THE CANADIAN ENTOMOLOGIST. 115 



WINTERING VANESSA ANTIOPA. 



P,Y C. G. SIEWERS, NEWPORT, KY. 



This beautiful diurnal — the " Camberwell Beauty" of England, and 

 very inappropriately styled the " Mourning Cloak" by Americans, for is 

 it not clothed in a mantle of imperial purple, fringed with gold lace ? — is 

 well known to hybernate. It is occasionally found in stone piles in the 

 winter, but I think its most common hiding-place is in the culvert walls 

 of our country roads and turnpikes. It requires a cold, moist, dark 

 place, or it will dry up. 



Capturing a fine female on the 9th of October, 1876, I concluded to 

 winter it. Placing it in a net cage with a dish of apple, sugar and water, 

 I supposed my share of the performance over. It fed for several weeks, 

 then fluttered a good deal and died the beginning of December. It had 

 fairly dried up. This showed bad management. Last fall, on September 

 7th, passing a tree sugared the night before, I captured another female. 

 This one I placed in a paper box eight inches square and high, removed 

 the core of half an apple, sliced off a bit of the round side to steady it, 

 placed it in a small two-inch dish, covered with sugar, and filled up with 

 water. Once a week I renewed the water and sugar. It placed itself on 

 the side of the box, directly over and within reach of the dish, and how 

 ever I moved the apple I always found that it followed it around. 



It evidently fed on warm days, but never opened its wings. I kept it 

 in an up-stairs, cold room, where water would freeze, but still not as cold 

 as out doors. It allowed me to handle it, and would lie flat on my hand 

 without movement. In February I thought there were symptoms of weak- 

 ening. It no longer perched on the side of the box, but remained on 

 the bottom, leaning over very much -to one side. 



Placing it in sunshine the last week of February, it began to open its 

 wings little by little, with short jerks, as if the tendons were loosening. 

 When half open it was put away again. On the nth of March, a warm 

 cloudy day, I took it on my finger to an open window. While looking at 

 its clear eyes the sun suddenly shone out, and the next moment it was 

 gone. I had proposed to try and find a mate for it, but concluded to 

 keep it till others were flying, and then take it to its old neighborhood and 

 let it go. As it took the direction of its place of capture I was pretty sure 



