Growing up Creepie pt. 7 ~ 'Tis the season for Lights and Moths!

Hey ya'll 

The holiday seasons have always been a time for beautiful things to come out of hiding. Christmas lights and decorations, like so much jewels and gold, that had been tucked away in their cardboard coffins for over a year are once again dug out from their secret locations to festoon houses and streets. Shopping malls all over the city begin to boast extravagant displays of holiday trees, and even certain people who have generally been selfish and anti-social all year cannot help but peek their heads out of their hidey-holes to look at all the beauty and wonder around them.  Indeed, this was perhaps the same way I found myself stalking the shopping malls of Kuala Lumpur yesterday (breaking my usual routine of personal solitude) looking for Christmas presents for friends and loved ones even though I had barely enough money to get myself through the month as it is. 6 hours, four shopping bags, and two very tired feet later I found myself significantly poorer than I had been when I set out that morning but still quite content with all the items I had purchased, none of which were for me. I suppose it is true what they say: that it is at times like these when the good in all human beings can't help but come to the surface (if only for a second). I'm pretty sure I'll be singing a different tune when January comes along... but you know, carpe diem!

But it seems, just as many people have gotten lost in a haze of good-will, that during this time of the year, the Universe returns to those who give as well and on my way home, I managed to find something for my self after all. It was a beautiful hawk moth, large and strong with long, tapered wings in various tones of brown and cream, tinged with beautiful orange and pink scales that ran from the base of each wing into two lateral stripes along its abdomen. A most stunning specimen it would make as an addition to my collection and I carefully netted it and whispered my thanks. 

The Yam hawk moth (Theretra nessus)

I suppose (in some vaguely child-like and superficial way) that everyone does get a chance at happiness during the holiday season! Indeed, it only seems fitting (before my hermit-like tendencies take over again) that I make the use of this joyous haze (induced, possibly by my recent fortune) to go out and volunteer at a home, or do something charitable, to make the most of it!

Cheers,
Cyren.

All I want for Christmas this year, is for our happily ever after, to last for ever after, after all.

Growing up Creepie pt. 6.~ All things long and curvy

Hawk moths, in general, are fairly large insects with stout, sleek looking bodies and tapered wings that are angled backwards in rest (giving them the appearance of a jetplane) but this one must have been gargantuan, even for hawk-moth standards! Measuring approximately the size of my palm without its fingers (that is to say, about four inches or so), the hawk moth sat motionless near the entrance of the university library and was already drawing some nervous and apprehensive stares from passing students who were no doubt both amazed, and terrified, by its sheer size. So named for their swift and strong flight, hawk moths most usually the "culprits" for the "moth-terrors" many people experience in their homes as the comfort of a family dinner or moment of reprieve is so unceremoniously and startlingly interrupted by this large and angry looking creature, fluttering so hard against the fluorescent bulbs that the sounds of its wing beats can be heard even from above the screams!

Because of my indulgence for all creatures big and small, I have garnered a certain reputation among my peers over time as sort of the "go to" person whenever someone encounters something with more than two pairs of legs. Usually the cause for the consternation are beetles, mostly of the common variety and almost never quite so big. So imagine, if you may, my extreme pleasure as a lepidopterist at having being called in because of a "giant bug" problem only to find such a beautiful creature as this hawk-moth. It seemed such a waste to just toss the insect out so I decided I would like to take it home with me, if only to get it identified later. It is not everyday one meets such a handsome specimen of a moth and it would be a sure pity if it had gotten away. Keeping that in mind, I fetched my butterfly net from the back of my car (never leave home without it) and positioned myself in such a way that would prevent the insect from escaping. I crept closer, closer... closer. Raised the net with one hand, pressed the metal frame against the surface of the wall... inched my fingers closer to the moth... 

and then all hell broke loose. 

