The Snazzerpillar Part II: In Which I Am Revealed to Be an Awful Human

If you tuned in last post, you saw I was besotted with a Camouflaged Looper, the larva of a Wavy-lined Emerald moth. After observing its changes of adornment until it snuggled into its leaf-adorned cocoon, I safely ensconced it in a white mesh cube designed to house Monarch caterpillars in hopes that I could get some photos of the handsome green moth it would become.

So I waited. Every time I passed through the room I would veer over to peer at the cocoon, looking for changes. I had high hopes of getting some pics of it emerging from the cocoon, perhaps sitting quietly as its wings expanded and dried out in a similar display to that of newly-eclosed Monarchs. Once it posed nicely for photos, I would gently release it back into the garden.

There is very little information to be found about the Wavy-lined Emerald life cycle; most information focuses on the flamboyant caterpillars with only a brief mention and photo of the adult moth. One website mentioned it took about seven days from the moth to emerge. A week passed, with no change to the cocoon. Monarchs normally emerge from their chrysalis after 10-14 days, so I waited another week. Still no change.

Alas, I thought. The conditions in the house must not have been appropriate to the pupating of my little caterpillar. I decided to kidnap a Monarch caterpillar from the garden and see if I could rear it in the little box as a kind of penance. After plopping it on the bottom of the container with some milkweed leaves, I left it alone overnight.

The next morning, checking on the chubby Monarch cat, I noticed something down in the seam of the container.

My heart dropped.

It was a little moth, motionless on the bottom of the mesh box. My caterpillar had emerged, unbeknownst to me (the cocoon, covered in snippets of dried leaves, never seemed to change appearance), and after who knows how long, quietly died without ever having a chance to live.

I felt awful. The worst. I killed this poor moth with my affection, this handsome little thing that I took from its habitat so I could selfishly photograph it, having never seen such a moth before. I imagined it futilely beating itself against the soft mesh wall, attempting to reach the streetlight or the moon outside the window. I don’t know how long these moths normally live; if they eat as adults or not. I just know this one never had a chance.

Faced with this evidence of my disastrous caterpillar-rearing abilities, I quickly scooped up the Monarch caterpillar and put it back outside on a milkweed leaf, hopefully none the worse for my attention.

Feeling ghoulish yet not wanting the Wavy-lined Emerald’s death to be entirely in vain, I carefully took the nearly-weightless carcass outside to take some photos and laid it to rest in the garden whence it came. I will in the future limit my “appreciation” of these and other insects to a safe distance.

Originally published in Sycamore Greenway Friends