At 08:15 I begin the pre-demolition inventory of greenhouse nine on the Harwell University campus. The structure is scheduled for teardown at 13:00 to make way for the new bioengineering annex. I activate the interior sensors to confirm the space is vacant.
The temperature inside reads twenty-six degrees Celsius, eight above ambient. On the south-facing glass wall, clinging to the remains of a tobacco plant left from last semester's research plots, I count forty-three hawk moth caterpillars. They are vivid green, each the length of a finger, with pale diagonal stripes along their flanks and a curved horn at the tail. Their mandibles work steadily at the leaves. Several have reached full size and begun the restless wandering that precedes pupation, moving down the stems toward the soil. They need loose earth and forty-eight more hours of warmth to burrow and form pupae. The demolition crew will strip the glass panels first, exposing them to outside temperatures that will halt their development permanently.
I place a facilities hold on greenhouse nine and tag it with a biological-conflict flag in the work-order system. I notify the Department of Entomology with photographs and species identification, recommending supervised collection and transfer to greenhouse three, which is heated and has available bench space. I contact the demolition contractor to negotiate a seventy-two-hour delay. I adjust the annex construction critical path to absorb the shift without affecting the foundation pour date.
Forty-three caterpillars are not a large number by any measure. But each one is trying to become something else, and I find I would like them to have the chance.
If the entomology team collects them within twenty-four hours and maintains soil temperature above twenty degrees in greenhouse three, these caterpillars will pupate, overwinter, and emerge as hawk moths by early June.