Butterfly Courage

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Butterfly Courage

 

 

 

Walking down a path through some woods in Georgia in 1977, I saw a

water

puddle ahead on the path. I angled my direction to go around it on

the part

of the path that wasn't covered by water and mud. As I reached the

puddle, I

was suddenly attacked!

Yet, I did nothing, for the attack was so unpredictable and from a

source so

totally unexpected. I was startled as well as unhurt, despite having

been

struck four or five times already. I backed up a foot and my attacker

stopped attacking me. Instead of attacking more, he hovered in the

air on

graceful butterfly wings in front of me. Had I been hurt I wouldn't

have

found it amusing, but I was unhurt, it was funny, and I was laughing.

After

all, I was being attacked by a butterfly!

Having stopped laughing, I took a step forward. My attacker rushed me

again.

He rammed me in the chest with his head and body, striking me over

and over

again with all his might, still to no avail. For a second time, I

retreated

a step while my attacker relented in his attack. Yet again, I tried

moving

forward. My attacker charged me again. I was rammed in the chest over

and

over again. I wasn't sure what to do, other than to retreat a third

time.

After all, it's just not everyday that one is attacked by a

butterfly.

This time, though, I stepped back several paces to look the situation

over.

My attacker moved back as well to land on the ground. That's when I

discovered why my attacker was charging me only moments earlier. He

had a

mate and she was dying. She was beside the puddle where he landed.

Sitting

close beside her, he opened and closed his wings as if to fan her. I

could

only admire the love and courage of that butterfly in his concern for

his

mate. He had taken it upon himself to attack me for his mate's sake,

even

though she was clearly dying and I was so large.

He did so just to give her those extra few precious moments of life,

should

I have been careless enough to step on her. Now I knew why and what

he was

fighting for. There was really only one option left for me. I

carefully made

my way around the puddle to the other side of the path, though it was

only

inches wide and extremely muddy.

His courage in attacking something thousands of times larger and

heavier

than himself just for his mate's safety justified it. I couldn't do

anything

other than reward him by walking on the more difficult side of the

puddle.

He had truly earned those moments to be with her, undisturbed. I left

them

in peace for those last few moments, cleaning the mud from my boots

when I

later reached my car.

Since then, I've always tried to remember the courage of that

butterfly

whenever I see huge obstacles facing me. I use that butterfly's

courage as

an inspiration and to remind myself that good things are worth

fighting for.

 

By David L. Kuzminski