MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST 



I do not believe so firmly, after years of practical expe- 

 rience, as I did in the days when I had most of my moth 

 history from books. I have seen this theory confounded 

 so often in practice. 



In June of 1911, close six o'clock in the evening, I sat 

 on the front veranda of the Cabin, in company with my 

 family, and watched three moths sail past us and around 

 the corner, before I remembered that on the screen of 

 the music-room window to the east there was a solitary 

 female Promethea moth, that day emerged from a cocoon 

 sent me by Professor Rowley. I hurried to the room and 

 found five male moths fiuttering before the screen or 

 clinging to the wild grape and sweetbrier vines covering 

 it. I opened the adjoining window and picked up three 

 of the handsomest with my fingers, placing them inside 

 the screen. Then I returned to the veranda. Moths 

 kept coming. We began studying the conditions. 



The female had emerged in the dining room on the west 

 side of the cabin. On account of the intense heat of the 

 afternoon sun, that side of the building had been tightly 

 closed all day. At four o'clock the moth was placed on 

 the east window, because it was sheltered with vines. 

 How soon the first male found her, I do not know. There 

 was quite a stiff evening breeze blowing from the west, 

 so that any odour from her would have been carried 

 on east. We sat there and watched and counted six 

 more moths, every one of which came down wind 



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