately, the nightmare isn't over and the next week is going to be much worse.  This is going to be my short reprieve for a looonng looonnng time.

Note on photo above: My favourite setting of the peacock royal.  Beautiful red flowers, green background and pretty butterfly.  Yoda of the butterflies said that they seemed to prefer the red ixora flowers.  I nonsensically explained that that's because the peacock is a fashionable lady and knows what bests complements her outfit. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note on photo above: Yoda of the butterflies was so enchanted by this royal lady that he spent a good long time hovering above her with his camera, begging her to "open, open, open" (open her wings... so that he could blast flashes at her beautiful topside like a fashion photographer :P)

Blue Blood Butterflies

By some amount of fate, a lot of the butterflies were some kind of royal: Chocolate royal, felder's royal and peacock royal,  They were all not particularly common as far as I've seen.  This is the first time I've seen a peacock royal and a chocolate royal.  I've been tracing the felder's royal at a site for some time already and was just waiting for a better shot.

Note on photo above: Oops... Her highness has a little snip on her left wing.  Aww...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note on photos above: I went back to the sanctuary of the Great Helen but she was nowhere to be found. 

We did find the mis-identified maybe caltoris (but no markings) and maybe quedara skipper who made us dizzy taking rounds on different orange flowers) 

The Funniest Sight

Just when I thought the Great Helen would not appear, Yoda of the butterflies went stomping around a tall tree at least about 4 or 5 times his height.  As I watched the top of his hat and green backpack go round, I suddenly saw the huge slow moving hynoptic wings of the Great Helen hovering above him in the branches of the tree, the hynoptic patches blinking away slowly.

I shouted to him but as soon as he came back around, she disappeared over the treetops like a ghost. 

Note on photo above: Indeed, the pink flowers were not popular with royalty but they seemed to work well with the commonfolk butterflies.

The Hundred Year Old Toddler and His Aunt

On the bus trundling towards the site, I sat opposite a young toddler and his Aunt and had to swallow my laughter at their convesation:

Toddler (closing his eyes with grumpy sigh like a centenarian):  "I don't like the sun..."

Auntie (persistently holding his little leg [I don't know why], babytalking in high pitch voice): "Why you don't like the sun... the sun is good for your skin...see? Such beautiful skin...(points at his arms and legs)"

Toddler (shaking his head with his eyes still closed): "No.... I don't like the sun..."

Auntie (suddenly pointing at toddler's sock and babytalking): "What's this?  Auntie forgot! Auntie forgot again... what's this? [pointing to alphabet B on the todder's sock)"

Toddler (a tad impatiently): "B...."

Auntie (getting a knack at this): "B? Good! Clever boy!..." [after a spell of silence] : "What's this?  Auntie forgot! Auntie forgot again... what's this? [pointing to alphanet B on the sock)"

Toddler (angrily): "B!!!! A... B!!!!!" [grabs Auntie's hand lying on his leg and puts it away on her lap irritatedly]

I don't know about you... but I kinda think the Aunt had it coming.

Note on photo above: This is one velvety, luxuriously coated butterfly.  Such a pretty thing.  Unfortunately, I scared it away before Yoda could get a parallel shot of it thanks to all the foliage being more or less connected in the thick of the brush.  One step and trees and bushes around you shake dramatically.

Note on photo above:  I went back to look for my cream and custard butterfly (ambon onyx) but I found bigg's brownie in numbers.  And none of my adorable little ommph ommph-faced apeflies.  They are somewhat related.  I always think of the bigg's brownie as the taller, slenderer sister of the stout, short necked little impish apeflies.

Right To Wander, Right To Safety

I had wanted to try to trace the Plane (a butterfly with a really really long tail) along a different trail and asked Yoda if he wanted to come along.  When we were just at the start of the trail, we heard voices of men shouting inside the woods, creating a raucous.

Not wanting to collide with trouble, we turned around and left.

But I can't tell you how angry I am at situations where I've had to choose safety and turn away.  It's not that I wanted to choose otherwise.  Because getting away should always be paramount.

But I hate to have to choose.  Everyone should have the right to wander.  And everyone should have the right to safety.  Whether they are men or women.  But the with the crimes of gang rape and robbery and murder rising during these difficult times, rights are merely figments of a society which only exists in the books of idealistic writers and not in my real world where people will tell you that you deserved it if you are a woman and decided to wander in supposedly 'dangerous' places.

You Get What You Give, You Get What You Choose To Live With

The problem about people accepting that the woman deserves it if she wanders in 'dangerous places' is that they get exactly that.

It becomes a right of murderers and rapists to lie in wait in nooks and corners for victims.  Most of the time the people who say that the woman deserves it never imagined that they or their family might one day be the victims.

Where's the grey line that says whether a place is considered as dangerous or not?  It might one day be the quiet carpark at your workplace.  It might one day be the children's playground near your block.  It might one day be the street just outside your house in the dead of night.

