The Lepidopterist

There had been reports of the butterfly in Science Journal, a publication designed to highlight the botanical and animal discoveries of intrepid explorers.

Unfortunately, the illustration was in black and white and so, Vincent was unsure of its exact colours; but from the weighty description, he imagined it to be the most beautiful specimen. Iridescent, bright, sculpted. He needed it for his collection.

As he looked at the insects already pinioned in his expensive display drawers, he decided: he would become an explorer himself.

*

The jungle was dense and noisy. Vincent had been excited but as his guide, with whom he had been unable to share a word, led the way, hacking vine and tree limbs with his machete-like blade, all he could think about was itchy insect bites and body sweat. He felt dirty and uncivilised and hated it. It was only the picture taken from Science Journal that kept him going. Every night, he unfolded it and examined his quarry, imagining it under glass, stretched out, pinned in all its magnificence!

But even that was losing its lustre. With each passing day, his hopes of capturing his prize waned, diminishing with each trudge through undergrowth and repeated swatting at blessed mosquitoes!

Just when his despair was at its lowest ebb, that was when the butterfly chose to appear.

It was resting, wings flexing on a twisted vine. His guide was still thrashing his way further and Vincent let him, for fear of disturbing the butterfly.

"At last," he whispered to himself and stood, poised with his net, ready to pounce. It was blue, shimmering despite the dense canopy limiting the light. Bigger than he thought, almost palm sized and with a shape that was graceful but strong: wide wings tapering off to delicate tails.

"Magnificent," he said softly as he went to capture it. But before he could, some foliage behind parted and a savage (Vincent's word) grabbed the butterfly, cramming it into his mouth. Vincent watched as the native chewed it, a tailed wing barely visible, disappearing.

"No! NO!" Vincent shouted and lunged at the figure.

But, before Vincent had time to act, the native had disappeared.

And so had his butterfly.

***

366 words

Which prompts the question: which one is the more savage? The one who eats the butterfly or the one who covets it to pin it for his display?