Butterflies Get Sick And Die

Ursula is dead.

Kathie informed me about an hour ago and I just this minute walked out to the back yard to confirm her diagnosis.

There she was in the large planter base (or whatever you call the plate things that pots drain into) covered with the grass Willa and Jaydee fed her last Thursday, her larval stage a curled up, withered, and blackened husk of what it was just four days ago.

Her existence was in question from the moment Willa found her crawling toward The Girl Garden in the back yard, Jaydee prompting her along with a blue Tonka mini pick-up.  Willa quickly bent down to show her sister how to pet the little crawly thing and she was really gentle with the beast until it slithered onto the palm of her hand.  It was only a little flinch, but the would be butterfly was dashed to the ground.

I transferred the creature to the plant thing in hopes of prolonging her life long enough for Willa and Jaydee  to get a good fix of Nature and gathered them around to look at it as though in a frame.  Willa dubbed her Ursula and the two girls spent a good fifteen minutes gathering grasses from around the yard to put in Ursula's new home.

During dinner later on, we all took turns looking in on Ursula.  She didn't move much and when she did it was usually to flop on her back, little feet wiggling in the air.  Jaydee ignored her, moving on to other things.  Willa was determined to prod her back to a more lively state. Ken was skeptical.  I, having been to a butterfly farm in Belize where the guide assured us over and over that butterflies--all of them--get sick and die, was more resigned to Ursula's fate and poured myself another sangria.

The problem is I pick Willa up at school today and take her to our house to hang out until one or both of her parents picks her up and I don't know what I should do about Ursula.  Katherine is in favor of tossing Ursula into the bushes, betting that Willa will never notice.

I am more apt to take the Jack Nicholson approach to this situation:  "While transferring the insect out of the planter, Colonel Martenson, is expedient and efficient, it isn't exactly the American Way!"

No, I think this might be a great moment to teach Willa (Jaydee might be a little too young for the lesson to really sink in) about the ephemeral nature of life.

"Gramps, where's Ursula?  What happened to Ursula?"

"Ursula's dead.  She got all black and dried up and I threw her in the bushes."

You don't want to pull any punches when you're teaching kids a lesson.  Just lay it out for them.  But be compassionate.  You'll notice I'm not going to opt for the make-her-feel-so-guilty-she'll-crumple approach.

"Gramps, what happened to Ursula?"

"You kept touching her and she died."  

A little harsh you think?  Hey, it's a tough world out there.