Never Ignore Intuition

We've all heard it - that little voice in our heads that guides us through some of life's quandaries, often pushing us sometimes inexplicably one direction or the other. It's the gut instinct that rarely steers us wrong, IF we listen.

Very recently, I did not listen when I should have. I was walking through the yard toward the barn to get more feed sacks to put walnuts in. I passed one of the redbud trees I'd planted, and as I glanced at it, I noticed it was missing quite a few leaves, and what few it had left looked pretty sickly. Upon further inspection, I discovered a dozen neat-looking caterpillars happily munching away on my redbud.

Now, I'm pretty partial to caterpillars, but I am also partial to my carefully planted trees in our practically tree-less yard. I rashly decided to ignore the knowledge that usually nature knows best, and take it upon myself to transplant the caterpillars and disperse them between bigger, more leafy redbud trees, where they could munch away on leaves and not decimate their current tree. Kind of an "everybody wins" situation. My strategy was simple. As I'm not squeamish when it comes to bugs and worms, I would simply pick off the caterpillars and carry them to the bigger tree.

Here's where intuition made it's first little voice known. As I grabbed the first caterpillar, I wondered whether the things sticking off of it that looked like little sprigs of broccoli were a defense mechanism, but I shrugged it off. It was just a caterpillar. As I transported one caterpillar in each hand gently with my fingertips, I noticed a little tingly itchy sensation in my fingers, and again that voice in my head said, "hey...aren't there some caterpillars that sting?" I of course ignored that voice, and grabbed two more caterpillars. After all, they were just caterpillars, and how bad can a caterpillar sting? Likely the tingly sensation was as bad as it would get, but by the second bunch of caterpillars, I decided the tingly sensation was a bit uncomfortable, so instead of quitting this madness, or getting gloves, or anything smart - I carried the next bunch in my palms...which also started to tingle.

While transporting the third batch, the slight "tingly sensation" on my fingers and palms quickly escalated into a "stinging sensation", which became an intense "burning sensation" in just a few seconds, and I immediately abandoned the moving of the caterpillars (dropping them in mid-transport) for a running to the house (accompanied by a little girlish yelp) to immerse my now red and slightly swollen hands as quickly as possible under the faucet of cold water. Within a few minutes, especially after applying turpentine (takes the sting out of bees stings) and washing with soap, the burning subsided. A half hour later, all signs of distress were completely gone.

I then did some internet research, which I should have STARTED with, on stinging caterpillars, and quickly identified my culprits. The larvae of the very pretty Io moth. Here's what the book said:

"Caution should be observed concerning the larvae of the Io moth. The poisonous hairs or spines are hollow and connected to underlying poison glands. Contact with them causes a burning sensation and inflammation that can be as painful as a bee sting. The irritation can last for a day or two and may be accompanied by nausea during the first few hours. Usually the site of contact reddens and swells much like a bee sting. A person "stung" by a poisonous caterpillar should immediately wash the affected area to remove any insect hairs and poison that remain. An ice pack will help reduce swelling, and creams and lotions containing steroids will lessen the discomfort and promote healing. Persons known to be sensitive to insect stings should consult a physician. Stinging caterpillars rarely occur in sufficient numbers to be considered plant pests, but people who work with ornamental plants should learn to recognize them and avoid touching them."

You'd think a former park ranger would know better...and it seems I was very lucky...my reaction seemed to be very minor, especially considering the number of caterpillers I'd been stung by.

Now I not only felt like an idiot, I felt really bad...on my flight to the house, I'd dropped a handful of caterpillars in between trees, and through no fault of their own they were now out in the yard, away from their food, and vulnerable to birds (though woe to that bird), when they should have been in a tree.

I decided since I'd messed things up, it was my responsibility to get the caterpillars back on a tree. I moved the rest one by one, very carefully using twigs and grass as if I were handling nitroglycerin...made all the more difficult with Lucy alternately giving me licks and evidently trying to shove her frisbee up my left nostril.

It then occurred to me while I was squatting down trying to manuver a caterpillar onto a stick with a blade of grass - perhaps this is why I don't get as much done as I want? Wasting an hour carrying caterpillars from one tree to another...

Despite my care, during the move of one caterpillar (with Lucy's help), I bumped my elbow with my knee, causing the now balled-up 'pillar to vault into the air , performing a perfect triple back flip with a half twist, and land, where else, but onto the back of my hand causing an instant intense stabbing burning. This of course caused me to once again squeal like a little girl and drop the operation and sprint into the house for another scrubbing, further delaying the whole procedure.

I finally did get all the caterpillars dispersed onto different redbud trees, hopefully providing them with enough to eat so they can turn to moths, while minimizing the damage to the trees. I sure hope so, because I went to check the caterpillars the next day, and they were all gone. How's that for gratitude?

The moral of the story - sometimes it's best to just let nature be. And if you're going to handle caterpillars, wear gloves.