I fully expected the little guy to die in there -- who knew if woolly bears ate pizza herbs? But sure enough, we came downstairs one day to find that Barry the Caterpillar had spun himself a little brown cocoon in the warm corner of the jar nearest the candle I keep burning in the kitchen.
The other day, I saw a flutter in my peripheral vision. Barry had emerged as a lovely orange-ish Isabella Tiger Moth. He stayed inside for 24-hours to wait out a cold, rainy day, then we released him into the backyard.
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