CHAPTER VI Moths of the Moon: Actias Luna
One morning there was a tap at my door, and when I opened it I found
a tall, slender woman having big, soft brown eyes, and a winning
smile. In one hand she held a shoe-box, having many rough perforations.
I always have been glad that my eyes softened at the touch of pleading
on her face, and a smile sprang in answer to hers before I saw what
she carried. For confession must be made that a perforated box is
a passport to my good graces any day.
The most wonderful things come from those that are brought to my
front door. Sometimes they contain a belated hummingbird, chilled
with the first heavy frost of autumn, or a wounded weasel caught
in a trap set for it near a chicken coop, or a family of baby birds
whose parents some vandal has killed. Again they carry a sick or
wounded bird that I am expected to doctor; and butterflies, moths,
insects, and caterpillars of every description.
"I guess I won't stop," said the woman in answer to my
invitation to enter the Cabin. "I found this creature on my
front porch early this morning, and I sort of wanted to know what
it was, for one thing, and I thought you might like to have it,
for another."
"Then of course you will come in, and we will see what it is,"
I answered, leading the way into the library.
There I lifted the lid slightly to take a peep, and then with a
cry of joy, opened it wide. That particular shoe-box had brought
me an Actias Luna, newly emerged, and as yet unable to fly. I held
down my finger, it climbed on, and was lifted to the light.
"Ain't it the prettiest thing?" asked the woman, with
stars sparkling in her dark eyes. "Did you ever see whiter
white?"
Together we studied that moth. Clinging to my finger, the living
creature was of such delicate beauty as to impoverish my stock of
adjectives at the beginning. Its big, pursy body was covered with
long, furry scales of the purest white imaginable. The wings were
of an exquisite light green colour; the front pair having a heavy
costa of light purple that reached across the back of the head:
the back pair ended in long artistic `trailers,' faintly edged with
light yellow. The front wing had an oval transparent mark close
the costa, attached to it with a purple line, and the back had circles
of the same. These decorations were bordered with lines of white,
black, and red. At the bases of the wings were long, snowy silken
hairs; the legs were purple, and the antennae resembled small, tan-coloured
ferns. That is the best I can do at description. A living moth must
be seen to form a realizing sense of its shape and delicacy of colour.
Luna is our only large moth having trailers, and these are much
longer in proportion to size and of more graceful curves than our
trailed butterflies.
The moth's wings were fully expanded, and it was beginning to exercise,
so a camera was set up hastily, and several pictures of it secured.
The woman helped me through the entire process, and in talking with
her, I learned that she was Mrs. McCollum, from a village a mile
and a half north of ours; that when she reached home she would have
walked three miles to make the trip; and all her neighbours had
advised her not to come, but she "had a feeling that she would
like to."
"Are you sorry?" I asked.
"Am I sorry!" she cried. "Why I never had a better
time in my life, and I can teach the children what you have told
me. I'll bring you everything I can get my fingers on that you can
use, and send for you when I find bird nests.'
Mrs. McCollum has kept that promise faithfully. Again and again
she trudged those three miles, bringing me small specimens of many
species or to let me know that she had found a nest.
A big oak tree in Mrs. McCollum's yard explained the presence of
a Luna there, as the caterpillars of this specie greatly prefer
these leaves. Because the oak is of such slow growth it is seldom
planted around residences for ornamental purposes; but is to be
found most frequently in the forest. For this reason Luna as a rule
is a moth of the deep wood, and so is seldom seen close a residence,
making people believe it quite rare. As a matter of fact, it is
as numerous where the trees its caterpillars frequent are to be
found, as any other moth in its natural location. Because it is
of the forest, the brightest light there is to attract it is the
glare of the moon as it is reflected on the face of a murky pool,
or on the breast of the stream rippling its way through impassable
thickets. There must be a self-satisfied smile on the face of the
man in the moon, in whose honour these delicate creatures are named,
when on fragile wing they hover above his mirrored reflection; for
of all the beauties of a June night in the forest, these moths are
most truly his.
