MOTHS OF THE LIMBERLOST 



makes people very sure they can bite or sting, or inflict 

 some serious hurt. So very vigorous are they in self- 

 defense when disturbed, that robins and cuckoos are 

 the only birds I ever have seen brave enough to pick 

 them until the caterpillars loosen their hold and drop to 

 the ground, where they are eaten with evident relish. 



One cuckoo of my experience that nested in an old 

 orchard, adjoining a potato patch, frequently went there 

 caterpillar-hunting, and played havoc with one wherever 

 found. The shy, deep wood habits of the cuckoo pre- 

 vent it from coming close houses and into gardens, 

 but robins will take these big caterpillars from tomato 

 vines. However, they go about it rather gingerly, and 

 the work of reducing one to non-resistance does not seem 

 to be at all coveted. Most people exhibit symptoms of 

 convulsions at sight of one. Yet it is a matter of edu- 

 cation. I have seen women kiss and fondle cats and 

 dogs, one snap from which would result in disfiguration or 

 horrible death, and seem not to be able to get enough of 

 them. But they were quite equal to a genuine faint if 

 contact were suggested with a perfectly harmless cater- 

 pillar, a creature lacking all means of defense, save this 

 demonstration of throwing the head. 



When full-fed the caterpillars enter the earth to pupate, 

 and on the fifteenth of October, 1906, only the day before 

 I began this chapter, the Deacon in digging worms 

 for a fishing trip to the river, found a pupa case a 



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