The Sting of Kindness

by Amber Rivard

No good deed goes unpunished, the saying goes. I almost learned that first-hand. 

The clock just hit the strike of 10 p.m. when the low battery sign on my phone surfaced. I headed out to my car to get the charger, where I hoped I had left it.

Walking through my apartment complex, I saw a bright green spot on the hallway floor.  It was a caterpillar. And, by the looks of the plump furry body, I guessed it was an adult.  

It wasn’t moving. Hair was wrapped around its fiber-like bristles. Poor caterpillar. Who knew how long it had been stuck like that? I crouched down to see if it was still alive.  I could see its little stomach twitch. 

It was alive, and I had to help the little creature get untangled. I swooped it up by the hair attached, but the plump fellow was weighed down from all the leaf-eating before its entanglement and landed right back on the ground.  

To be honest, it wasn’t the caterpillar I was afraid to touch; it was the mucky hair around it. This was a serious mission; I was compelled to save its life. I placed the creature on my left hand and headed back inside. 

I barged back into my house. My boyfriend was sitting on the couch, and I hollered to him, “Get up; I need help.” He rushed over and, to his surprise, I placed the very hairy caterpillar on my kitchen counter.

 “What's wrong with you?” he asked.  

“He’s stuck and I have to help him.” 

I rushed to get a pair of gloves, then I gently took each hair out. Its little body curled up. 

 “I'm not trying to hurt you, buddy.” I assured him I was a good guy as I looked into his little eyes. 

I finally got the muck off him, and before I knew it, its body started slowly releasing from its tight curled hold and began moseying down my countertop. 

I decided I was going to care for this future butterfly that had just gone through the ringer.

I was heading outside to find some stuff for his temporary habitat. Then I thought I should upload a photo of the caterpillar to Google Lens, which is an app I normally use to upload pictures of birds or plants to identify what kind they are. 

After the caterpillar was detangled and saved. (Amber Rivard)

In front of me were two pictures of what appeared to be a fluffy green caterpillar, except one of them, called lo moth, had a purple line along its side. My stomach dropped. I knew this wasn’t a butterfly. I looked over at the caterpillar and there was the purple line.  

The heebie jeebies kicked in and I reluctantly clicked the photo of the lo moth caterpillar. I was mortified by what the search engine revealed. A huge picture of a scary-looking dark red and yellow moth with two big eye-shaped black dots on each hindwing was looking back at me.

It got worse. According to Florida University, the lo moth is poisonous, containing a toxin gland that is under its setae (fluffy hair-like structure). The severity of its sting only increases with its weight. Symptoms can include headaches, nausea, fever, and seizures. 

A few minutes earlier, I was thinking about what I would name our temporary family member until it could spread its wings and be released back into the wild. Now I was in a full panic, hoping I wasn’t infected. I replayed the short walk when I held it with my bare hands. 

The key word here was sting. It would have felt like a bee sting. My boyfriend reiterated that for me. I did not feel anything and thus my nerves simmered down, although I imagined my queasiness would persist for the rest of the night. 

I sent the lo moth back out into the wild.  

Sometimes kindness stings back. Sometimes your kindness is taken advantage of. Sometimes the best intentions of people are met by the worst.  

But kindness is pure. The sting will pass; your kindness will persist. 

I’m glad I helped the lo moth.

I know one thing for sure: I'm getting the gloves before I save another bug's life.  

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