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MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST -- WITH WATER COLOR AND PHOTOGRAPHIC ILLUSTRATIONS FROM LIFE |
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"When the fierce northwestern blast
Waiting for Wings
CHAPTER 11: THE GARDEN FLY: PROTOPARCE CAROLINA Protoparce Carolina is a "cousin" of Celeus, and so nearly its double that the caterpillars and moths must be seen together to be differentiated by amateurs, while it is doubtful if skilled scientists can always identify the pupa cases with certainty. Carolina is more common in the south, but it is frequent throughout the north. Its caterpillars eat the same food as Celeus, and are the same size. They are a dull green, while Celeus is shining, and during the succession of moults, they show slight variations in colour.
Garden Fly They pupate in a hole in the ground. The moths on close examination show quite a difference from Celeus. They are darker in colour. The forewings lack the effect of being laid off in lines. The colour is a mottling of almost black, darkest grey, lighter grey, brown, and white. The back wings are crossed by wavy bands of brownish grey, black, and tan colour, and the yellow markings on the abdomen are larger. In repose, these moths fold the front wings over the back like large flies. In fact, in the south they are called the "Tobacco Fly," and we of the north should add the "Tomato and Potato Fly." Because I thought such a picture would be of interest, I reproduced a pair -- the male as he clung to a piece of pasteboard in the "fly attitude. Celeus and Carolina caterpillars come the nearest being pests of those of any large moths, because they feed on tomato, potato, and tobacco, but they also eat jimson weed, ground cherry, and several vines that are of no use to average folk. The Carolina moths come from their pupa cases as featherweights step into the sparring. They feed partially by day, and their big eyes surely see more than those of most other moths, that seem small and deep-set in comparison. Their legs are long, and not so hairy as is the rule. They have none of the blind, aimless, helpless appearance of moths that do not feed. They exercise violently in the pupa cases before they burst the shields, and when they emerge their eyes glow and dilate. They step with firmness and assurance, as if they knew where they wanted to go, and how to arrive. They are of direct swift flight, and much experience and dexterity are required to take them on wing. Both my Carolina moths emerged in late afternoon, about four o'clock, near the time their kind take flight to hunt for food. The light was poor in the Cabin, so I set up my camera and focused on a sweetbrier climbing over the back door. At that hour the sun was so low there was not good light in the garden on anything native to Carolina; besides, I had seen a free moth of this species darting over the roses the previous evening hunting sweets, so I knew I would be right in picturing one there. The newly emerged moth was travelling briskly in that first exercise it takes, while I arranged my camera; so by the time I was ready, it had reached the place to rest quietly until its wings developed. Carolina climbed on my finger with all assurance, walked briskly from it to the roses, and clung there firmly. The wet wings dropped into position, and the sun dried them rapidly. I fell in love with my subject. He stepped around so jauntily in comparison with most moths. The picture he made while clinging to the roses during the first exposure was lovely. The flowers were at their prime, and their delicate pinks and greens made a setting that could not have been surpassed in harmony, and it had the added attraction of being appropriate. His slender, trim legs seemed to have three long joints, and two short on the feet. In his sidewise position toward the lens, the abdomen showed silver-white beneath, silvery grey on the sides, and large patches of orange surrounded by black, with touches of white on top. His wings were folded together on his back as they drooped, showing only the under sides, and on these the markings were more clearly defined than on top. In the sunlight the fore pair were a warm tan grey, exquisitely lined and shaded. They were a little more than half covered by the back pair, that folded over them. These were a darker grey, with tan and almost black shadings, and crossed by sharply zig-zagging lines of black. The grey legs were banded by lines of white. The first pair clung to the stamens of the rose, the second to the petals, and the third stretched out and rested on a leaf. There were beautiful markings of very dark colour and white on the thorax, head, shoulders, and back wings next the body. The big eyes, quite the largest of any moth I remember, reminded me of owl eyes in the light. The antennae, dark, grey-brown on top, and white on the under side, turned back and drooped beside the costa, no doubt in the position they occupied in the pupa case. The location was so warm, and the