At the Chattanooga Aquarium, a newly emerged butterfly lay on the ground in a heavily traveled spot. I reached down, offered a finger, and noticed the crinkled right hind wing. I placed him on a leaf, waited to make sure he could balance, and moved on.
But all the way through the exhibits, I thought of that little butterfly, trapped in deformity. How long, I wondered, before one of the fantastically colored birds made a snack of him.
Even in the hu-manufactured environment, the wild exerts its will.
2 comments:
I'm reminded that during the emergence of cicadas last year, as grossed out as I was but the multitude, I did save one from drowning in my bird bath. I just couldn't ignore its flailing. I would have picked up the butterfly too. I'm sure it would have been lunch for another even if left on the ground, so you did it lovely favor!
Alas, Chrissine, I am reasonably certain it was someone's lunch anyway. The way of wild will have its will!
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