Shouldn't…but Do

The first time I saw Longshot, he, she or it was a caterpillar.  The second time I saw Longshot, it was a chrysallis.  The third time I saw Longshot was this morning, and he is a butterfly.  Sort of.

Proving prescient, the name Longshot is a good one.  Unobserved, Longshot fell from its spent chrysallis this morning and lay on its back until discovered.  Once righted, he immediately scaled the netting of a habitat I constructed.

Unfortunately, his tightly furled wings relaxed, but did not stretch.  As afternoon wears on, I fear those beautiful orange and black wings will not gain their structure or their purpose.

But a butterfly is not merely wings, and Longshot is clearly of good heart and sound legs.   His lack of ability reflects lack of opportunity – it is too cold now for Longshot to fly south.

Flowers, warmth, nectar, sunlight and space – these things Longshot will have lifelong, if not the companionship of his kind.  Earthbound butterfly, your story is far too familiar.