To Flutter Through Adventures

It was a beau­ti­ful day in Septem­ber. The sun­shine touched each blade of grass gently as they res­ted un­der the blue sky. A wind, still warm enough, made its way through the leaves of the trees, whis­per­ing a song that made each leaf tremble slightly. Everything was in si­lence in the woods, and noth­ing seemed to dis­turb this peace — only if you listened very care­fully… If you listened care­fully, then you could hear chew­ing, champ­ing, munch­ing, and scrunch­ing – what could this be? Caterpillars.

Up in a tree, among the leaves, you could see these tiny creatures that had only one job to do: eat. There were many cater­pil­lars in that tree, and each of them had its own leaf. Some of them were eat­ing, bit­ing and scrunch­ing pieces of leaves un­til they had to move to an­other one. Oth­ers rolled their leaf as if it was time for a good nap to be taken after a well-de­served meal. It seemed that noth­ing could have dis­turbed them from that job, ex­cept a little bird who might be search­ing for her food, or other pred­at­ors like Mr. Black Spider who loved the cater­pil­lars as much as he loved the flies. 

But some­times there are small things that cause big things to hap­pen, and there are things that hap­pen sud­denly, without any in­dic­a­tion they are com­ing. In that tree, there was an old twig so fra­gile that if the wind had been a bit stronger, it would have broken. Out of the blue, a strong wind came and broke that old twig — and it took the cater­pil­lar with it as it fell.

“Ah­h­hhh! What’s hap­pen­ing? Nooo, nooo, nooo, I’m not pre­pared for fly­ing, not yet! Ah­h­hhh!” cried the cater­pil­lar while he fell from the tree. Then came a thud, and the twig was on the ground. The cater­pil­lar tried to come out from the leaves, and after he man­aged to find his way out, he said:

“Am I on the ground? It seems so. Well, at least I’m alive.’

Then he looked around to see where he was. Be­fore he could get a good look, the ground star­ted to tremble be­neath him.

“What’s that? I can’t see well — it is too far away.”

There was some­thing blurred that was run­ning to­wards the cater­pil­lar and as that thing came, the whole ground trembled. 

“Whatever it is, it’s huge and red!”

“Ah­h­h­h­hhh! A snake! Dad, Daaad, there is a snake here!” cried Louise, who was frightened by the little cater­pil­lar. ‘A snake, there is a snake in the grass!”

“Me?! A snake?! But I’m a cater­pil­lar, can’t you see?”

Then, the cater­pil­lar showed his green body and his two fake eyes (spots). In­deed, he looked like a small snake, and the little girl be­lieved that he was a snake.

“Oh, Louise my dear, this is not a snake,” re­spon­ded her father. 

“What? No, no, it is a snake. Can’t you see that it looks like one? Look, Dad!”

Louise showed her father the snake. Mr. B., a bio­logy teacher, looked at the cater­pil­lar, then to his daugh­ter and said, “This, my dear, is a cater­pil­lar. It is a won­der­ful spe­cies called Papilio Troilus.”

“But the other cater­pil­lars from the garden don’t look like that. Why does it look like that?”

“Well, this one looks like a snake be­cause he has to pro­tect it­self from pred­at­ors. You know, birds, spiders, and even bats.”

“Oh, I see now,” Louise said, sur­prised. “Can I take him home? Please, father! He is alone here. He needs friends, I could be his friend!”

“What? Home? I’m not leav­ing any­where with you, silly girl!” cried the cater­pil­lar. But it was too late. Louise had already taken him on a leaf and put the cater­pil­lar in her basket.

“Come one, Mr. Cater­pil­lar, you will meet your new friends!” said Louise as she put Mr. Cater­pil­lar in her basket. 

The way to Louise’s home was a true ad­ven­ture for Mr. Cater­pil­lar. He moved from right to left and jumped from one side to an­other in the bas­ket un­til he felt ill. After a few minutes, the trip was over. They ar­rived home and Louise took Mr. Cater­pil­lar to the garden.

“Well, Mr. Cater­pil­lar, this is your new home. You’ll stay here till I come back; I’ve to eat din­ner. Go and make friends!” Louise said as she put Mr. Cater­pil­lar near some flowers. Then she left.

“Oh, thank God that hor­rible trip is over!” said Mr. Cater­pil­lar. “Where am I?” 

