MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST 



chase, one went nearly from sight in a trumpet creeper. 

 With a sweep the flower was closed behind it, and I ran 

 into the house crying that at last I had caught a Lady 

 Bird. Holding carefully, the trumpet was cut open with 

 a pin, and although the moth must have been slightly 

 pinched, and lacking in down when released, I clung to it 

 until my mother and every doubting member of my 

 family was convinced that this was no bird at all, for it 

 lacked beak, tail, and feathers, while it had six legs and 

 four wings. Father was delighted that I had learned 

 something new, all by myself; but I really think it slightly 

 provoked my mother when thereafter I always refused to 

 call it a bird. This certainly was reprehensible. She 

 should have known all the time that it was a moth. 



The other day a club woman of Chicago who never in 

 her life has considered money, who always has had un- 

 limited opportunities for culture both in America and 

 Europe, who speaks half a dozen languages, and has the 

 care of but one child, came in her automobile to investi- 

 gate the Limberlost. Almost her first demand was to 

 see pictures. One bird study I handed her was of a 

 brooding king rail, over a foot tall, with a three-foot wing 

 sweep, and a long curved bill. She cried, "Oh! see the 

 dear little hummingbird!" 



If a woman of unlimited opportunity, in this day of the 

 world, does not know a rail from a hummingbird, what 

 could you expect of my little mother, who spoke only 



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