The Brunei Museum has one female taken at Kota Batu in May and I have seen one male taken at Anduki in December". That made me smile. That was 1982. I was 18 years old and still very immature. I regularly came to Brunei to visit my parents during school holidays. It was hear where I persued my dreams. I wanted to collect every butterfly in Brunei. I ended up with a whole lot more.
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On the morning of this catch I had chosen to try a new location, a dry coastal forest, all sparse secondary re-growth, springing up as it were out of pure white sand. The sun penetrated the canopy reflecting the bulk of its heat straight off the sand. It was a dry microclimate. A harsh environment of secondary regrowth. This was unusual in the tropics and would undoubtedly contain its own unique treasures.
The mosquito spray was nasty stuff. It left your skin with that hot sensation one gets when ones skin is covered with oil and unable to breath. I plastered myself with it. I would come back dripping with perspiration but it was usually worth it. I picked up the small flat Elastoplaster box out of the boot of the car. In it were carefully folded sheets of paper for putting in the morning's catch. My net was a kite net, half moon shaped at one end and pointed like a ‘v' at the other where a wooden handle could be inserted. I picked up its 3-foot detachable wooden net handle and attached net to handle. This gave me the added advantage of an extra 5-foot reach. The water bottle stayed in the car and the car keys in my pocket.
There were tracks that lead off from the main one by the river, they soon dispersed and vanished. They were animal tracks. Taking one of these I penetrated the dry desolate forest. To my delight little brown Satyridae butterflies were flitting around. Very enjoyable. I knew their classification and that was what mattered to me. I cared little about them, except the way they moved, the intricate colour designs on their wings, and the simple pleasure of seeing them. They fed on grasses, thus surviving the dryer areas. Turning away I copied them, I slunk away into the shaddows and comfort of the leafy enfolds.
Suddenly, there they were. Some 5 or 6 little butterflies, basking and flitting in the suns' rays, well up in the canopy. They were new to me. I wanted only one. Collectors had told me that one must collect many specimens when the opportunity arises. I can see why now but back then I had no intension of dissimilating a butterfly population. I only wanted to know what it was, and to have one in my collection. Then I could forever admire its beauty in the wild without having to have one.
They were small, trailing behind them their long white tails in a glow of golden sunshine. A masterpiece of sensuality. I drew near. With my neck cranked I looked upward. I had at best a 10-foot reach, but they were up at least another 5 feet beyond that. With arms outstretched I held my net high. They would get used to its presence. Then when one strayed low I'd have it. Several times I had to rest my arms, slowly lowering my net, rest, then raising it again. Watching and waiting my neck began to cramp and ache. One flew down within reach. Height played its advantage to me as the insect parched on top of a leaf, thus the leaf gave its camouflage to my advantage. Coaxing my net into position, I poised it right under his perch. Then an upward thrust, a twist of the net, and bang, he was caught, but now a new race was on. A butterfly caught flaps wildly in a net. Panic sets in and it tries desperately to escape.
I slammed the net to the ground, with the pocket containing the butterfly on the topside, thus not damaging the insect inside. Speed was crucial. Inside was a panic of mega proportions. If those tails should break the specimen would be marred. That thought sent shivers down my spine. There it was madly fluttering around in my net with all that netting on top of him. I ran to the net and opened up a pocket of netting to let the butterfly fly, and fly it did, for at least three full minutes continuously. It took several attempts to try and pin him down without damage. Hot and sweaty my desire had been sweetened, pinning down my prey with netting material. He was caught. Sedated by success, I sewlled in achievement. I put my forefinger on one side of his little body and my thumb on the other side. Then… … and he was dead. This was the best technique for such a prize, but often the hardest, especially so with these Lycaenidae butterflies, a hugely diverse group of minature butterflies. When pinching, it is the thorax one squeezes, collapsing the heart. However with small bodies often their innards pop right out the other end. Skill is needed in getting just the right tension. Now that I am older I see butterfly collections as the mortuary, a graveyard of bodies. But back then it was all in the name of discovery and pride.
Alan Cassidy was keeping a record of butterflies for that region at that time. Whenever I could not identify a butterfly I'd send him the photograph. This butterfly was identified as Neocherita amrita theodora and now sits on my desk as a permanent reminder of those days of wonder. I later met Alan when we were in Brunei at the same time. He took a couple of interesting looking specimens of mine back with him for identification in the British Natural History Museum. The butterflies were one and the same. They were a new sub species. He named them after me! I had come to Brunei to see the beauty of its butterflies and had left, with the realisation that it is the people who are on the scene actually doing the work that make the discoveries, and ultimately make the world go round.
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