As he looked around he saw some creatures that seemed to look al­most like him. There were other cater­pil­lars, but these ones were only brown. Then, the brown cater­pil­lars spoke to Mr. Caterpillar:

“Hey, who are you?” said one of them.

“Cer­tainly, he is not like us. He is a sort of snake, I can see. What a strange creature… ugly and funny at the same time,” said an­other cater­pil­lar. “Who are you?”

“I’m not a snake. I’m a cater­pil­lar,” said Mr. Caterpillar.

“A cater­pil­lar?” said the second brown cater­pil­lar. “A cater­pil­lar? That must be a joke!”

“No, I’m a cater­pil­lar and I used to live in a tree in the woods but this little silly girl brought me here.”

“Well, if you are a cater­pil­lar, you have to be­come either a but­ter­fly or a moth,” said a beau­ti­ful, bright or­ange and black but­ter­fly that had just joined the conversation.

“Hah, really? Well, I don’t know. I think I’ll be a but­ter­fly, I guess,” said Mr. Cater­pil­lar, con­fused about what he had just heard.

“You guess?!” said the first brown cater­pil­lar “You don’t have any idea who you are, do you?”

“Of course, I know who I am. I’m a caterpillar.”

“Well, if you know that you are a cater­pil­lar, then you know what you will be. So, what will you be? A but­ter­fly or a moth?” said the first brown cater­pil­lar. Mr. Cater­pil­lar looked con­fused. He had no idea what he would be­come, and now he was wor­ried about it.

“Hah! He cer­tainly doesn’t know!” said the second brown cater­pil­lar. “Well, I do know who I am and what I’ll be. I’ll be the most beau­ti­ful but­ter­fly that has ever been seen! Am I right, my friend, eh?”

“Well,” said the beau­ti­ful but­ter­fly sud­denly. “I would not be so sure if I were you, my dear friend.”

“I didn’t ask you, but­ter­fly!” said the second brown cater­pil­lar, in a hos­tile tone. “And be­sides, who are you and how do you know what I’ll become?”

“Well, my dear friend, I am a mon­arch but­ter­fly and as you can see, I can fly and see many things. And from what I have seen so far, I can hon­estly tell you that you will not be a but­ter­fly, but rather a mo—” The but­ter­fly did not fin­ish his last word when he flew away.

The whole con­ver­sa­tion was stopped by a bird that ap­peared sud­denly out of nowhere and, judging from her ac­tions, it was very, very, very hungry. The bird tried to catch the cater­pil­lars with her beak, but the two brown cater­pil­lars ran in time to avoid be­ing caught.

As for Mr. Cater­pil­lar, he did not know where to run and hide on the ground since he had lived only in a tree. The bird hit the ground with her beak sev­eral times, try­ing to catch Mr. Cater­pil­lar. Poor Mr. Cater­pil­lar was so frightened, but some­how, he man­aged to avoid the bird’s jabs. But the bird hit faster and faster un­til Mr. Cater­pil­lar lost any hope that he would sur­vive and he star­ted to be­lieve that the beak would swal­low him, and this would be his end.

“Go away! Go away!” cried Louise. The little girl ran for­ward and shouted to the bird to save her friend. “Mr. Cater­pil­lar isn’t your food, he is my friend! Go away!” Scared by Louise, the bird flew away, .

“Ohhh, Mr. Cater­pil­lar, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

“Al­right? Al­right?! I was al­most eaten, as you could see!” cried Mr. Cater­pil­lar. He was still scared. “Any­way, even silly as you are, you saved my life… Per­haps I shall thank you.”

“I hope you’re okay, my dear Mr. Cater­pil­lar. I will put you in this tree. My father told me that you like spice­bush. So there you are.” Louise took Mr Cater­pil­lar to the spice­bush and put him on a leaf. 

Once he was back in a tree, Mr. Cater­pil­lar rolled over in a leaf and was not seen for sev­eral days. Dur­ing those days, Mr. Cater­pil­lar hid un­der a leaf rolled over, . Dur­ing the night, you could listen to chew­ing, champ­ing, munch­ing, and scrunch­ing – at this time, Mr. Cater­pil­lar was eat­ing. Mr. Cater­pil­lar grew big and fat. He even changed his col­our. From a green cater­pil­lar, he changed into a golden one.