The moth began fluttering, almost instantly, sensing perhaps the imminent arrival of my fingers and was knocking about this way and that even within the confines of the net. It pushed and pulled with all its might, even once attempting to squeeze out of the frame. All the while people were exclaiming... either in excitement, or fear, I don't know. Nor did I care. All I could focus on was the moth in my net and my hands going about in there, slow, clumsy and fumbling in comparison to the graceful insect, as I tried my best to catch it in such a way that would not damage or permanently mar its already weathered wings (for this moth already looked like it was on the last legs of its life) I managed to get it eventually, by clipping its thorax clipped firmly (but not enough to kill it!) between my fore finger and my thumb and I marveled at the strength its flight muscles possessed. Even from between my fingers, and even though it could not move its wings, I could feel them vibrating, pulsing, thrumming with energy. In fact, they vibrated so hard, I wondered if the friction wouldn't cause my fingers to catch fire ultimately. I stowed it away in an empty sandwich container I happened to be carrying on me at the time to prevent it from damaging itself further before realizing absently that my fingers were covered with a wet and sticky substance. It seemed, unfortunately, that during our little scuffle the poor creature suffered a bit of a fright and defecated upon my fingers!

The moth seemed to calm down significantly, afterwards, and I brought it home with me where it subsequently expired. I decided, even though it was an already old and weathered specimen, to spread and display it along with my humble butterfly collection. As I placed the final pin which held down the tracing paper that kept its wings in place for drying, I thought back of Darwin's theory of evolution and how he made the connection that some moths were evolved for specific flowers. In fact, it was a hawk moth, that led Darwin to that conclusion as he noted the incredibly long proboscis of most hawk-moths which were specifically adapted to draw sweet nectar from deed and narrow flowers. The flowers, in turn, adapted to the hawk-moth's methods of feeding and eventually came to rely on these specific insects for pollination. Curious to put this theory to the test, I took an extra pin I had lying about and slowly began to unroll the proboscis. My word! It was long!!! And curvy!!! A glistening appendage so beautifully designed for feeding in a specific way...I wonder then, how long did it take for evolution to produce such diversity in butterflies and moths around the world and are they, in any ways changing even as we speak? 

Female of the privet hawk moth (Psilogramma menephron)

Often dubbed as the "ugly stepsisters" of butterflies, moths are often overlooked and shunned by many because of their dull coloration and cryptic designs. Indeed as opposed to the sight of a butterfly, which heralds joy or the coming of spring in many cultures, the presence of a moth is often viewed as an omen, either that something bad is going to happen or that there is an unseen (and perhaps unwelcome) presence within the house. For the amateur lepidopterist like myself, however, moths are most certainly a welcome addition to my ever-growing collection of lepidoptera. Boasting over 250,000 known species (with many more yet to be discovered or identified), moths make up the bulk of the insect order lepidoptera and as such, it would be a gross understatement to say that there are in fact more diversity when it comes to moths than there are with butterflies. 

We human beings are only a part of something very much larger. When we walk along, we may crush a beetle or simply cause a change in the air so that a fly ends up where it might have never gone otherwise. And if we think of the same example but with ourselves in the role of the insect, and the larger universe in the role we've just played, it's perfectly clear that we're affected everyday by forces over which we have no more control than the poor beetle has over our gigantic foot as it descends upon it.
-Arthur Golden-

Growing up Creepy pt.5 ~ The Sign.

I don't know what woke me up that morning, but it was 7am when I stirred and could not go back to sleep. Strange, considering I could barely keep my eyes open, having slept not more than three hours earlier. I was feeling edgy, cranky, and full of angst. I felt like I had had enough with work, enough with life, enough with the pressures that come with certain social obligations and I wanted to forget it all. I had done all I can and I wanted nothing more than to just go back to bed, forget about the problem and deal with it only later, at a more reasonable hour.

