Nurse's Notes from the Butterfly Ward

Microseason No. 19, May 5-9

Hello, Dear One!

I’m writing to you from the Microseasons HQ, where last weekend I had the serene honor of caring for an injured butterfly. On Saturday, I found her, an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail butterfly, laying on our driveway. She was on her back, flailing and unable to fly because of injured wings, thorax, and antenna.

My beautiful friend.

I’m not sure how she sustained these casualties. Perhaps the altercation happened high up in the treetops, where these creatures love to soar on such a bright spring morning as this. Tragedies seem to come out of nowhere and everything changes in an instant. Only moments before, I imagine she may have just finished laying her eggs—the crowning achievement of her dramatic and interesting life.

The mother Swallowtail is larger than her mate and has more blue on her hindwings. She lays her eggs, which are just the color of a drop of honey, on the under-surface of the leaves of plants that will serve as food for her children.

—Anna Botsford Comstock

What caused her injuries? Was it a natural foe like a hungry bird? Or perhaps a predatory wasp? I really couldn’t say—but it was clear that she had narrowly escaped the battle, and was now struggling for her life.

I’m not a trained lepidopterist, and I know I should’ve probably let nature take its course. But as a nurse, I can’t abide suffering! Even as a small child, I felt compelled to intervene whenever I came upon a creature in distress—no matter how small.

Since our lovely Swallowtail was completely defenseless, I decided to bring her inside and make her a refuge, where she could at least be safe from the ravenous ants and others who might take advantage of her weakened state.

As one does in times of urgent perplexity, I consulted Dr. Google and found a number of helpful suggestions about butterfly triage care. Like any mortally wounded patient, I just hoped to make her last few hours on earth a little more comfortable.

My struggling patient let me gently pick her up, and I offered her a cloth soaked in a 1:4 mixture of sugar and water, which seemed to comfort her. She immediately extended her long black proboscis and drank deeply.

Now with a rather vague care plan, I admitted her into the Butterfly Ward—an unused goldfish bowl on my desk. I added soft, moist layers for her bedding, and just to make her surroundings more cheerful, I propped a picture of a beautiful yellow butterfly nearby. Much to my surprise, she hobbled over to the side of the bowl and stared at it intently—no longer struggling now—peaceful and quiet in her tiny hospice room.

We passed the hours together—I was studying some materials for my new job, while she rested and looked at a series of picture books that I offered her every so often. She seemed keenly interested in Grandfather Twilight by Barbara Berger. If you don’t know this gorgeous, soothing tale, I invite you to get a copy for yourself and for any small person who would love an enchanting bedtime story. It was one of our children’s favorites, and my friend the Swallowtail loved it, too.

Then holding the pearl in his hand,

Grandfather Twilight goes for a walk.

The pearl grows larger with every step.

Leaves begin to whisper. Little birds hush.

—Barbara Berger

I read that Tiger Swallowtails prefer the colors red and pink, and when she saw this image of a beautiful lady in red dress asleep in the forest, something amazing happened. My little butterfly friend got very excited! She started moving her mouth like she was talking to the picture. This went on for a very long time.

I made a video for you.

She only lived for two more days, but I have never had the scientific and spiritual joy of spending such a close-up, extended period of time with any wild creature—especially one who is rarely still for very long. I will never forget the sweetness of our time together. I hope it gave you some joy, also.

Wounded butterfly

dreams of many chapters lived,

tells us her stories.

I’ll see you in another microseason,

xo Ann