If You See Something That Looks Like a Patch of Fur, Don’t Touch It. It Might Not Be Harmless at All. (2 of 3)

Right near the base of an oak tree, lying in the dirt, was a tiny ball of golden-ginger fluff. It looked exactly like a piece of fur from a long-haired cat — soft, silky, and completely still. The sunlight caught it in a way that made it glow.

I almost bent down to pick it up, thinking maybe it had blown off someone’s jacket or a pet’s grooming brush. My hand was halfway there when something in my gut made me stop.

It wasn’t the way it looked — it was the way it wasn’t moving. Not shifting in the breeze. Not rolling in the dirt. Just sitting there like it was… waiting.

I leaned in closer, squinting. And that’s when I saw the faint ripple, almost like breathing.

My chest tightened.

I’d seen something like this once before, years ago, in a nature documentary: the Megalopyge opercularis, better known as the “puss caterpillar.” The most venomous caterpillar in North America.

It doesn’t look like an insect at all — it looks like a tiny, friendly animal you’d want to pet. But hidden beneath that silky fur are rows of sharp, venomous spines. Brush against it, even by accident, and those spines break off into your skin, releasing a toxin that can cause immediate, excruciating pain, swelling, nausea, even difficulty breathing.

And here it was, right where my kids had been running just seconds earlier.

A knot of anger flared in my chest — not at the caterpillar, but at the thought of how many people, especially kids, could stumble across one and never know the danger. There were no signs, no warnings from the park, nothing to stop a curious child from reaching down to “rescue” a piece of fluff.

I told the kids to stay back, pulled out my phone, and snapped a picture. Then I called the park office. They sent someone to remove it, but even as I stood there waiting, I kept scanning the ground, wondering how many more might be hiding in plain sight.

Later that evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept replaying the moment in my head — how easily I could have brushed it aside or worse, picked it up without a second thought. How easily it could have been one of the kids.