Pooping as Pupae

        About five summers back I ordered a butterfly kit for my kids. The advertisement for it showed wide-eyed children watching excitedly as their cuddly little caterpillars made the beautiful transition to winged wonders. When I placed the order online, I have to admit I was as excited as my kids, maybe more, to get them.

Arrive they did. Five skinny caterpillars creeped around in a clear plastic jar that had a beige sediment at the bottom that, according to the instructions, was food to fatten up the little creepy crawlers. The kids and I put the container in a well lit place, named our new friends and eagerly awaited their metamorphosis.

Within a few days the caterpillars bulked up as expected. In the process they strewed the food all over the cup. I forgave them for it. As well equipped as they were with feet, they didn’t have a hand on them so, it stood to reason they would have to kick stuff around and how can you do that neatly? What came next though, began a horrifically messy chain of events that would forever change how I saw butterflies.

A week after they arrived, while I was quietly sipping a cup of coffee, I glanced over at the caterpillars and choked in surprise. Their cup, that had been a little on the disorderly side, was now a full on disaster zone. Food was everywhere and there was silk webbing strung all over. I picked up the cup and held it to the light half expecting to see tiny little beer cans roll around in it and at least one caterpillar with a look of regret. Instead, there were five cocoons hanging from the lid. 

I did as the directions instructed and hung the little insect mummies in the large butterfly enclosure that came with the kit. The kids were elated and kept a close eye on our friends. We all knew what would come next, the life cycle had just aired on Sesame Street. The cocoon would grow larger and it’s walls thinner. Then, the beautiful butterflies would emerge poetically. 

Nope.

The pupa stage was a long one. We got used to seeing them just hang there and quit looking so much. I expected they would emerge when we weren’t paying attention and they did. And, considering how they looked, I was thankful we didn’t witness it. The wet, trembling monsters clung to the netting on the butterfly house with fat droplets of blood dripping from their lowest hanging limb. I couldn’t tell if it was their own or perhaps the a victim they had completely consumed. Crimson spattered the walls and painted the floor. I’m telling you, that butterfly enclosure looked like a scene out of a Robert Rodriguez movie. Silence hung in the air as the kids and I stood looking at the scene until my daughter broke it with the accurate summation of “ew”.

I skimmed the instructions looking for a warning that read, “if your butterflies are bleeding, run. Run and don’t look back.” But, there was nothing, not even a mention of what we were seeing and I didn’t recall Elmo saying anything about it either. I was pretty sure I would have remembered, “Elmo thinks the blood dripping off the butterflies’ bottoms looks like happiness,” or any variation thereof!

According to the internet, what were seeing was normal. It wasn’t blood and our butterflies weren’t murderers. It was meconium. Poop. The little suckers had pooped as pupae.

After a few days, they grew stronger and we let them go. Three flew right off, one bounced a bit and the last had to sit on my finger a moment for a breather before taking the plunge. It wasn’t a pretty start but, like the others, it finally fluttered out of sight. All left me with an enduring truth: change, even when for the better, is hard. For everyone. It doesn’t matter who you are, or what you are, getting down the road of life is a struggle. It has to be or you won’t be strong enough to go forward. You will just remain a dripping, trembling creature hanging onto the netted wall of existence.

So, go forward friends, into the summer, onto college or over the hill to a new place completely and be patient with yourselves. Go ahead and be that butterfly that’s more butter than fly for just a few moments. But, at some point, be brave enough to relax your grip and try out the wings of your new experience. It’s ok to bob and weave until you find your strength. And, don’t vex yourself by comparing your flight pattern to those around you. Every butterfly is different. So what if some seem to be having an easier time at flying than you and some how manage to look amazing as they go. So what if they never seem to get caught in a rainstorm or the grill of the big rig of life. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Remember, no matter how big, colorful or majestic the butterfly, no matter how graceful their flight, they all started out with the same humble beginning: in a big pile of their own poo.