moth dried so rapidly, that by the time two good studies were made of him in this position, he felt able to step to some leaves, and with no warning whatever, reversed his wings to the "fly" position, so that only the top side of the front pair showed. The colour was very rich and beautiful, but so broken in small patches and lines, as to be difficult to describe. With the reversal of the wings the antennae flared a little higher, and the exercise of the sucking tube began. The moth would expose the whole length of the tube in a coil, which it would make larger and contract by turns, at times drawing it from sight. When it was uncoiled the farthest, a cleft in the face where it fitted could be seen. I tried to take a snapshot showing this tongue exercise, but the dark leaves made such a poor background that the picture is not much of a success. The next day my second Carolina case produced a beautiful female. The history of her emergence was exactly similar to that of the male. Her head, shoulders, and abdomen seemed nearly twice the size of his, while her wings but a trifle, if any larger. As these moths are feeders, and live for weeks, I presume when the female has deposited her eggs, the abdomen contracts, and loses its weight so that she does not require the large wings of the females that only deposit their eggs and die. They are very heavy, and if forced to flight must have big wings to support them. I was so interested in this that I slightly chloroformed the female, and made a study of the pair. The male was fully alive and alert, but they had not mated, and he would not take wing. He clung in his natural position, so that he resembled a big fly, on the smooth side of the sheet of corrugated paper on which I placed the female. His wings folded over each other. The abdomen and the antennae were invisible, because they were laid flat on the costa of each wing. The female clung to the board, in any position in which she was placed. Her tongue readily uncoiled, showing its extreme length, and curled around a pin. With a camel's hair brush I gently spread her wings to show how near they were the size of the male's, and how much larger her body was. Her fore-wings were a trifle lighter in colour than the male's, and not so broken with small markings. The back wings were very similar. Her antennae stood straight out from the head on each side, of their own volition and differed from the male's. It has been my observation that in repose these moths fold the antennae as shown by the male. The position of the female was unnatural. In flight, or when feeding, the antennae are raised, and used as a guide in finding food flowers. A moth with broken antennae seems dazed and helpless, and in great distress.
A Pair of Garden Flies Showing Tongue of Female I have learned by experience in handling moths, that when I induce one to climb upon bark, branch, or flower for a study, they seldom place their wings as I want them. Often it takes long and patient coaxing, and they are sensitive to touch. If I try to force a fore-wing with my fingers to secure a wider sweep, so that the markings of the back wings show, the moths resent it by closing them closer than before, climbing to a different location or often taking flight. But if I use a fine camel's-hair brush, that lacks the pulsation of circulation, and gently stroke the wing, and sides of the abdomen, the moths seems to like the sensation and grow sleepy or hypnotized. By using the brush I never fail to get wing extension that will show markings, and at the same time the feet and body are in a natural position. After all is said there is to say, and done there is to do, the final summing up and judgment of any work on Natural History will depend upon whether it is true to nature. It is for this reason I often have waited for days and searched over untold miles to find the right location, even the exact leaf, twig or branch on which a subject should be placed. Then I have used from one to three assistants, worked under the nerve racking suspense of fearing my moth would take sudden flight, and escape entirely or be broken and disfigured in recapture, in order that these studies may have an outdoor atmosphere, a proper background, middle distance and foreground, the subject sharply outlined in a natural pose, and nothing introduced that detracts from the central interest. Almost without exception each illustration of this book conforms to these requirements; if one does not, I have explained why in the text of that chapter. Then with the finest water colours and brushes I could buy, using the living, newly emerged moth for my model, I have copied line and colour as exactly as lay in my power. Having undertaken the work with no knowledge of water colours and gone on with it by applying what I knew of work in oils to the different medium, it is very possible that some of it may appear crude in its finer details, but you will have the satisfaction of knowing you possess a handmade, homemade book, and that colour, markings, pose, and background are right.