But people choose to say that the victims deserve it instead of doing something to bring across the message that everybody has a right to safety.

If a place is deemed to be unsafe because it looks a potential spot for crime, do something about it to make it safer.  Have patrols.  Have better lighting.  Have we got nowhere the past centuries that we dare to admit that we don't know what to do about potential crime spots?

Note on photo above: These ants were hanging around in huge numbers cracking away like rice krispies.  I have never heard or seen anything like this.  For a while I squinted at them, not sure if they were really ants.

It Always Come Around

The same thing applies to everything else in life.  When people agree to unreasonable standards:

1) Workers should not fall sick too often or they should be removed

2) Workers should pro actively do more overtime otherwise they are deemed as unpassionate about their jobs

3) Women should always be beautiful in order to keep their men

4) Workers past a certain age or with special needs should not be given equal opportunity to employment as other workers

They think that they never will be:

1) Sick

2) At the level of seniority (or lack of) where you have no choice

3) Tired/never age/never have stretch marks

4) Age, never one day be exactly the same people they despised

It doesn't have to be written in black and white.  You can be a sympathetic person.  You can be a person who would probably never outwardly approve anything like this.  But all you need to be, is a person who thinks:

1) Yeah... you can't blame employers for removing sick people.  Employers have bottomlines

2) Yeah... you can't blame employers for wanting people to work all day and all night.  Employers have needs

3) Yeah... you can't blame her husband for leaving her.  Husbands have needs

4) Yeah... you can't blame employers for removing old workers.  Employers want young, healthy, able-bodied employees.  It's only natural.

And that would be enough.

To create exactly the hell of a world that we choose to live in.

Note on photo above: This was taken in Endau Rompin by Gandalf (Sunny Chir).  Even though it might have been taken in jest, everytime I see it I think if there is only one defining photo that each person can have in his or her lifetime, this would probably be mine.

The Defining Moment

Things are heating up so much at work that it's starting to show who's there:

1) To just tide over the days without doing anything

2) Because they have no choice and will do what they can to get through the day

3) Because they really love their work and that carries them through the hardest part of the way

I'm not going to lie and say that I love my work 100%.  I don't let my work define who I am.  But if there's work to be done, then it must get done.  And it must be done well.  Nevertheless, without love, it's like insisting of staying together in a relationship and insisting on making things work even when things are no longer the same. 

At the end of the day, you might end up in the same place as where you would be if you were in love.  But it would take you so much more effort to get there and while the victory is materially the same, it's still the tunnel at the end of this tunnel which leads to yet another tunnel.

Note on photo above: When the body commits suicide.  Everytime I attempt to cope with stress, my body helps me by attempting to shorten the time that I have to deal with it.  Shortly before my mother passed away, I came down with shingles.  And now one year later, my body seems to be breaking down... again.  If the solution was instant, that would be fine.  But just being so sick just gives me more stress and then it goes around in a vicious cycle.

Where The Heart Is

I think after a good series of batterings of disappointment later, the nerdy bespectabled shell that plans hard for a successful tomorrow cracked to give birth to the free madwoman who is out there riding a beat up motorbike heading down open highways leading to nowhere without worrying about who will take care of the ones I love, who will take care of me and who will take care of everything while I was gone.

But the sensible well grounded bespectabled idiot also knows that all highways always lead to somewhere and usually if you were riding it on a beat up motorbike with no plans, the destinations are usually not pleasant.  And somewhere between recognition and torture, the bespectacled idiot remembers... what it was like to be perceived as having so much potential... and what it was like to remember how good those dreams were... if they were real. 

But then the madwoman whispers...  if you could keep on riding... and keep on riding...

Note on photo: All very nice.  All very good.  But I could never stay for long...

What We Become

I might not be a complete person without being both the bespectacled idiot who remembers but does not know what hit her... and the madwoman who does not want to remember anything but knows what happens next.

To choose one is almost impossible so I straddle between the two.  I do want what I should want but stand on my toes at the edge, not able to forget and not able to heal.

People are all kinds but they always end up the same way at the end of the day.

Note on photo above:  This is me trying to mix refinement with cheesy fast food.  I roll my eyes at myself.

Note on photo above: Daddy's Day treat for Daddy.  That was one good fish.

Note on photos above and on left: The lesser harlequin like most Riodinae turns and turns and turns.  Yoda of the butterflies noted with amusement that it paused momentarily everytime it jumped to a different leaf before beginning its dizzying turns.

 

 

 

Distracted

I have had my attention scattered over multiple things at work recently over an important event.  This resulted in a colleague providing too much information over the past week.

Male Colleague: "I need extra extra large pants.  I see you have signed me in for 3 medium ones."

Me (distracted by urgent email): "..... erm.... huh?...."

