Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservatory
1316 Duval Street
Key West, FL 33040
305 296 2988 (800 839 4647)
December 18, 2009
I began to giggle. A spontaneous eruption not unlike one I would hear later from a five-year-old kid and a young Chinese couple. Rewind a day or so.
Nearly every fellow guest in The Grand Guesthouse included The Butterfly and Nature Conservatory on Duval Street in their you gotta see this list of attractions when you’re in Key West. The owners of the guesthouse and a waitress at The Bistro on Duval weighed in to the same effect.
For my money, observing the unending variations of the female form on the perfect white sand ribbon of Smathers Beach seemed a more rewarding mode of investigating nature’s bounty. A nature conservatory? My idea of being a naturalist is shedding my togs at a clothing optional beach.
Today, after spending several hours biking to the White Street Pier, Higgs Beach Park, and the aforementioned Smathers Beach, I was ready for an indoor venue by mid afternoon. Still in Key West attire, bathing suit and T-shirt, I thought the Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservatory sounded perfect. Indoors and tropical. A half-hour glancing tour through Lepidoptera Land and I could add something cultural to my Jimmy Buffett itinerary of beaches, bars, and bistros.
Five seconds after pushing through the entryway doors, I stop dead in my tracks. Nothing in the murals, maps, and videos in the conservatory's "Learning Center" just outside the entrance to the habitat prepares me for this.
A petite squadron of tiny yellow butterflies has pirouetted around my head forming a halo shaped welcome. I am enthralled. And giggle. I look around sheepishly to see if anyone noticed I’d lost my cool. After a few more minutes, I don’t give a damn.
There isn’t that much bustle in Key West to begin with but this whole scene feels especially dreamlike. Mid afternoon sun filters through the vaulted glass canopy high overhead and spills onto the lush green foliage inside. Warm, moist air blankets me with soft womb-like immersity.
The whiff of growth and decay in the damp earth evokes a deeply buried evolutionary memory of the smell of the primordial ooze onto which our most ancient seed crawled from the sea.
New age music floats softly through the air on the wings of thousands of butterflies silently swooping, gliding, playing tag, and hanging by their feet on shrubs and leaves (show offs). Some lay shamelessly spread-winged on plates of ripe fruit placed by the attentive staff. The continual circular, spirally, fluttery motion is mesmerizing and calming, sort of Nature’s version of ambien. A half hour slips by. I am still here and not thinking of leaving anytime soon.
I’ve seen my share of monarch butterflies in New England. This is an order of magnitude beyond the pale. The sheer variety of butterflies - colors, wing patterns, flutter rates, sizes - overwhelms the senses.
The conservatory is about the size of a miniature golf course. Groups of fat, red, gold and white koi glide idly through a narrow pool in the center of the floor plan. Ground cover, plants, and trees are unobtrusively labeled. Branches from small trees and cascading plants droop over the narrow pathway through the preserve.
I feel like I’ve wandered into an animated Disney movie set. Seven dwarfs trailing a bunch of monarch butterflies might appear in a conga line any minute. Doc will hand me a flute to hail the rest of the butterflies under the compact glass palace roof and Happy and I will orchestrate our own little second line parade to sashay through the conservatory’s narrow tree, bush, and groundcover lined paths.
These butterflies are apparently fearless, inured to human activity. Sit down and before long you have company on your bench.
The effect of wonder is apparently universal. “Wow,” is the only word I understand in the conversation between the Chinese couple who sit next to me in a tiny gazebo.
By this time, I’ve noticed that tiny birds share this peaceable kingdom with the butterflies and flora.
Everything inside this habitat can be found in the outside world but not condensed into such a thimble-sized space. Once you get past the New Age music, you’re immersed in a musky, earthy humidor with the soundtrack of gurgling water and twittering birds. I believe the word I’m searching for is serenity. A rare quantity these days, even in dear old Key West.
The butterflies and tiny Australian Diamond Doves and Chinese Button Quail and dense foliage thrive on the constant heat and humidity. We sweat. My face is gleaming like one of the broad leaf ferns on the trail.
“We have 50-60 species of butterflies here,” says Margaret, a centered, silver-haired woman deftly pruning the shrubs. “Two hundred to 300 are imported here every week from Asia, Costa Rica and Ecuador. We raise about 10% here in the conservatory.”
“The conservatory is carefully climate controlled,” Margaret says. “The optimum temperature is 86 degrees with humidity of 80%. When the temperature exceeds 86 the conservatory is cooled with air conditioning ducts. In August and September, we use those light dispersing shades (neatly furled overhead at present) to reduce the temperature inside.”
“Butterflies are cold blooded. They won’t move much in the morning till the temperature is 79-80 degrees. Late in the day, they begin to settle, flying lower and lower. By 4:30 today, they’ll find leaves and roost upside down by their feet till morning.”
Sure enough, by the time I’m leaving, hosts of butterflies are buzzing along at eye level. I won’t be sleeping upside down tonight, but I can just see Key West winking at me as if to say, “And you thought Duval Street couldn’t balance its hurdy-gurdy party town reputation with a little demure aesthetic charm.”
Photos by Paul Tamburello
Great article Paul - one of your best!! And Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!! Hope you're having a great time down there.
Posted by: Myke | December 28, 2009 at 10:24 AM
How perfectly written. I can't wait to see this. I love the analogies to our well known children's stories as well as the description of your emotional state. Clothing optional beach caught my attention too. Remind me to tell you a few stories about Senator George "Smooch" Smathers for whom the beach is named (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Smathers). You know me, a Florida girl at heart.
Posted by: KBJones | October 26, 2016 at 02:12 PM