o 



90 ' THE CANADIAN ENTOMOLOGIST. 



for an extraordinary number of species. It was on this blossom 

 that I first captured specimens of the Orsodacna, our representa- 

 tive of Tribe II, and on the top-rail of the snake-fence, beside it 

 I took one of the few specimens I have ever seen of Syneta, another 

 of the four genera contained in this tribe. The Orsodacna (or 

 Bud-gnawer) is said by Blatchley to feed on willow-blossoms, 

 and this season, as early as April, I was on the look-out for it about 

 clumps of willows in bloom, but the only thing new to me that I 

 obser\-ed Avas a small moth dancing up and down in lively zigzag 

 flight OAer the willow bushes; it was almost as small as a clothes 

 moth, blackish with a cream or white bar near the apex of the 

 wing. From its extremely long hair-like antennae I should judge 

 it a species of Adela. We have but one species of Orsodacna. and 

 I ha\-e always found it in great numbers, once here and. once in 

 Lakefield. The specific name is atra (black), but it is very vari- 

 able, and specimens sent by me to Guelph, taken aU at the same 

 time off this hawthorn bush some years ago, were returned labelled 

 under no less than four varietal forms. The pigmentation of the 

 elytra, normally black, becomes less heavy and the wing-covers 

 show light brown with darker disks and markings. In some of 

 its forms the blend of colours is very pretty; the beetle is narrow- 

 oblong and the texture of its upper surface is of an oily smooth- 

 ness. 



Let us cross the meadow west to the railway track; near the 

 fence that extends from the hawthorn tree to the railway, on the 

 south side are some sand-drifts where I have captured no less than 

 six species of Tiger-beetle at various times in the season. The 

 meadow to the north is less sandy and springs ooze out from its 

 surface and meander over the grassy slopes. Here in September 

 the meadow is white and fragrant with Spiranthes cernua, the nod- 

 ding Ladies' Tresses, one of our autumn orchids. Just where we 

 strike the railway is an immense patch of that rather rare plant, 

 the Grass of Parnassus, whose green-veined creamy white blossoms 

 in August and September make as brave a show as the anemone 

 in June and July. It is a sure sign of springs in the soil and further 

 south there are traces of an old sphagnum moss swamp; though it 

 is years since the railway hacked away the trees and shrubs, marsh 

 pyrola and the Showy Ladies' Slipper annually rear their upright 



