Metamorphosis

It was a beautiful sunny day; the sky was clear, the air was cool and not cold; and we were stuck indoors. Such is the life of many Americans. We work indoors for a huge percentage of our lives. On this particular day, however, we were required to step outside just long enough to cross the parking lot and go to our other company building where they were holding a “quarterly meeting.”

We walked slowly, enjoying our momentary freedom. Walking there we took our time…on our way back we took even more time because we didn’t have a deadline for a meeting to start.

My friend/coworker and I were taking the long way around – the one with the most sun – chatting about this and that, when suddenly we both stopped abruptly in our tracks. Crossing the sidewalk as though it were a large road to put behind him was a fuzzy caterpillar.

Trivia on Alaina: since I was a little girl, I’ve always loved caterpillars if only for one thing…they turn into beautiful beings that should be absolutely impossible for something so slow, so simple, so earthbound and so ugly to turn into.

“Awww!!” Both of us coo, looking down on the innocent little creature who is unaware of the turn its life is about to take. In fact, I think that only I was aware of the turn his short life was about to take. I bent down and allowed him to crawl onto my hand, standing up slowly once he did. After a few moments of evaluating and studying the little guy, the two of us continued our trek back to our desks. I hardly took my eyes off of him.

When I got back to my desk, I had nothing but an empty water bottle to put him into. So I did and was awed as I watched him crawl from one droplet of water to the next and saw each drop slowly disappear as an invisible mouth too small to see gulped it up. It was amazing. So simple, but so amazing. At the end of work, I took him home and put him in a little container that can hold probably a gallon of liquid, gave it a floor of dirt and some plants, complete with a stick he could climb up onto to spin his cocoon when he was ready.

A few days later, he spun a cocoon. On the ground. Amongst the fallen leaves and grass. I thought he was dead, though I would never pass him off as so until he just simply did not come out of his cocoon. I was not going to give up on him.

As anyone can tell, I have a thing for butterflies. As previously mentioned, the concept of them turning from something so basic to something that is free, can fly, and is among the most beautiful of all creatures is astounding. When I was a little girl, it was astounding that they could turn from an ugly worm into something so beautiful. I wanted to turn into a beautiful person when I grew up. So I loved butterflies. If they could do it, maybe, maybe I had a chance. As I grew, the concept of the metamorphosis sunk in deeper and butterflies came to mean more than simple beauty.

From slow and crawling on their bellies to being the owners of pure freedom! They grow wings!

They go from eating leaves and weeds and anything they can to drinking nectar.

From an existence focused solely on surviving to the next stage of their life, where chance is 90% of success, they become gods of their kind. They create life by fertilizing flowers and creating more of their own kind (albeit ugly worms again, but still they grow to be just like their parents). They have reached that next stage of their life. They are living their lives to the fullest at this point and meeting the objective of their creation. They are the epitome of success.

So as you can imagine, I became quite attached to the little guy, anticipating this life for him. His cocoon was attached to long blades of grass that we could pick up and examine him more closely (I have since trimmed those down so that he could be left alone). One day I expressed my fear of his death to a coworker who then picked him up. We both saw him wiggle. He was alive! And every now and then when I’m looking at just the right time, I’ll see a tiny little movement, reassuring me that he still is. I love it.

I did as much research as I could and this is what I discovered: Little Xanthone (we named him Xanthone after the main component found in the main fruit that our company is based around) is a moth. So much for my illusions of a butterfly life for my little guy. He will aspire to be a moth. I always knew this was a possibility, though. A 50/50 chance, if you will.

Despite the moth-ness of his nature, I just can’t help but still love him the same as when I thought he could possibly be a butterfly. Let’s think about this: ugly worm to creature with wings. Course, it’s a creature that comes out at night. But still. It is amazing in and of itself.

I deepened my research and I think I’ve narrowed down what type of moth he is and if he is, he is so cool! For example: Moths can hear bats before bats can hear them. Gives them a great advantage. THIS moth, however, can actually talk back to the bats. Well – communicate back, it’s not like they’ve got words. But seriously. How much greater of an advantage is that?!

Moths can also remember things they learned as a caterpillar. Don’t ask me how they discovered that one, but they did. This makes moths quite smart. Helloooo…insect? Thinking? Learning? All I have to say is this: I knew it! Every living thing has more than just instincts. They’ve all got personality, too, right down to plants. This is what I believe.

I have found some pictures of what Xanthone could look like when he emerges. I personally think he is beautiful and I am excited to see him. He is due the end of this month.

And as soon as the butterfly caterpillars come out, rest assured that I shall be raising at least one of those, too. I love things like this!