The Hawk-Moths are acquainted with nearly everybody and are great
society people. They are invited to companies given by the daylight set,
and also to parties given at night by those who sleep during the day.
This is not because the Hawk-Moths are always awake. Oh dear, no! There
is nobody in pond, forest, meadow, marsh, or even in houses, who can be
well and strong and happy without plenty of sleep.
The Hawk-Moths were awake more or less during the day, but it was not
until the sun was low in the western sky that they were busiest. When
every tree had a shadow two or three times as long as the tree itself,
then one heard the whir-r-r of wings and the Hawk-Moths darted past.
They staid up long after the daylight people went to bed. The Catbird,
who sang from the tip of the topmost maple tree branch long after most
of his bird friends were asleep, said that when he tucked his head under
his wing the Hawk-Moths were still flying. In that way, of course, they
became acquainted with the people of the night-time.
There was one fine large Hawk-Moth who used to be a Tomato Worm when he
was young, although he really fed as much upon potato vines as upon
tomato plants. He was handsome from the tip of his long, slender
sucking-tongue to the tip of his trim, gray body. His wings were pointed
and light gray in color, with four blackish lines across the hind ones.
His body was also gray, and over it and his wings were many dainty
markings of black or very dark gray. On the back part of it he had ten
square yellow spots edged with black. There were also twenty tiny white
spots there, but he did not care so much for them. He always felt badly
to think that his yellow spots showed so little. That couldn't be
helped, of course, and he should have been thankful to have them at all.
Another thing which troubled him was the fact that he couldn't see his
own yellow spots. He would have given a great deal to do so. He could
see the yellow spots of other Hawk-Moths who had been Tomato Worms when
he was, but that was not like seeing his own. He had tried and tried,
and it always ended in the same way--his eyes were tired and his back
ached. His body was so much stouter and stiffer than that of his
butterfly cousins that he could not bend it easily.
When he got to thinking about his yellow spots he often flew away to
the farmer's potato-fields, where the young Tomato Worms were feeding.
He would fly around them and cry out: "Look at my yellow spots. Are they
not fine?" Then he would dart away to the vegetable-garden and balance
himself in the air over the tomato plants. The humming of his wings
would make the Tomato Worms there look up, and he would say: "If you are
good little Worms and eat a great deal, you may some day become fine
Moths like me and have ten yellow spots apiece."
Sometimes he even went down to the corner where the farmer had tobacco
plants growing, and showed his yellow spots to the Tomato Worms there.
He never went anywhere else, for these worms do not care for other
things to eat. Everywhere that he went the Tomato Worms exclaimed: "Oh!
Oh! What beautiful yellow spots! What wonderful yellow spots!" When he
flew away they would not eat for a while, but rested on their fat
pro-legs, raised the front part of their bodies in the air, folded their
six little real legs under their chins, and thought and thought and
thought. They always sat in that position when they were thinking, and
they had a great many cousins who did the same thing. It was a habit
which ran in the family.
When other people saw them sitting in this way, with their real legs
crossed under their chins, they always cried: "Look at the Sphinxes!"
although not one of them knew what a Sphinx really was. And that was
just one of their habits. This was why the Hawk-Moths were sometimes
called Sphinx-Moths.
It was not kind in the Hawk-Moth to come and make the Tomato Worms
discontented. If he had stayed away, they would have thought it the
loveliest thing in the world to be fat green Tomato Worms with two
sorts of legs and each with a horn standing up on the hind end of his
body. That is not the usual place for horns, still it does very well,
and these horns are worn only for looks. They are never used for poking
or stinging.
Before the Hawk-Moth came to visit them, the Tomato Worms had thought it
would be quiet, and restful, and pleasant to lie all winter in their
shining brown pupa-cases in the ground, waiting for the spring to finish
turning them into Moths. Now they were so impatient to get their yellow
spots that they could hardly bear the idea of waiting. They did not even
care about the long, slender tongue-case which every Tomato-Worm has on
his pupa-case, and which looks like a handle to it.
One day the Tomato Worms told the Ruby-throated Humming-Bird about all
this. The Humming-Bird was a very sensible fellow, and would no doubt
have been a hard-working husband and father if his wife had not been so
independent. He had been a most devoted lover, and helped build a
charming nest of fern-wool and plant-down, and cover it with beautiful
gray-green lichens. When done it was about as large as half of a hen's
egg, and a morning-glory blossom would have more than covered it. The
lichens were just the color of the branch on which it rested, and one
could hardly see where it was. That is the nicest thing to be said about
a nest. If a bird ever asks you what you think of his nest, and you wish
to say something particularly agreeable, you must stare at the tree and
ask: "Where is it?" Then, when he has shown it to you, you may speak of
the soft lining, or the fine weaving, or the stout way in which it is
fastened to the branches.
