TREACLING 157 



have been secured. There is an air of magic about 

 a well-attended treacle-feast that savours of the calling 

 of spirits from the "vasty deep." The woods that 

 might have been thought mothless are filled with a 

 soft- winged, fire-eyed host so intent on their spread 

 that we can take what toll we will of their numbers, 

 sparing and destroying according to the needs of 

 the cabinet, or the freshness or otherwise of the 

 victim's plumage. 



As trout have to be educated into a taste for the 

 artificial fly, so moths have to be gradually sophisti- 

 cated into a taste for rum and molasses. We have 

 " sugared " very promising haunts on a perfect night 

 without attracting any but the commonest species. 

 On the other hand, three plum trees in a tiny suburban 

 garden, where the treacle-jar is an established institu- 

 tion, have yielded night after night in July and 

 August a succession of moths running into dozens 

 of species, some of them unrepresented in many a 

 pretentious collection. As there are hundreds of 

 parishes in Great Britain where the treacle has never 

 been smeared, it is probable that a little perseverance 

 in this direction would result in some notable exten- 

 sions of the British list. 



Butterflies, except the dusk-loving meadow-brown, 

 have folded their wings for the night when we begin 

 to smear the alluring and slightly intoxicating liquid 

 on the first tree at the edge of the wood. Farther 

 in, where the foliage obstructs the level glow of the 

 western sky, the wood is almost dark, and the croaking 

 night-jar has already awakened to its night of activity. 

 The weather is ideal for our purpose, an overcast sky 

 making the night both warm and dark, and only 



