You can’t miss a ladybug. With their bright red or orange wings and contrasting black spots, they’re easy to notice. Plus, some of us believe them to be good luck. That may stem from the fact that they help promote a good harvest, thanks to their diet of aphids and other small harmful garden pests. In this story, though, the ladybug died in the author’s room. So, now what?
Is a dead ladybug bad luck? It was flying around the room, happy and lively as far as we know. Then, with one too many run ins with the lightbulb, the ladybug died. Just like that. Okay, maybe running into a lightbulb over and over doesn’t make a ladybug happy and lively. And maybe smacking its head into a lightbulb multiple times doesn’t mean the ladybug died “just like that.”
But at first, Hannah England didn’t realize the ladybug died. “I saw that it was a ladybug and that it wasn’t moving, so I figured it had probably knocked itself out,” she writes in The Miracle of the Ladybug. You might be wondering what’s so unusual about this. Bugs run into lightbulbs all the time. They do it so often that we even make special lightbulbs that zap them when they run into them.
The thing is, the story doesn’t end there, with a potentially unconscious ladybug lying on the ground. Nor does it end when Hannah realized the ladybug is more than just unconscious. Because, this, my friends, is a miracle in the shape of a ladybug.
Yes, The Ladybug Died. But That’s Not The End of the Story. And It’s Not the Only Story.
This story comes from our archive that spans over 30 years and includes more than 130 magazine issues of GreenPrints. I love pieces like these that turn stories into comical moments of laughter, and I hope you enjoy this story as well.
The Miracle of the Ladybug
Poor thing? Not so fast!
Story and art by Hannah England
As I was sewing in my room the other night, I heard an insect repeatedly flying into the overhead light. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore the annoying tapping—when the tink-tink of bug on glass abruptly stopped. I looked. The bug was on the ground.
I saw that it was a ladybug and that it wasn’t moving, so I figured it had probably knocked itself out. Just in case it woke up and decided to resume ramming the light, I grabbed a nearby Tupperware container, removed the scraps of string that were inside, and placed it on top of the motionless ladybug. The longer I looked at it, the more I felt like it looked…dead. It died. It hit the light too hard and died.
Poor thing.
It was past my bedtime at that point, and I didn’t want to go aaaaaaall the way down the stairs to toss it out into the flowerbed, so I left it where it was. The next day I forgot all about it until I got home from work and spotted the Tupperware on the floor at the end of my bed. The ladybug was still under the Tupperware and still dead. It turns out I was also still too lazy to go down a flight of stairs to take it out, so it stayed there another night.
The next morning, this morning, I accidentally knocked the Tupperware over with my foot, and thought, “Ah, yes, the ladybug! I should really toss that outside,” but in my early morning, pre-work rush, I again failed to take it out. All I managed to do was pick the ladybug up and set it respectfully in the Tupperware so I wouldn’t accidentally step on it.
When I got home tonight, I finally decided to stop being lazy and throw the poor dead thing out. The ladybug was still in the Tupperware…CRAWLING AROUND.
It was dead. It rose on the third day. It is the Jesus of ladybugs.
I quickly took it outside and gently set it on my flowerbed.
Dear little ladybug, will you please help bring my garden back to life, too? ❖
LINDA COOK DEVONA
Story and art by Hannah England, published originally in 2018, in GreenPrints Issue #113.
Do you have any stories about a critter that turned out to be a miracle?
