CHAPTER X The Giant Gamin: Telea Polyphemus
Time cannot be used to tell of making the acquaintance of this moth
until how well worth knowing it is has been explained. That it is
a big birdlike fellow, with a six inch sweep of wing, is indicated
by the fact that it is named in honour of the giant Polyphemus.
Telea means `the end,' and as scientists fail to explain the appropriateness
of this, I am at liberty to indulge a theory of my own. Nature made
this handsome moth last, and as it was the end, surpassed herself
as a finishing touch on creatures that are, no doubt, her frailest
and most exquisite creation.
Polyphemus is rich in shadings of many subdued colours, that so
blend and contrast as to give it no superior in the family of short-lived
lovers of moonlight. Its front wings are a complicated study of
many colours, for some of which it would be difficult to find a
name. Really, it is the one moth that must be seen and studied in
minutest detail to gain an idea of its beauty. The nearest I can
come to the general groundwork of the wing is a rich brown-yellow.
The costa is grey, this colour spreading in a widening line from
the base of the wing to more than a quarter of an inch at the tip,
and closely peppered with black. At the base, the wing is covered
with silky yellow-brown hairs. As if to outline the extent of these,
comes a line of pinkish white, and then one of rich golden brown,
shading into the prevailing colour.
Close the middle of the length of the wing, and half an inch from
the costa, is a transparent spot like isinglass, so clear that fine
print can be read through it. This spot is outlined with a canary
yellow band, and that with a narrow, but sharp circle of black.
Then comes a cloudlike rift of golden brown, drifting from the costa
across the wing, but, growing fainter until it merges with the general
colour near the abdomen. Then half an inch of the yellow-brown colour
is peppered with black, similar to the costa; this grows darker
until it terminates in a quarter of an inch wide band of almost
grey-black crossing the wing. Next this comes a narrower band of
pinkish white. The edge begins with a quarter of an inch band of
clear yellow-brown, and widens as the wing curves until it is half
an inch at the point. It is the lightest colour of rotten apple.
The only thing I ever have seen in nature exactly similar was the
palest shade of `mother' found in barrels of vinegar. A very light
liver colour comes close it. On the extreme tip is a velvety oval,
half black and half pale pink.
The back wings are the merest trifle stronger in this yellow-brown
colour, and with the exception of the brown rift are the same in
marking, only that all colour, similar to the brown, is a shade
deeper.
The `piece de resistance' of the back wing, is the eyespot. The
transparent oval is a little smaller. The canary band is wider,
and of stronger colour. The black band around the lower half is
yet wider, and of long velvety hairs. It extends in an oval above
the transparent spot fully half an inch, then shades through peacock
blue, and grey to the hairlike black line enclosing the spot.
The under sides of the wings are pure tan, clouded and lined with
shades of rich brown. The transparent spots are outlined with canary,
and show a faint line drawn across the middle the long way.
The face is a tiny brown patch with small eyes, for the size of
the moth, and large brown antennae, shaped like those of Cecropia.
The grey band of the costa crosses the top of the head. The shoulders
are covered with pinkish, yellow-brown hair. The top and sides of
the abdomen are a lighter shade of the same.
The under side of the abdomen is darker brown, and the legs brown
with very dark brown feet. These descriptions do the harmonizing
colours of the moth no sort of justice, but are the best I can offer.
In some lights it is a rich YELLOW-BROWN, and again a pink flush
pervades body and wings.
My first experience with a living Polyphemis (I know Telea is shorter,
but it is not suitable, while a giant among moths it is, so that
name is best) occurred several years ago. A man brought me a living
Polyphemus battered to rags and fringes, antennae broken and three
feet missing. He had found a woman trying ot beat the clinging creature
loose from a door screen, with a towel, before the wings were hardened
for flight, and he rescued the remains. There was nothing to say;
some people are not happy unless they are killing helpless, harmless
creatures; and there was nothing to do.
The moth was useless for a study, while its broken antennae set
it crazy, and it shook and trembled continually, going out without
depositing any eggs. One thing I did get was complete identification,
and another, to attribute the experience to Mrs. Comstock in "A
Girl of the Limberlost"*, when I wished to make her do something
particularly disagreeable. In learning a moth I study its eggs,
caterpillars, and cocoons, so that fall Raymond and I began searching
for Polyphemus. I found our first cocoon hanging by a few threads
of silk, from a willow twig overhanging a stream in the limberlost.
<<*April 1994 [limbr10x.xxx] 125 A Girl of the Limberlost,
by Gene Stratton-Porter>>
A queer little cocoon it was. The body was tan colour, and thickly
covered with a white sprinkling like lime. A small thorn tree close
the cabin yielded Raymond two more; but these were darker in colour,
and each was spun inside three thorn leaves so firmly that it appeared
triangular in shape. The winds had blown the cocoons agianst the
limbs and worn away the projecting edges of the leaves, but the
midribs and veins showed plainly. In all we had half a dozen of
htese cocoons gathered from different parts of the swamp, and we
found them dangling from a twig of willow or hawthorn, by a small
piece of spinning. During the winter these occupied the place of
state in the conservatory, and were watched every day. They were
kept in the coolest spot, but where the sun reached them at times.
