CHAPTER XVIII 



Samia cecropia 



WHEN the first fireflies are sparkling here and there 

 among the fresh dark foliage, and when the migrant 

 warblers from the Southland have ceased to fill the 

 evening air with their sharp clear voices, it is then that 

 the great cecropia moths are on the wing, hovering silently among 

 the newly opened blossoms, for it is the first real sultry night in June. 

 During the day they have been creeping forth from their big winter- 

 worn cocoons to dry their wings, long cramped and matted. But 

 now it is night, it is time to venture abroad into a new world, perhaps 

 to mate and to start a new generation, perhaps to enter the open net 

 of an eager entomologist or perhaps to feed some hungry, prowling 

 animal. 



Soon after this first night of freedom, the female moth who has 

 been fortunate in avoiding its enemies is ready to lay her eggs. 

 These are deposited in small white clusters upon the underside of the 

 leaves of our cultivated fruit trees. Unfortunately we cannot alter 

 this law of nature and thus the cecropia must fall in our estimation, 

 like so many other insects, wonderful and beautiful to look upon, but 

 "Noxious" as the sentiment-lacking entomologist must class them. 

 If the moths would confine their attacks to the larger trees, such as 

 the apple or pear, the cecropia would do little or no damage, as the 

 moths lay but a few eggs upon a single tree. However, when these 

 occur upon a small currant or other fruit bearing bush, as they fre- 

 quently do, it is but a very short time after the caterpillars hatch 



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