He, the small boy,
two, three maybe,
eyes alive, puzzled, inquisitive,
tugs the wings off a butterfly
eager to know how it works,
maybe understand it a little, he,
innocently snuffing out a brief beautiful life.
I wonder when he’ll realise
his teachers, his guides, his role models,
eyes tight shut, blind,
greedy for the needs the wants of now;
rip the wings of everything,
Sherry at earthweal asks us to write of how climate change and loss of habitat impacts on the animal kingdom.
During my research into threatened species in the
I came across this endangered list on the Countryfile page and it was the image
of the small tortoiseshell butterfly that stood out to me. I cannot honestly recall when I saw this
butterfly flutter around my garden but know it will have been a long long time
ago. The only butterfly I see is the
common white although that maybe is only three or four in an entire year. UK
Seeing the image of the butterfly made me think of my children when they were young and now my small grandchildren innocently squishing the life out of insects, unaware (until told) that they are living breathing and beautiful creations.
It also reminded me as when a child (five-six maybe), I and my friends sometimes caught dragonflies, put them in Welfare Foods dried baby milk tins and kicked the tin around until the dragonfly was dead. Why we did this I don’t know, but the memory is still there some sixty years on and I know this is down to guilt, for even then, something inside of me knew that it was wrong.
Apart from pollinating bees, I think we humans tend to forget the insect kingdom, as insects are not warm-blooded and potentially cuddly, but oh we need them so so much, they are the earth’s levellers. We really really need them! Our lives depend on them.
Please read The Insect Apocalypse Is Here, featured in The New York Times Magazine – it a very informative interesting and educational read. And rather scary too…
Having just looked out of the French doors here, looking at nothing in particular, made me remember that for the past three years or so, in summer months, when the doors are open, pesky flies rarely enter this room, perhaps only once to thrice a year. Where have they all gone?
(Also shared with the good folk at Poets & Storytellers United Writer's Pantry #4 – cheers Magaly.)
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Rob Young from