106 The Canadian Field-Naturalist [Vol. XXXVI 



WIXDOW-PANE VISITORS IN YARMOUTH COUNTY, NOVA SCOTIA 



By E. Chesley Allen 



BEYOND the western shore of the lake the 

 outline of the forest stands out jagged and 

 dark against the sunset sky, and with the 

 dying evening breeze the mirrors, that have been 

 forming in the little coves, creep forth and grow 

 until they cover the lake's broad surface, and throw 

 back in faithful detail the wooded margins beyond. 



The bird chorus has ceased, save where from the 

 dead top of some tall spruce the White-throat's 

 crystal song floats out across the clearing, or high 

 in the air the Nighthawk catches himself on vibrant 

 wing. 



The shadows deepen. The dark green of the 

 firs is turning to black, and the ferns of the forest 

 floor become lost in the deepening shadows. Now 

 little is distinct but the white ghostlike trunks of 

 the birches. The twilight birds have ceased; and 

 the only sound is the long, weird wail of the Loon 

 echoing from the lower lake. 



We retreat to our little cabin, and a lamp is 

 placed in the long, low window. Almost imme- 

 diately, from out the mysterious recesses and long 

 dark aisles of the forest, there come to our window 

 panes strange troops of fairy-winged creatures, 

 large or small, of many colours, plain or gaudy, but 

 each after its own kind bearing the stamp of 

 nature's infinite and inexhaustible beauty. 



The first to arrive is a troop of tiny moths, so 

 tiny as hardly to be recognized as moths. They 

 alight on the pane closest to the bright light, and 

 circle rapidly about and among each other in a 

 puzzling series of gyrations, like whirligig beetles on 

 the surface of some quffet pool. Move the lamp up 

 or down, or from side to side and they follow its 

 bright lure, but never cease that tireless, mazy 

 dance. 



Now the gay figure of the tiny dancer is broken 

 for a moment as a great brown body bounds against 

 the glass and is gone. But it has not gone far. 

 Out there on the edge of the light it stops and poises 

 over the tempting horns of the honeysuckle — a 

 beautiful trim hawk moth, (Hyloicus kalmise). Just 

 below, over another cluster of bloom, hovers a 

 relative, (,H. gordius), dressed in sober black, white, 

 and gray. It is these moths that are so often 

 mistaken for Hummingbirds, as they poise on their 

 mazy wings over the fragrant flowers; but the hawk 

 moths fly only at dusk or later, when the tiny wings 

 of the Hummingbird have been folded for the night. 

 Later in the evening other hawk moths will come to 

 our window — Darapsa pholus in a livery of rich 

 brown and tan, and Sphinx geminatus with a 



double spot of blue set amid the ric}\ rose-color 

 of each hind vAng. 



Let us turn again to the window Up in the 

 corner of this pane a "plume-wing" has settled, and 

 holds her odd little wings as straight as if the first 

 duty of a "pltmie-wing" was to form a perfect 

 capital T. 



Do-^Ti here on the sash a pale green may-fly 

 has settled, and there, scuttling across the glass is 

 fierce dobson. Both have come up from the lake, 

 and tomorrow we may find still clinging to the side 

 of our boat, or to the stones along the shore, the 

 empty tell-tale cases that these winged creatures 

 have left as evidence of their one-time lowly life 

 beneath the water. 



Now, fluttering against the glass, is a most 

 beautiful pattern of pale yellow and rose pink — 

 the Rosy Dryocampa. When we look upon the 

 beauty of a creature like this we can more than half 

 forgive the green striped caterpillar that disfigured 

 our maple last summer. 



In sharp contrast to the fair beauty of Dryo- 

 campa is this next dark-robed visitor. Ctenucha 

 seems at first to be clothed in black, but closer 

 observation shows her robe to be of rich dark brown, 

 the hind wangs and body covering forming an under- 

 ground of deep metallic blue. As if to relieve the 

 gloominess of so sombre an attire her head and 

 shoulders are decked ic< rich orange. 



Here, one after another in quick succession, come 

 a whole troop of gay crocus geometrids, (Xanthotype 

 crocataria), the rich deep yellow of their wings 

 spotted and blotched with bronzy purple. The 

 geometrids do not blimder against the glass like 

 some of the heavier moths, but flutter down out of 

 the night like falling leaves, poising their wings 

 above them like airy butterflies Others follow. 

 Here a beautiful little "beggar moth," (Endide mevr- 

 dica), with iridescent transparent wings. There a 

 "scallop-shell", with wings barred in finest alternate 

 lines of brown and white. Still others come 

 Geometrids with pale green wings; with wngs of 

 creamy yellow crossed by one dark line; or with 

 wings bearing intricate lacs-like patterns of black 

 and white. 



During a momentary pause a beautifully mottled 

 being strikes sharply against the glass and falls 

 fluttering to the ground. Directly it rises and 

 settles upon the window casing. This is Hyphoraia 

 parthenos, a rare northern tiger-moth. The fore 

 wings are deep rich brown broken by white spots 

 and the hind wings banded with black and yellow, 



