A BUG BANQUET. 195 



and with them are usually a few green flies and 

 big black ants. The moth wishes also a place at 

 the festal board but her company is not relished 

 by the hornets. She flutters about and alights 

 a foot away. Then in awkward hops she moves 

 over or up to a point where she can reach with 

 her proboscis the liquid food she seeks. Immedi- 

 ately one or two of the hornets buzz after her, 

 chasing her for a few feet then back again to 

 their sap sipping. It is a country bar-room, a 

 blind tiger, a loafing place for bugs. As long 

 as the sap exudes there will both hornets and 

 underwing congregate, the latter taking a chance 

 at getting a drink when the hornets are tem- 

 porarily absent. 



The oak beneath which I am seated as I write 

 is the one farthest from my tent. It is shorter 

 with more rounded top than the other two, and 

 has on one side a rift or long scar where once 

 struck by lightning. The top was perhaps taken 

 out by the same bolt. While here I have dis- 

 covered that dry white oak bark is a most ex- 

 cellent fuel and serves also well for kindling. 

 On the tree next to the tent it flakes off easily in 

 long thin pieces, somewhat as does that of the 

 shell-bark hickory. I pull it off in small pieces 

 each day, and in so doing I am a barber of na- 

 ture and am trimming the hair of the tree. It 

 is the dead outer portion and its removal does 

 no harm. The three oaks are the rulers of this 



