MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST 



specimens were faded; but the living moths were beau- 

 tiful beyond description. Naturally I coveted life. 



I was very particular to secure the history of the cater- 

 pillars and their favourite foods. I learned from Mr. 

 Eisen that they were all of the same shape and habit, but 

 some of them might be green, with cream-coloured heads 

 and feet, and black face lines, the body covered sparsely 

 with long white hairs; or they might be brown, with mark- 

 ings of darker brown and black with white hairs; but they 

 would be at least three inches long when full grown, and 

 would have a queer habit of rearing and drawing leaves 

 to their mouths when feeding. I was told I would find 

 them in August, on leaves of spruce, pine, cherry, birch, 

 alder, sycamore, elm, or maple; that they pupated in the 

 ground; and the moths were common, especially around 

 lights in city parks, and at street crossings. 



Armed with this information, and spurred by my love 

 of yellow, hours were spent when my cameras were fo- 

 cused on a bird nest, audi was waiting for my subjects to 

 assume some desirable attitude, in searching for the moths 

 in June, the caterpillars in August and early September, 

 and when lifting wild roots for pupae in the fall. Afield, 

 when the light grew too dim for bird work, I hunted moths 

 and secured them in larger numbers than I could use, and 

 of many differing families, but never a yellow one. 



Coming from a drive one rare June evening, I found 

 Mr. William Pettis, a shooter of oil wells, whom I fre- 



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