NATURE LORE 



up to the same spot, all the time leaving the white silk 

 thread. It kept climbing up and up till I had to get on a 

 chair to see it, and once I lost my balance and jumped 

 down, jarring it so that I knocked it to the floor. But up 

 it got, and climbed up, and spent the rest of the afternoon 

 alternately wriggling about to find just the right place 

 and making a silken background in one spot. The next 

 day it was still on the window-ledge. About eleven o'clock 

 it disappeared, and I hunted and hunted before I found 

 it on the under side of the porch railing! It was busily 

 making its network, but it made far less than either of the 

 others, and most of the time it was staying quite still. 

 The following day, about noon, it made its cord, anchor- 

 ing that at one end, then at the other, and going back 

 and forth to strengthen it. When the cord was ready, it 

 put its head through (the cord was made ahead of it) and 

 wriggled itself into the cord; it wriggled fully as hard as 

 when yours got itself out of its striped cover. So slowly 

 and carefully it made its way into place, being most 

 careful not to strain the cord. We watched breathlessly. 

 It pushed itself so far through that it was about half and 

 half, and then it had to wriggle backward till its head 

 and a third of its body was through, and two thirds not 

 through; and wriggling back took far greater care than 

 forward. It stayed just that way, all huddled up for 

 nearly four days, when about eight o'clock in the morn- 

 ing it split and divested itself of its robe. It is matching 

 the brown woodwork like yours, and there all three 

 are! 



The incomparable French natural-historian and 

 felicitous writer Henri Fabre has witnessed what I 

 never have: he has seen the caterpillar build its case 

 or cocoon. In the instance which he describes it was 



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