Protoparce Carolina is a 'cousin' of Celeus, and so nearly its
double that the caterpillars and moths must be seen together to be
differentiated by amateurs; while it is doubtful if skilled scientists
can always identify the pupa cases with certainty. Carolina is more
common in the south, but it is frequent throughout the north. Its
caterpillars eat the same food as Celeus, and are the same size.
They are a dull green, while Celeus is shining, and during the
succession of moults, they show slight variations in colour.
They pupate in a hole in the ground. The moths on close
examination show quite a difference from Celeus. They are darker
in colour. The fore-wings lack the effect of being laid off in
lines. The colour is a mottling of almost black, darkest grey,
lighter grey, brown, and white. The back wings are crossed by
wavy bands of brownish grey, black, and tan colour, and the yellow
markings on the abdomen are larger.
In repose, these moths fold the front wings over the back like
large flies. In fact, in the south they are called the 'Tobacco
Fly'; and we of the north should add the 'Tomato and Potato
Fly.' Because I thought such a picture would be of interest, I
reproduced a pair---the male as he clung to a piece of pasteboard
in the 'fly' attitude.
Celeus and Carolina caterpillars come the nearest being pests of
those of any large moths, because they feed on tomato, potato,
and tobacco, but they also eat jimson weed, ground cherry, and
several vines that are of no use to average folk.
The Carolina moths come from their pupa cases as featherweights
step into the sparring. They feed partially by day, and their
big eyes surely see more than those of most other moths, that
seem small and deepset in comparison. Their legs are long, and
not so hairy as is the rule. They have none of the blind, aimless,
helpless appearance of moths that do not feed. They exercise
violently in the pupa cases before they burst the shields, and when
they emerge their eyes glow and dilate. They step with firmness
and assurance, as if they knew where they wanted to go, and how to
arrive. They are of direct swift flight, and much experience and
dexterity are required to take them on wing.
Both my Carolina moths emerged in late afternoon, about four
o'clock, near the time their kind take flight to hunt for food.
The light was poor in the Cabin, so I set up my camera and focused
on a sweetbrier climbing over the back door.
The newly emerged moth was travelling briskly in that first
exercise it takes, while I arranged my camera; so by the time
I was ready, it had reached the place to rest quietly until
its wings developed. Carolina climbed on my finger with all
assurance, walked briskly from it to the roses, and clung there
firmly.
The wet wings dropped into position, and the sun dried them
rapidly. I fell in love with my subject. He stepped around so
jauntily in comparison with most moths. The picture he made while
clinging to the roses during the first exposure was lovely.
His slender, trim legs seemed to have three long joints, and two
short in the feet. In his sidewise position toward the lens, the
abdomen showed silver-white beneath, silvery grey on the sides,
and large patches of orange surrounded by black, with touches of
white on top. His wings were folded together on his back as they
drooped, showing only the under sides, and on these the markings
were more clearly defined than on top. In the sunlight the fore
pair were a warm tan grey, exquisitely lined and shaded. They
were a little more than half covered by the back pair, that folded
over them. These were a darker grey, with tan and almost black
shadings, and crossed by sharply zig-zagging lines of black. The
grey legs were banded by lines of white. The first pair clung to
the stamens of the rose, the second to the petals, and the third
stretched out and rested on a leaf.
There were beautiful markings of very dark colour and white on the
thorax, head, shoulders, and back wings next the body. The big
eyes, quite the largest of any moth I remember, reminded me of owl
eyes in the light. The antennae, dark, grey-brown on top, and
white on the under side, turned back and drooped beside the costa,
no doubt in the position they occupied in the pupa case.
The location was so warm, and the moth dried so rapidly, that by
the time two good studies were made of him in this position, he
felt able to step to some leaves, and with no warning whatever,
reversed his wings to the 'fly' position, so that only the top
side of the front pair showed. The colour was very rich and
beautiful, but so broken in small patches and lines, as to be
difficult to describe. With the reversal of the wings the
antennae flared a little higher, and the exercise of the sucking
tube began. The moth would expose the whole length of the tube in
a coil, which it would make larger and contract by turns, at times
drawing it from sight. When it was uncoiled the farthest, a cleft
in the face where it fitted could be seen.
The next day my second Carolina case produced a beautiful female.
The history of her emergence was exactly similar to that of the
male. Her head, shoulders, and abdomen seemed nearly twice the
size of his, while her wings but a trifle, if any larger.
