say: “Ah, now it will be hot and dry!” The poets have always loved the
cicada, and made many pretty songs and stories about him.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] Animals and plants are divided into Classes, Orders, and Families,
that we may arrange and study them more readily. A Class contains
many objects with some great points of resemblance--as the Class of
Insects. The Orders bring those together which have yet more points of
resemblance--as the Order of the Same-Wings. Families contain those yet
more closely related--as the Aphis Family, the Frog-hopper Family. The
Classes, Orders, and Families have Latin or Greek names, of which in
this book we give only the meaning.
[20] Nature Reader, No. 2, “Lessons on Ants,” p. 29.
LESSON XXII.
REAL LIVE FAIRY.
One September morning I took Hermie, and went over the hill, to the
windmill. The hillside was covered with wild carrot, golden-rod,
asters, white, purple, and pink. Near the windmill was a late
wild-rose, in full bloom.
Right in the golden centre of the rose, on the stamens and pistils, I
saw what might be two fine jewels, and the coiled-up spring of a fairy
watch. On the ground, among the rose-leaves, lay four lovely fans, in
black and gold. They looked as if the fairy-queen and her court ladies
might have dropped them, as they came home late from a ball.
[Illustration: THE LIGHT BRIGADE.]
I put all these things on a piece of white paper. Then I sat on a
stone, took out my microscope, and said to Hermie, “Look here!”
“O!” cried Hermie, “these are the head and wings of a poor butterfly!
But where is his body gone?”
“A bird has eaten it,” I said; “see, the bird’s bill has taken in the
body and clipped off the wings, and just missed the head, which has
dropped off. These are not the relics of a fairy ball, but of a cruel
murder.”
“I do not see,” said Hermie, “how a butterfly, which flits so fast,
could be picked up so.”
We looked about the leaves of a wild-carrot, and, on the under side
of two or three, safe from the wet, we found a cluster of pale
greenish eggs. “See,” I said, “the bird dipped down, and picked up the
butterfly, while it was clinging to the leaf, laying its eggs.
“Or, perhaps the eggs were all laid, and the butterfly was resting on
the bush. Many of these insects die, soon after the eggs are laid. When
the eggs are safely placed, the insect seems to feel tired and dull.”
Then we looked at the black and yellow wings through the microscope.
“See all these little scales and plumes!” said Hermie. “They lie thick
as a bird’s feathers! Once I put a butterfly in a box. When I let him
out, the box was all dusted over with gold dust. But the butterfly did
not look _bare_. He seemed as well dressed as ever.”
Then we looked at the head. “What big eyes!” said Hermie, “and that
curled-up thing is his mouth. I have seen him drinking with it out of
flowers. I do think butterflies are the prettiest things that are made!”
Many persons think the butterflies are the most beautiful of all the
insects. Next to the beetles they are the most numerous order. They
have, also, been the most studied. Let us look at them a little.
The butterflies belong to the great order of the scale-wings. To this
order belong two groups of very beautiful insects. We will look at
them. They are the butterflies and the moths.
The butterflies are insects of the day. The moths are generally insects
of the night. Even when the moths fly by day they can be easily known
from the butterflies. The butterfly always has a knob or a point on the
end of his horns. The ends of the moth’s horns are pointed.
When the butterfly is at rest, his wings are held up and laid flat
against each other. Thus the top sides are hidden, and the under sides
show. His wings are called vans.
The moth rests with his wings folded along his body or laid out flat.
They cling close to what he rests upon. If they bend at all, they bend
downward, not upward. The body of the moth is shorter and thicker, more
wedge-shaped, than that of the butterfly.
Now, for a look at our butterfly. The head is small and moves freely.
It is not set in a socket to the body, but held by a little neck. On
each side of the head is a great, bright eye with many thousand facets,
or surfaces.
At the back of the head of a butterfly are generally two small, simple
eyes. These are usually hidden under long hairs. Do you see the soft
hairs which clothe all the butterfly’s body? For you must notice that
the butterfly wears an elegant, soft, velvet coat of fine hairs. This
coat is usually black or brown. But it has often stripes or spots of a
lighter color.
