André Brocatus was here...

I don’t know if you know David Brower—one of the century’s foremost environmentalists, the founder of the John Muir Institute, Friends of the Earth, and Earth Island Insitute. He tells this story of one of his earliest adventures as a naturalist. At the age of eleven he collected some eggs of the western swallowtail butterfly and kept an eye on them as they hatched into caterpillars, which later turned into chrysalides. Finally the first of the chrysalides began to crack open, and what Brower saw was this: The emerging butterfly struggled out, its abdomen distended by some sort of fluid that was pumped out over its wings as it hung upside down on a twig. Half an hour it was ready to fly, and it took off. As the other chrysalides began to crack, however, Brower decided to make himself useful. He gently eased open the crack to facilitate the butterflies’ emergence, and they promptly slid out, walked around, and one by one dropped dead. He had failed to realize that the exertions he had spared the butterflies were essential to their survival, because they triggered the flow of fluid that had to reach their wings. This experience taught him a lesson he was still talking about seventy years later: What appears to be kind and is meant to be kind can be the reverse of kind.