Andrew Germer Mr. McClure Period 6 26 October 2001 The Magic of Flight Only in our dreams can we soar through the clouds untouched, unfaltered, and unstopped. However, for a select few, these dreams are a reality. It is one such creature like this, the butterfly, that inititated a realization in my mind: humans are not as great as we think we are. Yes, we may be far superior intellectually and technologically to the rest of the animal kingdom, but we are also very limited. The butterfly serves as a prime example of this phenomenon. On my 16th birthday, I was relaxing in the backyard, taking in the fresh summer air and anticipating the day's happenings, when an orange and yellow monarch glided into my field of vision. It's bright colors caught my eye and I was instantly mezmorized. After a few seconds of inspection of the pinkish rose next to the hose, the butterfly extended its paper-thin wings like a stretching athelete. As I began to admire the markings on its top, it lifted off from the flower into the unknown. It's amazing how at the simple whisp of a wing, a creature can defy gravity and perform what seems the impossible. Then, into an invisible crash-course the butterfly seemed to head. Left right, up and down, but never straight. It moved constantly and consistantly, not too slow nor too fast. The fragile monarch executed an impressive double loop, followed by a couple of "s"-curves that seemed to get it nowhere. I envisioned myself as the butterfly, gradually going wherever the wind may take me, topsey-turvey and unpredictable. It was at that moment that it hit me. I could never do that, and never will be able to do that. I felt jealous in a way, and almost resentfull. How ironic that an insect so small and inferior was capable of a feat so seemingly impossible to a human. I took the thought further and created the idea that we as a species are incapable of many things, and we really aren't as perfect as we think we are. As this revelation trailed away to the back of my mind, the butterfly scurried in front of my face. The sky grew darker and then it hovered unstabley for a moment and turned its back to me in a childish gesture that came across as, "Haha, I can fly and you can't." I watched the comeplex structure of the wings as it zoomed off to a new place. A drop of rain hit my freshly cut head of hair as I made my way to the safety of my living room. When I reached the leather sofa and sat, I felt a sort of sympathy for my friend. He was so small out there, but he would survive. After all, he had the magic of flight.