The Ugly Truth About Caterpillars

Beyond the children’s story about a snacky, colorful, pre-butterfly creature.

The truth about caterpillars is that, as cute and benign as they may appear (thank you very much, Eric Carle), they can make a person downright miserable.

I speak from personal experience.

I had a caterpillar encounter.

And the caterpillar WON.

I didn’t even see the caterpillar touch me. And it still won. Imagine that. Taken down by a sneaky underdeveloped butterfly.

It all happened on the last day of my birthday vacation in Amelia Island, Florida. My husband and I decided we would grab lunch before leaving the resort at which we had been staying. The tram dropped us off, but the restaurant wasn’t open yet so we sat down on a well-shaded bench that overlooked a little creek.

Springtime was in full force and the entire natural world appeared to be crawling with life — fuzzy, little, brightly-colored caterpillar life, to be exact. Before leaving the hotel, I had slathered a bunch of the complimentary lotion on my legs, and the caterpillars seemed to like it quite a lot because they were steadily crawling toward my vulnerable and exposed skin. I jumped up suddenly, mid-conversation with a real estate client. I must have looked funny because my husband was laughing at me.

Even though I was distracted by my conversation, I had an intuitive feeling that I should avoid contact with those fuzzy little creatures. I seemed to recall something our 7-year-old had said about brightly colored animals in nature being dangerous. No need to take any chances. Besides, creepy crawly creatures on my bare legs? No thank you.

Despite my efforts to avoid contact, my fate was sealed when the waiter made me decide whether to sit inside or out. “You’re American AND woman. You have all the power!,” said the smart Indian man. My husband, usually quick to take on the decision-maker role, stayed strangely silent. Perhaps he was basking in my power as well.

“We’ll eat outside,” I said.

The trouble soon began. My husband ordered a draft beer for himself. Feeling powerful and chaste, I ordered a glass of water and rested my arms on the iron arms of the chair, preparing to enjoy a good meal.

Suddenly, I felt a stinging sensation. “Ouch!,” I thought. I lifted my right arm. Had something stung or bitten me on the inside of my forearm? There wasn’t a bug to be seen and I hadn’t felt one land on me.

I stood up. I looked at the chair I’d been sitting in. Antennas appeared as a fuzzy little caterpillar crawled out from beneath the iron arm of the chair.

Hmm. Could the stinging sensation have to do with the sneaky little caterpillar? I found a stick and flung the insect off of the chair, just in case.

I sat back down. Wary of resting my arms on the chair, I rested my arms on my legs. The stinging was not subsiding; it was getting worse. I lifted my arm, examining the pinkish welt appearing as well as a little black hair that looked like an eyelash. “That’s odd,” I thought. I flicked it off.

By the time our burgers had arrived, the top of my right thigh was also stinging, burning, and developing signs of irritation. Again, I saw a little black eyelash-looking hair resting on the top of my leg. Again, I flicked it off.

Meanwhile, my husband had become convinced I must have rubbed up against some poison ivy while I was walking and talking with the client. He got up from the table to hand-select samples of various plants he surmised I could have come into contact with and delivered them to me for review.

My awesome husband leaned over his phone, on a mission to fix me. The first piece of advice about poison ivy encounters he read was to wash the affected area. So he promptly sent me off to the restaurant’s bathroom where I was to thoroughly wash my skin.

I passed by our wise waiter on my way there.

“Is there anything outside that could have hurt me? Is there poison ivy out there?”

“No, no, nothing to worry. You’re fine. Relax. Nothing to hurt you here.”

If I had a dime for every time someone had told me that. My powerful woman self quickly pierced through the veil of his reassuring broken English and tip earning mindedness to his lack of knowledge about what parts of nature can hurt me.

I smiled, thanked him, and high-tailed it to the bathroom where I vigorously scrubbed my arm and my leg with soap and water.

So what happened to me on this fateful afternoon, aside from enjoying a delicious mushroom swiss burger and fabulous brussel sprout appetizer?

What caused me over a week of discomfort, itching, pain, Benedryl, steroids, hydrocortisone cream, and disrupted sleep?

Was poison ivy the culprit or was it that cute furry little caterpillar I was sharing a chair with? Some detective work was clearly in order.

I went to the source of all knowledge: The Google search bar. An image search and a few scientific articles helped me to solve this great mystery.

I believe I had an encounter with a tussock moth caterpillar. Tussock moth caterpillars have urticating hairs, meaning “stinging hairs.” The prickly hairs are a defense mechanism. The hairs are not poisonous but can cause irritation in sensitive persons.

Like me. (See photo below to see what said sensitive person looks like.)

It has now been about a month since my very hungry caterpillar encounter.

Believe it or not, I still have a faintly visible cluster of faded bumps on the “ground zero” spot on the underside of my forearm.

Think cute little fuzzy caterpillar creatures are all fun, games, and future butterflies? Think again.

We all know that nature can be a real jerk sometimes.

Reader, learn from my tale!

Beware of the tussock moth caterpillar.

Burgers and brussel sprout appetizers are perfectly safe.