My heart went out to it, and the only thing to do in the circumstances was to carry the swallowtail to a comfortable place, to shade, shelter and green sanctuary. I extended a bit of poplar, and the butterfly climbed weakly aboard, hanging on like a tiny battered sailor clinging to the floating wreckage of a sunken ship. Off we went together, into the peaceful silence of the Two Hundred Acre Wood, and I set my little friend down in a safe place.
I don't think the swallowtail is going to survive, but it would be a lovely treat to find it alive and vibrant in the morning.
5 comments:
The butterfly is beautiful.
The way you described your care reminded me of a time years ago that someone extended their hand to me and I was able to hang on. It was like clinging to a floating wreckage of a sunken ship. I made it. It would be wonderful if your butterfly made it.
Strange that your words brought this memory to mind.
Blessings to you this late afternoon.
My granddaughter saw a butterfly that was quite sick...It would fly, but, not very high. I made up a tale that I thought maybe he was just learning to fly. I could tell she did not want to know he was dying.
What a beautiful thing to do. All creatures great and small
it was quite lucky to find kind and loving you.
We faced something similar years ago in Belize with a drowning hummingbird. We got it to dry land, but I am afraid we did not ultimately save its life.
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