When I was a kid, I was into bugs. I loved to look under rocks and logs for new and weird creatures. On one of my family’s semi-frequent trips to visit Grandma and Grandpa Kinney in Montague, MI, said grandparents bought me a butterfly net at the Ben Franklin store. I may have received that first net when I was 5 or 6 years old, but it certainly wasn’t my last. Soon, my dad built me a beautiful wooden display case with a large glass window to showcase and protect all my bugs. My best find ever was a tattered Cecropia Moth.

When my family moved to Crystal Lake, Illinois, I got into “competitive” bug collecting. You see, I competed in just about everything with my ‘cross-the-street neighbor, Tracy. Tracy was a few years older than me and she was a natural athlete. I was a clumsy, overweight elementary kid that usually got picked last for any athletic activity. Tracy clobbered me in just about anything that had to do with running, jumping, hitting, climbing, catching, shooting, Atari 2600–ing, throwing, dodging, swimming, diving, and not-looking-stupid.

But I still remained competitive. After all, she was a girl. There must be a weakness. Somewhere.

And I found it: Competitive Bug Collecting! The bug of choice? Monarch butterfly caterpillars! Our street was surrounded on two sides by corn fields and Milkweeds. As all you up-and-coming entomologists know, the Milkweed is what Monarch caterpillars eat. They love the stuff—and not much else.

The War Of The Bugs began subtly, gradually, and completely unintentionally. I don’t think Tracy had any kind of affection for buggery, but when she saw how well I was doing at it (why, I would get 3 or 4 caterpillars on a good day!), she quickly took up an interest. A short time later she surprised me by proudly displaying her own terrarium filled with the coveted, yellow-and-black-and-white caterpillars. What was she thinking? This was just not fair! This was my sport! I was good at it. I owned it.

Thus began the summer of getting-up-earlier-than-my-neighbor-to-collect-caterpillars. And oh, did I collect. There were several hotspots that we both knew about but pretended to one another we did not. We tried to hit those places two or three times daily. Tracy did good at collecting, but I did better. I soon had an orb-shaped terrarium full of chrysalises*.

Our heated bug-competition only lasted for a few more weeks, as did our bug-hunting adventures altogether. After a brief stint finding the biggest Wolf spiders we could find, putting them in glass jars, and researching what other kinds of living things they might eat—including other Wolf spiders—we both gave up bugs and have been clean now for about 20 years.

I never found the ultimate bug: a perfect Luna Moth. Finding a Luna Moth when I was a kid was something I’d longed for, dreamed about, wished. Once, my science-teacher father and I created a moth-attracting paste that we smeared on some trees in hopes that a Luna Moth would be attracted and caught in the sticky goo. But all our efforts were in vain. I remained a Luna-Moth-less kid.

Other kids found Luna Moths. I remember seeing them at 4H shows. But I took some heart: even though their winged insects were pretty, they were all damaged and tattered. The Utopian find for any young, burgeoning entomologist would be an unblemished Luna Moth, and I never saw one of those.

Until two days ago.

Coming out to Lone Jack, Missouri, late one evening to visit my parents, I found the Crown Jewel of Bugdom. It was just sitting there on the left side of their front door. And it was perfect. Oh what joy! What blissful moments this truly unique and wonderful find has perpetuated in my soul! I certainly did not have the heart to introduce this beautiful creation of God to chloroform and stick a pin through it. So, I kept it for a couple days and then released it. But not before I took a bunch of pictures to show the WWW. And Tracy.

You may click on the pictures or the numbers at right for the full-sized versions (all are suitable for framing). 1 | 2 | 3

Tracy, if you’re reading this, I reign as bug-collecting-champion-of-all-time and you know it.

*A chrysalis is like a cocoon, only better.