Male Colleague (sheepishly trying to make me understand): "Ya... I know it's really late but I was on leave and I hope you can change the size for me anyway?" [turns around and points to his ass] "you see ... although I look quite small above the waist, I am actually quite fat and my behind is quite big."

Me (suddenly waking up): "Oh ya ya ya! Don't worry don't worry! I change for you 'kay?"

But somehow the conversation stuck and now whenever I see his bespectacled face, I think "extra extra large pants".

Note on photo above: Bobbo joined in for the shoot this weekend and when I mentioned that there were malayan bush browns in the area, he wanted me to show him where.  When I brought him there, the browns were uncooperative and went deep into the brush.  In order to chase them out for him, I went stomping around and landed in a hidden drain.  He fished me out of there and we got away with only a record shot of the very impish butterfly.

Being There and Juggling Friends

I went to bed at 3a.m. on Friday night/Saturday morning after trying to juggle entertaining two groups of overseas friends (both of whom wanted to stay out late to drink) and lending a listening ear to a depressed friend (who wanted to stay out late to drink).

In order to make it all fit in one evening, I combined dinners for both groups (which resulted in both groups ignoring each other throughout dinner because one group was from Australia and couldn't speak Mandarin and the other was from Malaysia and preferred to converse in Mandarin) and then having drinks with everyone (including depressed friend).

I wanted to sidle away but depressed friend said: "You always do this to me! I want you to stay! Stay! Stay!"

So I ended up waking up late, unpacked, forgot various pieces of equipment and got to meeting point late.

Note on photo above: Bobbo had an agenda to find the yellow flash this weekend on his rare visa.  But he got second best with a somewhat- similar- but- not- quite suffused flash.

The Empty Sanctuary

I brought Yoda of the butterflies to the Great Helen's Sanctuary.  But it had rained and it was about to rain.  And you can always tell when you wait in a spot of sunshine and the butterflies don't come out in full force because they already know in their tingly fluttery senses that it's going to rain.

Note on photo above: The Arhopalas are out in full force and they all look terribly alike.

Not Quite Lost

After I brought Yoda of the butterflies down the trench and up the trail where I got lost, my great adventure was quickly de-dramatised when I realised on this second visit that:

1) The trench was actually a drain

2) The trail with the inviting paint marks was actually next to a road

A van trundled by as if mocking me.  Yoda went down the 'trench' gamely with me but there were no awls.  There was just nothing at all at the sanctuary that weekend.  It was all very disappointing.

 

Note on photo: I only managed to squeeze off a few shots before the rain began to fall.  Yoda emphasized (while shooting in the rain) that this was a very very rare butterfly and he continued to shoot in the rain with his head obscured in the leaves of the tree while I gawped at him in from behind.

 

 

The Intrepid Adventurer

Yoda of the Butterflies brought me to a clearing via what I would call a rabbithole trail (small, narrow, not easy to spot but plenty) one afternoon.  And while he rustled away quietly in the distance, I thought I saw a Pandita Sinope Sinope.  And as it flew away, and Yoda rustled into view, he said he saw a female colour sergeant flying around.  There was no way of telling what it was that day but since I didn't have a good shot of either, I thought I would come back again another morning to search for this butterfly.

And then it hit me while I was crashing around and struggling my way around several fallen trees when I came back one morning that:

1) Every rabbithole trail probably leads to a large sunlit clearing

2) That's probably how Yoda had been managing to disappear and reappear... away and back through these tiny little rabbithole trails

Note on photo above: Whiiippppp! The Chocolate Demon shows us why it doesn't need to land in order to feed.

Note on chocolate demon: Have you ever come across such an entertaining butterfly?

Here it is on the left pretending to be a horse.  And over on the right, pretending to be Batman.

With this revelation in mind, I enthusiastically took on some of these tiny paths with the intent that I would turn around as soon as it looked like I would need more than a good sense of direction to find my way back (less confidence, more trail markers please.)

Note on photo above:  Here the chocolate demon pretends to be all proper, posing nicely for the camera.

But enthusiasm (and curiosity) punched the lights out of common sense and quickly steered me down a deep trench like trail. 

I came to a fallen tree and would have turned back, but for bright spray paint marks on the fallen tree beckoning the careless adventurer .... whispering "this way this way this way ..."

I followed and followed, coming closer and closer to what looked like a bright sunlit clearing.  When I came to the edge, I was immediately greeted by a tail-less Narrow Spark which I almost stepped on!

Note on photo above: The narrow spark is narrower and less sparkly without its tails.

Immediately passing the narrow spark, the banded demon hopped into view.

Note on photo above: The banded demon was at the entrance of the clearing and while trying to follow it around, I walked right into the Sanctuary of the Great Helen

The Sanctuary Of The Great Helen

When I looked up from trying to trace the banded demon, I realised I was standing in the middle of a grassy clearing with one tall tree and several shorter ones around it.

