And my question for today is: do butterflies remember what it is like to be a caterpillar? That they were caterpillars once? Or is this process of evolving more of a mini death and rebirth?
I sat in the sunshine for a few hours today as we attempted to release the butterflies back into the wild. They seemed awfully happy where they were, and as we cheered them on, it all seemed so clear where I was, sitting outside their world, an observer of spread wings trapped in a small net home.
As it turned out, only two of the five found freedom today. The others did a bit of flying, and I was abandoned to watch them as my fellow butterfly scientists wandered off to do other things. I didn’t feel a sense of urgency or disappointment. The sun was warm, I had a book in my hand, and it all felt pretty relaxed between us, the butterflies and me.