SUMMER NUMBER 9 
under the overhanging edge of a perpendicular bank. As it 
darts away it usually becomes lost among the tree trunks. But 
by following it carefully with our eyes—and feet too—we can 
sometimes locate the alighting place. If we are so fortunate 
the stalking begins. No use to try a frontal attack on these wary 
fellows; they will invariably fly again long before cone gets within 
striking distance. Having spotted our moth we will make a wide 
detour, the radius of the circle being in direct proportion to our 
desire for that particular moth, keeping our eyes constantly on 
the central tree trunk. The chances are that he will fly again 
before we can get near him, but sometimes fortune again smiles 
and we get up to the tree unobserved. By cautiously peeping 
around the bole we may bring one of his wings into view without 
being seen ourselves. Having thus located our quarry we make 
a quick sweep around the tree and capture our prize—sometimes. 
More usually we catch nothing but a fleeting glimpse of his 
gay underwings as the now thoroly frightened moth betakes 
himself to parts unknown. Rarely indeed does he give us another 
chance at him. Altho the chances are against us at every turn, 
if we are persistent and the moths plentiful, we may occasion- 
ally experience the thrill of seeing one wildly flapping in the net; 
a freshly landed trout jumping on the bank has no greater. But 
the moth is game to the last and sorrow and exasperation will 
surely be our lot if there is a hole in the net. But should fortune 
frown upon us and we leave the woods with empty bottle, we 
reek no more than the luckless fisherman who at the close of a 
perfect day goes home to a supper of collards. Have we not en- 
joyed a rare game? Are our lungs not full of the ozone of the 
forest, and our eyes and nerves, tired by a week’s work in office 
or laboratory, again refreshed? It is rare sport, much superior 
I am convinced to either tennis or golf, and as for sitting idly 
on a bare bleacher and watching someone else play baseball— 
one might as well go to a formal reception. 
Only in the more dense hammocks may we hope to find the 
underwings, a forest to whose floor but few rays of sunshine 
penetrate. And it must be a high and dry hammock where the 
larva’s host plants, oaks and hickories, grow. A low hammock 
of maples, ashes and sourgums will yield us nothing. Further- 
more it must, for a successful hunt, be comparatively free of 
underbrush. Not that the catocalas object to underbrush but 
the hunter does. To put all your energy and thought into a 
grand final sweep with the net only to tear it on a greenbrier 