And then down from the tall tree with tiny colourful flowers, the Great Helen came swooping down like a bird, its broad wings sweeping gracefully across the grass unlike the flustered busy movements of other smaller Papilionidae.

Two huge whitish patches appeared and disappeared hynoptically with every movement of his wings as he glided down and then swooped back up unhurriedly onto the tall tree.

I followed him around and around.  He hardly flew far from the tall tree.  He swept over me, came close, flew away, perched just out of reach all in one seamless fluid, unhurried movement.  He was always out of reach so I took a few shots of him peering down at me from his perch or his inky black back from afar.

After a while he tired of me, and flew down the rabbithole trail from which I had come from.

After the Great Helen disappeared, I made me way past the clearing to another trail.  The paint marks were deceiving however.  They whispered for you to follow and were always visible when you were following the trail but they disappeared the moment you turned back and tried to retrace your steps.

Note on photo above: A casualty of my desperation at getting through the creeping brush while I was in the clearing.  I plucked it off my sleeve when I saw it struggling but it died.  I took a photo of it and later as I struggled through the brush in my panic with camera bumping everywhere, when I had reached the trench, and knelt down in relief, the photo appeared on the camera like a warning.

Girl vs Wild: Overconfidence is Key to Getting Lost

I had difficulty retracing my steps back to the clearing.  But I followed the sun and returned to the clearing.  But when I tried to leave the clearing back to the trench, I got desperately lost.   

Note on photo above: The dark shady environment inside the trail and its dark shady mothy inhabitants

Funny thing was, the trench was just there, literally some metres away from the Sanctuary hidden in tall brush.  I had almost fallen down the trench while I was trying to photograph the Chocolate Demon and realised it was there.

But there was no foothold at this area.  In order to get down I would have to jump down a man's height and I was afraid I would fall awkwardly and break something.  I decided to use the rabbithole trail from which I had come from...(and I was also hoping of finding the Great Helen again).

I was confident it would not be difficult to find the trench because it was so close.

But... after walking for some time, I realised I was taking far longer to get to the trench than I had taken to get from the trench to the clearing. 

When I turned around thinking that I could follow the sun and paint marks back to the clearing and start over, I realised there were several sunspots which all looked the same... and NO paint marks ANYWHERE.

Note on photo above: After all the panicking, the Malay Tailed Judy consoled me by allowing me to get up close for a photo.

Girl vs Wild: Don't Panic

After all my Divemaster training to not panic, don't panic, stop, think and act... I went ahead and panicked anyway. I ran in one direction and then turned around and ran in another direction.  And all I could hear in my head was the sound of my heart and myself screaming: "Don't panic don't panic don't panic!" and denial "I can't be lost! I can't be lost! I can't be lost! Please don't let me be lost!"  

Girl vs Wild: Fate?

I could at this point start telling you that I used a compass... and a map... to get myself out.

But I didn't use my compass.  Which I DID have on me.

Nor a map (cos I didn't have one).

Because I was concentrating on panicking.

I simply ran till I nearly fell headlong into the trench.

I could have run myself to pieces in a totally opposite direction away from the trench until I ended up who knows where.  But I guess I was not fated to get that lost or break my neck that day.

Note on Cicada: I've never seen such a pretty cicada before... look at those spotted wings.

The Story From Mabuhay Magazine: The Sun, The Moon & The Cicada

I was in the gym after an adventurous day getting lost on the trail when I came across a story about why the Cicadas cry when the sun sets. 

Note on disfigured butterfly above: ARGH!!!! No Palpi!!?!?! What happened?! Who ate your furry little face!!?!?!?

According to the story, the Sun and the Moon were husband and wife and they had a child (Cicada... Huh... I would have thought that the Sun and Moon could have more.. .erm... or kinda less earthy, insecty offspring... no?).

The Sun had a heated quarrel with the Moon which resulted in:

1) The Moon beating the Sun up with a broom and hence its broom like sun rays

2) The Sun pouring hot scalding water over the Moon and hence the Moon's disfigured face

3) The Moon dropping her sun onto the Earth when the Sun poured hot water on her face

4) The Sun and the Moon got a divorce thus they are never seen together

5) The Cicada always cries when the sun sets because he's sad that his parents are no longer together

It's such a sad story but...

Well! ... All I can say is... MEN! You smack them with a broom and they turn around and disfigure you! What's up with MEN!?

Note on photo: I showed this photo to Yoda of the butterflies thinking it was some new species of yellow fringed apefly. 

But as it turns out it was just a dirty little apefly who had been frolicking in some yellow pollen or something... looks like apeflies are quite game at putting their faces into plenty of things, not just my trail pants! HEH!!!

Look at that impish face... almost as if it's saying: "It wasn't me! I didn't do it!"

Note on photo above: This skittlebug played catch with me around and around the area so many times until it finally settled on the funny piles of sand.

