THE CLOTHES MOTH.
For over a fortnight we once enjoyed the company of the caterpillar of a
common clothes moth. It is a little pale, delicate worm (Fig. 57,
magnified), about the size of a darning needle, and rather less than
half an inch in length, with a pale horn-colored head, the ring next the
head being of the same color. It has sixteen feet, the first six of them
well developed and constantly in use to draw the slender body in and out
of its case. Its head is armed with a formidable pair of jaws, with
which, like a scythe, it mows its way through thick and thin.
But the case is the most remarkable feature in the history of this
caterpillar. Hardly has the helpless, tiny worm broken out of the egg,
previously laid in some old garment of fur or wool, or perhaps in the
haircloth of a sofa, when it begins to make a shelter by cutting the
woolly fibres or soft hairs into bits, which it places at each end in
successive layers, and, joining them together by silken threads,
constructs a cylindrical tube (Fig. 58) of thick, warm felt, lined
within with the finest silk the tiny worm can spin. The case is not
perfectly cylindrical, being flattened slightly in the middle, and
contracted a little just before each end, both of which are always kept
open. The case before us is of a stone-gray color, with a black stripe
along the middle, and with rings of the same color round each opening.
Had the caterpillar fed on blue or yellow cloth, the case would, of
course, have been of those colors. Other cases, made by larvæ which had
been eating loose cotton, were quite irregular in form, and covered
loosely with bits of cotton thread, which the little tailor had not
trimmed off.
Days go by. A vigorous course of dieting on its feast of wool has given
stature to our hero. His case has grown uncomfortably small. Shall he
leave it and make another? No housewife is more prudent and saving. Out
come those scissor-jaws, and, lo! a fearful rent along each side of one
end of the case. Two wedge-shaped patches mend the breach; the
caterpillar retires for a moment and reappears at the other end; the
scissors are once more pulled out; two rents appear, to be filled up by
two more patches or gores, and our caterpillar once again breathes more
freely, laughs and grows fat upon horse hair and lambs' wool. In this
way he enlarges his case till he stops growing.
[Illustration: 59. 58. 57.
Early Stages of the Clothes Moth.]
Our caterpillar seeming to be full-grown, and apparently out of
employment, we cut the end of his case half off. Two or three days
after, he had mended it from the inside, drawing the two edges together
by silken threads, and, though he had not touched the outside, yet so
neatly were the two parts joined together that we had to search for some
time, with a lens, to find the scar.
To keep our friend busy during the cold, cheerless weather, for it was
mid-winter, we next cut a third of the case entirely off. Nothing
daunted, the little fellow bustled about, drew in a mass of the woolly
fibres, filling up the whole mouth of his den, and began to build on
afresh, and from the inside, so that the new-made portion was smaller
than the rest of the case. The creature worked very slowly, and the
addition was left in a rough, unfinished state.
We could easily spare these voracious little worms hairs enough to serve
as food, and to afford material for the construction of their paltry
cases; but that restless spirit that ever urges on all beings endowed
with life and the power of motion, never forsakes the young clothes moth
for a moment. He will not be forced to drag his heavy case over rough
hairs and furzy wool, hence with his keen jaws he cuts his way through.
Thus, the more he travels, the more mischief he does.
After taking his fill of this sort of life he changes to a chrysalid
(Fig. 59), and soon appears as one of those delicate, tiny, demure
moths that fly in such numbers from early in the spring until the
autumn.
Very many do not recognize these moths in their perfect stage, so small
are they, and vent their wrath on those great millers that fly around
lamps in warm summer evenings. It need scarcely be said that these large
millers are utterly guiltless of any attempts upon our wardrobes; they
make their attacks in a more open form on our gardens and orchards.
We will give a more careful description of the clothes moth, which was
found in its different stages June 12th in a mass of loose cotton. The
larva is white, with a tolerably plump body, which tapers slightly
towards the tail, while the head is much of the color of gum-copal. The
rings of the body are thickened above, especially on the thoracic ones,
by two transverse thickened folds. It is one-fifth of an inch long.
The body of the chrysalis, or pupa, is considerably curved, with the
head smooth and rounded. The long antennæ, together with the hind legs,
which are folded along the breast, reach to the tip of the hind body, on
the upper surface of each ring of which is a short transverse row of
minute spines, which aid the chrysalis in moving towards the mouth of
its case, just before the moth appears. At first the chrysalis is
whitish, but just before the exclusion of the moth becomes the color of
varnish.
When about to cast its pupa skin, the skin splits open on the back, and
the perfect insect glides out. The act is so quickly over with, that the
observer has to look sharp to observe the different steps in the
operation.
[Illustration: 60. Clothes Moth.]
Our common clothes moth (Tinea flavifrontella, Fig. 60) is of a uniform
light-buff color, with a silky iridescent lustre, the hind wings and
abdomen being a little paler. The head is thickly tufted with hairs and
is a little tawny, and the upper side of the densely hirsute feelers
(palpi) is dusky. The wings are long and narrow, with the most beautiful
and delicate long silken fringe, which increases in length towards the
base of the wing.
They begin to fly in May, and last all through the season, fluttering
with a noiseless, stealthy flight in our apartments, and laying their
eggs in our woollens.
Successive broods of the clothes moth appear through the summer. In the
autumn they cease eating, retire within their cases, and early in spring
assume the chrysalis state.
There are several allied species which have much the same habits, except
that they do not all construct cases, but eat carpets, clothing,
articles of food, grain, etc., and objects of natural history.
Careful housewives are not much afflicted with these pests. The slovenly
and thriftless are overrun with them. Early in June woollens and furs
should be carefully dusted, shaken and beaten. Dr. T. W. Harris states
that "powdered black pepper, strewed under the edge of carpets, is said
to repel moths. Sheets of paper sprinkled with spirits of turpentine,
camphor in coarse powder, leaves of tobacco, or shavings of Russia
leather, should be placed among the clothes when they are laid aside for
the summer; and furs and other small articles can be kept by being sewed
in bags with bits of camphor wood, red cedar, or of Spanish cedar; while
the cloth lining of carriages can be secured forever from the attacks of
moths by being washed or sponged on both sides with a solution of the
corrosive sublimate of mercury in alcohol, made just strong enough not
to leave a white stain on a black feather." The moths can be most
readily killed by pouring benzine among them, though its use must be
much restricted from the disagreeable odor which remains. The recent
experiments made with carbolic acid, however, convince us that this will
soon take the place of other substances as a preventive and destroyer of
noxious insects.
[Illustration: The Juniper Sickle-wing.]