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"I just love the highlands,
don’t you, Bruce?" Bonnie, the pink butterfly asked her friend.
"It’s rugged, there are
mountains, rivers, trees and best of all, flowers of all sorts!"
"It is rather lovely up
here, but we’re barely to the highlands. I think you’ll like the place
we’re coming upon. It’s a wee town called Beauly and it’s a beauty. It’s
also a good place to pick up some Highland tweed," Bruce said.
"Sure, Bruce. I always have
to slip on my jacket before going out. Don’t be silly. Why would a
butterfly wear tweed?" Bonnie mocked.
"I was just informing you.
There’s Beauly now," he said, pointing to the village below. "There’s a
Priory, which is now in ruins though. What I really think you’ll enjoy is
the flowers. Come on," he called, flying towards the town.
They landed in a field of
flowers. "Bruce! I’ve not seen so many beautiful flowers in my life all
gathered in one place!" She was in awe. She flew right over to a large
daffodil and started sipping nectar.
Just then a red squirrel
jumped out from behind a leafy bush. "Scram!" he shouted. Bonnie looked
up. Bruce was sitting just above her on a leaf. The butterflies stared at
the squirrel without saying a word. "Didn’t you hear me? I said scram.
SCRAM!" The butterflies continued to stare at the furry animal. "Perhaps I
need to spell it out for you. S-C-R-A-M! Don’t you speak English?" he
asked.
Bonnie began to mumble,
"Why do we have to scram? There are enough pretty flowers for us all.
You’re a squirrel. You don’t sip nectar!"
"This is my territory. You
two must not be from around here. Well, here in Beauly, I’m the king of
the flowers!" the squirrel said.
"Who are you anyway? What
makes you king?" Bruce asked.
"I’m Fraser. My family’s
been in this area for hundreds of years," the squirrel explained.
Bonnie had to think
quickly. There were too many flowers here that looked delicious. "Fraser,
how do you think all these flowers got here? How do you think they stay
here?"
"They just grow!" Fraser
answered.
"No, they don’t just grow.
We butterflies have to pollinate them. We fly from flower to flower
carrying pollen," Bonnie explained.
"Oh. I suppose that makes
sense. I do love my flowers. You can stay for a while then," Fraser
agreed.
"Since we’re here, why
don’t you show us about town," Bruce pleaded.
"Can do! Follow me," Fraser
said.
The butterflies and the
squirrel headed into town. "How did they come up with the name Beauly?"
Bonnie asked.
Bruce was about to answer,
but Fraser quickly answered, "Mary, Queen of Scots was coming through this
area. She looked out of the window and saw how pretty it was. She said,
‘Quel beau lieu’. We’ve got quite the town here, one of the most beautiful
in all of Scotland. We win yearly awards for the flowers." They came to
the main street. "Ah, here’s the main road. That’s the Beauly Priory,"
Fraser noted. "It’s just ruins now, but it was a grand place in the 13th
century."
They fluttered behind
Fraser as he ran through the town. "If its flowers you want, auld Mrs.
McKintosh has got the loveliest garden in the whole village," Fraser told
them. "Nothing can beat her peonies and rhododendrons. Would you like to
see?"
"Yes," Bonnie answered
quickly.
"I suppose," Bruce said. He
was a bit jealous of Fraser. After all, he knew as much as the squirrel
did!
"Quiet, please. If she
catches me in her garden, she’ll take the broom to me. She’ll not worry
about a couple of butterflies, but she doesn’t like squirrels, especially
not me!" Fraser said.
They fluttered into the
garden. GASP! "This is even lovelier than before. Look at the colors! I’ve
never seen such pretty shades of yellows, reds and pinks," Bonnie smiled.
"Go to it then. Have
yourselves a wee sip. I’ll keep guard," Fraser said. The butterflies
fluttered about from flower to flower. "Och no!" Fraser cried out.
Just then auld Mrs.
McKintosh came running outside with broom in hand. "Get out o’ here, ye
annoyin squirrel. I thought I told ye to stay oot of me floo’ers."
She started to swing at
Fraser. "Time to go," he shouted and ran through the back garden into the
street. Bonnie and Bruce followed. "I knew she’d catch me today. I hope
you’ve seen what you wanted. If you go down that way," Fraser said,
pointing, you’ll come to the River Beauly. There are some lovely daffodils
growing along the banks. You might even spot a tulip or two. I’ve got to
get back. Cheerio," Fraser said, running back towards the field of
flowers.
"Cheerio," Bruce and Bonnie
called, waving goodbye. "He’s a nice chap, isn’t he?" Bruce said.
"I was a wee bit afraid of
him at first, but it turns out his bark was worse than his bite," Bonnie
chuckled. "I say we go back into the garden. Mrs. McKintosh will not mind
us being there, surely." She fluttered towards the flowers.
"Wait for me," Bruce
called.
The butterflies spent the
whole afternoon sipping nectar. When they’d had their fill, they flew down
to the River Beauly, found a large oak leaf and fell asleep, dreaming of
the pretty flowers they’d seen that day.
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