As these moths are feeders, and live for weeks, I presume when the
female has deposited her eggs, the abdomen contracts, and loses its
weight so that she does not require the large wings of the females
that only deposit their eggs and die. They are very heavy, and
if forced to flight must have big wings to support them. I was so
interested in this that I slightly chloroformed the female, and made
a study of the pair. The male was fully alive and alert, but they
had not mated, and he would not take wing. He clung in his natural
position, so that he resembled a big fly, on the smooth side of the
sheet of corrugated paper on which I placed the female. His wings
folded over each other. The abdomen and the antennae were invisible,
because they were laid flat on the costa of each wing.
The female clung to the board, in any position in which she was
placed. Her tongue readily uncoiled, showing its extreme length,
and curled around a pin. With a camel'shair brush I gently spread
her wings to show how near they were the size of the male's, and
how much larger her body was.
Her fore-wings were a trifle lighter in colour than the male's, and
not so broken with small markings. The back wings were very
similar. Her antennae stood straight out from the head on each
side, of their own volition and differed from the male's. It has
been my observation that in repose these moths fold the antennae
as shown by the male. The position of the female was unnatural.
In flight, or when feeding, the antennae are raised, and used as
a guide in finding food flowers. A moth with broken antennae seems
dazed and helpless, and in great distress.
I have learned by experience in handling moths, that when I induce
one to climb upon bark, branch, or flower for a study, they seldom
place their wings as I want them. Often it takes long and patient
coaxing, and they are sensitive to touch. If I try to force a
fore-wing with my fingers to secure a wider sweep, so that the
markings of the back wings show, the moths resent it by closing
them closer than before, climbing to a different location or often
taking flight.
But if I use a fine camel's-hair brush, that lacks the pulsation
of circulation, and gently stroke the wing, and sides of the
abdomen, the moths seems to like the sensation and grow sleepy or
hypnotized. By using the brush I never fail to get wing extension
that will show markings, and at the same time the feet and body
are in a natural position. After all is said there is to say,
and done there is to do, the final summing up and judgment of any
work on Natural History will depend upon whether it is true to
nature. It is for this reason I often have waited for days and
searched over untold miles to find the right location, even the
exact leaf, twig or branch on which a subject should be placed.
I plead guilty to the use of an anesthetic in this chapter only
to show the tongue extension of Carolina, because it is the
extremest with which I am acquainted; and to coaxing wide wing
sweep with the camel'shair brush; otherwise either the fact that
my subjects are too close emergence ever to have taken flight,
or sex attraction alone holds them.
If you do not discover love running through every line of this
text and see it shining from the face of each study and painting,
you do not read aright and your eyes need attention. Again and
again to the protests of my family, I have made answer--
"To work we love we rise betimes, and go to it with delight."
From the middle of May to the end of June of the year I was most
occupied with this book, my room was filled with cocoons and pupa
cases. The encased moths I had reason to believe were on the point
of appearing lay on a chair beside my bed or a tray close my
pillow. That month I did not average two hours of sleep in a
night, and had less in the daytime. I not only arose 'betimes,'
but at any time I heard a scratching and tugging moth working to
enter the world, and when its head was out, I was up and ready
with note-book and camera. Day helped the matter but slightly,
for any moth emerging in the night had to be provided a location,
and pictured before ten o'clock or it was not safe to take it
outside. Then I had literally 'to fly' to develop the plate,
make my print and secure exact colour reproduction while the moth
was fresh.
For this is a point to remember in photographing a moth. A FREE
LIVING MOTH NEVER RAISES ITS WINGS HIGHER THAN A STRAIGHT LINE FROM
THE BASES CROSSING THE TOP OF THE THORAX. It requires expert and
adept coaxing to get them horizontal with their bases. If you do,
you show all markings required; and preserve natural values, quite
the most important things to be considered.
I made a discovery with Carolina. Moths having digestive organs
and that are feeders are susceptible to anaesthetics in a far
higher degree than those that do not feed. Many scientific
workers confess to having poured full strength chloroform
directly on nonfeeders, mounted them as pinned specimens
and later found them living; so that sensitive lepidopterists
have abandoned its use for the cyanide or gasoline jar. I intended
to give only a whiff of chloroform to this moth, just enough that
she would allow her tongue to remain uncoiled until I could snap
its fullest extent, but I could not revive her. The same amount
would have had no effect whatever on a non-feeder.