Caterpillar Massacre

            I like to walk.  At this point in life, it’s one of my favorite ways to exercise.  Even Amelia can get involved.  Of course, Scout’s a big fan.  So, whenever we can, we take the whole crew to the Greenway.  I most definitely miss the Hendersonville Greenway and the walking trails at Moss-Wright Park, but the Greenway in Boone is beautiful, even if it could use a path that’s a little smoother in some spots. 

            This afternoon, Amelia and I visited the Greenway without Adam or Scout.  We had a fairly uneventful walk, with only one shoe being thrown and only a handful of whines about being confined to the stroller when there weren’t enough dogs or people or trees or other interesting things to watch.  We rounded the curves and followed our usual route.  This route includes a path that’s completely shaded by trees on our way back to the car.  It’s always a greener, quieter, more contemplative part of the walk.  Scout rarely does big business there; even she seems to appreciate that it’s nearing the end of our walk.

            Today, as I entered that stretch of the path, I was caught unaware as I felt something under my shoe.  I assumed it was a crack in the sidewalk or a leaf or something on that inconsequential level.  When it seemed to stick with my shoe, I finally looked down.  I found that I could barely see the path.  There was a multitude of thin, black and yellow caterpillars covering the ground.  Some were moving, some were not.  Needless to say, the caterpillar that first drew my attention was in the latter category.   Perhaps, I had stumbled upon the Great Caterpillar Migration or the Caterpillar Trail of Tears or something equally definitive in the society of the caterpillars.  Horrified, I tried to tiptoe past the grouping, without disturbing more than necessary.  Of course, Amelia’s three-wheeled stroller took up too much room to be too careful.  So, I took the path of least resistance and left a dreary wake as I raced past the stampede.

            This wildlife encounter reminded me of a day earlier this month when I was playing with one of my preschoolers on the playground at their daycare.  She found a worm and was captivated.  I narrated the experience and tried to continue the interest, bringing other friends over to share.  They all watched, pointed and explored.  It was adorable.  And then, it happened.  The original student who had discovered the worm took action.  While the other students watched, she suddenly took aim and…stomped.  The worm had no chance.  Amid the brown splotch that was left on the sidewalk, I scrambled to divert the attention of a very observant group of preschoolers. 

            Maybe it’s just in my world, but it has not been a good month for creepy-crawlers.  Even though I’m not normally a fan, of course, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. 

I could turn this into a metaphor for our lack of control in life or drone on about the circle of life or how everything has a purpose.  But, tonight, on a Sunday night, with another workweek looming, I’m not going there.  Sorry.  Tonight, dear faithful, patient, perseverant reader, you’ll just have to accept this random story, join me in feeling sorry for caterpillars, and hold out for a (hopefully) more poignant, relatable, well-written post next time.