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Rod  Parrott’s interest in butterflies began in his early childhood. “It was in England, in the 40s, you see, and all of us children were bored. So my father gave us some butterfly nets, and we’ go out with fruit jars, and collect them and bring them home and watch them. And then we’d let them go.”

And that’s how it started. 70 years later, Parrott now supplies  butterflies to three different conservatories, rearing them in a greenhouse he constructed in his backyard in Port Hope. I am visiting this lepidopetrists’ mecca on the first day of my summer vacation, on a field trip with the Toronto Entomological Society, and I am in heaven.

Rod’s wife June greets us and looks after the logistics of the visit.  Only a few of us can visit the greenhouse at a time, so we take the tour in shifts. While waiting, the others sit in the chairs provided, under the shade. Water is offered to whoever needs it. Clearly, the Parrotts are used to visitors.

Before we enter the greenhouse, Rod gives us an aboreal  lesson.

“Who knows their trees?”

We all confess  our ignorance.

He grabs a leaf from the tree nearest him and crushes it. “Smell that! It smells spicy!” It smells heavenly, but yes, in a spicy way. “That’s a Spicebush. The Spicebush Swallowtail likes that one.” I love it when bugs conform to type.

We then smell the shmushed  leaves of the Spiny Ash (lemony), favourite of the Giant Swallowtail, and the hop tree, which we are told is stinky, but compared to other stinks I have known, I’d only register it as pungent. And  finally we are shown the Dutchman’s  Pipe, which everyone recognizes immediately. Except me.

And then we are led into the greenhouse, and we all exclaim. We are surrounded. One gentleman, a photographer who has recently devoted his macro lens to shooting butterflies, is awestruck. “It’s so beautiful! I can’t stand it” he cries. The Pipevine and Spicebush Swallowtail butterflies are dusky exotic beauties, black and metallic blue, and they are everywhere.

A couple of years ago, I visited the Niagara Falls Butterfly  conservatory and was dazzled. But as I wandered through the jungle they’d created, I felt uneasy. Here were thousands of male and female butterflies in an enclosed space, but I could see no signs of larvae on any leaves. Did they perform micro-vasectomies? How could this be? I asked one of the staff, and she confirmed my suspicions. The conservatory doesn’t use any host plants for the larvae. So when the butterflies mate, and lay their eggs, the caterpillars have nothing to eat. While this was a morbid truth, I did understand the reason. Keeping up with the appetite of a caterpillar is no mean feat.

But yesterday, I learned that it is possible. What Parrott has built is really an ecosystem. Everywhere you look, you can see the full life cycle of each creature in its various stages. The host plants are remarkably healthy and full, despite the fact that on every leaf you find a cluster of eggs or a fat caterpillar. How does he do it? He just does.  He rears about a thousand Monarchs each year, and his yard is full of an array of buckets growing various types of Milkweed.

I also didn’t see any predators in this paradise. How does he deal with them? “You stomp ‘em, one at a time. Or you squish ‘em,” he gestures with his arthritic fingers.

Parrott is full of stories, and he is eager to pass on his knowledge. When he learns that I’m a teacher, he pulls me aside and says, “So tell me. How are the kids these days?” “Oh, the kids are alright,” I reply. “Good.”

In the cool of the carport, a table holds half a dozen trays, each full of cocoons. He takes one out and places it in my hand. Inside the woven clump of tawny hairs, I can feel a scrabbly sort of kicking. It’s the Polyphemous moth inside, getting ready to hatch.

• Silvery Blue
• Spicebush SwallowTail
• White Admiral
• Red Admiral
• Monarch
• Viceroy
• Black Swallowtail
• Tiger Swallowtail
• Giant Swallowtail
• Pipevine Swallowtail
• Red-Spotted Purple
• Polyphemous Moth
• Cecropia Moth (Cocoon only)

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