Girl vs Wild Lesson 1: Build Sandcastles!

In order to survive a boring day out in the wild without butterflies, a girl with a camera has to learn to build sandcastles and fill these with butterfly bait.

Butterflies like the studded sergeant above aren't going to land unless you bribe it with something.

Thankfully, when girl with camera got to site today, sandcastles were already built and baited by someone else.  Yay!

Note on photo above: Quick reflexes are needed to photograph this 2 second butterfly, not stealth...

Girl versus Wild Lesson 2: Shoot first, think later

When faced with more than 1 ambon onyx in the 'wild', forget stealth.  Each ambon onyx will chase the other repeatedly in spite of your desperate pleas for them to 'sit! stay! staaay! Good butterfly!'

Once an ambon onyx lands, you have about 2 seconds to shoot it or forget it.  In about 2 seconds, the other one will chase it away and the pair will whirl violently around each other like 2 sea eagles downsized a thousand times minus the talons and sharp beaks.

Note on Photo above and below: Ambon is an island.  And an onyx is a kind of stone.  But that doesn't make sense for this butterfly unless whoever named it thinks it resembles the onyx and that it came from Ambon island.

When I saw it I thought it looked like custard and cream pie.  I guess everyone should be glad I'm not naming any butterflies cos then it'd have been called Custard Cream Pie

Girl versus Wild Lesson 3: Location, location, location

If fast reflexes don't work for 2 second butterflies, then it all comes down to location, location, location.

There were 3 places where the pair of tiny 'sea eagles' whirled to whenever they started chasing each other, 2 bushes on either side and another 1 unseen location which I couldn't trace because they whirled away so fast. 

But all I had to do was wait and aim my lens at one spot where they always flip their wings open the moment they land (the hot sun spot).

Note on photo above and below: Finding butterflies under leaves in the dark forest is so hard you wonder how you found them when you find them.

Girl versus Wild Lesson 4: Use Your Feet, Not Your Head

When your subjects don't come to you, go to your subjects.  Tired with the regular Commanders, 5 bar swordtails and lycaenids and angry with the Common Mime that got away *again*, girl hoisted camera on shoulder and went into brush.

After pushing through to the inside of the forest cover, a dark bullet zipped past and landed under a leaf.  Excited, I pushed in a beeline thinking that it would keep the butterfly in sight by moving head first and trying to maneuver my way around the overhanging branches.

Few minutes later, the butterfly peered out from under a leaf watching amusedly as I was hovering less than 1 metre away from it:

1) Entangled around my neck by hanging vine

2) Entangled around flash by vine on right

3) Entangled around left foot by soft root on forest floor

4) Couldn't move left, couldn't move right, couldn't move forwards

Note on skipper:  I don't know what skipper this is but this is the only skipper I've ever come across that unfolds its wings the moment it lands.  Never even got a chance to photograph the underside with the wings closed.  Maybe it's the sunspot.

So I moved back, gently disentangled myself and lifted my right foot high up and brought it down on the whole mess of vines. 

As the path suddenly cleared violently, the butterfly gave a silent scream of horror (Common Awl: ".....!!!!!!") and flew away (but not before I shot it first and thought about it later (lesson 2)).

Note on photo above and below: Here, the friendly apefly with its face in my trail pants....OOMPH

Girl versus Wild Lesson 5: How and When to Use your monopod

If

1) you're a girl

2) with a huge camera over your shoulder

3) who is halfway down a slippery slope

4) and is trying to climb back up without falling on your face

Very likely, you'll meet male photographers passing through who'd rather take photos of you than understand your situation (yes, the least they can do if they don't want to do anything else).

Such male photographers (yes only the men.  Don't ask me why) are in need of saving... from their own idiocy.

Faced with such a situation, a girl with camera should beat said idiot senseless with large tripod or monopod.  If that's difficult to do because the slope is too long for your monopod to reach his forehead, clamber behind large tree that is wide enough to hide you from his viewfinder (yes I'm chickenshit)..

Patience

Instead of running home after getting rained out of the shooting site, I went and took shelter at another location.  After waiting an hour for the rain to stop and another hour for the afternoon sun to come up and 2 hours for some activity,  I was rewarded by the very late burst of activity from quite a few Judys flying at each other, whirling around and chasing each other off each other's perches. 

Note on photo above and below:  I had never seen this many Judys ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note on jumping spider:  I found this spider by accident after accidentally brushing a lizard off a fence when running my hand along it for support while climbing up.  I might have saved its life.

Note on photo below: Is it typical of moth caterpillars to choo choo themselves off leaves because they move so much faster than butterfly caterpillars?

Note on photo below: The wind helped somewhat by pushing the skittish lemon emigrant to its right, allowing the butterfly to be momentarily parallel to the camera... great... but no banana as they say.

