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When Compassion Kills (Caterpillars)
A charming encounter on a camping trip takes an unexpected turn
Early in the morning I found two vivid green caterpillars coiled into snug spirals clinging to the exterior mesh of my tent door. Punctuation marks in nature’s mysterious narrative.
It was my last day of camping. I had to remove them from my tent or else crush them to death in rolling it up, so I ate a small breakfast and took to gently prying them off my tent.
Their bright faces and humanlike expressions amazed me. I had no doubt their species’ name and full scientific dossier was available at the flick of an internet finger, but I didn’t want to know. Still don’t. This attitude is sacrilege in the Information Age, I know, but I like finding things in nature and not knowing what they are. I could probably write some poetic philosophical essay on why that is, but I really don’t care about that, either. Sacrilege upon sacrilege. That’s okay. Sometimes I just like to live.
Anyway, I placed the two caterpillars in the brush a few tent from my tent. I did so very carefully. I hid them in the shadows of a big leafy bush, wished them well, and went back to folding my tent.
A few minutes later a finch landed in my site. He hopped around the empty space outside my tent. I watched…
