By and all copyright Owen Quinn photos copyright Owen Quinn
Tales from Ballinfree The Confused Caterpillar is the eleventh volune in the Tales from Ballinfree children’s books series. It is available now on Amazon, Waterstones and all good book shops.
Rose looked indignant.
“Excuse me but you are as green as I am,” she pointed out.
“No, siree, not me. Green like a pea? No, I’m a literal artist’s painting with these wings.” The caterpillar looked Lala up and down.
“Hmmm, all that fur…manky in the summer and hard to get mud and brambles out of.”
“Excuse me?” declared Lala indignantly.
Finally, the caterpillar stared at Diamond.
“Ah, a fellow butterfly indeed in all her winged splendour. How noble are we that the very air bows before our grandness. Cappy Caterpillar, at your service, fellow flyer.”
“You didn’t exactly fly there, Cappy,” said Rose.
“Yeah, it was more…flew like a stone,” Lala remarked. “Straight down.”
The caterpillar looked at them like a parent looking at an innocent child’s comment.
“I know that didn’t happen,” snapped Cappy. “I was as graceful as an eagle, just like my colleague here with the wings.”
Diamond looked around.
“Is there someone else here?” she asked.
Cappy put four of his hands on his hips.
“I am referring to you fellow, sky skimmer!”
“I’m sorry to say that I think you’re a teeny bit mistaken, little caterpillar,” said Diamond, bending down.
“Excuse me?” it asked.
The caterpillar looked around to see who Diamond was talking to. “What caterpillar do you mean?”
Diamond, Rose and Lala glanced at each other.
“You said your name was Cappy Caterpillar and you look like a caterpillar, so it’s not hard to deduce.”
Rose lifted the white sheet and held it up to Cappy.
“What’s this?”
“My wings,” Cappy replied. “The colour will come in time.”
“Butterfly wings don’t detach from your body,” Diamond pointed out politely.
“It’s a parachute!” Lala pointed out. “Mate, butterflies don’t use parachutes,
especially ones made of handkerchiefs.” He paused, grimacing. “I really hope it’s clean!”
“Ah!” Rose dropped it immediately.
It floated to the ground and covered the little caterpillar. Cappy shrugged it off.
“Why do you insist on calling me a caterpillar?” he demanded.
He rose up on his back legs, making him taller.
“Why don’t you like being called a caterpillar?”
Cappy tilted his podgy little head and frowned at them.
“Isn’t it obvious? Can’t you see, fellow air glider?” He sighed. “I am not a caterpillar. I am a butterfly.”
Cappy shook his head with a grin.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
