The curious case of the dead caterpillars.
I have been picking the larvae of the, as yet unidentified, butterthing off my buddliah and putting them in a bowl to watch 'em go through their life-cycle. More for the benefit of the grandchildren you understand. Though the inner child here IS sighing over the demise of the Nature Table, which must have seen off more frogs and toads than global warming and fungal infections combined, and I exaggerate only slightly.
Remembering Miss Cornish's instructions to give fresh leaves every day, I have been replenishing the food supply accordingly. I had the bright, but as it turns out, disasterous, idea of putting bunches of foodstuffs in water, thereby drowning two of the inmates of my little prison.
They were pale, inert and unresponsive. Very much all three. I was not so much troubled for them, as they had lived blameless lives and were certain to go straight to heaven, but I was a bit concerned for Abigail who was becoming attached. And it didn't make me look good. Though of course, in life we are in the midst of death , for preference, I'd rather teach Abi this lesson with a couple of caterpillars than with, say, myself.
I laid them out on the grass leaving nature to take its brutal course via the ant population, when I was struck with a thought. I'm thinking warm blooded and mammalian here. These are cold blooded and etc. What if Bugsy and Mallone were not passed, but just comatose? So I started to massage them, very gently, looking furtively around to check no-one was watching. Nada.
Having started the incredibly stupid 'save the 'pillars ' campaign, I decided to put them in intensive care and check regularly for vital signs.
75 minutes passes, and given slight encouragement with the end of my finger, Bugsy twitched. Aware that this could be some larval death throw, I refused to get too excited. I just watched. I actually took them to bed with me and subjected them both to pretty much non-stop scrutiny. At 11am the following morning, Bugsy raises his head. Within an hour, colour fully restored, looking in fine fettle, he wandered off out of sight. An hour later, Mallone followed.
I am thinking that invertebrates are far more interesting than I ever thought they were. I like to think the mullein moths in my garden owe their existence to me.
