Insects are born on a daily, nay, hourly basis. Somewhere, a moth has been following pheromone trails for many wind current until she finally, finally reached an unoccupied leaf she could lay her egg burden onto. Line by line ovals in lines are layer, counting to hundreds, as many would be gobbled by larvae that scamper upon the leaf long after Mom has left. But for now, Mom lays her eggs, aware her babies will have somewhere to eat once they hatch.
Hatch they will, some of the lucky ones will, anyway. They may snack upon sibling eggs unfortunate enough to not be born as early as they were, before chewing through their leaf home.
As time trickles on, siblings will be picked off. The same pheromones that led mom to the milkweed will lead parasitoid adult eulophids to lay their eggs inside the first instar caterpillars, or Ichneumonidae to attack second instars, or Tachinidae to attack later instars. Being eaten from within, from an egg punctured by a wasp you felt relieved simply by not dying afterwards, is a fate humans write horror novels about. Caterpillars simply live horror lives if they are not stung by a form of wasp that wants them dead instead of a living home. Those unlucky caterpillars have the luxury of dying before being dinner, unlike parasitoid victims.
Some will survive to pupation, to the liquefaction of their larval self to re-mold into a flying wonder of nature. Some will even mate, go on to be Moms that lay their own young on far flung leaves. Male usually mate and then die, life’s work completed.
The transitions, though, from pupa to hardened imago, those are the most difficult. One must shimmy out of the chrysalis, pump hemolymph through their new wings and try to create enough fluid pressure that said wings don’t stick to themselves or each other or the thorax. Some die during that process, unable to ever put their wings to use, to soar. What's truly remarkable is that any grow to reproduce at all, never mind the migrations some make as adults, traversing the continent. What stories they would tell if they could!
But they can’t. Instead you’re left with an aspiring entomologist narrating the events of a moth’s life, from egg through flight.
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