Majestic Moths 1

Polyphemus is a character in literature, notably in Greek myth, and makes a memorable appearance in Homer’s epic The Odyssey, written over a thousand years before Christ. A “round eye,” or Cyclops, Polyphemus is a giant who turns out to be a lousy host to Odysseus and his crew on their return from the Trojan War. Polyphemus eats several of Odysseus’ sailors two by two by two. Famously, Odysseus and his remaining men make their escape strapped to the bellies of sheep—beyond the touch of the blinded Polyphemus’ hand.

Polyphemus Moth Photographed by Stephen Lody

When I was growing up on a farm in Indiana, polyphemus moths were attracted to our lighted windows at night, and I found them in the morning. Their wings were works of nature’s art, combining stripes like brightly colored ribbons, tans rivaling those of oak leaves, and magnificent patterns resembling eyes. In high school, I learned that the Hoosier author Gene Stratton–Porter (1863–1924) composed novels featuring the polyphemus moth and other large moths, which she studied in the Limberlost Swamp. At the Lafayette Public Library, I sat for days carefully reading her nonfiction work entitled Moths of the Limberlost (Garden City: Doubleday, Page, 1912). I admire Stratton–Porter’s monumental endeavor to capture full-color illustrations of the moths. She lugged heavy cameras and a complete dark room into the swamp and nearby fields. She photographed the moths moments after the adults had emerged from their cocoons. She developed the prints. With the moths beside her, she painted the prints with watercolors until she felt she had faithfully rendered the brilliant yet subtle hues of their wings. Moths of the Limberlost archives and showcases many of the author’s paintings.

My Photo of a Pair of Polyphemus Moths, April 24, 2014

Stratton–Porter felt that she had to record the colors as quickly as possible, for, shortly after the adult moth’s wings have expanded to their greatest extent and have begun to dry, they fade ever so slightly. I wished that I could duplicate Stratton–Porter’s efforts, but I never tried to satisfy that whim.

Throughout my life, though, I have frequently photographed the polyphemus moth and others with whatever camera I had at the time. The scientific name of the moth is Antheraea polyphemus (occasionally given as Telea polyphemus). It is one of the family Saturniidae, so named because concentric circles ring the eyespots on the wings in a way reminiscent of the rings of the planet Saturn. The wingspan of a polyphemus measures between four and six inches. There can be differences in the coloration from one adult to the next, even within the same brood.

Eggs of the polyphemus are whitish flattened ovals encircled by brown stripes. I have found them glued with a few in an erratic row upon a tree leaf such as that of an oak or maple. The eggs hatch into tiny larvae that voraciously nibble at leaves until they must shed their skins for bigger skins that can hold more food. The larvae go through five such instars, or developmental stages. When the larva has eaten its fill, it forms a pupa within a cocoon that it has fashioned for itself. The polyphemus cocoon is attached to a twig for stability. When I mow the lawn in the summer, I often find the old cocoons where they have finally become detached from whatever held them, perhaps during a storm. Invariably, a fuzzy hole at one end tells me that the adult safely emerged from the cocoon long before.

Many of us wonder what we might have become instead of whatever we ended up doing in our careers. I taught literature at the college level, but I often muse about whether entomology, or the study of insects, might have lured me in a different direction back when I was considering the majors I might pursue. Maybe it is better that I explored literature and studied moths like the polyphemus no more deeply than to appreciate their beauty.