The Way of the Mosquito. 39 



tion, but she doesn't. If she stung to defend herself, like 

 the wasp, it would be easy. It must be her brutal passion 

 for blood that prompts her to attack helpless human 

 beings. She cannot get this craving by inheritance, for 

 the chances are that none of her ancestors as far back as 

 William the Conqueror ever had a taste of human blood, 

 and yet, sit out on your front stoop of an evening, and a 

 mosquito, not half an hour out of the water, will make as 

 straight for you as if she had been born for that purpose. 

 When one thinks of the great clouds of these torments 

 that live and die in swamps where no warm-blooded 



Fig. 8. Culex pungens, female, common mosquito. 



animal ever comes, for fear of being mired, one can easily 

 believe the estimate of entomologists that not one in a 

 million ever samples red blood. 



It is supposed that the true food of the mosquitoes is 

 vegetables, but they have been known to eat the chrysalids 

 of butterflies, young fish, and even turtles. Hardtack 

 they have been noticed to enjoy, and hot boiled potato 

 with the jacket off ; honey appeals to their fancy ; molasses 

 is not so bad ; they tipple a little beer when they can get it, 

 and a watermelon rind is deservedly popular with them. 

 But human blood is what they chiefly delight in. A 

 tender-hearted person is tempted to let them bite all they 

 want, seeing how keenly they enjoy it. One of them 

 lights on the hand, ravenous as a wolf, thin as a needle, 



