198 LIFE AND SPORT IN HAMPSHIRE 



to suppose that all the finery of caterpillars means 

 and leads to absolutely nothing. Hence, some minds 

 have concluded that all the fine colour and patterns 

 on a caterpillar's skin are nothing more or less than 

 warnings to its enemy that it is not fit for food. If 

 this were so, the peacock butterfly caterpillar, full grown, 

 would be armed indeed against the foe; the silvery 

 sequins on black velvet would warn the foe; and, if 

 these were not enough, the spines might well repel it. 



Often intelligence in the insect world seems but 

 automatic intelligence, working in machine-like fashion, 

 so that seeming exceptions may be almost startling. 

 I recall one which I noticed whilst angling. There is 

 a grasshopper, whose name I am not sure of, very 

 lively in a reed bed by the lower Test, where I have 

 seen the lovely scarlet tiger moth flying, like a butter- 

 fly, in full daylight. A patch of reeds will be loud 

 with these insects on a July day; they jerk about 

 amongst the undergrowth, preferring spots for song 

 and exercise where the reeds are thin, and louse-wort 

 and other marsh-loving plants thrive. Alarmed, they 

 take a flying leap or two, but will soon give up this 

 plan or instinct of escape. Instead, the grasshopper 

 will jerk itself on to the stem of reed or river grass, 

 and, in this position, clearly keep an eye on you, if 

 you go near and attend to it. Here is nothing out of 

 the common insect run. The automaton is working 

 in the familiar way ; no sign here of insect thinker 

 or scheme. 



