LARLINA PARRONE HALPIN does not raise butterflies; she rescues them.
I first heard of the monarch butterflies of Larlina from my sister, Lilibeth. They are good friends from elementary school in the then-Colegio de Santa Isabel. Larlina is in Auckland, New Zealand, and my sister is in Tokyo. Technology has helped them bond despite the distance.
Raising butterflies is not new, but my sister’s story was different: Larlina was helping monarch butterflies escape death and destruction.
Here is Larlina’s story, which she calls “My Monarch Butterfly Experience”: “Husband brought home some swan plant or milkweed (Asclepias physocarpa/Gomphocarpus physocara). This is the plant that caterpillars feed on. The plant has a milky sap that caterpillars use to produce a stringy, elastic thread to which they hang on when detached from branches (like a spider on a web) and from where pupae or chrysalis suspends itself. With a fully grown swan plant and with the weather turning warm, a few monarch butterflies came a-visiting.
They started laying eggs on the back of the leaves. A few days later, baby caterpillars were crawling on the leaves.”
Then one day, according to Larlina, she saw a wasp “attacking and eating a helpless, plump caterpillar.” That was when she decided to collect the baby caterpillars and eggs. With tips from Google and advice from neighbors, Larlina helped the caterpillar. First, she gathered branches of swan plant and fed them to the caterpillars. Then, she got a pot of swan plant and reserved all of it for her caterpillars.
So far, Larlina has released some 40 butterflies. In helping in the birthing process, our butterfly woman has observed many things about caterpillars and butterflies. She noticed how some pupae were dead and how through the chrysalis, butterflies with deformed wings would emerge.
One butterfly, Larlina observes, has remained inside her garden. She has dubbed it her resident butterfly.
When Larlina sent me her notes through my sister, I noticed how devoid of emotions were her words. That made her description not only vivid but filled with such startling poignancy. This butterfly woman has intervened in the works of nature and, in her small way, participated in the process of creation and, yet, she was cool about it.
The last time I saw Larlina was when I paid her a visit, upon the behest of my sister. That was the last day of her father’s wake in a massive funeral home. It is strange how we deal with the most sublime end of life with oppressive architectures. But where the family was, I noted how people can make farewells bearable and possible. Larlina thanked me for my visit. Her mother, I recall, stood by the coffin and wept quietly before the body was wheeled out for cremation, the assurance that we are, indeed, mere bodies at death. That after dying, we sort of become something different. Like what happens to butterflies.
E-mail: titovaliente@yahoo.com.
Image credits: Benjo Laygo