There are a great many stories about caterpillars with low self-esteem. As they go about the ordinary business of their days they are mocked and rejected by the other creatures of the forest. Simple attempts at friendships leave them so world-weary that eventually they shut themselves up in a chrysalis for a long nap.
After some time the caterpillar awakens to the amazing revelation that they now have brilliantly colors wings and that they can fly! With great joy, they take to the air over their forest home. The writers of these stories often take great care that the caterpillar-turned-butterflies fly near the very creatures that mocked them early on. These fickle friends now praise the beauty of the butterfly and beg her to play with them.
This is not one of those stories.
In fact, I feel it is my responsibility as a recorder of this tale to tell you that becoming a butterfly or a swan or simply more beautiful does not solve all of one’s problems. These changes come with problems of their own. Though Danielle was one of the most beautiful butterflies I’ve ever had the pleasure of speaking with, she was very unhappy.
Danielle was a newly emerged butterfly with blue and purple wings that had a metallic sheen that would radiate a faint glow of these colors when the sun shone upon them. The fact that she had become a butterfly so suddenly had come as no surprise to her because, unlike butterflies in nearly all other stories, Danielle’s parents had prepared her well in advance of the change. I can only suppose that caterpillars in most of the butterfly tales are orphans, left to fend for themselves outside of the society of other caterpillars and are therefore wholly unprepared for this shocking transition.
Danielle had very loving parents that had done the best they could to prepare her for life as a butterfly. It certainly helped that they were themselves butterflies. They told her it was nothing to be afraid as they helped her into her chrysalis (though she somehow already knew how to build one, as all caterpillars do, orphans or not). They had often told her how she was a beautiful caterpillar when she was growing up. No, as I mentioned earlier, becoming a butterfly was the beginning of Danielle’s problems, not the end of them.
One hot summer day as the newly-emerged-butterfly Danielle was down by the pond enjoying the cool of the grasses by its edge, there was a rustle in the reeds as a breeze blew across the pond. So as to not lose her balance of the leaf on which she now rested, Danielle opened her silvery wings and righted herself just in time. A young frog nearby noticed the glow of purplish blue sunlight and croaked very rudely to Danielle, “Nobody likes a show-off.” Before Danielle could respond, he had dived into the water of the pool.
“A show-off?” though Danielle, “Is that how everyone sees me now?”
Danielle was stung by the frog’s words. Though he was now a frog, a few months earlier he had been a tadpole. His transition from being something that only swims to being something that can swim and hop and breathe air was not so unlike Danielle’s transition from something that can only crawl to something that can walk and even fly. If he had thought about it longer than the time it had taken to make such a foolish comment, he might have found much joy in discussing his recent change with someone who might just understand.
As it were Danielle was very much in need of the company of friends. She set off for the Beavers’ dam just across the pond and a bit down the stream. She found them busy mending some spots in their home that had been damaged by the heavy rains of the night before. Mr. Beaver was all a-dither, swishing his long-paddled tail from one spot to the next—muttering to himself disapprovingly all the while. Mrs. Beaver had long given up trying to console him and was now inside fixing a lunch that Mr. Beaver was certain to refuse, given the state of things, but which Mrs. Beaver would never-the-less convince him to eat. They were solid, predictable folk, the Beavers.
“Hello there stranger,” said Mrs. Beaver.
“Mrs. Beaver, it’s me Danielle.”
“Oh, of course dear. Forgive me, I’ve been so busy and I’m still getting used to Danielle the butterfly. It’s quite a change you know. I really think that…”
“Honey! I need help felling this cedar and bracing the north quarter of the main infrastructure!” barked Mr. Beaver from somewhere outside the dam.
“In just a moment dear!” came Mrs. Beaver’s exasperated reply. “I’m terribly sorry Danielle, was there something you needed? Mr. Beaver is in a right cross state today—more so than usual I mean,” she added with a smile.
“Oh, no I suppose not. I just was wondering if you thought that I…”
“Mrs. Beaver!” pleaded Mr. Beaver.
“Well, I should be going,” Mrs. Beaver and Danielle said at once.
They shared an understanding half-smile and both rushed outside, Mrs. Beaver to her husband’s side and Danielle out to the open skies. Just as Danielle was reaching the edge of the lake, Mr. Beaver’s voice broke though with just one broken phrase, “We don’t need showy stuff around here.” With that latest blow a couple of tiny butterfly tears dropped down into the silent lake below making a faint tinkling noise like tiny crystal glasses shattering. To the world these tears were so very small, but the tears of a butterfly are a precious thing—as all tears are precious and important, regardless of their size, or who lets them fall.
This world-weary butterfly had no chrysalis to retreat to; no great metamorphosis to hope for now. She only thought of heading home now to her mother and father. At least they would not think her a show-off. Danielle did not mean to show-off her beautiful wings. She didn’t want anyone to feel badly about not having wings of their own, but yet when ever she flew she felt like creatures were staring at her with jealousy or disgust. “They’re right,” she thought, “no one likes a show-off.” Her heart dropped just a bit more as she thought it and her wings didn’t feel light-like-the-wind anymore. Even as she neared her home in the sycamore tree she saw a mother and child squirrel playing below. The little squirrel chittered something to his mother and then pointed toward Danielle. The mother brushed her son’s paw down and averted her eyes. Danielle wanted more than anything to be curled up at home with her mother and father.
