Perhaps the last thing you’d expect to come across on a sloppy gray January day is a sleeping god.  Gods are omnipotent, so you’d think it would be a nearly impossible task to sneak up on one –at the very least these deity types should have guard godlets or twelve-headed mythical doglike things to warn them of approaching visitors, right?  I guess not.

  Well, I just walked up to the ancient king of Athens today and peered right into his secret chamber without being smit (or is it smote, or smotted?).  I was smitten, however. Cecropia’s winter lair turned out to be a silken cocoon and like all royal homes, this one was certainly worth a second look

   The earthly personification of the ancient ruler was a Cecropia Moth – a species of moth named after the mythical figure. Why this impressive insect is named after a half man/ half snake fish is beyond me, but it is a member of a group known as the giant silk moths.  All the members of this robust family are named after Greek and Roman gods, so it’s a clan thing.  Even the family name itself, Saturnidae, is in honor of the child-eating god Saturn.  It happened to be Saturn’s day when I discovered the cocoon – coincidence? Maybe.

   The tough woven cocoon was adhered to a leafless silver maple branch. It was within easy mortal’s reach so I pulled it down for closer examination. The impressive larvae of this species make their over-wintering home in late summer/early fall and then pupate within a protective casing of their own making. (Here’s a picture of the caterpillar as it is about to sip from a caffeine free Pepsi can).  After a long winter’s rest, the adults emerge early the following summer.  Sporting a wingspan of 6 inches, these beautiful beasts are the largest moths in North America (look here and you’ll see what I mean).

  For the time being, this potential summer beauty was hidden within a silk purse. I thought you’d like to get a glimpse of the resting king, so I broke off the branch and carried it home in order to peek inside.  I made a careful incision through the papery tough outer layer to reveal an inner chamber of steel wool consistency. Both cocoon layers were woven by the caterpillar to create a weather and predator proof package. 

  A final cut into the inner sanctum exposed the pupae (look here) hidden deep within this multilayered sleeping bag. A wadded dry skin – the last shed of the caterpillar – lays crumpled off to one side.  I gingerly removed the pupae and took several shots of it before quickly returning it to its original location. Close scrutiny of this marvelous entity (see here) provides an image more akin to a pharaoh’s casket than to a Grecian urn.

  The dark leathery skin is sculpted with all the features the insect will exhibit as an adult. From the front (see here) the folded wings are evident. Two ear-like antennae curve down from the head and give the pupae a peculiar rabbitish look. A side view (see here) clearly shows the prominent segments of the abdomen and the breathing holes called spiracles that will provide the future moth with life giving air. Inside this casing, the caterpillar has already made the miraculous transformation from land based slug to aerial acrobat, but it needs to wait until the world is ready for its summer revelation.

  I carefully sutured the cocoon back together (see here) so that the creature can emerge in natural style when the time is right.  I’ll keep it in my un-heated back porch to insure that it doesn’t dry out and protect it from the legions that would delight in the destruction of Cecropius Rex. Rest easy my noble sir.