Last July I saw a flash of iridescent blue out in my Echinacea patch and went racing out with my camera expecting to find a red-spotted purple butterfly. Instead, I discovered this amazing Pipevine swallowtail (Battus philenor). I saw 2 or 3 individuals everyday for about a week, then they were gone. I had to do some research to differentiate this Pipevine from similar species such as the Black (Papilio polyxenes) and Spicebush (Papilio troilus) swallowtails, but I learned that the single band of orange spots on an iridescent blue hind wing was the key identifier for the Pipevine.
If you see a pipevine swallowtail from above -- like this one with his wings open -- you wouldn't see the orange spots. One thing that really amazes me about butterflies is how colors and patterns of stripes and spots can be so different if you see the same individual from the top or bottom, wings open or wings closed. Between species, clues for differentiation of similar butterflies can easily rest on one little spot of a certain color in a specific place. I find that, sooner or later, those unique markings become securely anchored in my brain's butter-files and I don't have to look things up. On the other hand, there can be a huge range of variation among individuals within one species that can drive me back to a guidebook just to make sure.
This blue butterfly is a red-spotted purple (Limenitis arthemis astyanax). The first 2 or 3 years I saw these things flying around the holler I thought they were female Diana fritillaries (Speyeria diana). The guy-Dianas are orange-brown, more like the Great Spangled fritillaries in my last post. I finally got close enough to the purples to get a photo that clearly showed the red-orange wing spots. Then I had to quickly changed their names in all my photo albums.
Here's the same butterfly with its wings closed. In this position you can see a band of red-orange spots as well as orange spots at the base of the wings.
One thing I love about the age of digital images is that I can just enjoy interacting with the wonderful beings that I'm photographing. These are moments of raw "Awesome!" that erode with the naming of a thing. Naming introduces energy, edges, spaces and dimensions that are complex and sometimes more distant. Naming can change the relationship, for better or worse.
Later -- raw awesome having been sufficiently integrated -- I can relax with a glass of tea, upload the images and compare guidebook and website photos with mine to see what names they have beyond my experience of them.