Who amongst us can claim they have seen a fuzzy red moth that emerged from a cocoon found almost a year ago (presumed dead) with a seven inch wingspan? On Monday such a burly, beefy looking monster appeared in one of the Natural Environment Unit offices and caused quite a stir. This cocoon was found in Tennessee last Labor Day weekend and was identified as a cecropia moth by our resident enthusiasts. When it failed to emerge this spring it was written off as dead and its cocoon set up on a shelf. When Chris walked in on Monday, the cocoon was on the floor and the giant moth was flexing and drying its wings in his white paper recycling box.

This moth was muscular! It rippled its wings up and down its back and really put on a show. It was like the Arnold of moths. It behaved quite well, what with the growing crowd that could have spooked the moth, until another Chris jokingly proclaimed his desire to eat the moth in his best Bear Grylls voice. Once the moth learned of his desire for "protein and vit-a-min C" it began to fumble against the window with all its strength. Now mind you, it couldn't fly yet, but damned if it could beat the tar out of its wings in an attempt to be free. It was very, very sad to watch the fruitless struggle.

We debated setting the moth into the wild so it would stop hurting itself and have a chance at life. A quick visit to wikipedia confirmed that the moth is a vegetarian and eats the same trees that are found in our front lawn. We took a dozen pictures of her (we identified the sex, which was a goofy process nonetheless) and planned our strategy to prevent birds from swooping in and stealing our baby.

Where is this moth now, after all of our excitement and discussions? She is in a plastic bag in the office freezer. She has been in that bag since Monday and will probably remain there until the end of the week. *sigh* She's dead, Jim.

The same wikipedia entry that detailed her eating habits also said that the moth's lifespan was only 7-10 days. If all of the other moths emerged in the spring then we concluded all of her friends must be dead. She would be hunting in vain for someone to mate with, only to die alone. I guess that's an appropriate fate for a moth that took a damn year to leave the cocoon, a life that ends in a few hours. Because of their scientific desire to preserve the body, she will now die on top of a tub of Edy's ice cream. We never even named her.