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Spring was in the air. Daffodils
were beginning to burst through the ground, along with tulips and crocus.
Birds gathered bits of twigs and weeds to build their nests and the trees
began to bud. This was a signal to the butterflies that it was time to fly
north, back to their home. "Come on, Bairdie. It’s time to fly north to
Scotland. I’m sure the ice and snow has melted by now. I’ll bet the hills
are covered with bluebells and gorse by now," Boyd, the butterfly called
to his friend.
"Aye, Boyd, it’s about that time.
Let’s get the others and go home as a group, instead of just the two of
us," Bairdie suggested.
"I’ll find Bonnie, Blair and
Balfour. You find Betty, Billy and Bowie," Boyd said.
"What about Brennan? Shouldn’t we
invite him to come wi’ us?" Bairdie asked.
"Brennan? Och, he’s always been a
wee bit different, hasn’t he? He’s rather clumsy and never was one of our
group," Boyd replied.
"You’re right, but we canny leave
without him. He came down here with us. It’s only right that he should go
back wi’ us," Bairdie said.
"You find him then. He’s your
responsibility. We’d better hurry. If we get going now, we’ll have a whole
day to travel," Boyd reminded. The two butterflies fluttered around the
treetops, telling their friends about their plans. Within an hour eight
butterflies sat on the thistle bush, ready to leave. "What about Brennan?"
Boyd said. "I thought you were going to have him come wi’ us?"
"He’s coming," Bairdie said, looking
around. "Och, there he is now."
A pale blue butterfly came
fluttering toward the group. "I’m coming. I’m coming," he shouted. His
wings flapped up and down as he headed for the thistle.
"He’s going to crash into us,"
Bonnie screamed. Just then, Brennan realized he couldn’t stop and he
smashed right into the thistle bush. It rocked back and forth. Bonnie,
Billy and Bowie fell off the branch and landed in the prickly branches.
"You silly goat, Brennan," she said, climbing out of the prickles. "Is he
coming wi’ us?"
"Yes, he is. Bairdie insisted," Boyd
said.
"He’d better stay away from me,"
Bowie snarled.
"Let’s get going now," Bairdie said,
trying to distract the group. "I’ll lead the way." He flapped his wings
and flew into the sky. Soon the air was filled with butterflies.
"I canny wait to get back to
Scotland. I can almost smell those buttercups now," Betty smiled.
They flew through the sky, looking
down at the land below them. "I’ll miss England," Balfour sighed.
"What?" Billy asked. "England? How
could you miss England?"
"I enjoyed the rose gardens. I’ve
never tasted such sweet pollen before," Balfour explained.
"I’ll show you some sweet pollen and
nectar. Come wi’ me up to the highlands. The hills are covered wi’ purple
heather. After you’ve tried heather, you’ll never want to taste a rose
again," Billy said.
Brennan fluttered up to the front
and flew along side of Bairdie. "Thanks for inviting me to come wi’ you."
"No problem, Brennan. Just be
careful and watch where you’re going from now on," Bairdie pleaded.
Bairdie closed his eyes for a few minutes. He knew the way so well that he
didn’t have to watch. When he opened them again, Brennan was nowhere in
sight. "Where did that butterfly go?"
He turned around and noticed that
Brennan was flying the opposite direction than the rest of the group.
"Where’s he going?" Betty wondered.
"I don’t care. At least he’s not wi’
us," Blair said.
Brennan didn’t seem to notice that
he was going the wrong way. "Hey, wrong way? Where are you headed?
Scotland’s this direction," Boyd shouted.
Brennan paid him no attention.
"Brennan? Where are you going?" Bowie called.
Brennan turned around. "Och, I’m
going the wrong way," he sighed and flipped himself over. Soon he was
going the same direction as the others.
The day passed quickly. It was time
to stop and rest. "I see some sheep down there. They’re nibbling on the
grass and buttercups. That seems like a good place to stop. At least
there’s food," Boyd said.
"Och, English buttercups aren’t
anywhere as tasty as Scottish ones," Bonnie sighed, "but they’ll do."
The fluttered down and landed on the
flowers. Sheep began to baa and run around them. "They’re all wooly,"
Brennan noticed.
"That’s what sheep are, you silly
goat," Bonnie said. "They have wool!"
When the sun fell below the horizon,
the butterflies fell asleep. The sheep ran to another part of the meadow
and all was quiet. In the morning, Brennan was the first to wake up. "I
think I’ll get a head start," he giggled and fluttered off toward the
woods.
"Where’s Brennan?" Bairdie wondered.
"Did anyone see where he went?"
A few sheep came prancing towards
the butterflies. "Did you sheep see a butterfly flying around?" Boyd
asked.
"Och, aye. There’s one headed toward
the woods. He looks a wee bit confused though," one of the sheep bleated.
BAA!
"That’s our Brennan. Let’s just call
him Wrong Way Butterfly. He’s headed south, not north," Blair sighed.
"I’ll go and fetch him," Bairdie
sneered. He flew off to find Brennan. A few minutes later they both joined
the group. "You’d better stay at the front of the group wi’ me," Bairdie
said. They all fluttered towards Scotland.
Hours had passed when Balfour
shouted, "There’s Scotland! I see it. It’s raining!"
Soon they were surrounded by a mass
of thick, gray clouds. Drops of rain fell around them. "Aye, we’re back
home," Betty said.
"There are the bluebells. Och, I
love Scotland! It’s good to be home, isn’t it?" Blair smiled.
"Come on, Brennan. I’ll race you to
the bluebells," Bairdie said.
"Brilliant idea! I’ll win though,"
Brennan replied. He turned and started flying back to the English border.
"Where are you going?" Bairdie
called.
"Where’s Wrong Way Butterfly going
this time?" Boyd snickered.
"Here we go again," Bairdie scoffed
and flew off to get Brennan. |