One day, Louise came to see Mr. Cater­pil­lar. The little girl searched Mr. Cater­pil­lar among leaves un­til she found him. She took down Mr. Cater­pil­lar and put him on the ground. 

“Hello, Mr. Cater­pil­lar. I brought some­body to know. His name is Ti­ger. But what happened with you, Mr. Cater­pil­lar? Why are you so yel­low? Have you got sick? Well, I think Ti­ger can help you. I’ve heard that cats can heal the ones that are sick.”

Louise did not fin­ish what she was say­ing, and at that mo­ment, from the in­side of her bas­ket, a small red kit­ten ap­peared. Ti­ger was a mis­chiev­ous kit­ten and everything around him stirred his curi­os­ity. The red kit­ten looked care­fully at Mr. Cater­pil­lar, and then, pow – he hit Mr. Cater­pil­lar lightly with his paw. Mr. Cater­pil­lar fell and gathered him­self together.

“Bad cat!” Louise shouted at Ti­ger and moved him away. ”I’m sorry Mr. Cater­pil­lar. Ti­ger just wants to play. You know he is a little kit­ten. You look so sick, I hope you’ll be fine soon enough. My father told me that you have to turn into a chrysalis, and after that into a but­ter­fly. Will you be a beau­ti­ful but­ter­fly? I hope you will be, Mr. Cater­pil­lar. I’d like you as a beau­ti­ful but­ter­fly and not some brown moth. I don’t like moths — they are ugly. I hope you will be a beau­ti­ful butterfly.”

Mr. Cater­pil­lar listened to Louise and re­membered the con­ver­sa­tion that he had with the brown cater­pil­lars and the mon­arch but­ter­fly. He be­came nostalgic.

“I have to go now. I’ll put you back in your tree,” said Louise.

Mr. Cater­pil­lar went to a leaf and rolled over. He was think­ing of those con­ver­sa­tions about but­ter­flies and moths and wondered what he would be. He kept think­ing and think­ing un­til he fell in a long, deep sleep. In his sleep, he dreamed about the good life that he used to have in the woods, where he was so happy. But the sweet dreams were in­ter­rup­ted by night­mares. Even in his dreams those con­ver­sa­tions about what he would be­come haunted him in the form of night­mares. He dreamt that no one would like him, that no one would ac­cept him, all be­cause he was an ugly moth. These dreams made Mr. Cater­pil­lar tremble and hide in a strange shell.

***

“Dad, Dad! What is that?” cried Louise.

“That, my dear child, is a chrysalis. And I be­lieve that we might be lucky enough to see your friend com­ing out of there like a but­ter­fly! Look!”

The pro­fessor was right. There was a tiny hole in the chrysalis, and from there, some­thing black was emer­ging. First, it was the head with the an­ten­nae that ap­peared, then the wings which seemed to be wet and small.

“Why doesn’t he fly?” asked Louise.

“Hmm, let me ask you some­thing. Did you walk as soon as you were born?”

“Well, I guess not. Did I?”

“Of course not,” the Pro­fessor laughed. “You needed time to learn to walk, and so do but­ter­flies. They need time to fly. In a few minutes, you will see a beau­ti­ful Papilio Troilus flying.”

“A few minutes? Wow, they are so fast. I thought that they need months as we do.”

“Oh no, Louise. A but­ter­fly needs just a few minutes to learn to fly. As it lives just a few weeks, it learns everything faster than we do. It per­ceives time dif­fer­ently than we do, for a but­ter­fly an hour of our lives could feel like a year.”

“Ugh…What do you mean by ’per­ceive time dif­fer­ently than us’? I don’t think I understand…”

“Well, you will when you grow up. You are only five years old, but when you grow up…oh, look! That is your Mr. Cater­pil­lar, now he is a butterfly!”

Des­pite his wor­ries, Mr. Cater­pil­lar turned into a beau­ti­ful but­ter­fly. His forew­ings were black, sur­roun­ded on the edges by a row of small yel­low­ish spots, while his hind wings were dus­ted by a blue-green colour.

Mr. Cater­pil­lar turned into one of the most beau­ti­ful and del­ic­ate but­ter­flies. He opened his wings and closed them sev­eral times, then he flew in the air.

“You are such a beau­ti­ful but­ter­fly, Mr. Cater­pil­lar. Ohh, Mr. But­ter­fly now, I guess,” cried Louise ex­citedly. “Where are you go­ing?”

