A Survivor

Two weeks ago, I met a survivor. The images to the left are proof of my encounter with the creature who, over the next ten days, I came to think of as part of the family. We met in the hallway. My hallway, leading to the kitchen. Apparently, he came home with me from the Union Square farmer's market. My guess is that he found his way into the nettles I bought (which were, by the way, devastated by his voracious appetite) and consequently ended up in my bag. The impudent little thing must have stowed away for the entire afternoon, enjoying my walk in the park, my idle visit to the shoe store, and my perusal of the new inventory at the local wine shop. He must have had quite a day indeed. He was clever to be so quiet. Had I been made aware that I was harboring a stow away, it may have rattled my nerves a bit. I'm really not fond of insects. But he was clever. He didn't pop out to see what the hold up was on the R train, and in fact, didn't once make any kind of disturbance, unlike other, less tasteful passengers. All in all, he was very polite. Well, except for the fact that he devoured most of my nettles. I forgave that insult though, because he was my guest all day and I didn't offer him a thing. I came home that day, hung up my bag, and put away my vegetables. As usual, I hung up my bag in the hall. The next morning I was minding my own business, preparing for a shower, when my husband said, "Look what we have here," and picked up a small brown caterpillar from the floor. He said he must have come in with me from the market. If he had the guts to make it from a New Jersey farm all the way to Brooklyn, he was going to make it. Strangely, I felt that we had a common bond, and since he'd made it this far, I did the only thing I could do. I put him in a flower pot with dirt and the rest of the nettles. He stayed there for three days. Everyday I planned to release him in the park, but life kept getting in the way of my plans, and then one day...he was gone.

I was frantic. I just knew I had killed him by not letting him go. He looked green the last time I saw him. Maybe he was sick from too many nettles. He must have crawled into the dirt or under the pot to die. For two days I looked, but gave up hope by the third day. No sign of my friend.

But I had forgotten his clever nature. I underestimated his will to survive! One morning, making coffee, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked, and lo and behold, he had made his way out of that pot, up another large planter nearby, back down again, and finally attached himself to the underside of a leaf, which belonged to a root I started in a glass jar. This little guy found a way. And there he was, speedily making his cocoon. You will see, below, evidence of this endeavor. Once again, he rudely hadn't told me where he was going, and he made a small mess of caterpillar excrement on the windowsill. But this I will forgive, since it may have been a sign of his resentment toward my behavior the previous five days, when I routinely sprayed him with water to see if he was still alive.
Inside his cocoon, he could grow into a butterfly or a moth in peace. I tried not to disturb him, and only occasionally tip toed up to the jar just to make sure he didn't need anything. He didn't. After a few days in this state, he was really starting to be a bore. So I went about business as usual. And then.....then one day!

My husband saw it first, that's true. I'll give him this small satisfaction. He saw some movement near the window. Our house guest was coming out of his shell. The whole thing happened very quickly, and accept for the panic and the squealing and flailing of arms and getting the camera and carrying the glass jar to the window, opening the screen, and making sure everything was perfect....it went rather smoothly. Hey, he already knew I was a little weird. But like I said, he was a survivor, so he made it out just fine. He was beautiful, with my favorite color orange streaked across his wings. He didn't have time to stay for a glass of wine and a chat I guess, because when he felt the wind on his face he couldn't resist the call to fly into the unknown. He never even said goodbye.