Hello, friends... This time, I'm going to tell you another personal story about when I went out into the field last Thursday morning after receiving an invitation. Since I'm a geological engineer, it was to help a friend verify the boundaries and coordinates of a piece of land.

So, I set out that morning with my GPS in one hand and my field notebook in the other, ready for a day of verifying coordinates in the municipality of Sucre, specifically in San Juan de Lagunillas. The plan was clear: check geographical points, take notes, and perhaps, if time allowed, enjoy a papelón con limón (sugarcane juice with lemon) at a nearby bodega. What I didn't expect was to encounter a winged visitor that took my breath away and, for a few minutes, also my technical focus, as I set out to chase it across the terrain, hoping it would land on a branch or flower so I could photograph it.

The path wound through coffee plantations and bushes, the air had that scent of living earth that can only be breathed in the Andes. As I was checking a set of coordinates near a ravine, something red and vibrant crossed my field of vision like a moving brushstroke. I stopped dead in my tracks. It wasn't a leaf, or a flower, or a reflection. It was a butterfly. But not just any butterfly: it was an Anartia amathea, popularly known as the Red Peacock butterfly. I know this because I looked it up, hehehe...

It landed on some branches in the bush, as if it knew that after chasing it for so long, I needed a break. Its wings were spectacular: scarlet red in the center, with black edges and white spots that looked like splashes of light. I crouched down slowly, careful not to scare it away, and watched it with the fascination of a child discovering a treasure.

According to Wikipedia (see: https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anartia_amathea), this species belongs to the Nymphalidae family and is common in South America, from Panama to Argentina, including Venezuela. It is also known as the scarlet peacock butterfly and usually inhabits open areas, gardens, and areas with low vegetation.

What surprised me most was its trusting behavior. It did not fly away immediately; I imagine it was tired from flying so much. It stayed there, spreading its wings elegantly, as if it knew it was being admired. And boy, was I admiring it.

Later, consulting Animalia.bio (see: https://animalia.bio/es/anartia-amathea), I discovered that this species of lepidopteran feeds on flower nectar. In addition, its life cycle includes the classic stages: egg, larva, pupa, and adult. But what I found most curious is that, despite being a common species, it is not always easy to see. You have to be in the right place, at the right time... and with your eyes wide open.

While the butterfly remained perched, I completely forgot about the coordinates, the control points, and even the lemon paper. At that moment, all the technical stuff was suspended. It was just me, the mountain, and that scarlet creature that looked like something out of a fairy tale.

Then it flew away with a graceful farewell, I took a deep breath, smiled, and went back to work. Back to what I was doing, I shared the anecdote with my friend, who was engrossed in watching me do things he had never seen before. That butterfly reminded me that, even in the midst of work, there is always room for surprise. That beauty doesn't need permission to burst into our routine. And that sometimes, the most valuable thing about a day is not what can be measured, but what can be felt.