The skills of veterinarians are impressive as livestock owners know, but most of their success stories go unnoticed. When a wild animal surgeon does something spectacular, however, it’s possible we might learn about it. Removal of a tourist’s shoe from a 350-pound crocodile’s stomach, brain surgery on a bear, prosthetic tail with flukes for a dolphin, 3-D printed shell for a giant tortoise burned in a wildfire are a few examples. Some amazing stories are hidden, lost in the hubbub of things, involving tiny creatures. Not too long ago, a woman posted a story about a three day old male monarch butterfly whose right-side upper and lower wings were badly torn while emerging from its chrysalis. She set about to ‘surgically’ replace its double wing with a transplant. For her ‘operating room’, she gathered some surprising items. A towel, cotton swab and toothpick. Contact cement. A wire hanger, scissors and tweezers. Talc powder. And a spare monarch wing from a female butterfly which died a few days before. First, she secured the injured butterfly. Confident that butterflies wings cannot feel pain, she then carefully excised the damaged parts with her scissors. With a steady hand, she set about to trim the spare wing to match the remnant of the wounded monarch’s upper and lower wings. Carefully attaching the new wing with contact cement, she applied talc to neutralize stray glue and prevent the transplanted wings from cementing together. “If you notice,” she said, “the black lines (of the new wing) do not match completely, and it’s missing the male black dot on the lower right, but with luck he will fly!” She gave the monarch a day to rest and fill up on homemade nectar. Then flight day. Hopeful, but unsure what would happen, she took the butterfly into the back yard and patiently waited. The monarch flapped its wings, caught the breeze, and made an elegant lap around the yard. Landing on a nearby bush for a few moments of rest, it flew off to do what butterflies do. “Bye little buddy, good luck!” she called out. I’d like to think the woman’s rescued monarch made possible a few hundred progeny which joined millions of others in their annual migration to Florida and Mexico for the winter. Though invisible compared to viral large-animal rescue stories, I find her remarkable gift to one of God’s lovely little creatures to be thrilling. I wish I knew her name and could hear her story firsthand. By the way, monarch butterflies are named after King William III of England whose secondary title is Prince of Orange. The monarch is the first butterfly to have its genome sequenced. Father Richard Barker +++