Where Elnora Found the Most Garden Flies Perhaps you have been smiling as you read because I have dignified my illustration by repeatedly referring to it as "studies," of differing subjects. If you have, think again before you indulge in any more mirth at my expense. I have undertaken all the work and used the time necessary to secure these illustrations as I have described, also I have gone farther and raised most of the subjects by hand, which begins with watching the egg period, runs through weeks of exacting and scrupulous work in feeding and cleaning after caterpillars, providing spinning locations, properly caring for cocoon or pupae through months of changing winter weather, delaying emergence until the season is sufficiently advanced to provide the natural, outdoor background for each species, then carrying them to it and inducing them to pose naturally. I frankly admit that I consider painstaking work, extending over a year in most instances, elevates these illustrations to the dignity of studies. I plead guilty to the use of an anesthetic in this chapter only to show the tongue extension of Carolina, because it is the extremest with which I am acquainted; and to coaxing wide wing sweep with the camel's hair brush; otherwise either the fact that my subjects are too close [to] emergence ever to have taken flight, or sex attraction alone holds them. If you do not discover love running through every line of this text and see it shining from the face of each study and painting, you do not read aright and your eyes need attention. Again and again to the protests of my family, I have made answer -- "To work we love we rise betimes, and go to it with delight." From the middle of May to the end of June of the year I was most occupied with this book, my room was filled with cocoons and pupa cases. The encased moths I had reason to believe were on the point of appearing lay on a chair beside my bed or a tray close [to] my pillow. That month I did not average two hours of sleep in a night, and had less in the daytime. I not only arose "betimes," but at any time I heard a scratching and tugging moth working to enter the world, and when its head was out, I was up and ready with note-book and camera. Day helped the matter but slightly, for any moth emerging in the night had to be provided a location, and pictured before ten o'clock or it was not safe to take it outside. Then I had literally "to fly" to develop the plate, make my print and secure exact colour reproduction while the moth was fresh. If these paintings appear brighter to you than any others you ever have seen, remember this; and also compare the positions in which these moths are reproduced with your favourite work on this subject. If a moth shows no feet, its antennae always stand stiffly forward, its abdomen is shrunken and shrivelled, and its wings are raised above a straight line crossing the top of the thorax level with the wing bases, by these signs you will know it is a dried, faded subject from a museum or private collection, and that its colours are as untrue to life as its position and form. For this is a point to remember in photographing a moth. A free living moth never raises its wings higher than a straight line from the bases crossing the top of the thorax. It requires expert and adept coaxing to get them horizontal with their bases. If you do, you show all markings required, and preserve natural values, quite the most important things to be considered. Since 1904 I have been collecting subjects, reproducing them in half-tone and colour, and gathering data for this book. All the big, non-feeding night moths of the Limberlost are here reproduced and some of day. Of the latter there are thousands, almost as beautiful, but one would require ten ordinary lifetimes and never a duty besides, to secure and reproduce all of them as I have these. There is a big brown moth with white lines and dark markings, Erebus odora, that I in all probability would lose my head completely if I found in the Limberlost. It is a South American species and has been taken as far north as Canada, so it is not impossible that I yet may find one. I am firmly convinced that a moth even rarer has been in the locality. One day coming from work on a cuckoo nest on the banks of the Wabash, I found Bob and Molly-Cotton scarlet of face, almost breathless and wailing like the paid mourners of an Arabian funeral, for volume, but with heartbreaking earnestness. They had chased a moth neither ever before had seen, until reduced to this state, when it arose high, crossed the river and was lost in the Stanley woods. Pressed for description Bob said it was "gray Scotch plaid." Molly was more definite. She stoutly affirmed it was a big moth cut from a piece of her camel's-hair dress. Now the dress was purchased in Cincinnati, at greater expense than I could afford really, my excuse being that it was irresistibly beautiful. The cloth was soft fine camel's-hair, the background white, the plaid broad wavy bands covering the white, and these were made up of the softest of grays, half a dozen browns, almost a hint of yellow and delicate black lines. I was then and am yet convinced they pursued Thysania zenobia, an abundant Mexican species, that I do not know of having been taken north of Georgia. I made a discovery with Carolina. Moths having digestive organs and that are feeders are susceptible to anaesthetics in a far higher degree than those that do not feed. Many scientific workers confess to having poured full strength chloroform directly on nonfeeders, mounted them as pinned specimens and later found them living; so that sensitive lepidopterists have abandoned its use for the cyanide or gasoline jar. I intended to give only a whiff of chloroform to this moth, just enough that she would allow her tongue to remain uncoiled until I could snap its fullest extent, but I could not revive her. The same amount would have had no effect whatever on a non-feeder.
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