Always in watering the flowers, the hose was turned on them, because
they would have been in the rain if they had been left out of doors,
and conditions should be kept as natural as possible.
Close time for emergence I became very uneasy, because the conservatory
was warm; so I moved them to my sleeping room, the coolest in the
cabin, where a fireplace, two big windows and an outside door, always
open, provide natural atmospheric conditions, and where I would
be sure to see them every day. I hung the twigs over a twine stretched
from my dresser to the window-sill. One day in May, when the trees
were in full bloom, I was working on a tulip bed under an apple
tree in the garden, when Molly-Cotton said to me, "How did
you get that cocoon in your room wet?"
"I did not water any of the cocoons," I answered. "I
have done no sprinkling today. If they are wet, it has come from
the inside."
Molly-Cotton dropped her trowel. "One of them was damp on the
top before lunch," she cried. "I just now thought of it.
The moths are coming!" She started on a run and I followed,
but stopped to wash my hands, so she reached them first, and her
shout told the news.
"Hurry!" she cried. "Hurry! One is out, and another
is just struggling through!" Quickly as I could I stood beside
her. One Polyphemus female, a giant indeed, was clinging to a twig
with her feet, and from her shoulders depended her wings, wet, and
wrinkled as they had been cramped in the pupa case. Even then she
had expanded in body until it seemed impossible that she had emerged
from the opening of the vacant cocoon. The second one had its front
feet and head out, and was struggling frantically to free its shoulders.
A fresh wet spot on the top of another cocoon, where the moth had
ejected the acid with which it is provided to soften the spinning,
was heaving with the pushing head of the third. Molly-Cotton was
in sympathy with the imprisoned moths.
"Why don't you get something sharp, and split the cocoons so
they can get out?" she demanded. "Just look at them struggle!
They will kill themselves!"
Then I explained to her that if we wanted big, perfect moths we
must not touch them. That the evolution of species was complete
to the minutest detail. The providence that supplied the acid, required
that the moths make the fight necessary to emerge alone, in order
to strengthen them so they would be able to walk and cling with
their feet, while the wings drooped and dried properly. That if
I cut a case, and took out a moth with no effort on its part, it
would be too weak to walk, or bear its weight, and so would fall
to the floor. Then because of not being in the right position, the
wings would harden half spread, or have broken membranes and never
develop fully. So instead of doing a kindness I really would work
ruination.
"Oh, I see!" cried the wondering girl, and her eyes were
large enough to have seen anything, while her brain was racing.
If you want to awaken a child and teach it to think, give object
lessons such as these, in natural history and study with it, so
that every miraculous point is grasped when reached. We left the
emerging moths long enough to set up a camera outside, and focus
on old tree. Then we hurried back, almost praying that the second
moth would be a male, and dry soon enough that the two could be
pictured together, before the first one would be strong enough to
fly.
The following three hours were spent with them, and every minute
enjoyed to the fullest. The first to emerge was dry, and pumping
her wings to strengthen them for flight; the second was in condition
to pose, but a disappointment, for it was another female. The third
was out, and by its smaller size, brighter markings and broad antennae
we knew it was a male. His `antlers' were much wider than those
of the first two, and where their markings were pink, his were so
vivid as to be almost red, and he was very furry. He had, in fact,
almost twice as much long hair as the others, so he undoubtedly
was a male, but he was not sufficiently advanced to pose with the
females, and I was in doubt as to the wisest course to pursue.
"Hurry him up!" suggested Molly-Cotton. "Tie a string
across the window and hang him in the sunshine. I'll bring a fan,
and stir the air gently.'
This plan seemed feasible, and when the twine was ready, I lifted
his twig to place it in the new location. The instant I touched
his resting-place and lifted its weight from the twine both females
began ejecting a creamy liquid. They ruined the frescoing behind
them, as my first Cecropia soiled the lace curtain when I was smaller
than Molly-Cotton at that time. We tacked a paper against the wall
to prevent further damage. A point to remember in moth culture,
is to be ready for this occurrence before they emerge, if you do
not want stained frescoing, floors, and hangings.
In the sunshine and fresh air the male began to dry rapidly, and
no doubt he understood the presence of his kind, for he was much
more active than the females. He climbed the twig, walked the twine
body pendent, and was so energetic that we thought we dared not
trust him out of doors; but when at every effort to walk or fly
he only attempted to reach the females, we concluded that he would
not take wing if at liberty. By this time he was fully developed,
and so perfect he would serve for a study.