In August of the same year, while driving on a corduroy road in
Michigan, I espied a Luna moth on the trunk of a walnut tree close
the road. The cold damp location must account for this late emergence;
for subsequent events proved that others of the family were as slow
in appearing. A storm of protest arose, when I stopped the carriage
and started to enter the swamp. The remaining occupants put in their
time telling blood-curdling experiences with `massaugers,' that
infested those marshes; and while I bent grasses and cattails to
make the best footing as I worked my way toward the moth, I could
hear a mixed chorus "brought up thirteen in the dredge at the
cement factory the other day," "killed nine in a hayfield
below the cemetery," "saw a buster crossing the road before
me, and my horse almost plunged into the swamp," "died
of a bite from one that struck him while fixing a loose board in
his front walk."
I am dreadfully afraid of snakes, and when it seemed I could not
force myself to take another step, and I was clinging to a button
bush while the water arose above my low shoes, the moth lowered
its wings flat against the bark. From the size of the abdomen I
could see that it was a female heavily weighted with eggs. Possibly
she had mated the previous night, and if I could secure her, Luna
life history would be mine.
So I set my teeth and advanced. My shoes were spoiled, and my skirts
bedraggled, but I captured the moth and saw no indication of snakes.
Soon after she was placed in a big pasteboard box and began dotting
eggs in straight lines over the interior. They were white but changed
colour as the caterpillars approached time to hatch. The little
yellow-green creatures, nearly a quarter of an inch long, with a
black line across the head, emerged in about sixteen days, and fed
with most satisfaction on oak, but they would take hickory, walnut
or willow leaves also. When the weather is cold the young develop
slower, and I have had the egg period stretched to three weeks at
times. Every few days the young caterpillars cast their skins and
emerged in brighter colour and larger in size. It is usually supposed
they mature in four moults, and many of them do, but some cast a
fifth skin before transforming. When between seven and eight weeks
of age, they were three inches long, and of strong blue-green colour.
Most of them had tubercles of yellow, tipped with blue, and some
had red.
They spun a leaf-cover cocoon, much the size and shape of that of
Polyphemus, but whiter, very thin, with no inner case, and against
some solid surface whenever possible. Fearing I might not handle
them rightly, and lose some when ready to spin, I put half on our
walnut tree so they could weave their cocoons according to characteristics.
They are fine, large, gaudy caterpillars. The handsomest one I ever
saw I found among some gifts offered by Molly-Cotton for the celebration
of my birthday. It had finished feeding, soon pupated in a sand
pail and the following spring a big female emerged that attracted
several males and they posed on a walnut trunk for beautiful studies.
Once under the oak trees of a summer resort, Miss Katherine Howell,
of Philadelphia, intercepted a Luna caterpillar in the preliminary
race before pupation and brought it to me. We offered young oak
leaves, but they were refused, so it went before the camera. Behind
the hotel I found an empty hominy can in which it soon began spinning,
but it seemed to be difficult to fasten the threads to the tin,
so a piece of board was cut and firmly wedged inside. The caterpillar
clung to this and in the darkness of the can spun the largest and
handsomest Luna winter quarters of all my experience.
Luna hunters can secure material from which to learn this exquisite
creature of night, by searching for the moths on the trunks of oak,
walnut, hickory, birch or willow, during the month of June. The
moths emerge on the ground, and climb these trees to unfold and
harden their wings. The females usually remain where they are, and
the males are attracted to them. If undisturbed they do not fly
until after mating and egg depositing are accomplished. The males
take wing as soon as dusk of the first night arrives, after their
wings are matured. They usually find the females by ten o'clock
or midnight, and remain with them until morning. I have found mated
pairs as late as ten o'clock in the forenoon.
The moths do not eat, and after the affairs of life are accomplished,
they remain in the densest shade they can find for a few days, and
fly at night, ending their life period in from three days to a week.
