Friend Blogger :)

Hello all you people who probably don't know me! My name is Friend Blogger, apparently. I'm kinda excited to be here, doing my very first guest blog post! :) Storyfingers had to give me her password to do this. I think I might come back later and post under her name. Waddya say? :) So if you start noticing some really weird posts you'll know what happened.
OK, just kidding. I'll be good ... no really, I will. :)
So just in case you're wondering, the real reason I'm here is to post one of my stories. I based it off of my experiences raising Monarch butterflies. If you ever get the chance to raise your own, I highly recommend it!!!

Semmy and the Monarch

Semmy lugged an old aquarium into the porch and set it on a table. Gingerly, she propped some twigs against the inside of the dry aquarium. Next she picked up a handful of grass and let if fall through her dirty fingers, sprinkling the bottom of the aquarium.

“Perfect,” she said to herself with a grin that made her braces sparkle.

Semmy’s mom parked the van on the roadside and Semmy hopped out. The late August sunlight penetrated her squinted eyelids and burned her bare arms.

Semmy waded through tall weeds in the ditch, searching for something. She crouched beside some milkweed, her eyes darting back and forth. Behind her Mrs. Benson stepped out of the van and stood near the ditch. Her short brown hair whipped in the wind as she pointed to a different spike of milkweed.

“Try looking under that one,” Mrs. Benson said. Semmy squinted at her mother’s pointing hand and trudged toward the weed.

“Ouch!” she said as she rubbed her leg on a thistle. She stuck out her tongue at it, and walked to the milkweed. She crouched to look under the bottom leaf. Nothing there. She lifted the next leaf. Clinging beneath the third leaf she found what she was looking for. A fat Monarch caterpillar hung onto the leaf’s edge, his minuscule jaws working back and forth across a hole he had made.

“Found one!” Semmy yelled, pulling a Swiss Army knife from her pocket. She opened the sharpest blade and cut the stem of the milkweed. She picked up the weed and carried it back to the van, keeping her eye on the caterpillar and carefully avoiding thistles.

Semmy set the caterpillar and his milkweed on the backseat.

“I’m ready to go home,” she said to her mom as she climbed in back.

On the car ride Semmy gazed at the caterpillar beside her. His black, white, and yellow stripes looked smooth and soft. At one end he had a pair of dainty black antennae that twitched back and forth. At his other end there was what looked like a shorter pair of antennae. Semmy was confused for a moment about which end was his head, and then smiled at herself. Of course, the end with the tiny jaws and longest antennae was his head.

Back home, Semmy picked up the milkweed stalk and carried it onto the sunny porch. She peered at the caterpillar who had stopped eating when she picked up the milkweed he clung to. Semmy propped the milkweed up in the aquarium for food.

“Welcome home,” she whispered to the caterpillar as she snapped on the mesh lid of the aquarium.

Each day, Semmy peered through the fingerprinted glass aquarium to watch the caterpillar. Every time she looked at him, his tiny jaws were munching milkweed. After two days Semmy noticed the milkweed was getting shriveled. She called her Mom and asked her to bring home some fresh stalks.

That evening, Mrs. Benson stepped out of the van carrying a handful of milkweed.

“Thanks Mom!” Semmy said, giving her mom a quick squeeze. She took the leaves and ran to the porch. Lifting the mesh lid of the aquarium, she pulled out the old milkweed. She shook it and tiny black pellets fell from the leaves.

“Yuck,” she said wrinkling her nose. “Caterpillar poo.” She put the old leaves in a garbage bag and put the fresh milkweed in the aquarium. As she worked she sniffed the heavy scent of fresh milkweed mingled with the scent of old and drying. It smelled just like late summer should.

The next afternoon Semmy laughed when she saw the caterpillar.

“Silly guy,” she said to him, as he hung upside-down on the lid. He had curled himself into a J shape, but didn’t move. Semmy lifted one eyebrow, then smiled again and walked away.

Semmy woke the next morning and went to the porch in her pajamas. The sunlight already shone through the windows. Semmy stepped onto a square of sun and yawned. She shuffled over to the aquarium and stopped. In the exact place where the caterpillar had hung, there was now a bright green chrysalis! It dangled in the sunlight and tiny golden spots shimmered in a row along the top. Semmy grinned.

