16 THE GYPSY MOTH. 



trees very near, but they would spin down from somewhere. (Mrs. 

 R. Tuttle.) 



In the summer of 1889, while living on Park Street, Medford, 

 we were literally overrun with the gypsy moth caterpillars. That 

 summer we could have got the caterpillars out of the holes in the 

 trees by pecks. After the caterpillars ate all the leaves off the 

 trees, they went down into the grass, where they swarmed. When 

 the plague was the worst that summer, I do not exaggerate when 

 I say that there was not a place on the outside of the house where 

 you could put your hand without touching caterpillars. They 

 crawled all over the roof and upon the fence and the plank 

 walks. We crushed them under foot on the walks. We went 

 as little as possible out of the side door which was on the side 

 of the house next to the apple trees, because the caterpillars 

 clustered so thickly on that side of the house. The front door 

 was not quite so bad. We always tapped the screen doors when 

 we opened them, and the monstrous great creatures would fall 

 down, but in a minute or two would crawl up the side of the 

 house again. When the caterpillars were the thickest on the trees, 

 we could plainly hear the noise of their nibbling at night when all 

 was still. It sounded like the pattering of very fine rain-drops. 

 If we walked under the trees we got nothing less than a shower 

 bath of caterpillars. We had a hammock hung between the trees 

 that summer, but we could not use it at all. The caterpillars 

 spun down from the trees by hundreds, even when they were of 

 a large size. We had tarred paper around the trees, but they 

 crawled up the trunks in masses and went right over the paper. 

 The bodies of those that got stuck in the printers' ink served as a 

 bridge for their brethren. The caterpillars were so thick on the 

 trees that they were stuck together like cold macaroni. A little 

 later in the season we saw literally thousands of moths fluttering 

 in the back yard. In the fall the nests were stuck all over the 

 street trees. (J. P. Dill, then living on Park Street.) 



No one who did not see the caterpillars at that time can form 

 any idea of what a pest they were. They got into the strawberry 

 bed (although they did not eat the leaves), and I used to go out 

 with a dustpan and brush and sweep them up by the panful. It 

 seemed to us absolutely necessary to go out daily and make an 

 effort to at least lessen their numbers. We killed many with boil- 

 ing hot water, and would then dig a hole and bury them, so as to 

 prevent a stench. Mr. Belcher was poisoned by them. While 

 killing them upon the trees they would get upon his neck and blis- 

 ter and poison it. It was impossible to stay long in the garden, 

 for they would crawl all over one. We fought them for two or 



