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Children's Stories
by Margo Fallis
Wrong Way Butterfly

Wrong Way Butterfly

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 said.

"Heíd better stay away from me," Bowie snarled.

"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," Brennan noticed.

"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 woods.

"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 asked.

"Och, aye. Thereís one headed toward the woods. He looks a wee bit confused though," one of the sheep bleated. BAA!

"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 called.

"Whereís Wrong Way Butterfly going this time?" Boyd snickered.

"Here we go again," Bairdie scoffed and flew off to get Brennan.

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