I spied a butterfly sitting on my deck. I went to look closer and saw it struggle, unable to take off. Was it hurt or just stunned from a crash landing, perhaps? I dribble a little water from the watering can nearby in case it’s thirsty. It sidesteps away.
Then I pick a red geranium flower from a potted plant within reach and lay it next to the sweet creature in case it is hungry. It does not motion toward the flower, nor does it move away.
I look up to the sky and give thanks for the cloudy day as the butterfly would certainly bake in direct sun. And I continue on my way as I was headed out for my morning walk.
With My Little Eye
After a while I round a bend when I spy with my little eye a frog sitting right in the middle of the road. I remember an old joke about a frog with no legs going deaf when told to jump. But this frog had all of its legs.
“Frog, jump!” I command while walking close by to encourage it to move. But that frog stayed put.
After several repeat performances and still no movement from the frog, I pick a long-stemmed wildflower from the side of the road to tickle it from behind, hoping to shoo it off the road and into the tall grasses and weeds beyond.
Success!
“Big cars are not on the lookout for little frogs,” I say as I walk on smiling from my second wildlife rescue attempt of the day.
Bittersweet
I remembered years ago when I used to jog I had come across a young squirrel thrashing in the leaves at the side of the road. It clearly had fallen from the large tree above and was injured.
I stop a biker who shrugs and bikes on, so I jog home and call my neighbor who has taken in more critters and nursed them back to health than anyone else I know. She goes to grab some gloves and tells me to find a box.
We drive to where I had seen the squirrel. It was still thrashing about. My neighbor dons her gloves and puts the squirrel in the box and I bring us all home.
As this young animal looks like it needs some intensive care, I call a friend who is a certified wildlife rehabilitator and who lives only two towns away. She tells me to bring in the squirrel, which she immediately puts into an incubator and administers fluids.
The next day, I get a phone call.
“The squirrel died. But I want you to know it didn’t die afraid and it didn’t die alone.”
We were both crying.
Butterfly Kisses
On my return from my walk on this day when I remember about the squirrel, I see no frog in the road and no butterfly on the deck. I wonder about the butterfly, though. Did it get eaten perhaps? Such is nature.
But the next morning, while watering the gardens, a butterfly with the same coloring as the one on the deck the day before is flying all around me.
Are you THE butterfly, I wonder.
I felt a yes and that it was saying thank you. I could feel the love as I guess my caring for it is love too.
A Poem to Keep in Your Pocket
A favorite verse of mine from “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge comes to mind.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
To all the butterfly and frog and squirrel kind of people out there, I see you.
Article photo: Aaron Burden on Unsplash
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