The Ornate Moths

To the best of my recollection, there has only been one instance in which I’ve encountered any of or area’s impressively ornate silk moths. It was late June of last year in the small town of Cable, but true to summer days around here, the downtown area bustled with residents and visitors alike. I had made my way to the entrance of Rondeau’s for a few quick purchases when I found myself greeted by familiar faces who had huddled around something in one of the general store’s planters. As I joined the small circle, I followed everyone’s gaze down to a peculiar moth with lime green wings as wide as my hands—a Luna!

Luna moths are just one of many species belonging to the Saturnidae family, and within that are among a group known as giant silk moths. Most being large, beautifully patterned, and carrying mythological names like Promethea, Polyphemus, and Cecropia, they are difficult to overlook although uncommon. To catch sight of any is a true treat.  Still, I’ve found myself unlucky in my attempts to observe any other than that Luna live.

Above, the Museum's only specimen of a Luna moth (Actias luna). Below,
members of the giant silk moth sub-group of the Saturnids. The bottom
right specimen is the silk cocoon from which they get their common name.

Then just last week I was presented with not one, but two, silk moths in almost perfect condition despite having already lived out the extent of their brief lives. While silk moths survive through winter as pupa in cocoons spun of silk and leaf, their time as winged adults does not last any longer than necessary for reproduction. With hope, perhaps the two silk moths I recently encountered had done just that.

At first, I found it difficult to properly identify one moth which had been brought to my office in a humble Tupperware container. The couple who had found it on their property weren’t sure which species it was, so I of course looked into its possible identity. This wasn’t an easy task, considering that the handful of Saturnid species found in our area bear a striking resemblance to one another. It had beautiful eyespots on its forewings, and areas of red splashed upon shades of gray forming elaborate patterns. While it resembled a Cecropia moth, it was ever so slightly lacking in the same flashiness of its relative—it must have been a Columbia silk moth. I subsequently pinned it for display in hopes that others like myself, waiting for the experience of observing one live, would at least have the opportunity to enjoy its physical form.

This Columbia silk moth (Hyalophora columbia) is primarily found
in parts of Canada but part of its range extends down to local areas.

Having very little experience with silk moths, I was amazed that just a day apart I was brought another large, ambiguous moth. Unknown to the handful of us around the office, it had secretly rested just outside the door to the museum building until a curious young girl plucked it up. The girl promptly imparted on me the story of her find, and together we rallied the excitement of other children in the group. I printed out images of a few giant silk moth species commonly found in northern Wisconsin--an impromptu learning experience for them as much as a opportunity for me. We collaborated on the project for a few minutes before picking up on some specific patterning that seemingly only a Promethea had. Fairly confident in our assumption, we continued to practice our pronunciation of the Greek name.

Junior Naturalists were delighted to find and learn about a Promethea
(Callosamia promethea) silk moth just outside of the Museum's back door. 

While much of my inexperience in observing these beauties live likely has to do with where I happen to find myself on a daily basis, there’s evidence that a number of silk moth species are falling victim to an introduced, parasitic Tachinid fly. Like many other species, their numbers are declining. However, as long as others are as enchanted with them as I am, I think there’s hope for keeping them around.