A daughter's epic quest to find one of the rarest butterflies—named after her father

National Geographic

25-02-2025

He dedicated his life to his work and died in his mid-50s when I was turning 14. I hardly knew my father. My memories of him are disparate snippets, a collection of faded photographs and conflicting accounts. Over the past three decades as a journalist and photographer, I became fixated on reconstructing the story of his life.
The only photograph that I have of my father and me, this Polaroid was taken on the balcony of our home in Baku, Azerbaijan, in 1987 when I was 10. Four years later, he died of cancer at 56.
Courtesy Effendi Family Archive
Several years ago, I came across his Wikipedia page and clicked on a link that led me to a picture of a modestly colored butterfly. The description underneath read 'Satyrus effendi, species of the Nymphalidae family.' At the bottom of the page, I learned that Yuri Nekrutenko, a lepidopterist from Ukraine, discovered a new butterfly species in the Caucasus in 1989 and named it in honor of Rustam, his close friend and colleague. Later I found out that Yuri had joked with my father at the time: Since you've only had daughters, your surname will live on with the butterfly. Let's hope it does not go extinct.
But his namesake is perhaps one of the rarest butterflies in the world. Only a single generation hatches between mid-July and mid-August, flying in its mountainous habitat 10,000 feet above sea level. To withstand harsh conditions, Satyrus effendi has furlike scales on its wings and a dark brown color that may keep it warm. Its most distinguishable physical trait is two black markings, like eyes with white pupils, each glaring from the corner of the wings. For two weeks, the insect flutters over the Zngzur ridge, which spans a hundred miles across the border between Azerbaijan and Armenia, two countries in the grips of a decades-long conflict.
As one of the few lepidopterists in Soviet Azerbaijan, my father captured numerous species, each one stored at the Azerbaijan National Academy of Sciences' Institute of Zoology in Baku, where he worked for more than three decades. Many years have passed since, and much of his collection is turning to dust. I searched for mentions of Satyrus effendi in scientific works he authored, in his field journals, and among the remaining specimens in his collection, but found no trace of it. I concluded it was one of the only endemic species he hadn't caught. I wondered if I could.