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. Itís time to fly north to
Scotland. Iím sure the ice and snow has melted by now. Iíll bet the hills
are covered with bluebells and gorse by now," Boyd, the butterfly called
to his friend.
"Aye, Boyd, itís about that time.
Letís get the others and go home as a group, instead of just the two of
us," Bairdie suggested.
"Iíll find Bonnie, Blair and
Balfour. You find Betty, Billy and Bowie," Boyd said.
"What about Brennan? Shouldnít we
invite him to come wií us?" Bairdie asked.
"Brennan? Och, heís always been a
wee bit different, hasnít he? Heís rather clumsy and never was one of our
group," Boyd replied.
"Youíre right, but we canny leave
without him. He came down here with us. Itís only right that he should go
back wií us," Bairdie said.
"You find him then. Heís your
responsibility. Weíd better hurry. If we get going now, weíll 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 wií us?"
"Heís coming," Bairdie said, looking
around. "Och, there he is now."
A pale blue butterfly came
fluttering toward the group. "Iím coming. Iím coming," he shouted. His
wings flapped up and down as he headed for the thistle.
"Heís going to crash into us,"
Bonnie screamed. Just then, Brennan realized he couldnít 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 wií us?"
"Yes, he is. Bairdie insisted," Boyd
"Heíd better stay away from me,"
"Letís get going now," Bairdie said,
trying to distract the group. "Iíll 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. "Iíll miss England," Balfour sighed.
"What?" Billy asked. "England? How
could you miss England?"
"I enjoyed the rose gardens. Iíve
never tasted such sweet pollen before," Balfour explained.
"Iíll show you some sweet pollen and
nectar. Come wií me up to the highlands. The hills are covered wií purple
heather. After youíve tried heather, youíll 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 wií you."
"No problem, Brennan. Just be
careful and watch where youíre going from now on," Bairdie pleaded.
Bairdie closed his eyes for a few minutes. He knew the way so well that he
didnít 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.
"Whereís he going?" Betty wondered.
"I donít care. At least heís not wií
us," Blair said.
Brennan didnít seem to notice that
he was going the wrong way. "Hey, wrong way? Where are you headed?
Scotlandís this direction," Boyd shouted.
Brennan paid him no attention.
"Brennan? Where are you going?" Bowie called.
Brennan turned around. "Och, Iím
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. Theyíre nibbling on the
grass and buttercups. That seems like a good place to stop. At least
thereís food," Boyd said.
"Och, English buttercups arenít
anywhere as tasty as Scottish ones," Bonnie sighed, "but theyíll do."
The fluttered down and landed on the
flowers. Sheep began to baa and run around them. "Theyíre all wooly,"
"Thatís 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 Iíll get a head start," he giggled and fluttered off toward the
"Whereís 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
"Och, aye. Thereís one headed toward
the woods. He looks a wee bit confused though," one of the sheep bleated.
"Thatís our Brennan. Letís just call
him Wrong Way Butterfly. Heís headed south, not north," Blair sighed.
"Iíll go and fetch him," Bairdie
sneered. He flew off to find Brennan. A few minutes later they both joined
the group. "Youíd better stay at the front of the group wií me," Bairdie
said. They all fluttered towards Scotland.
Hours had passed when Balfour
shouted, "Thereís Scotland! I see it. Itís raining!"
Soon they were surrounded by a mass
of thick, gray clouds. Drops of rain fell around them. "Aye, weíre back
home," Betty said.
"There are the bluebells. Och, I
love Scotland! Itís good to be home, isnít it?" Blair smiled.
"Come on, Brennan. Iíll race you to
the bluebells," Bairdie said.
"Brilliant idea! Iíll win though,"
Brennan replied. He turned and started flying back to the English border.
"Where are you going?" Bairdie
"Whereís Wrong Way Butterfly going
this time?" Boyd snickered.
"Here we go again," Bairdie scoffed
and flew off to get Brennan.