Bobw235
Senior Member
- Location
- Massachusetts
Our grandchildren recently learned how caterpillars turn into butterflies. They had a glass jar with some holes in the top. They got to watch how over a few weeks the caterpillars made a cocoon and then during vacation, saw them turn into butterflies, and then it turns darkly humorous as our son put it:
Don’t know if you remember, but we ordered caterpillars. They started turning into butterflies just before holiday, so we had to take them with us. They all hatched out successfully. We had to release them into the wild. We took them with us to Drumlanrig Castle, which has beautiful gardens. We released four of the butterflies, leaving the last one. Sara had put it on a flower, but wanted to make sure it could fly since there was a tiny hole at the bottom of the wing. So she picked it up off the flower and then threw her hand up. The butterfly took flight, wonkily, but I think they all fly weird. It flew across a field, heading for a hedge. But, before it could get there, a small bird, which apparently had no wing trouble, swooped down much more gracefully and ate that poor butterfly. My hand shot to my mouth to stifle a stunned, horrified laugh. The kids were upset with me. It’s hard to explain to children why Daddy is laughing at the butterfly’s sudden slaughter.
(For reference, the kids are five and three.)
Don’t know if you remember, but we ordered caterpillars. They started turning into butterflies just before holiday, so we had to take them with us. They all hatched out successfully. We had to release them into the wild. We took them with us to Drumlanrig Castle, which has beautiful gardens. We released four of the butterflies, leaving the last one. Sara had put it on a flower, but wanted to make sure it could fly since there was a tiny hole at the bottom of the wing. So she picked it up off the flower and then threw her hand up. The butterfly took flight, wonkily, but I think they all fly weird. It flew across a field, heading for a hedge. But, before it could get there, a small bird, which apparently had no wing trouble, swooped down much more gracefully and ate that poor butterfly. My hand shot to my mouth to stifle a stunned, horrified laugh. The kids were upset with me. It’s hard to explain to children why Daddy is laughing at the butterfly’s sudden slaughter.
(For reference, the kids are five and three.)