But something woke me up, and it seemed determined not to allow me to go back to bed. Instead, I paced the confines of my room, shufle, shuffle, back and forth. And then I heard it, a crack. Small, barely audible, but instantly recognizable. I turned my head towards the source of the sound and then I watched, almost with dumb fascination as a butterfly began pulled itself out from the coffin of its former life. Beautiful, resplendent, in hues of violet blue so deep it seemed pierce the dark (but slowly brightening) morning sky. Its scalloped hind-wings were dotted with vibrant reds and yellows and oranges that reminded me of the lantana flowers they love so much, while its fore-wings, tapering and strong, were striped with contrasting bands of silvery-white. It was, like the birth of all my butterflies, breathtakingly beautiful. The butterfly eased its way out of the casket, one delicate limb at a time, until it was completely free, poised upside down as it were, as a gravity defying ballerina. The proboscis, long and elegant began to slowly furl and unfurl. In a moment so unbelievable it seems almost surreal, the butterfly cocked its head, and I was transfixed by the insect's stare.

A single pair of compound eyes, black as pitch and faceted like a beautifully cut onyx, stared me up and down, as if judging my worth, and I could not but entertain a romantic thought where I wondered if even butterflies had souls. Slowly, but surely, its wings began to expand. Absently, almost like an after-thought, I felt a vibration by my side, but I ignored it. So transfixed was I by this minute creature that for a moment, all the time in the world seemed to slow. I noticed, almost absently, that the world was stirring about me, but my focus, the entire portion of my thoughts, were directed at the butterfly. I stared at the butterfly, and the butterfly stared back. Presently, the little insect began to stir, evidently tired of our little staring contest, and it raised a foreleg and tapped it on the surface upon which it was clinging to. Tap, tap. Like little nails drumming upon a polished hard-wood surface. tap, tap, tap. And as gradual as it took hold, the butterfly began to release its hypnotic spell upon me.

The world began to come back in bits and pieces. I noticed casually, at first, the ever-brightening sky. Then came the realization that the birds, which had began to stir from their nests high up in the trees, had started to sing, their melodic thrills punctuated only by the slightly gruff tones that emanated from the mess of comforters and pillows on the bed which in turn marked my lover's imminent arrival into the rest of this waking world. And then I felt again, that something was vibrating by my side again, only this time I realized that it must have been my phone. I picked it up and saw, a notification. It told me Dr. Andrew had sent me a message. I opened it. The first words I read... "You are all done." It took a moment for the words to sink in, but it did. I was finished, I was done. My thesis. The dissertation that I had worked so hard for the entire year had come to fruition.  I felt a song, rising in my chest, and without warning, the butterfly flicked its antenna in my direction, and started to fly.

Growing up Creepy pt.4 ~ "LICE in my RICE!!!"

Hey ya'll!!!

Now, I've never been one to be adventurous, least of all when it comes to food... but I must admit I have done some pretty amazing gastronomic stunts on the rare occasions when I actually feel like it. Tarantulas, bamboo worms and duck embryo are just some of the creepy, crawly and strange things I've put into my system in my day. But there is a difference, I suppose, between going to a market in Thailand and purchasing creepy crawlies for food and having one show up unexpectedly in your dinner!!! Which, reminds me of an incident which happened to a friend of mine a couple of years ago.

Now, I know this girl from college, an Indonesian girl (not that her nationality has anything to do with the story) and she was very pretty. Not too bright, though, but that's also besides the point.  So, one day, this friend of mine was feeling rather hungry and she decided to go make herself some fried rice. After making the rice, though, someone calls her up and asks her out for a movie and she agrees. But the rice was still too hot to store in the fridge and the movie was starting soon so what she does is she leaves it on the kitchen table but covers it with one of those.... cage thingies... you know, the ones to keep the insects out.

So this friend of mine, she goes for her movie and watches it and by the time it finishes it was already quite late and she was feeling hungry. Her friend suggested that they head to the nearest McDonalds or 24 hour mamak but I suppose she must have not felt like fast food and opted to go home instead, remembering she still had the fried rice from earlier. Problem is, when she went home, that the rice had already gotten cold but I suppose it was just a small matter of heating it up against because that's exactly what she did. So then my friend, with her steaming bowl of fried rice sat down in front of the TV and contentedly enjoyed the meal she had so painstakingly prepared for herself.

