black oaks will die in the first year after 

 the disease hits them, while some of the 

 white oaks hang on for five or six years." 



A Monarch butterfly hit our wind- 

 shield and was damaged beyond recov- 

 ery. "They're migrating now." I asked, 

 "Do you mean that butterflies migrate 

 south, like birds?" "Oh, yes," was the 

 answer. "Migration studies have been 

 made in which the wings of the butter- 

 flies are stamped or tagged so that their 

 migration patterns can be traced, just as 

 with the birds. It's now known that 

 Monarchs may migrate a thousand miles 

 or more, and that many of the same in- 

 dividuals return." 



"What about the Monarchs that breed 

 farther north — along the Canadian bor- 

 der? Would they have enough time to 

 make a return trip before they die of 

 old age?" Davis speculated. 



"That's certainly the first question 

 that comes to mind. 3 Curious — it's the 

 same question we're asking, too, now 

 that we're thinking of possible human 

 migrations to other planets. It wouldn't 

 be the same generation to arrive that 

 departed." 



"That would be a heck of a way to 

 spend your life — en route." 



"Maybe it's not much different from 

 what we do here on this planet, anyway." 



"Look at the midges!" Clouds of in- 

 sects, light as spindrift, were suspended 

 in puffs over the ditches beside the road. 

 A bird floated, motionless, on the rising 

 air. As we tried to identify it from the 

 speeding car, we almost hit a fox squir- 

 rel streaming across our line of vision, 

 with its tail flat against the road. In 

 another few minutes we were in Grant 

 Park, and, turning off the highway, en- 

 tered the grounds of the Lake Metonga 

 Club. 



Up at the clubhouse, we explained 

 our mission. The officials there were 

 expecting our visit and offered us every 

 facility we needed. We headed for the 

 boat dock. I felt that we looked a 

 strange crew. Intruders upon a gay 

 resort scene, with people all about us 

 dressed in bright play clothes and bent 



3 Recent evidence indicates that, in the case 

 of Monarchs that breed north of the 48th paral- 

 lel, the returning butterflies are the next genera- 

 tion offspring of those that began the migration 

 the year before. 



Page J, 



on pleasure, we were awkwardly con- 

 spicuous in the rough field clothes that 

 constitute the naturalist's working garb. 

 This was surely a strange place to be 

 conducting a Museum field trip! What 

 could we possibly find here that would 

 be of use to natural history research? 

 Apparently I was not the only one who 

 doubted, for almost without discussion, 

 we agreed not to unload our equipment 

 from the car but to row out onto the 

 water-filled quarry first, to reconnoiter. 



Near the center of the quarry was the 

 submerged sandbar where young Dooley 

 had collected his specimens. Dubiously, 

 we began our search. 



Five minutes passed. We saw nothing 

 unusual in the mustardy-green waters 

 lapping the boat. I began to regret not 

 having brought my swim suit. Then 

 Solem called out, "I see one!" 



"Where?" But it was gone. We 

 scanned the murky water, mourning our 

 lack of a glass-bottomed vessel. Then 

 Nelson spotted a second specimen. "It 

 was floating downward, with its mouth 

 up." Davis questioned, "Would that 

 be a healthy condition?" "I think so," 

 Nelson said. "They pulsate up to the 

 surface and then turn over, spread their 

 tentacles, and drift down. Food caught 

 on the tentacles is pushed against the 

 mouth of the creature, and this seems 

 to be the main way it feeds." 



Reassured by the sighting of two spec- 

 imens, we rowed back to the dock to get 

 our collecting gear. Out of the car 

 trunk were unloaded a gallon thermos 

 jar, a dipping net, a long-handled pan, 

 a shallow enamel tray, hand lenses, a 

 thermometer, still and motion picture 

 cameras, and — perhaps by mistake — the 

 quart thermos jar of coffee I had insisted 

 on bringing along. 



With this gear and our party now dis- 

 posed in two boats, we headed once more 

 toward the sand bar. Again, Solem was 

 the first to descry a specimen. But some- 

 one else happened to have the net, and 

 by the time we got it to him, the jellyfish 

 was out of sight. We leaned over the 

 sides of the boats, concentrating on the 

 search. Then Davis said, "Here's one." 



Xelson quickly reached out with the 

 net and snagged the creature, but w^hen 

 the net was brought close to the boat 

 and examined, we found that the jelly- 

 fish had eluded the snare. A pause while 

 Xelson peered into the water around the 

 net, a deft maneuver with the pan, and 

 then, "Here it is!" We all crowded 

 close to examine the first, live, fresh- 

 water jellyfish that most of us had ever 

 seen. 



What was it like? To me, it appeared 

 hardly more than a thready blob of 

 mucous — and even that, partly trans- 

 parent — but somehow it was unac- 

 countably, excitingly alive. Vigorous 

 contractions sent it pulsating through 

 the water; a delicate fringe of tentacles 

 waved rhythmically beneath a tiny, um- 

 brella-shaped body. We marveled, and 

 turned to the search with fresh energy. 



In a few minutes, Xelson's dipping 

 net reached out and another specimen 

 was secured. It, too, was poured into 

 the shallow tray for examination, and 

 then into the gallon jar. We began to 

 sight larger numbers of specimens. Every- 

 one was eager to catch his share, but 

 there was a shortage of dipping vessels. 

 Someone noticed the coffee thermos, un- 

 screwed the top, and passed the cups 

 around. We each had a utensil now 

 and, leaning over the water at comic 

 angles, began to haul in specimens at a 

 great rate. 



The hunted: Craspedacusta sowerbyi 



