It is the sacred duty of every prey species to make the predator’s job as difficult as possible. To achieve this, there is no honor bound code of ethics – use what works and use it as often as it takes. Aggressive defense is not an option for an ephemeral creature such as a butterfly or moth.  They do not have jaws, but instead are equipped with party favor straws for lapping up nectar. Their wings are papery works of design and their bodies are delicately made, so any contact with a predator can be akin to a Chinese lantern resisting the swipe of a sword. Their anti-predator options, then, are narrowed down to speed, poison, avoidance, and visual trickery.

  The lepidopteron world (the scale-winged set) is full of fascinating examples of all the above tactics, from special bat sensitive ears and false sonar to leaf mimicry and poisonous flesh. Some tricks are so subtle that their simplicity borders on the remarkable. I came upon just such an example while observing a cluster of milkweed flowers the other day.

  Banded Hairstreaks are common milkweed imbibers. On this particular sunny afternoon, several individuals were darting about from bloom to bloom.  The crowds tend to get thick at such a popular eatery, so my little Hairstreaks were competing with a jumbling host of flies, bees, bumblebees, longhorn beetles and the like.

  These tiny butterflies (see here) enjoy only a brief late June to early August flight season so don’t have much time to fool around. Not flashy when compared to other butterflies, hairstreaks have brown upper wing surfaces and nicely patterned under wing surfaces. Since they perch with their wings up, this underside pattern is the part we can appreciate. Of special note is the tiny tail – the “hair” in hairstreak – projecting out from the lower wing.  There are a few powder blue and orange patches prominently placed ahead of this feature. 

  One of the individuals that landed in front of my lens was missing the entire back half of her wings (see here).  The hair tails and color patches had been ripped away, but there was plenty of wing surface left for normal flight.  The important part about this observation is that, while the butterfly was tattered, it was still in possession of its life. She had played her cards against a predator and won the game. Her tail feature was the ace in the deck.

  The tails are meant to imitate antennae and the colors to draw attention to them.  Together they function as a false head. When perched, the Hairstreak rubs its wings slowly up and down in order to put these pseudo antennae into motion. While the real head and antennae are busy with life at one end, the fake head is serving the role as decoy.  You could say that the Hairstreak is a much more practical version of Dr. Doolittle’s “Push-me-pull-you.”

  When a predator, such as a Kingbird, launches a surprise attack, it has a 50/50 chance of grabbing the right end.  A hit on the right end will result in a bird meal. A hit on the wrong end will harmlessly tear the wing and allow the butterfly to hairstreak away. By adding a dash of make-up to the false head, the chances are tipped in the butterflies favor since the attacker is prompted into a strike at the bright spot.

  Many large and showy butterflies, most notably the Swallowtails, employ this same tactic, but my little damaged Hairstreak provides us with an alternate interpretation of the notion of beauty. Compare the photos of the whole Hairstreak with the damaged one and you’ll appreciate the “tale” of an assault gone awry and the beauty of simplicity.