As she was swallowing down mouthfuls of rice though, she tasted something peculiar in one particular bite. It was pungently sour, but also slightly sweet. There was a somewhat leathery texture to each bite, like chewing down on a particularly fibrous piece of vegetable. And that's what she thought it was, a particularly fibrous and overcooked leaf of lettuce. And so she chewed and chewed and chewed and chewed, until it became evident that that "fibrous vegetable" was not going to go down, and so she spat what was left into a tissue. This is what she saw:

Or... something like this anyway considering how she'd already swallowed most of the other bits (the chewy fibrous part was the wing... or so I was told). Meanwhile I'm happy to say that nothing quite as unexpectedly nasty has ever happened to me in my life and I suppose it is only natural that I now seem almost thankful for my almost-OCD like quality for picking through my food before I eat it.  I suppose the closest I would get to experiencing something like this would be the time I found a baby cockroach in my breakfast (FOUND, but not eaten...) or the time a lizard decided to take a couple of licks off a tiramisu cake I had left on the kitchen table for five minutes (incidentally my dad ate the cake before I could get back to it and till this day, remains non the wiser) but I suppose those stories weren't nearly half as exciting as this one.

Pins and Needles 25 ~ "Killing butterflies to save butterflies"

Hey ya'll

Would you believe, it's been less than a week since I last updated??? Well... it sure feels like much longer than that. In fact I feel almost like I have not written anything substantial in quite a long time... no matter, I do have some topic for conversation today and - although some might find it a little bit controversial - I do believe many might have some pre-conceived misconceptions on the idea. Killing butterflies. Now, I suppose when such a topic comes to mind it is only natural that the first impression one gets is of crazy insect-collectors, their nets and cases ever at the ready to forge their way into virgin forests to snatch - straight out of the air - and plunder one of Mother Nature's most precious of living jewels. Indeed, this is not always untrue, and butterfly smuggling is quite a huge problem in some countries after all (one need only read Jessica Speart's  Winged Obsession to see for oneself) However, while some of the myths do hold true for certain species of endangered butterflies, the large and majestic birdwings come to mind, collecting of many other butterfly species from the wild is not exactly against the law... in fact the entire hobby of butterfly collection - expressed through sales of mounted specimens, butterfly exhibits and butterfly zoos - have given rise to an entire industry, all surrounding the collection of butterflies. Anyway to keep things short and sweet, here are some myths and facts about the butterfly collecting industry.

Myth: Collecting butterflies can significantly reduce their numbers in the wild. 
Fact: If one could over-collect butterflies, they probably will, but the matter of the fact is that it is quite difficult to over-collect when it comes to many insects species. Quite simply the reproductive rates of insects - especially when compared to that of other animals - are really quite exponentially higher and insects, therefore have that much more chances of surviving in the wild. Decreasing number of butterfly species are in fact attributed - not to collecting - but to deforestation and other forms of human activities out there... which brings us to our next myth, 


Myth: Collecting of butterflies goes the same way as the collection of any other animals as trophies and can be seen as a disrespect and disregard towards the bounty of Nature. 
Fact: If one goes about it the right way, the butterfly-collecting industry can perhaps be one that does, quite the opposite in fact. The industry of butterfly-collecting has given birth to a whole other myriad of mini industries, butterfly farming being one them. The farming of butterflies - as mounted or live specimens - has made it possible for the display of many of these amazing insects in avenues such as natural history museums and butterfly zoo. This in turn, has made it possible for many iconic species to be used as poster-insects for many conservation and awareness campaigns that would foster greater understanding and respect for the natural world.

Myth: The collecting of butterflies has given rise to many illegal activities including indegenous poaching of endangered species for personal collection.
Fact: While this may be true in some sense of the word, there is - to date - no one specific species of butterfly whose population decline can be directly linked to collecting of individual specimens by natives in the wild. Consider, however, the conservation incentive program implemented in many of these countries where birdwing butterflies remain prized by collectors world-wide. In fact, many indigenous communities have taken to "butterfly-ranching" a form of butterfly farming that involves the cultivation of butterflies' host plants and the collection of adult insects for sale. Natives make the money they want but at the same time realize the importance of maintaining the forests for their livelihood when they learn of the insect's (their cash-crop) dependence to it for survival. Indeed, rather the collection of a few individual butterflies over the clearing of forest land for other purposes.