Few of these gaudily painted ones have the chance to die naturally,
for both birds and squirrels prey upon them, tearing away the delicate
wings, and feasting on the big pulpy bodies.
White eggs on the upper side of leaves of the trees mentioned are
a sign of Luna caterpillars in deep woods, and full-grown larvae
can be found on these trees in August. By breaking off a twig on
which they are feeding, carrying them carefully, placing them in
a box where they cannot be preyed upon by flies and parasites, and
keeping a liberal supply of fresh damp leaves, they will finish
the feeding days, and weave their cocoons.
Or the cocoons frequently can be found already spun among the leaves,
by nutting parties later in the fall. There is small question if
Luna pupae be alive, for on touching the cocoons they squirm and
twist so vigorously that they can be heard plainly. There is so
little difference in the size of male and female Lunas, that I am
not sure of telling them apart in the cocoon, as I am certain I
can Cecropia.
Cocoon gathering in the fall is one of the most delightful occupations
imaginable. When flowers are gone; when birds have migrated; when
brilliant foliage piles knee deep underfoot; during those last few
days of summer, zest can be added to a ramble by a search for cocoons.
Carrying them home with extreme care not to jar or dent them, they
are placed in the conservatory among the flowers. They hang from
cacti spines and over thorns on the big century plant and lemon
tree. When sprinkling, the hose is turned on them, as they would
take the rain outside. Usually they are placed in the coolest spots,
where ventilation is good.
There is no harm whatever in taking them _if the work is carefully
and judiciously done_. With you they are safe. Outside they have
precarious chance for existence, for they are constantly sought
by hungry squirrels and field mice, while the sharp eyes and sharper
beaks of jays, and crows, are for ever searching for them. The only
danger is in keeping them too warm, and so causing their emergence
before they can be placed out safely at night, after you have made
yourself acquainted with Luna history.
If they are kept cool enough that they do not emerge until May or
June, then you have one of the most exquisite treats nature has
in store for you, in watching the damp spot spread on the top of
the cocoon where an acid is ejected that cuts and softens the tough
fibre, and allows the moth to come pushing through in the full glory
of its gorgeous birth. Nowhere in nature can you find such delicate
and daintily shaded markings or colours so brilliant and fresh as
on the wings of these creatures of night.
After you have learned the markings and colours, and secured pictures
if you desire, and they begin to exhibit a restlessness, as soon
as it is dusk, release them. They are as well prepared for all life
has for them as if they had emerged in the woods. The chances are
that they are surer of life at your hands than they would have been
if left afield, provided you keep them cool enough that they do
not emerge too soon. If you want to photograph them, do it when
the wings are fully developed, but before they have flown. They
need not be handled; their wings are unbroken; their down covering
in place to the last scale; their colours never so brilliant; their
markings the plainest they ever will be; their big pursy bodies
full of life; and they will climb with perfect confidence on any
stick, twig, or limb held before them. Reproductions of them are
even more beautiful than those of birds. By all means photograph
them out of doors on a twig or leaf that their caterpillars will
eat. Moths strengthen and dry very quickly outside in the warm crisp
air of May or June, so it is necessary to have some one beside you
with a spread net covering them, in case they want to fly before
you are ready to make an exposure. In painting this moth the colours
always should be copied from a living specimen as soon as it is
dry. No other moth of my acquaintance fades so rapidly.
Repeatedly I am asked which I think the most beautiful of these
big night moths. I do not know. All of them are indescribably attractive.
Whether a pale green moth with purple markings is lovelier than
a light yellow moth with heliotrope decorations; or a tan and brown
one with pink lines, is a difficult thing to determine. When their
descriptions are mastered, and the colour combinations understood,
I fancy each person will find the one bearing most of his favourite
colour the loveliest. It may be that on account of its artistically
cut and coloured trailers, Luna has a touch of grace above any.