Neo and the Moth
December 11, 2006

It warmed up outside. I set a total of six temporarily-incarcerated caterpillars free, safely ensconced in leafy greens. After all, there's just nothing like a half dozen free-range, organic moths.

Last winter we had a similar episode (see two posts prior) and my guilt—and, admittedly, curiosity—made me decide to keep it safe and happy through metamorphosis. It was my insecto-mistress: I set it up in a spacious, fully-appointed condo and fed it only the best organic leafy greens. Apparently, this particular species demonstrates a preference for arugula and baby spinach. Go figure.

Some observations:

1. Caterpillars are eating/defecating automatons. They also stink.
2. They get larger (actually, relatively huge) given an unlimited food supply. When I find them on the floor, they’re usually ~1/2 size. It's like mammalian body fat, except their entire mass shrinks and grows.
3. The pupate isn’t like cryogenic freezing. The cocoon moves when jostled. It’s actually kind of creepy.

I have no idea how long I fed it before it morphed into the pupate stage. One morning I sat down to log in at the computer and it was just there. Brown and smaller than the engorged caterpillar, it stayed like that for, I suppose, a few weeks. Movement was more pronounced as it approached emergence.

One evening I came home and went into my office. Goddamned-it-Neo had been sequestered in my office that day. Back-story: We must keep GDN separated from our feline elder statesman (the former likes to torment and pounce upon the latter, which the latter cannot handle physically or emotionally).

As soon as I walked in, the scene told me everything. Spacious condo had been overturned, the cheesecloth top had been pulled off, and GDN was in full alert on the windowsill. I assume the hatchling began to flutter to begin circulation in its wings, which, of course, would be irresistible to an active and curious Bengal.

I found the moth in the corner of the window, oblivious to the feline torment it was about to endure. Naturally, I intervened. I re-captured the moth in the container and took it out of the room to show the OtterSpouse. It turned out to be a rather unremarkable, but it was pretty in that plain-Jane-brown-moth-species way.

In a former life I was a wildlife rehabilitator. There is—IMHO—no greater euphoria than setting healthy wildlife free. I mention this because I asked OtterSpouse to be present at the Grand Release Ceremony. Despite bewilderment as to my reasons, OS relented and stood on the porch with me as I lifted the cheesecloth with a flourish.

First, it wouldn’t leave the damned container (something to keep in mind if you think about taking a mistress of any species and keeping same in the proverbial lap of luxury). I had to basically coax it out in a most undignified manner.

Secondly, I’d been expecting a momentous “Fly! Be FREE!” event. However, the second I released it (accompanied by an imploring Bengal at the door, serving as my Greek chorus), it flew STRAIGHT into the porch light. Quelle dénouement.



Epilogue: Of course, I should’ve expected as much if I’d thought about it. Seriously...DUH. I managed to herd it away from the light, where it perched and remained for two days. I finally got bored of checking and assumed it eventually went on its merry way.