Caterpillars, that is. Beanie was crushed, devastated, to discover that the caterpillar she and her sisters found on Saturday has disappeared into a cocoon. All sisterly attempts to convince her that this is an achievement worth celebrating were utterly in vain.
“But I won’t SEE him anymore,” sobbed Bean.
Jane sought to reassure Beanie by Googling up an image of the moth-that-is-to-be.
“See?” she chirped. “This cute little reddish-brown moth, that’s what your caterpillar is going to look like when it comes out!”
I stared at the title of the page, my blood running cold.
“Um, honey? Where this says ‘Eastern Tent Caterpillar’—that’s our caterpillar?”
Jane nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, you know—the kind that makes those big nests in the trees.”
Suddenly Beanie isn’t the only one who feels like weeping…
Must Get Milkweed, Stat!
Booknotes: The Dangerous World of Butterflies
This Ain’t One of My More Coherent Entries
Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig