Caterpillars Alive!

Ten-year-old Mario, a tall, husky, strong boy, had something of a mean streak in him. He had come to the United States with his parents from Columbia where drug dealers and corruption had made living unbearable for them. He didn’t like it in the United States very much. He had trouble keeping up in school because he spoke Spanish, not English. Yes, he was learning the language, but it took so very long to do it. It made Mario feel good to hit other kids, especially younger kids. He loved to make them cry. All the children were scared of him. While the other children day-dreamed on lazy afternoons, Mario dreamed of new ways to torment his playmates.

One day, Mario spotted likely prey at the subdivision’s playground. The thin, short boy of about six years of age who wore glasses seemed very, very interested in something in the grass. The boy had a large plastic cage like you might keep a snake in setting next to him in the grass.

Mario didn’t care what the other boy was interested in. He only cared about seizing his opportunity. Mario walked determinedly toward the boy. Usually, kids ran away when they saw Mario coming. This boy did not, even though a couple of boys warned him from the nearby slides. Mario did not even look at the other boys. He planned to knock off the boys glasses and push him down. Then he planned to knock over the boy’s cage.

When he got close enough to do all of these things, he saw something that totally changed his mind. In the little boy’s hand squirmed six caterpillars. The boy had them crawling on his shirt, too. Mario didn’t know whether to be shocked, disgusted, amazed, or interested. Never in his life had he seen such a sight. The little boy did not look up as he brought his hand over to his cage. Inside the cage writhed probably several hundred caterpillars of different kinds.

"Oh, my gosh," said Mario. "What do you have?"

"Caterpillars," said the boy, simply.

"Why?" asked Mario. He began to recover from his shock.

"I collect them. My Dad and I made a butterfly house, and I am watching them undergo metamorphosis. You can help me if you want to. There are a lot of caterpillars that have fallen from the trees."

Mario completely forgot his purpose for coming up to this boy. No one had ever invited Mario to do anything like this before. Kids usually just ran from him or cheered him on when he was hitting someone. He became so interested in this writhing mass of caterpillars that he could really think of nothing else.

The little boy said, "Be careful about the caterpillars with the spines on them. The spines have stuff in them that will sting you."

Mario nodded. He saw what the boy was talking about in the grass. All he had to do was reach out and pick up as many caterpillars as he chose. He did. He let one caterpillar crawl up his arm. He liked the sensation of its tickling little feet. He put handful after handful into the plastic cage.

Finally the little boy said, "I think we have enough specimens. Do you want to go see my butterfly house?"

Mario said, "sure!" The other boys could not believe their eyes. They had never seen Mario in such a mood not beat up his intended victim.

The boy closed the lid of the cage then picked it up with natural ease. Both Mario and the little boy had caterpillars crawling on their shirts. Neither seemed to mind as they walked along. The little boy said, "Did you know that butterflies help to pollinate the flowers? They drink nectar from all kinds of different flowers, and they get the pollen all over their feet. When they go to the next flower, they pollinate it with the pollen on their feet the way mud comes off your shoes when you walk on your mom’s carpet."

"Wow," said Mario. "Will all these turn into butterflies?"

"No. Some will turn into moths, and some will die. I’m getting better at keeping them alive, though."

The boys continued talking as they walked to the little boy’s house. They walked around to the back gate. Mario opened and shut it for the boy. On a patio under a deck stood shelves filled with pots, cages, and tools Mario could hardly believe.

"Wow!" he said, "You have . . . you have a –what’s the word—zoologico or laboratory or something here."

"Yeah. We home school. Mom says I can keep anything I catch if I take care of it and keep it outside."

"Wow!"

"Here’s the butterfly house. Hurry in when I open the door or the butterflies will get out." He opened the door to what looked like little more than a very large box covered with netting that had various plants and flowers growing in it. Mario hurried in.

The two boys stayed in the butterfly house for two whole hours. Mario listened with fascination as the little boy told him about the different species he had collected and the habits of the beautiful insects. Mario had not had so much fun since he and his family had moved to the United States.

Mario heard his mother calling to him in the distance. "Oh! I had better go now. Hey! What’s your name."

"I’m Mark. What’s yours?"

"I’m Mario. Can I come over tomorrow?"

"Sure!" Mario went home with a smile.

Over the next few weeks, Mario came over to Mark’s house almost every single day. They became very good friends. Over the course of the summer, Mario helped Mark catch true bugs, all kinds of flies, and even two skinks (which are funny little lizards). (They let the skinks go fairly quickly, so they could keep the bug population down in Mark’s mother’s garden.)

When school started up again in August, none of the other children had seen Mario since the end of the previous school year. They all still feared him and kept clear of him. They expected him to push little girls down in the hallway and beat up little boys on the playground. Mario did none of these things. He now walked with the confidence of someone who had friends and felt comfortable with his identity.

Mario didn’t worry when no one would sit near him during lunch. He just finished his lunch and began to look for bugs that still frequented the playground. He found a very colorful beetle that he slipped into a jar he had brought to school for that very purpose. He sprayed some water into the jar with a spray bottle. Then he screwed a cap onto the jar.

A first grader who had not been warned about Mario walked up to him when he saw him looking at the bug in the jar. "What’s that?" asked the little boy. Some of the other kids watched fearfully from the monkey bars.

"That is a beetle of some sort. I’m going to take it home and look up what its name is in a book."

"Wow!" said the little boy. "I want to do that, too."

"Well, tonight, you find yourself a clear jar in your recycle bin and bring it to school tomorrow. I’ll show you just what to do." The boy became very, very excited and went to tell his friends.

The next day several children showed up at lunch time with jars. Mario compassionately showed the other children how to collect insects for their very own.

"Boy, Mario has really changed," said a little girl as she sat swinging on one of the swings to her friend.

"Yeah. I can’t believe how nice he is turning out to be." As the girls swung on their swings, they saw a little cloud come out from the trees near the playground. As the cloud got closer, they realized it was a swarm of butterflies, dancing gaily in the air. The colorful butterflies careened around the playground. Then the entire swarm danced around Mario, their wings glimmering like jewels in the sky. Mario laughed for joy as they fluttered about and all the other children pointed and laughed merrily. It was as if even the butterflies could tell how much Mario had changed.

By the end of the school year, Mario had so many friends he could hardly believe it, but his truest dearest friend was Mark, the boy with the caterpillars.