So they hatched...well two of them did anyway. We've been eagerly waiting for our lovely painted lady butterflies to emerge from their chrysalides for the past week and today was the day...only, we totally missed it and I got a borderline frantic call from Miles after school today, telling me that the butterfly habitat was upside down in the living room and the butterflies looked dead. (we suspect Orange Boy the cat.) Oy vey, I say...but wait...ok...they weren't dead and I had M put them up high until I could get home from work to survey the damage. And there they were...two beautiful little butterflies clinging to the side of their habitat...they really are very pretty. Their habitat looked like an effing crime scene though...I know it's not blood, according to the instruction sheet, but I didn't know that until I read it after the fact...bottom line...I wasn't prepared for all that red, whatever it was. And then there was Skippy the reluctant, as I refer to him...still in his chrysalis. He was the last one to hang and cocoon...I thought that he was going to miss the boat but Sam said that he would do it when he was ready and the little bugger was right. So Skippy (or John rather...Sam renamed him) got tossed during the cat attack but who knows with that guy...I feel like he might just come out in the end...when he's ready of course. The instructions in the kit say that you can give your butterflies sugar water and observe them for a few days before releasing them, as long as the outside temp is warm enough. I decide that rather than risking another cat attack, we should give them (Cobra and Michael...Sam's names of choice again) their freedom straight away...and they were stoked to go...I didn't even have a chance to snap a shot of them with their wings spread. So off they went...one to the neighbor's flower bed and then the other up up and away...wait no...I think she landed somewhere in the grass. Cripes...did I set them free too soon? Ugh. So as I peer out the bathroom window a bit later, I see a bird hopping around in the back...hop hop...flutter flutter...shit...that bird is stalking our butterfly...and I hauled ass down the stairs and out the door, just in time to see Mr. Bird take off into the tree with his snack. I might as well have served the little lady up on a silver platter.
If Skippy ever hatches, we are hanging onto him for a few and quite possibly releasing him under cover of darkness.
Farewell friends...I'm sorry that your first post chrysalis world experiences involved crazy orange cats and hungry birds.
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