Note on photo below: Thought this butterfly was more pinkish than the other lemon emigrants that I'd come across before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note on scary snake photos: This colourful little snake was hanging over the drain opening when I alighted from the taxi at my shooting site, busy omph-omph-ing away at what looked like a frog or lizard.

 

EATEN Alive

Almost all the butterflies I shot over this weekend had some parts or a huge part of their wings missing!  Check out the shots below...

Note on photo above: Almost half the left wing was gone.... it didn't attempt to run away like they normally do... almost like it had given up on itself.

Note on photo above: I was elated for this opportunity... until I realised there was a huge gap in the left wing... again...

Note on photo above: The adorable little cutesy poo poo Quaker was ALSO missing a part of its left wing!

Note on photo above: The common sailor was being chipped away around the edges...

Note on photo above: The tawny palmfly looks very fitting on the equally torn leaf...

Note on photo above: And finally a perfect specimen...

Eater's Death

I'd just come back from my granny's birthday celebration and am rolling around from a ten course dinner at a Heng Hua restaurant.

Heng Hua.... and I find out after 29 years

At my granny's birthday, my aunt helpfully informed that:

1) We were eating at a Heng Hua restaurant

2) Did I know that my Dad was actually Heng Hua and not Hokkien?

3) From blank look on her face when Dad just brushed the whole thing off: No she did not know why my Dad refused to admit that he was actually Heng Hua

The Worse Anti-Rape Method

For all non-helpful information purposes, my Dad's Mum (who has passed away long ago a little while after I was born) married my Grandad (who has passed away long before I was born) who was already married to someone else during the Japanese Occupation because women then were afraid of getting raped by Japanese soldiers.

Although I can't imagine how being married would help.

Victim: "No you can't rape me! I'm married!!! See??? *points to wedding ring*"

The Forgotten Heritage

So I guess I have no idea whether that anti-rape method worked.  But from what I gathered from the hush hush conversations with my Mum, I do know that it sure screwed up a lot of lives and that my Dad never wanted to talk about Grandad and he didn't want to elaborate too much on Grandma.  

And I also heard today that Grandma was Teochew... not Hokkien.  So maybe my Dad just decided to adopt a dialect. Either that or all my relatives are actually very confused.

ANYHOO... it doesn't matter because I can't speak Heng Hua, Teo chew or Hokkien anyway.  Bah.

Writer's Block

I am trying to write (in journalistic style) a very factual, non-fictional blurb about Endau Rompin.

But everytime after I censor out my girly nonsense, I end up with something that reads like this:

"We went to Endau Rompin. [CENSOR CENSOR CENSOR]. We came back.  We had fun."

I need more facts that are not my own.  Because all my facts are really fiction.

On that point, it may actually be fact.  Because history is a combination of lots of human perspectives of fact which may or may not be accurate.  So in a roundabout way, my fiction is really fact.

Except that it's factual in a way that people will probably not gather much useful information about whatever it is that I am writing about.

Thus I sit here... keyboard under my hands.  Constipated.

 

57

If my mother was alive today, she'd be 57.  I was reminded of this in an exchange so familiar that if I allowed my attention to slip just ever so slightly, I'd go back 3 or 4 years and be standing at the kitchen self-absorbed in my endless selfish plans while she would stand just next to my elbow and talk about how the clothes wouldn't dry because the weather had been uncooperative lately. 

Mothers

And this was so familiar in Gandalf's little wife.  She was just 2 years older than my Mum.  She talked about how the clothes wouldn't dry and about how catfish should be cooked and how we should finish all the ikan bilis and nuts so that there wouldn't be any need to carry it all the way back home. 

The comfortable little tiny things.  The minute, ordinary but wonderful things that Mothers concentrated on that reverberate through the back of your mind, silently, gently yet powerfully detaching the fears standing out there in the real world that make big men feel helpless and hynoptically transport them to a sure...a stable.... a haven of belief that it was not important if none of us are strong enough to deal with all the things that we need to be bigger than.

Where we believe that the big picture cannot touch us.  Where we can believe that things will never change.   

Stolen Comfort

So I sat and quietly stole this comfort from just sitting there and listening to her talk about how the weather had turned chilly at night and whether I would have liked to live here and that if I wanted to, there was milo on the table and that I could help myself to some and whether we should open up all the packets of peanuts now and have none left for the evening and how good the rice tasted with chilli tuna.

It echoed like the sea against an empty cave, reminding me of what I no longer had.  

What We Are

I am always reminded.  How I can see God in every living creature around me.  But never in myself.  How they never question what should or should not be.  How they never question if they should be something else and how they never complain about how and what they have turned out to be. 

But I wander around merely a semblence of a person but displaced from what people are normally expected to want, wanting to dissipate as an inconvenient anomaly like butterflies into fire in the night.

But instead I wait. 

