Cecropia moths journey to beauty

Every morning, a smattering of moths remains beneath the porch light. Most are dull, ordinary and nameless, and I have no interest in them. But once or twice a season, a member of the giant silkworm family appears. This week it was a cecropia moth.
I've seen many cecropias; they are not uncommon. But this one was special. It had just emerged from its cocoon. It perched on a deck rail and gently moved its wings up and down. It was drying its massive wings -- they measured more than 6 inches across. I knew it had just emerged from its cocoon because it was perfect. The wings, the antenna and every scale were pristine. It was as perfect an individual of any organism I've ever seen. To call it exquisite would not be an exaggeration.
Worthy praise
This may seem high praise for a mere moth, but its size alone was striking. Its body was twice the size of a bumblebee and its markings were vivid. Its plump body was bright rusty orange with narrow white rings encircling the abdomen.
Rusty orange and white bands crossed near the edges of the wings and prominent teardrop-shaped white crescents decorated each wing. Each of these marks was bordered by the same distinct rusty orange pigmentation.
The antennae were feathery, but narrow, indicating that this individual was a female. Later that day, if she survived, she would fly to a safe spot in a tree and release infinitesimally small amounts of pheromone, a chemical that males can detect from miles away. The male's antennae are much larger than the female's. These are the olfactory organs the male uses to detect and track molecules of female pheromone in the air. Calling, this form of chemical communication, peaks from 3 a.m. to sunrise.
When a male tracks and finds a calling female, they mate. The female then lays 200 to 300 white eggs, a few at a time, on the leaves of host trees. Cecropia caterpillars eat the leaves of a variety of trees including apple, ash, beech, birch, cherry, dogwood, elm, hawthorn, maple, poplar, white oak and willow, so finding suitable host trees is never a problem.
After mating and laying eggs, if they manage to escape the gaping jaws of bats, whippoorwills, nighthawks and owls, adult cecropias die at the ripe old age of 4 or 5 days. Their mouthparts are nonfunctional, so they never eat as adults. The fate of the population rests with the caterpillars that hatch from the females' eggs.
Found in summer
Because they eat the leaves of many common trees, cecropia caterpillars might be encountered throughout the summer. Smaller, younger caterpillars are gregarious; larger, older larvae are more likely to be found alone. Mature cecropia caterpillars can measure up to 4 inches long and are green and fleshy. The body is covered with peculiar protuberances called tubercles. Most are yellow or blue, but the four nearest the head are red. I suspect most first-time observers would consider cecropia caterpillars grotesque, but no one could deny their striking beauty.
Cecropias overwinter in the cocoon stage. Because cecropias are the largest moth in North America, the cocoon is also large -- about 2 inches long. The brown silken structure is usually attached lengthwise to twigs of host trees where, after trees drop their leaves in the fall, the cocoons become fairly conspicuous to careful observers.
After enduring at least 10 weeks of temperatures below 42 degrees Fahrenheit, they begin transformation. The metamorphosis of bizarre caterpillar into a huge and stunning moth is truly a wonder of nature.
As spring yields to summer, be alert for the distinctive cecropia caterpillars in ordinary backyard trees. You might even collect a few and provide them with a continual supply of fresh leaves and a few twigs upon which to spin cocoons.
In the fall, place the cocoons outdoors in a protected area, and next spring you just might get to see the spectacle of a freshly emerged cecropia moth.
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