“Dad, he’s leav­ing. I hope he’ll visit me,“ she said. 

“Well, you might meet him again one day, my dear,’ her father replied.

Mr. Cater­pil­lar —well, Mr. But­ter­fly now — flew out of the garden. He was happy and curi­ous to ex­plore the world. Mr. But­ter­fly ven­tured into the woods and flew among the trees search­ing for flowers. He loved flowers for their beauty and col­ours, but more than that, he loved them for their taste. When he tasted a flower with his feet, Mr. But­ter­fly was care­ful not to break a single petal. He liked many flowers, but his fa­vour­ites were: aza­lea, dog­bane, hon­ey­suckle, jew­el­weed, lantana, milk­weed, mimosa, sweet pep­per­bush, and thistles for their sweet nectar.

An­other thing that Mr. But­ter­fly loved to do was lie in puddles and re­lax his wings in the sun’s light. One day, as he was ly­ing in a puddle, a swarm of yel­low and black ti­ger-striped but­ter­flies came to him. They seemed friendly and they flew above the wa­ter like they were dan­cing. Mr. But­ter­fly ap­proached them, but the but­ter­flies flew away and left Mr. But­ter­fly alone and sad. Now, he was not happy any­more. He felt that he had missed some­thing, and he felt alone.

Mr. But­ter­fly flew around un­til he was tired and needed to rest his wings. He found a tree and de­cided to take his rest there.

“This tree is so fa­mil­iar to me,” he told him­self. “This is my old home. This is the old tree where I used to live as a cater­pil­lar. Per­haps, I will find my old friends, and they must be but­ter­flies too.”

He res­ted a bit longer, then he wanted to leave the tree but there was some­thing that clang to one of his feet. It was a spider web, and in the lower corner of the web, a black spider was wait­ing for his prey. Mr. But­ter­fly twitched and twitched his foot to re­lease him­self from the web while the black spider star­ted to come to­ward him. He re­membered the same panic he felt when the bird hunted him, but now there was no Louise to res­cue him.

“I am go­ing to be spider food,” cried Mr. But­ter­fly. The spider came closer and closer to­ward him, but some­how, Mr. But­ter­fly man­aged to dis­en­tangle his foot from the spider­web and flew from there. He flew far away from that tree and never looked back.

Days passed and the weather began to change. There were fewer warm winds and the sun’s light was not as power­ful as it used to be. Mr. But­ter­fly was sad. He was lonely in the woods, without friends. He tried to search for them, but it seems that everything was in vain. Just when he lost hope en­tirely, he saw a swarm of but­ter­flies that looked just like him. At first, he did not want to go, but even­tu­ally, he ap­proached them. The but­ter­flies wel­comed him and flew to­gether with him between the trees and flowers. Mr. But­ter­fly felt as he was with his fam­ily and was happy again. He was not alone anymore.

As they were fly­ing among flowers, Mr. But­ter­fly stopped on a flower to sip the nec­tar. It was not as tasty as it used to be. The other but­ter­flies searched for other flowers. Mr. But­ter­fly did not hurry to fol­low them and de­cided to rest his wings a bit, as they felt numb. As he looked to the sky, he saw other but­ter­flies, not so many, but these but­ter­flies were so dif­fer­ent from what he had seen be­fore. These but­ter­flies were white, and they did not have feet, nor an­ten­nae, and the most strange thing was the fact that they were fly­ing in a dif­fer­ent way. They were fly­ing down and down. Mr. But­ter­fly was sur­prised and de­cided to ap­proach them as he thought that they might be friends together.

“Well, at least I can try. They seemed to be friendly. Maybe they can join us and be friends to­gether,” he thought as he flew to the sky.

A few white but­ter­flies flew down from the sky. They came slowly as if they were frightened to touch some­thing. The sun­shine dis­sip­ated and there was no more warmth in the wind. The blades of grass and flowers them­selves seemed numb, and everything in woods was si­lent. There were more white but­ter­flies now, everything numb and stun­ning. Only the white but­ter­flies, to­gether with Mr. But­ter­fly, flew down to the ground.

Note: If you want to know more about Papilio Troilus but­ter­fly spe­cies that in­spired this story, visit the web­site Fea­tured Creatures.

Mari­ana Oros