The chrysalis sat unchanging for five days. Semmy grew impatient. But slowly she began to notice a difference. The bright jade color was fading, and within a few days Semmy admired a jet black chrysalis. Semmy watched each day in amazement as the chrysalis began fading again, until it was crystal clear. Inside she saw the crumpled wings of a Monarch butterfly. The bright orange and deep black patches shimmered through the clear chrysalis.

Any day now, Semmy thought.

Two mornings later, Semmy lay in bed looking at the sunlight dancing on her wall. Suddenly she remembered the butterfly. Maybe he would come out today! Semmy forgot about being sleepy. She ran to the porch and there, holding onto the empty chrysalis was a Monarch butterfly! His wings were only an inch long and were sadly crumpled and wet. Semmy crouched by the aquarium and stared at the newborn, just inches from her face. Tiny black feet clung to the chrysalis shell which still dangled from the mesh lid. Suddenly Semmy wanted to hold the butterfly. She ran inside where her mom was sipping coffee.

“Come quick! I need your help!” Semmy said.

“What is it?” Mrs. Benson asked in alarm.

“The butterfly! He’s come out!” Semmy said. Her mother laughed and set her coffee mug on a coaster.

“Lead the way!” she said, tying the sash around her bathrobe.

Semmy and Mrs. Benson crouched in front of the aquarium. Semmy noticed the butterfly’s wings had begun to expand, slowly.

“Can I hold him?” Semmy asked.

“I guess, but we’ll have to lift the lid carefully. We don’t want to shake up the little guy!”

Semmy took one end of the lid and her mom took the other. Slowly they lifted, but Semmy’s edge stuck. She yanked and the lid popped up. Semmy jumped as she saw the fragile butterfly jerk and swing on the chrysalis. Semmy glanced worriedly at her mom.

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Benson said. “Careful now.” The butterfly hung on as the lid lifted gently. Mrs. Benson grabbed the center of the lid so Semmy could let go.

“Now put your finger next to his feet and he should climb on,” Mrs. Benson instructed. Semmy reached over, every move of her hand seemed big and clumsy. She put her finger near the butterfly’s dainty feet and he climbed on! Semmy smiled but didn’t dare laugh for fear of jerking the Monarch. She stared at her finger. The butterfly hung upside down, his wings still uselessly cramped, but getting longer. Semmy was looking so closely that she saw each ridge in her finger as the Monarch grabbed them with his feet. The Monarch rolled his black proboscis out and in curling it into a perfect roll. He lifted one of his feet experimentally, tapping Semmy’s finger.

Semmy walked quietly toward the door. Each time she set her foot down the butterfly swayed on her finger. Semmy stepped into the sunshine. The butterfly stretched his soft wings a little farther, as they swayed in the gentle morning breeze. The Monarch climbed to the top of Semmy’s finger and flapped his wings slowly. The wings grew. Semmy was too busy staring at the butterfly to notice her mom, who had come out to watch.

The butterfly flapped a little stronger, getting the circulation pumping through his wings.

Within ten minutes his wings stood straight and were gaining strength. Semmy peered at the orange wings and black veins. Tiny white spots lined the edges of his wings and speckled his fuzzy black head. As he opened his wings experimentally, Semmy noticed the black fuzz on his body.

After twenty minutes the butterfly was still drying his wings in the sun. Suddenly Semmy’s stomach growled.
“I forgot breakfast,” she whispered, still watching the Monarch who shimmered in the breeze. Mrs. Benson got a stick and put it under the Monarch’s feet. He climbed on and tapped the stick with his feet. Mrs. Benson carried him gently to a flowerpot and stuck the other end of the stick in the dirt. The butterfly slowly climbed down the stick, still flapping his wings.

Semmy glanced once more at him and ran into the house. In two minutes she was back outside munching her toast.

The butterfly sat on his stick for another twenty minutes, posing for the many pictures Semmy snapped. But suddenly he gave a strong flap and lifted into the air. He fluttered hard and gained altitude, flying to the neighbors wash line. He landed on a dancing sheet, his black and orange wings contrasting beautifully against the snowy bedding. He gave another flap and flew towards the sun.

“Bye!” Semmy called, watching until he flew out of sight.