Racist Butterflies

As we floated down the swamp (because it wasn’t really a river yet) a butterfly hovered so close to my ear, I could hear the rapid thudding of its wings beating air into my skin. Later this magical occurrence would lose a bit of value when I found out it was a racist insect, but in that moment, I embraced yet another wonder of the world.

I watched it dart in between Mac and his GF, circle around to my oldest brother and dive away from my father’s paddle. In his distraction, my father ran smack into severed branch, waiting to prance on the unsuspecting kayaker. Its leaves were wilted and the water just about entirely submerged it- I had to assume the branch hadn’t known life for quite a while. But that didn’t affect its ploy for vengeance. His kayak came to an abrupt stop about halfway over this branch. He remain unmoved long enough for me to about face, paddle against the current, and snap a picture of his misfortune. Hilarious as that was, about thirty seconds after he released himself from its death hold, it got so much better…better for the rest of us, at any rate.

The serene scene of a tree-lined river (it was more river-esque by this point) washing over rocks to the melody of crickets harmonizing with some kind of frog was interrupted with: “Oh jeeze! That tree! That tree was full of spiders! Oh crap they’re everywhere in here!” I damn near capsized from laughing.

My jubilance was short lived thanks to a large mass swimming out just in front of Mac’s kayak. I had almost forgotten we were in gator territory, but had brought a sizable knife with me which sat snuggle against my upper thigh. There’s no way I was going out of this world as something’s lunch.

We pressed on for another hour while nerves calmed and the river opened. But Mac’s sudden turn around took me off guard. There were numerous curves and bends along the way and it was easy to lose sight of the rest of our party. But something wasn’t right, my gut insisted, so I booked it backwards, paddling through the burning sensations in my shoulders.

Rounding the third bend, I found Mac pulling up to our dad and oldest brother just sitting there. Of course my over active imagination had been creating the very worst scenarios (the gator sighting didn’t help) so I was relieved to see them alive.

“We may have a problem,” my father began. Quizzically, I looked between the three of them.

“I may have locked my keys in the car,” my oldest brother spoke, letting the corners of his mouth turn up in his “my bad” smile. We had left his car at our pulling out point with the intent of using it to cart two additional people back to our starting point where we had left the other vehicles.

“So what now?” I usually always had to ask that common sense question. It’s not that they weren’t thinking it, but it tends to corral their solutions quickly.

“I could row back and take one of the other cars to our ending point,” Oh Mac, always so eager to be the hero.

“That’s ridiculous. We’re only about a half hour from the pullout,” I figured.

“So then I’ll high tail it down there and call Mom...” The looks we all exchanged was enough for him to rethink that solution, “…or AAA.”

“Alright go, we’ll be right behind you,” my father reassured him as he set off at a speed even Olympic rowers would have trouble matching.

The rest of us leisurely paddled on until we caught up to him some twenty minutes later.

“Bow before me for I am awesome. Your car was unlocked bro!” we heard Mac’s trademark cockiness reverberating off the tress that lined our river. A simultaneous sigh was collected as we paddled to shore. “And I found some racist butterflies!” He added.

He pointed to a flock (that's what I'm choosing to call a gathering of them) of butterflies fluttering just offshore. They had beautiful yellow and black markings, and beat their wings in a surprisingly organized circle. But when the blue and back butterfly attempted to join his comrades in their winged adventure, they were quick to shut him out, and fly just out of reach. This continued each time the poor outsider attempted to penetrate the group.

Wow. And I thought ducks were assholes.