But I guess, at the end of the day, it really comes down to what one believes about such things and all that. Though, I really do not see the point in making such a fuss over the collection of insects when one still sits and sups happily over that chicken wing or leg of mutton... doesn't seem quite right does it. I do believe, personally that a bird or a mammal would be higher up the sentience scale than an insect. But oh well.

Source: Orsak, L (2011), "Killing Butterflies to Save Butterflies" at <http://www.insectnet.com/articles/killing.htm>

Growing Up Creepy - pt. 3 - Of Bugs and Gym Class

Hey ya'll!

I made another trip to the forested area again today - as a sort of semi-reward for finishing my Marilyn Monroe essay ahead of schedule - because I was hoping to see, amongst the familiar faces of golden orioles, zebra doves and eggfly butterflies, some other forms of life there and sure enough, the forest did not disappoint. That is not to say, though, that there were animals and insects simply crawling up to me to be observed, photographed, and identified. But rather, I knew from all my years of experience, that underneath all the 'obvious' sort of living things that make a huge song and dance about their presence in the area - the boisterous birds, for example, or the flashy, drunken butterflies - there exists a whole different sort of life in the undergrowth, one that for the better part of its life, keeps to itself, hiding, living and breathing in their own secret and private world just waiting to be discovered by someone like myself. I must say, armed this time with a tub of roll on mosquito repellent, I was not attacked so much by the horde of mosquitoes that seemed to guard the forest area jealously from anyone who may intrude upon it (for whatever the reason!) although I suppose it was only expected that one or two would get through my defenses. So giddy on blood they must've been that I could just callously put my finger over them, pressing gently as the blood - my blood! - squirted out of their abdomens. At any rate, the mosquitoes were the last thing on my mind - a small hinderence at most - and I daresay I must have developed some immunity to them by now. Soon though, and before I had any time to go about on all fours poking tentatively at the debris in the undergrowth, a flash of color already caught my eye - a beautiful Painted Jezebel (delias hyparete) on its rare sojourns below the forest canopy - and I briskly whisked out my net, and started after it!

The Painted Jezebel Butterfly (Delias Hyparete)

However, let's go along a different track today for I do not wish to bore you anymore about my natural exploits in the "forest area" - and indeed there have been many over the span of a few days - rather, I suppose you would prefer instead to know of something which I had recollected from my childhood earlier today, in between chasing my butterflies and dodging the armies of mosquitoes (who truly seemed out for my blood despite the copious amounts of repellent I'd slathered on every exposed part of my body, yes. Even my face!). But I digress. Now, I suppose from the accounts of what I get up to during my free time and the sort of activities I like, you may assume that I do not consider myself in anyway anything of an athletic person. That is to say - though in my defense I would say that I am fit enough to perform most of the physical tasks required of one who likes to traverse these forested areas in search of anything with more than four legs - I have never quite enjoyed taking part in actual athletic abilities. Team sports, for example, and other things like that. The reason for it? - well, I suppose I have none. I believe it is one of those things, like Chinese food - you either like it, or you don't. It really is quite as simple as that, and so while actual physical exertion has never been a problem for me, I used to try my best to weasel my way out of any sporting activity, you might imagine the school used to make us take part in, on a weekly basis. Besides, there were more interesting things to do while everyone else was buzy chasing a ball around the field, like observing the dragonfly larvae accumulated in the stagnant ditches, or chasing those tea-saucer sized spiders down their nest holes.

