132 INTELLIGENCE IN BUTTERFLIES. 



over, part of this route was through the shade, which a 

 butterfly usually shuns. Here was another problem. 

 The short cut was direct and in the sun. Why did they 

 take the roundabout way? The next day solved it, for 

 on coming in sight of the place, I saw three or four 

 small boys approaching the thistle patch, straw-hats in 

 hand, from the end of the barn, and after their on- 

 slaught, not a butterfly was to be seen. The boys were 

 communicative, and I found had made many attempts 

 to catch them. They had invariably come up the same 

 way, for they were barefooted, and the tangled grass 

 was full of stones, while the ground at the end of the 

 barn was grazed close or mown. The butterflies had 

 availed themselves of their "organized experience" to 

 dodge the boys. 



On following them into their retreat, I found them 

 motionless. Not a wing or an antenna stirred, — they 

 were as "still as mice." But right here their stupidity 

 began, for I caught two of them with my fingers, and 

 could have taken the whole with a little care, had I 

 wanted them. Then I made a grand swing with my net 

 into the sumac bushes, and a more bewildered set of 

 beings it would be difficult to find. They went helter- 

 skelter, — on the barn, on the wall, anywhere and every- 

 where, without method or sense. On going back again, 

 not a butterfly was to be found. Whether the boys ulti- 

 mately frightened them away, or whether my inroad 

 upon their harbor of refuge disheartened them, I never 

 ascertained. Similar wisdom and stupidity were exhib- 

 ited by a Vanessa antiopa, in its preparation for winter 

 quarters. It had selected for this purpose the open end 

 of a street drain, built of stone. For two or three days 

 it remained there, but a warm sun called it out, and I 

 tried to catch it. It was very active and alert, but finally 

 went to its hiding place, where it felt so perfectly secure 

 that I took it in my fingers with ease. 