I polished the lenses, focused anew on the tree, marked the limits
of exposure, inserted a plate, and had everything ready. Then I
brought out the female, Molly-Cotton walking beside me hovering
her with a net. The moth climbed from the twig to the tree, and
clung there, her wings spread flat, at times setting them quivering
in a fluttering motion, or raising them. While Molly-Cotton guarded
her I returned for the male, and found him with wings so hardened
that could raise them above his back, and lower them full width.
I wanted my study to dignify the term, so I planned it to show the
under wings of one moth, the upper of the other. Then the smaller
antennae and large abdomen of the female were of interest. I also
thought it would be best to secure the male with wings widespread
if possible, because his colour was stronger, his markings more
pronounced. So I helped the female on a small branch facing the
trunk of the tree, and she rested with raised wings as I fervently
hoped she would. The male I placed on the trunk, and with wide wings
he immediately started toward the female, while she advanced in
his direction. This showed his large antennae and all markings and
points especially note worthy; being good composition as well, for
it centred interest; but there was one objection. It gave the male
the conspicuous place and made him appear the larger because of
his nearness to the lens and his wing spread; while as a matter
of fact, the female had almost an inch more sweep than he, and was
bigger at every point save the antennae.
The light was full and strong, the lens the best money could buy,
the plate seven by nine inches. By this time long practice had made
me rather expert in using my cameras. When the advancing pair were
fully inside my circle of focus, I made the first exposure. Then
I told Molly-Cotton to keep them as nearly as possible where they
were, while I took one breathless peep at the ground glass.
Talk about exciting work! No better focus could be had on them,
so I shoved in another plate with all speed, and made a second exposure,
which was no better than the first. Had there been time, I would
have made a third to be sure, for plates are no object when a study
is at all worth while. As a rule each succeeding effort enables
you to make some small change for the better, and you must figure
on always having enough to lose one through a defective plate or
ill luck in development, and yet end with a picture that will serve
your purpose.
Then we closed the ventilators and released the moths in the conservatory.
The female I placed on a lemon tree in a shady spot, and the male
at the extreme far side to see how soon he would find her. We had
supposed it would be dark, but they were well acquainted by dusk.
The next morning she was dotting eggs over the plants.
The other cocoons produced mostly female living moths, save one
that was lost in emergence. I tried to help when it was too late;
but cutting open the cocoon afterward proved the moth defective.
The wings on one side were only about half size, and on the other
little patches no larger than my thumb nail. The body was shrunken
and weakly.
At this time, as I remember, Cecropia eggs were the largest I had
seen, but these were larger; the same shape and of a white colour
with a brown band. The moth dotted them on the under and upper sides
of leaves, on sashes and flower pots, tubs and buckets. They turned
brown as the days passed. The little caterpillars that emerged from
them were reddish brown, and a quarter of an inch long.
I could not see my way to release a small army of two or three hundred
of these among my plants, so when they emerged I held a leaf before
fifty, that seemed liveliest, and transferred them to a big box.
The remainder I placed with less ceremony, over mulberry, elm, maple,
wild cherry, grape, rose, apple, and pear, around the Cabin, and
gave the ones kept in confinement the same diet.
The leaves given them always were dipped in water to keep them fresh
longer, and furnish moisture for the feeders. They grew by a series
of moults, like all the others I had raised or seen, and were full
size in forty-eight days, but travelled a day or two before beginning
the pupa stage of their existence. The caterpillars were big fellows;
the segments deeply cut; the bodies yellow-green, with a few sparse
scattering hairs, and on the edge of each segment, from a triple
row of dots arose a tiny, sharp spine. Each side had series of black
touches and the head could be drawn inside the thorax. They were
the largest in circumference of any I had raised, but only a little
over three inches long.
I arranged both leaves and twigs in the boxes, but they spun among
the leaves,and not dangling from twigs, as all the cocoons I had
found outdoors were placed previous to that time. Since, I have
found them spun lengthwise of twigs in a brush heap. The cocoons
of these I had raised were whiter than those of the free caterpillars,
and did not have the leaves fastened on the outside, but were woven
in a nest of leaves, fastened together by threads.
Polyphemus moths are night flyers, and do not feed. I have tried
to tell how beautiful they are, with indifferent success, and they
are common with me. Since I learned them, find their cocoons easiest
to discover. Through the fall and winter, when riding on trains,
I see them dangling from wayside thorn bushes. Once, while taking
a walk with Raymond in late November, he located one on a thorn
tree in a field beside the road, but he has the eyes of an Indian.
These are the moths that city people can cultivate, for in Indianapolis,
in early December, I saw fully one half as many Polyphemus cocoons
on the trees as there were Cecropia, and I could have gathered a
bushel of them. They have emerged in perfection for me always, with
one exception. Personally, I have found more Polyphemus than Cecropia.
These moths are the gamins of their family, and love the streets
and lights at night.
Under an arc light at Wabash, Indiana, I once picked up as beautiful
a specimen of Polyphemus as I ever saw, and the following day a
friend told me that several had been captured the night before in
the heart of town.