The anecdote begins sometime when I was around the age of ten or eleven. It was physical education again and as usual, the boys had all gone off to play football, or soccer or something and the girls, volleyball. Trying to get out of it - so that I could go off on my own to search for my bugs - I purposely hid my sports attire in my school bag claiming to the teacher that I did not have the proper gear to play. Needless to say, he didn't take that too kindly, but instead of just letting me go with a sort of disappointed, resigned grimace on his face, I suppose he decided to punish me this time. Or at least, he meant to. So anyway he said to me (and of course, I do not remember ALL of what he said word for word, but it went something like this); "So, you like spending so much time digging for bugs huh? Well, guess what! I'm going to punish you now. In one hour, you better return with at least 30 different kinds of insects, or you will have to stand in the middle of the field, in the hot sun for the next period! (Yeah, they used to come up with punishments like that back in the days before child abuse became an issue). Needless to say, what he meted out as punishment, I took upon myself as a personal challenge and upon completion of my deadline of one hour, I returned to him with no less than 28 different specimens, butterflies, moths, dragonflies and their nymphs, grasshoppers, crickets and even spiders and very small scorpions, and as he picked them up - each in their own individual containers as they waved their legs, stings or antennae indignantly at him - I could look, bordering almost on respect, on his face. It was priceless. "Well you still are short of two!" he said, and I waited for the punishment to be executed promptly. Instead, all I received was a stern, "Now go back to class!"

Male of the Lemon Emigrant butterfly (Catopsilia Pomona)

Certainly one of the high points in my early childhood but if you will allow me now to direct you momentarily to the present, I will boast on my catch of the lemon emigrant butterfly (catospilia pomona) a most beautiful species with a handsome yellowish-greenish-blue tinge to its wings which I have been chasing for the past few weeks! I also saw several species of swallowtails there today, possibly the common mormon (papilio polytes) and the common rose (pachiliopta aristolochiae) but didn't manage to catch any. And before I left - sidetracked from my original mission to search for other unseen species by the colorful butterflies - I did manage to spot a particularly colorful lizard, what I believe is the oriental garden lizard (Calotes Vesicolor)

A very interesting species, the male Oriental Garden Lizard (Calotes Vesicolor) develops a bright red and orange coloration during breeding season - to intimidate other males and to impress the ladies - leading them to be called, in Ceylon, by the name "bloodsucker"

A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat, 

or help you at the automat. 

Growing Up Creepy pt.2 - Tree-hugging conformist!

Hey guys

Do you remember that Simpsons cartoon, I think it was in the movie, where Green Day said they wanted to talk about the environment and everybody started throwing stuff at them. Yeah well, I guess you could say that I get that a lot. Well maybe not literally...sometimes... but you get the picture. I don't know why exactly but it kinda seems to me that people generally assume that environmentalists and nature lovers are like a bunch of hippies who hug trees all day and have little or no regard for personal hygiene. Well let me just say this, I bathe three, or at least two times a day and although I truly love the flora of the land well, I can't say that I've exactly hugged a tree before and that's being honest. I guess its the same way people generally think that all feminists are lesbian women who don't wear makeup and have a complete disregard for personal presentation. Again completely untrue!

I have a theory that high school is the place where the different get weeded out. It is the battle ground where young men and young women must kill or be killed. It is the stage that tests your resolves to your believes, to what you truly stand for. In short entering high school was really a big shock to me! Growing up in primary school, things was just so much easier. I could do whatever I want, whenever I want and if some annoying kid were to pick on me, well I guess there were always teachers for that. But teachers don't do anything about things like that in high school. I used to think that it was a bad thing, now I am beginning to see that maybe, maybe it was because we had to learn that at some point in our lives, there will come a day when there is nobody to protect you, just you. That's what school is for anyway isn't it? Preparing children for that scary 'real world' out there. They say when a butterfly emerges from its chrysalis, if you help it, you doom it to a life of deformity and failure. Its wings never expand to their full size and it never learns the joy of flight.

I used to scoff at the notion of this 'real world', possibly blinded by my sense of self immortality at that age. I mean, how scary could it get right? Its ironic that now, as I stand at the threshold of the next chapter in my life that I would be standing still instead of taking that step forward. Doing my Honours was as much an excuse for me to put off stepping headfirst into this 'real world' as it was finally do some research on all those myths and mythical figures I've been interested in. So I guess its one more year at Monash for me then, before I truly take off on my own new adventure. You know, one of the things that really thrills me about raising my butterflies is the very nature of the life-cycle. It's a cycle right, so everything eventually comes back down to the same thing. No matter what a butterfly may eventually grow into, no matter how beautiful it is now, it is still the same caterpillar that it was some three to four weeks ago.

