"Dead Pet-itis"

On Saturday Grandma gave us 2 caterpillars in a jar from her friend's garden.

Yesterday we noticed one of them, the smaller one, was not only not moving but also just lying in the dirt in his jar, kind of on his side. We let him alone for the day, wanting to make sure.

But shortly after we first saw him and I suggested he was probably dead, DuckyBoy said "I'm sick. a Sore throat maybe. I get sick when a pet dies."

I realized he was, as the saying goes, "choked up." So I explained that feeling to him, that sadness that causes a tightening of the throat.

It makes me wonder how many other little feelings I take for granted that he doesn't understand!

Later on he was repeating to himself the same phrases we said to make ourselves feel a little better when Skinny died: "He lived a good, long life." "He was a fighter." "We loved him."

Fortunately, the other caterpillar has wound himself into his cocoon and is looking fine. (That's him, Cater, in this photo, pre-crysalis.)

Butterfly on My Hand

Yes, it IS October and this is a real, alive, Tiger Swallowtail butterfly on my hand.

It came out of its chrysalis on Sunday, and on Monday I tried to release it. When I first opened the jar, since it was attached to the tissue on the top of the jar it moved itself to my hand, and stayed there for around 20 minutes while I waited for DB's school bus.

Then it continued to stay there while I walked into the street, met DB at the bus, and we walked back to the sidewalk! (I was sheltering it from the wind as best I could.)

Finally I gently moved him onto a flower and we went upstairs. By now I'd personified him and decided he was cold, so I felt a little bad. Especially because I swear he waved a front leg at me in goodbye.

About 15 minutes later I went to check on him. He hadn't moved, and in fact looked like he was clinging to the tiny flower petal for dear life. So I picked the flower and placed flower and insect in the bowl I'd brought with me (just in case he was still there).

It wasn't until Tuesday mid-morning when he began to flutter madly around his big bowl -- during a patch of bright sunshine -- so I released him in the house. He fluttered to the white kitchen curtain, and I opened the window, where he soon flew out. Of course, that was right AFTER I'd spent an hour Googling what to feed him, how long he'd live, and what kind of habitat to keep him in.

Bye, little friend!

He is Number 3 of 4 chrysalises a friend of Grandma's gave us. Butterflies Number 1 and 2 flew right off once they emerged from their jar. (They did wait to be in sunshine to come out, even though they'd been out of the chrysalis for hours and so I presumed their wings were dry.)

It's been cool for DB to look at them up close. "I can see the proboscis" he says -- at least, that's what I think he's saying since he can't quote pronounce "proboscis."