All the Butterflies are dead. Part 2.

Last time we had been in Sarteneja, we had been so wrapped up in relaxing in the warm tropical waters that we completely forgot to stop by and check out the local butterfly sanctuary. Well, Ben didn’t forget, he just hates visiting butterfly sanctuaries. Not because he hates butterflies, he just doesn’t quite share Emma’s enthusiasm. Ben’s approach: Yep, that’s a lot of butterflies, look that one’s cool. OK. I’m done. Emma’s approach: Wait—I don’t think I got a photo of that one. Oh this one’s different. Hey, did you see the blue one. Oooo! I think this one is going to land on me let’s stand still for 10 minutes. *Squeal of delight* Hold on look at this one. I just need a better photo of this one. *Excited clapping of hands* That’s one we haven’t seen. Etc… We arrived in the car park to a sign requesting that we don’t apply insect repellant.

_{That seems fair enough to me. Don’t really want to be responsible for killing the butterflies.}

So we obeyed the sign and entered the park, completely defenceless against the hoards of hungry mosquitos. Sure they were swarming, but we figured it wouldn’t take too long to check out the butterflies and then we could go put a layer of anti-mosquito on before checking out the rest of the park.

A volunteer greeted us at the entrance. (This greeting took long enough that we were each bitten about 5 times.)

She then enquired if we were here just to visit the nature reserve or the butterfly sanctuary as well. (Additional bites while we confirmed that yes, we wanted to visit the sanctuary and no we weren’t wearing any repellant.)

We then payed our relatively expensive entry fees. (Which also cost us another handful of mosquito bites each).

The volunteer then took us on a quick tour of the visitor centre. (Not quick enough. Every time we looked down another dozen mosquitos were nibbling at our arms and legs.)

Then she explained the mission of the nature reserve. (More bites.)

Talked about their involvement with the community. (Several more nibbles.)

Explained how there was also a short walking track and a viewing platform to visit in the park. (More firey death stabs.)

Then she said, “So do you want to see inside the butterfly sanctuary now?” (More bites, while we confirmed that yes, we did.)

She looked at us very apologetically and said. Ok, but just to let you know. All our butterflies are dead right now—except one.

_{The sanctuary’s sole resident.}

Given the size of the clouds of butterflies we had driven through on the way to the sanctuary, this seemed a bit on the disappointing side. Generally one hopes there will be more butterflies inside a sanctuary than outside.

She showed us a few of the next generation of butterflies that were coming through, so that the next visitors later in the week may indeed see a few dozen butterflies when they arrived. (The biting continued.)

As soon as we were released from the tour we turned tail and ran back to the car. Applied insect repellant, breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed necessary to climb the viewing platform so that we at least got some sort of value from the visit. Hoping it would give us something better to remember it by than swollen limbs and possible anaphylactic shock due to the sheer number of bites.

However it turns out there is not much to see from above a stretch of coastal Belizean jungle.

Flat as a pancake, just like the Yucatan.

_{Luckily Emma enjoys stuff like this anyway, so just had enough fun climbing the tower. Ben however disapproves of heights even more than he disapproves of extended visits to butterfly sanctuaries.}

_{Not Ben’s idea of a fun afternoon.}

He arrived at the top.

Had a quick look around.

And got out of there pretty promptly.

Luckily being back in Sarteneja meant more relaxing days by the ocean while we nursed our many mosquito bites.