38 The Field Naturalist' s Quarterly Feb. 



Entomology in Winter. 



By Claude Morley, F.E.S., &c. 



In these days of agricultural depression, when the making 

 of fortunes is in the city and the losing of them stalks 

 throughout the provinces, the country is, more than ever 

 before in the history of mankind, regarded as a mere play- 

 ground in which to exercise our skill in stirrup, rod, gun, or 

 golf -club; and it is only through sheer force of modern 

 thought that its more obscure denizens come to receive 

 keener attention than they obtained at a time of greater 

 familiarity. In Nature's heyday gorgeous butterflies career 

 throughout our lanes and forests, soft-winged moths describe 

 grotesque gyrations around our apartments, great dragon- 

 flies flash their wings before the fisher's eye, or an animated 

 gem darts gleaming across the path we tread, to call forth 

 the prosaic " How lovely ! " but to receive no second thought 

 from us. 



Few persons, consequently, ask themselves, when the dun 

 days of autumn cast the sombre shadow of their lowering sky 

 athwart the world, "Where are these things gone?" Are 

 they ephemeral as poesy would have them, do they indeed 

 die in half an hour ; and how then is the race propagated 

 during the long months when no bright creature is seen in 

 the length and breadth of a long day's journey ? 



Millions truly perish, but winter does not kill them. The 

 first keen blast warns them that their time draws near 

 indeed, and instinct prompts them to hasten the deposi- 

 tion of their eggs ; and when this task is done their Ultima 

 Thule is attained, and life has no more use for them than if 

 they had oviposited in May — for those whom Nature ordains 

 shall complete their mission in May, die in May, as surely 

 as their later brethren, fulfilling theirs, die in October. 



And these eggs, deposited with more than human care and 

 perspicacity, what becomes of them ? Snugly ensconced in 

 some nook or sheltered cranny, they lie pacified by the 

 rigour of the season till the genial warmth of balmier days 



