On a recent trip to Panola Mountain, we saw a black caterpillar with 16 orange dots in two rows. If it lives, it will become a Pipevine swallowtail, Battus philenor. It’s one of the loveliest butterflies I know.
I used to see them along Zarzamora Creek in Texas. I’ve told you about the caterpillars, their odd niche in the network of living things and the butterflies they become. It was pleasant to think that I would see them again in Georgia.
But a little further up the trail I saw — I think — a bluewinged wasp, Scolia dubia, which lays eggs in caterpillars. The wasp larvae eat the living caterpillar, bit by bit.
And so there on the mountain, just minutes apart, were two perceptions: one of wonderful beauty and one of horrible cruelty. Or so it seemed to me.
But the butterfly and the wasp are part of the same web. And the problem here is with the observer, not with nature.
It was a clear day. When we got to the outcrop of Panola Mountain, a mostly submerged mountain, we could see Stone Mountain, 13 miles to the north.
I thought, at first, that our line of sight went right over our home. The second thought: If I were a better observer, I’d say all of it was our home.
• For a note on Battus philenor in Texas, see “Toxic to most, but not to one butterfly,” Aug. 15, 2022.
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