But they were not home. Danielle landed and collapsed now onto her branch and let her little precious tears fall freely now. Her one comfort in the world now was nowhere to be found. Just when Danielle had started to silently sob, she was disturbed by the sound of little claws on little feet dashing quickly up the tree. They slowed as they reached Danielle. It was the mother squirrel Danielle had seen just moments ago. Her son was not with her. Danielle could see him looking up at them from down below.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” said the squirrel, “but I wanted to apologize for how my son pointed up at you so rudely before.”
“It’s okay,” managed Danielle, “I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”
“My son wanted to tell you this himself,” she continued, “but he was too shy to come up her to meet you. He thinks you are the most beautiful butterfly he’s ever seen.”
Danielle’s heart leapt. “Really?” was all she could say.
“Yes, he loves to watch you fly in the morning sun each day. He’s been telling me every day since you came out of your chrysalis. We live just a few trees down… I’m Nora by the way.”
“Great to meet you Nora!” exclaimed Danielle. “So you don’t think I’m showing off then when I fly?” she asked.
“Heavens no. Where would you get an idea like that?” asked Nora.
Danielle then told this kind new squirrel friend of the events that had taken place earlier in the day, from the rude frog at the pond to the harsh words of Mr. Beaver and how Mrs. Beaver didn’t seem to have time for Danielle anymore. She said that that had hurt more than anything because they had been such good friends when she was a caterpillar.
“I think maybe you should go and talk to your friends,” Nora counseled. “Good friendships are often lost through small misunderstandings.”
With Nora’s kind words and good counsel in her heart, Danielle departed for the Beavers’ home once again, but not without flying down to thank the little squirrel that waited nervously down below. If you’ve ever had a butterfly kiss from someone you love, then you know the bit of excitement that the little squirrel felt as Danielle brushed him lightly with her silvery wings. “Thank you,” breathed Danielle as she passed.
When Danielle reached the Beavers’ dam it seemed that Mrs. Beaver had finally succeeded in sitting her husband down for a proper meal. The two of them were hunched over their fine, tooth-crafted table eating quickly (as busy beavers do), but clearly on better terms than they were before. Perhaps you wouldn’t have known the difference, but Danielle knew them well enough to know that it was true.
“Danielle! I’m so glad you’re back,” exclaimed Mrs. Beaver.
“Indeed. Indeed. Good to see you Danielle,” said Mr. Beaver quickly, but not unkindly.
“I just had to come back to see you,” said Danielle shyly. “I overheard Mr. Beaver say something that had me very confused when I left earlier and I just have to know if…”
“Yes?” inquired Mr. Beaver with concern in his eyes.
“If you still want to be my friends now that I’m a butterfly,” finished Danielle. “I don’t mean to show off and I’m sorry if I’ve offended you somehow,” rambled Danielle, but Mrs. Beaver cut her off quickly.
“Danielle!” she gasped. “How could you think such a thing?” she breathed.
“Well after I left I heard Mr. Beaver say something about not wanting anything showy around and I had thought he’d meant me,” explained Danielle. Mr. Beaver looked at her with pity and compassion.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” he said in a voice just slightly slower than is usual for him. “I was speaking of the dam. Mrs. Beaver had been complaining about the tree I’d chosen to reinforce the part of the dam that had been damaged by the storm,” he said. “In my haste to get things done I’m afraid I was rather harsh with her.” He then added, “I am sorry dear,” to his wife.
Danielle was so very relieved. She then told her friends about the day she’d had and they listened with tearful eyes to every word. Not even the very active Mr. Beaver interrupted the story once. She finished by telling them of the new friends she had made and how she had thought they were annoyed by the fact that she was a show-off.
“You know that frog up in the lake has been sour since I met him, but then I hardly ever see him with any friends. Lonely people sometimes say the worst things, it’s hard to understand I know” said Mrs. Beaver. “Don’t take his words to heart Danielle.” She thought for a moment and then asked, “Do you think you’re a show-off Danielle?”
“No, I guess not,” answered Danielle. “I mean, I never want anyone to feel badly. I know my wings shine and glow in the sun, but I’d give it all up though if it meant that other animals wouldn’t be jealous. I try to stick to the shade as much as I can,” she confessed.
“That’s not an option dear and I’m glad of it,” piped Mr. Beaver. “I’ve never met a more humble butterfly,” he declared. “But let’s have no more of this nonsense about not wanting others to see you flying.”
“What he means dear,” interrupted Mrs. Beaver, “is that to hide your colorful wings is to refuse a gift and more—it would be like refusing to share a gift in return.”
“What do you mean?” asked Danielle.
“Your beauty is a gift you give to the world,” she explained gently. “It doesn’t make people jealous to see your shimmering wings fluttering across the sky. It gives joy to all around you. Sure there may be those that want to bring you down, but for every one of them, there are one-hundred that appreciate you for who you are. Most creatures are inspired by your design. I hear humans have even written countless stories about the wonder of butterflies. I can’t say that I blame them—you were made for beauty Danielle. Never be afraid to shine,” she finished.
Danielle was too overwhelmed with gratitude to say much, but she did manage to choke out the words, “Thank you both, so much.” She didn’t linger long at the Beavers’ as she knew Mr. Beaver was eager to return to work.
On her way home, Danielle did not take to the shadowy routes as she had been in the habit of doing lately. She flew in full sun, in the glory of the summer day. The sun shone down on her and her shimmering wings drew out of its rays the rare and unique blues and purples that were her gift to the world. Though a person cannot make out the face of a butterfly, one could tell by the pattern of her flight and by the light and the quick looping and swooping motions she made that Danielle the butterfly beamed as brightly as the summer sun that day.