After this nest was finished and the two tiny white eggs laid in it,
Mrs. Humming-Bird cared for nothing else. She would not go
honey-hunting with her husband, or play in the air with him as she used
to do. He tried to coax her by darting down toward her as she sat
covering her eggs, and by squeaking the sweetest things he could think
of into her ear, but she acted as though she cared more for the eggs
than for him, and did not even squeak sweet things back. So, of course,
he went away, and let her hatch and bring up her children as she chose.
It was certainly her fault that he left her. She might not have been
able to leave the eggs, but she could have squeaked.
Now that the Ruby-throated Humming-Bird had no home cares, he made many
calls on his friends. They were very short calls, for he would seldom
sit down, yet he heard and told much news while he balanced himself in
the air with his tiny feet curled up and his wings moving so fast that
one could not see them.
When the Tomato Worms told him how they felt about the Hawk-Moth's
yellow spots, he became very indignant. "Those poor young worms!" he
said to himself. "It is a shame, and something must be done about it."
The more he thought, the angrier he became, and his feathers fairly
stood on end. He hardly knew what he was doing, and ran his long,
slender bill into the same flowers several times, although he had taken
all the honey from them at first.
That night, when the sun had set and the silvery moon was peeping above
a violet-colored cloud in the eastern sky, the Ruby-throated
Humming-Bird sat on the tip of a spruce-tree branch and waited for the
Hawk-Moth.
"I hope nobody else will hear me talking," said he. "It would sound so
silly if I were overheard." He sat very still, his tiny feet clutching
the branch tightly. It was late twilight now and really time that he
should go to sleep, but he had decided that if he could possibly keep
awake he would teach the Hawk-Moth a lesson.
"I wish he would hurry," said he. "I can hardly keep my eyes open." He
did not yawn because he had not the right kind of mouth for it. You know
a yawn ought to be nearly round. His beak would have made one a great,
great many times higher than it was wide, and that would have been
exceedingly unbecoming to him.
Yellow evening primroses grew near the spruce-tree, and the tall stalks
were opening their flowers for the night. Above the seed-pods and below
the buds on each stalk two, three, or four blossoms were slowly
unfolding. The Ruby-throated Humming-Bird did not often stay up long
enough to see this, and he watched the four smooth yellow petals of one
untwist themselves until they were free to spring wide open. He had
watched five blossoms when he heard the Hawk-Moth coming. Then he darted
toward the primroses and balanced himself daintily before one while he
sucked honey from it.
Whir-r-r-r! The Hawk-Moth was there. "Good evening," said he. "Rather
late for you, isn't it?"
"It is a little," answered the Humming-Bird. "Growing a bit chilly, too,
isn't it? I should think you'd be cold without feathers. Mine are such a
comfort. Feel as good as they look, and that is saying a great deal."
The Hawk-Moth balanced himself before another primrose and seemed to
care more about sucking honey up his long tongue-tube than he did about
talking.
[Illustration: THE HUMMING-BIRD AND THE HAWK-MOTH. _Page 218_]
"I think it is a great thing to have a touch of bright color, too," said
the Humming-Bird. "The beautiful red spot on my throat looks
particularly warm and becoming when the weather is cool. You ought to
have something of the sort."
"I have yellow spots--ten of them," answered the Hawk-Moth sulkily.
"You have?" exclaimed the Humming-Bird in the most surprised way. "Oh
yes! I think I do remember something about them. It is a pity they don't
show more. Mrs. Humming-Bird never wears bright colors. She says it
would not do. People would see her on her nest if she did. Excepting the
red spot, she is dressed like me--white breast, green back and head, and
black wings and tail. Green is another good color. You should wear some
green."
The Hawk-Moth murmured that he didn't see any particular use in wearing
green.
"Oh," said the Humming-Bird, "it is just the thing to wear--neat, never
looks dusty" (here the Hawk-Moth drew back, for his own wings, you
know, were almost dust color), "and matches the leaves perfectly."
The Hawk-Moth said something about having to go and thinking that the
primrose honey was not so good as usual.
"I thought it excellent," said the Humming-Bird. "Perhaps you do not get
it so easily as I. Ah yes, you use a tongue-tube. What different ways
different people do have. Now I like honey, but I could not live many
days on that alone. What I care most for is the tiny insects that I find
eating it. And you cannot eat meat. What a pity! I must say that you
seem to make the best of it, though, and do fairly well. Oh, must you
go? Well, good night."
The Hawk-Moth flew away feeling very much disgusted. He had always
thought himself the most beautiful person in the neighborhood. He rather
thought so still. Yet it troubled him to know that others did not think
so, and he began to remember how many times he had heard people admire
the Ruby-throated Humming-Bird. He never liked him after that. But
neither did he brag.
The young Tomato Worms soon forgot what the Hawk-Moth had said to them,
and became happy and contented once more. The Ruby-throated Humming-Bird
never cared to talk about it, yet he was once heard to say that he would
rather offend the Hawk-Moth and even make him a little unhappy than to
have him bothering the poor little Tomato Worms all the time.
[Illustration]