For the fire to come to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enchanting Endau Rompin

When we first got to Endau Rompin and got off the rented 4X4, the beautiful Rajah Brooke birdwing was the first to greet us.  It was the biggest butterfly I'd ever seen (shy of the Giant Saturn which cycloned through the mess hall like a gigantic fan...).  The red nape and the brilliant green of its wings was such a potent combination I found it hard to take my eyes off it.

It repeatedly visited a small area near the hut where sulphur had been sprinkled.  I kept sneaking back there everytime it flew away in the hope of getting a chance at catching it with those beautiful wings still.  And it did.  Unfortunately, the twin photographers came by and scared it away.  And that was the last I ever saw of it (so near the ground) for the rest of the trip. 

Note on photo above:  Everybody was really excited about the redspot sawtooth.  It was a real skittle and I walked away with only a record shot.  The top of the butterfly was whitish with dark borders and at a glance, it wouldn't occur to my inexperienced eye to be anything spectacular.  But the underside with that yolk yellow and perfect red spot, it was anything but spectacular.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Butterfly Paradise...

Butterflies were everywhere.  They were on the sandy banks at the river, they were in the mess hall, an Autumn leaf perched under the plant just outside the lavatory where an interesting yellow bordered pretty moth also graced with its presence. :P

Giant Saturns flew through the mess hall with its gigantic wings.  It was an awesome sight.  At night, a rare Koh-I-Noor perched upside down on the ceiling and we all took turns to try to get it down.  We tried throwing balled up paper towels at areas around it to scare it down but it merely flinched its pretty little tail as is to say... "you are all so pathetic... I am Koh-I-Noor.. I am higher than all of you... you are all beneath me... hmph!..."

Butterflies flew on either side of the 4X4 as we made our way to camp.  Butterflies congregated on the mud roads as if they had never known any fear of cars and men.  But that also resulted in a regular spotting of yellow butterflies crushed on the road by passing vehicles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rain

It rained.  It rained all the days that I was there.  But to be perfectly honest, we were very fortunate.  Because it rained at times where we were most likely too tired to venture another trail.  So we did manage to cover the beach, the trail and a little of the forest during the 3 days that we were there.

And then in a way it was perfectly arranged.  The rain tapped musically away on the rooftops while we were sleeping and allowed for a cool breeze to sweep along the river. 

Note on photo above: The yellow glassy tiger swooped down to greet me when I walked past it.  It landed on my trail pants, landed on my arms, landed on my backpack, landed on my hat.  I had to lightly wave it away.. "shoo shoo...so that I can photograph you, pretty!".  And it landed on my camera lens, as if to say: "You want just A PHOTO?! Take me home!!! I'm yours!"

Note on photo above: Besides butterflies, there were so many weird and pretty moths!

The Main Course Moth

There were lots of zampa moths flying around.  And then there was a pair of zampa wings on the trail.  So it seems zampa moths are on the main menu of something out there.  And it seems wings have no nutritional value to whatever it is out there. 

Note on photo above: This butterfly was like a pretty sparkling glittery ribbon flying through the air.  It was quite a flyer and didn't have the usual funny hopping gait of the butterflies with long tails such as the yamfly. 

Dance of the Green Dragon

Now everybody in the group seemed to be really keen on getting a photo of the green dragontail.  But everytime it was spotted and people started converging on it, it flew high up into the air and away and it took a while for it to come back down.  I decided to back track to the spot where they were found after everybody started making their way back because they seemed extremely shy and skittish.  And I was spot on because when I got to the site, there were about 4 or 5 of them flying around dazzlingly.  But it was difficult to get close to them.  I took a step forwards and they would take off into the air like dancing fairies with long glittery skirts.

First Close Encounter with the Red Helen

After looking at them longingly from the ground on my usual shooting trips, here at the camping grounds, they came down to the river banks and allowed me to pull off a few shots, fluttering their wings nervously.  Even the usually restless Great Mormon came to rest on the bank.  

Note on photo above: The Great Mormon comes to rest.

Note on photo above: We were walking along the trail and craning our necks for another butterfly flying around restlessly when this beauty came flopping down onto the leaf from above.  We gave a spontaneous whoop of awe at this opportunity.

 Note on photo above: I can't figure out why this butterfly looks like its laying eggs when typically butterflies descend onto mud roads to puddle (male butterflies)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Note on photo above of day flying moth: This moth must be the most brilliantly and uniquely shaped moth I have ever come across.  If you weren't careful, you might think it was a butterfly... were it not for those unclubbed feelers!

Fireflies At Night

The camp runs on generator about 4 hours during the evening from about 7 to 11.  After that it's pitch darkness within and without the camp.  I brought along my red camping lantern but in the end (as The Veritable Mushroom once admonished), I had to switch it off because soon there were a collection of critters headbutting the lamp enthusiastically.

When I switched off the camping lantern, the collection of critters began headbutting me instead.  And I thought to myself in the darkness in a silent acknowledgment of defeat: Yes yes... you were right... sigh.

