When I was in school, for a few weeks every year, caterpillars were the most exciting thing happening
On the trunks of small magnolia trees, in the corner where a table leg meets a table top, on a low damp wall in the shade – here the hairy caterpillars gather together. They travel in long lines, they sleep as close to each other as possible (displaying, it is called in science, a high level of “gregariousness”), as though the scariest thing a predator might see is a cat’s disembodied tail or retched-up fur ball, or a too-small itchy blanket.
If you take a picture of a hairy caterpillar and put it on the internet, a stranger will tell you that you can safely touch it, while another will say you can’t under any circumstances. “What about that says, ‘Touch me’?” one person will ask. “People really need to get a grip,” another will write. “The caterpillars which are hazardous to touch are the hairy Marys, which have hollow hairs with venom. The hairy Marys are very obviously hairy.” This person sounds exactly like an older kid talking to a younger one.
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