So I guess I wasn't really one of the popular guys at school. I wasn't the boy who got invited to parties or the one that people were dying to have on the basketball team. I was the boy who had tons of friends who were girls but no girlfriends. I was the boy who got good grades, who got laughed at over his fascination, nay obsession with observing some of Nature's smallest and most overlooked of creatures. Well, some things have changed. But others have not. And in more ways than one I am glad that I stuck with what I loved to do, and what I had a passion for because it sure looks like things worked themselves out eventually. You just got to have a little faith sometimes because really there's no running away from who you are. Plus, I kinda like the person I've come to be and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon. So, toss all the figurative trash you want cuz, if I would've ever conformed to peer pressure, I would have already regretted doing it in High School.


Growing up Creepy



Growing Up Creepy - pt.1 - Getting Started

at the Kuala Lumpur Butterfly Park



Hi there!

My name is Cyren Wong and I am from Kuala Lumpur - a buzy little town in the middle of Peninsular Malaysia that offers (what I think is) a good balance between the hustle and bustle of exciting City Life and just enough trees and greenery to retain that tropical-jungleish feeling that I for one wouldn't trade for the world. I am currently 21 going on 22 and besides writing promotional pamphlets for Tourism Malaysia I hope to, when I graduate from the Bachelor of Arts at Monash University, complete the Honours programme after which I will, hopefully a job teaching at a decent private/international school. (Note: use of sarcasm *I do not really write anything for Tourism Malaysia* ). I started this blog with a simple intention, that it may become a sort of collection of knowledge - or an electronic field journal if you may - on my journey through life as an amateur lepidoterist. For those of you who do not know this, a lepidopterist is someone who *quote wikipedia* catches and collects, studies, or simply observes lepidopterans, the term Lepidoptera being derived from Ancient Greek  λεπίδος (scale) and πτερόν (wing) referring to both butterflies and moths!

But indulge me for a second, why butterflies and moths, you might ask? Of all insects, animals or even wildlife to be interested in, why them? Well, aside from the obvious fact that the patterns of their wings (for me at least) comprise of some of the most wonderful and thought inspiring colours and motives in the natural world, for as long as I can remember, butterflies and moths have played a very significant role in my life. Growing up, some of my earliest memories are leafing through the citrus plants in my front garden with my father for chubby green catterpillars. But of course back then I hadn't known about things like the life-cycle of butterfleis and moths, it was more simply a case of my father methodically removing the caterpillars from his lime and orange plants and little-Me, trailing behind to pick up the "worms" from the floor and placing them into paper boxes for safe-keeping. I used to feed these "worms", grasses and leaves and everything I could find, and while the earlier batch did not survive I eventually realised that they only ate the leaves of teh plants from which they came? Eventually I had a collection of about 8 or 10 which, to my amazement one day became hard and brown. Not thinking anything of it, I left the now hard and brown worms in their boxes.

Of course any intelligent child can tell you these days that those "worms" were really caterpillars going through their pupal stage but I was but three and I didn't have any books or a tv back then so you will excuse me! Anyway a couple of weeks later I heard some rustling coming from within the box. Curious as always I opened it and to my amazement, 8 swallowtail butterflies of the common mormon species (P. Polytes) and thus began my fascination with butterflies and moths that would soon become a life-long passion and dream. These days I still raise caterpillars though, to mark some form of "advancement" from my kiddy days, I have replaced the paper boxes with a fairly large glass container and now breed butterflies as well to create sustainable butterfly populations in the still-green areas of KL. My goals as a lepidopterist, to gain as much knowledge I can and share that knowledge so that other may appreciate and partake in the beauty that is the butterfly and moth.

Trogonoptera Brookiana (Rajah Brooke's Birdwing) at the Kuala Lumpur Butterfly Park