This displaced little visitor is doomed.
I am used to moths that occasionally hatch out of the aging flours and grains of my pantry, but never a butterfly. Never at this time of year. We noticed a fluttering, a golden butter pat beating against the window with soft wings. In spite of her delicate beauty she is going to starve to death because there is nothing for her to eat.
Where did she hatch? How did she get into my house? Perhaps she immigrated via flowers I brought home from the supermarket a few days ago. Perhaps on a piece of birch bark I brought in from the icy yard? Did her cocoon plump and grow in the warmth of the house? An untimely birth. This is definitely not her place or her time, and sadly, there is nothing that can be done to save or help.
At least not in this instance.
