The Polka-Dot Butterfly LbNA #21296

This box is located on a rocky, rooty, trail with several steep inclines. I don't recommend it for children. In the spring, with rising water from snowmelt, the trail may be impassable. You will not have to walk far to tell if you can get to the box.


I had turned off of Route 17 outside of Russell, N.Y. into the Plum Brook fishing site just past Whippoorwill Corners. It was a long drive home and I needed the break. I glanced out the window to see a calm little brook and the start of a trail. I had to stretch my legs so out I went.

What a little hole in the wall spot! Did anyone really come here? I could tell by the fire pit that somebody did. There was a shallow spot to put in a canoe but would it even float? I sighed and stretched my back ready to go back to the car. This wasn’t so great.

As I turned, I saw it flutter past. A lovely polka-dot butterfly. Its violet wings drifted on unseen breezes then it fluttered them to soar a little higher. It settled in the ashes of the fire pit. Its antennae twitching, its wings folding slowly in and out. Its delicate legs high stepped across a half-burned log as if on a fashion runway.

Never had I seen an insect like it. Purple wings with blue/green spots. What was it? A new species? I slowly approached but it took to the air and dashed away. I went after it, trying to keep my footing on the trail while keeping the insect in view.

I passed by a sandy spot in the creek, good thing the water wasn’t high, though in the springtime it may be nearly impassable. I tore my eyes away to ascend a rocky, rooty incline. I looked to the looming steep hillside on my left but there was no butterfly. I went a little further and looked to the brook.

Was that the same slow, calm, lazy creek that I had seen from my car? Now it was swollen with white foamy water. It rushed and swirled around the rocks. I hesitated. Then, a flash of purple caught my eye. The butterfly danced along the spray. It bounced along the water and I continued to march onward. I saw the precious jewel rest lightly on a large rock beside me. It jutted out into the creek. As I approached, I noticed another fire pit and lots of bottle caps. More than fishing went on here, I thought.

The little butterfly basked for a moment in a ray of sunshine as if taking in the view. It was a nice view. Nice of the butterfly to show it to me. But my attention turned away from the cozy waterfall when the butterfly again took to the air. It scooted just inches from my grasp as if daring me to chase it. I headed up the trail past two slumbering giants which the butterfly flew over playfully. Then, it ascended higher and higher. I lost sight of it against a bright sky. I had come this far and refused to give up now.

I saw the trail head straight up. A terrible incline for one so ill-prepared but I mastered it. I paused to catch my breath and saw a curious little island divide the brook neatly. I searched it for something purple. Nothing moved but the water. I continued to follow the trail markers of faded red.

I followed the trail along a rocky slope. Past an open gutter that was surely where the rain and snowmelt refueled the brook. I stopped along some large grey stone to check all the little crevices. Alas, my butterfly was not there. I went further along and saw a side trail snake up into the woods. It went back the way I had come but was above the rocks. Berry bushes abounded. Surely, a good place for butterflies.

I came to the top of the rocks I had been investigating on the lower trail. I carefully stepped closer to the edge of a steep drop. I looked to the brook but saw no wings. I was ready to give up and head back to the car when I stepped between two trees. I leaned around the larger tree and looked toward the rocks. There, on top of the rock, hidden so far back it was invisible from beneath, was the polka-dot butterfly.