I closed my eyes tightly because the darkness seemed to swallow the entire room and I wasn't used to sleeping in the complete darkness.  But, a tiny speck of light appeared suddenly and the ceiling felt as it it had lifted itself up and away into the night sky.  

Firefly.  It slow danced across the ceiling like a floating Tinkerbell, a twinkling little star.  I laid there on my back watching it as it bobbed and floated around, a comforting presence.

Note on photo above: Thinking about this butterfly made me smile at work today.  I encountered this swift flyer on the way back from waiting for the green dragontail. 

Saving Royalty

This beautiful butterfly swooped out from the brush and landed on the mud road.  I held my breath and waited such a long time before I slowly made my way towards it.  It opened and closed its wings a few times and revealed its brilliant orangey topside.  I spent a considerable time lying on the ground next to it.

It didn't seem to mind.  After taking so many shots of it, I got up to leave.  And it didn't budge.  I thought... well, I wouldn't want it to be run over by a car... it being the pretty that it was.

So I walked away noisily.  But it didn't even seem to notice.

I turned back and walked back noisily.  Then I bent down with my shadow on it.  Then pressing my unbelievable fortune further, I knelt down behind it and put my face few inches away from its pretty wings.

There was no reaction.  I was so hypnotised by its perfection and so ecstatic with this opportunity, I reached out... and lightly, ever so lightly... brushed my finger against its pretty wing.

To my surprise, it didn't fly away. 

I put my finger gently under its upturned little royal face and it lightly flicked its proboscis to another spot on the road and continued feeding.  I was thoroughly amazed at its amazing nonchalence.  And couldn't help smiling to myself like an idiot at my great fortune.

I had to leave, even though I think... in that moment... maybe I wouldn't have minded staying with it for as long as it stayed there like that.  But the guide was waiting.

So....

I put my fingers lightly under its body and attempted to lift it and put it on a leaf before I left.  Its legs felt robust and strong and stiff.  Just as I was about to lift it, it gave a good strong kick of its legs and opened its brilliant wings and flew so quickly away like a flash of orange that I didn't see where it went.

Note on photo above: This little butterfly appeared in the midst of giants like the Red Helen and the Great Mormon.  But don't underestimate it because when it flies, its like a zipping orange peel, flinging itself along faster than your eyeballs can follow.

Note on photo above and below: This is my very first encounter with a mapwing.  Never seen one before.

The End Of Patience

I muscled the bigger twin away on purpose for the shot above because I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.  Because I was so angry for him chasing away the Rajah Brooke when it finally landed with its brilliant black and green wings still and peaceful.

I don't believe in muscling in on people when they are with their subjects.  For all group dynamic purposes, I believe whoever is closest to the butterfly or is in the best position to advance on it should be allowed to proceed while everybody waits quietly for their turn.

But all this collapses when you shoot with photographers who don't care for it and zoom in on the same subject.  This always happens with the twin photographers and I find my own behaviour modified to cope with this by being just as bad.  It's ugly.  It makes me feel ugly.  

The butterflies are only photographed when a fair amount of patience is exercised.  But you can only have patience when nobody is pushing you to finish your shot.  But eventually, the twin photographers turned around and went back to camp because they were too tired.  And this was when the green dragontails appeared.  The Tawny Rajah appeared.  The Yellow Glassy tiger appeared. Everything else suddenly appeared and it was only then that I found myself enjoying the experience, the encounter, the wait and the challenge.

After I lost my temper at them, I couldn't believe that I had reached the end of fuse so quickly.  But I was there, because there's only so many times that:

1) You can watch a photographer swing his arm repeatedly in the face of a skittish Abisara Geza Niya and expect it to hang around

2) You can watch a photographer run full speed at a Rajah Brooke Birdwing and expect it to hang around

3) You can watch a photographer run full speed at a Chocolate Sailor and expect it to hang around

4) You can watch a photographer run full speed at a Lesser Darkie and expect it to hang around

5) You can tolerate a photographer smacking a bush with his monopod when you are obviously waiting for a Quaker butterfly to settle but he's bored and quite inattentive at looking for subjects and can't see what you're waiting for.

Losing my temper at people always makes me feel rather guilty after that.  But my guilt is dissipated with a just a little bit of justification.  Just a little bit of vindication.

The Music Of The Wild

Contrary to what I expected, the forest is not quiet at night.  It's a full symphonic orchestra of beeps and boops and wails and howls and cheeps and bibbly dooby doobas.  Nights are noisy.  Not with the sounds of cars and buses and people but the full symphonic cacophony of Nature.

It's funny how I always thought the wild was so scary, so quiet, so isolated.  But the forest is full of life, just waiting for people to realise this and to re-embrace how evenings should be spent, listening to the tunes of the forest and watching the fireflies slow dance through the cool night air.