On the top of the head the butterfly carries a pair of many-jointed
horns. As I told you, the ends of these are little knobs.
The chief part of the mouth of the butterfly is a tube, called a trunk.
Did you ever notice the big trunk of an elephant? The butterfly’s trunk
is small. It is coiled up like a watch-spring when it is not in use.
The butterfly can unroll it. It is so slim he can thrust it into the
longest and narrowest flower cups.
Really this trunk is made of two pieces with little points upon them.
These two parts lie together and seem one. Between them the honey is
drawn up. You must know that butterflies live chiefly on honey. It is
not likely that they take much other kind of food, but they are fond of
water. Have you seen them in damp places?
When the fine trunk of the butterfly is curled up it is kept safe by
two hairy pieces which grow on the front of the head.
The butterfly has six legs that grow from the chest part of its body.
But the butterfly is not a walking insect. Bees, wasps, ants, and
beetles, you know, walk a great deal. Butterflies rarely use their legs
for anything but standing when they eat or rest. They move only by
flying.
The wings are made of two thin skin-pieces laid upon a framework of
nerves or veins. They are covered with a double layer of scales. The
edge scales are long and fringe-like. The upper and under sides of the
wings differ in color.
The upper wings are widest. They have smooth edges, and are of a
triangle-shape. The lower wings are rounded. They have waved or pointed
edges. Sometimes they have two long points like tails.
The body of the butterfly is made in rings, but they are soft, not
horny like those of a dragon-fly. The body is slender and has no
weapon. It has no sting to fight, and no saw to cut wood to make a
place for its eggs.
LESSON XXIII.
THE CHILD OF THE DAY.
[Illustration: THE LITTLE PRISON.]
The butterfly is the chief partner of the flowers. Its long, slim
drinking tube helps it to dip far into a flower’s throat. As it reaches
in, it gets the stamen pollen well upon it. Then, since the butterfly
rarely walks about, as the beetles do, it is not likely to waste the
pollen by rubbing it off where it is not wanted.
Not only is the butterfly the flower’s best partner, but it wears the
gay colors of the flowers. Once I was walking in a garden with a very
little boy. A flight of yellow butterflies came over a tulip bed.
“See! see!” cried the child, “the flowers are loose, and are flying
away!” Poets, as well as children, have called the butterflies “flying
flowers.”
In very early times, people began to study butterflies. It was not only
their number or their beauty which made people notice them. It was the
wonder of their changes, from egg to full-grown insect.
Who would think that this splendid thing, which scorns to use its feet,
and lives on the wing in the clear air, was once a worm, crawling on
many legs, among the grasses and leaves?
Who would think that this dainty creature, which drinks dew and honey,
once spent all its days, chewing and gnawing leaves as the earthworm
does?
Who would think that these bright wings, which are so crisp and stiff
that they never bend or wrinkle even by a single fold, were once like
little flat buds, inside a crawling caterpillar, or bound up in the
tight, horny pupa case?
Let us follow the journey of these little greenish eggs, stuck on the
under side of a carrot leaf. Let us follow them up their curious way,
until we see them sitting on the heart of a rose, as on a throne of
gold, and then suddenly sailing off among the sunbeams!
Each kind of butterfly prefers some especial plant, on which the
caterpillar feeds. On this plant the eggs are laid. Some butterflies
like oaks best; some cabbage; some choose plants of the carrot family
for a home.
The butterfly which we will now hear about is the “swallow-tail.” It is
one which likes fennel and wild carrot. It lays its eggs on the under
side of the leaf of one of these plants. The eggs are placed in little
patches. They are of a greenish color, and nearly round. The eggs of
some other butterflies are of very odd shapes.
The first eggs of the swallow-tail butterfly are laid in May. In eight
or ten days the eggs turn nearly black. Then out comes the little
caterpillar. The first thing he does is to turn around and eat up his
shell! Next he begins to eat carrot leaf. He grows, and in a few days
casts his skin.
The caterpillar keeps on growing. To get more room he sheds his skin.
He eats the cast-off skin each time. He is a very pretty caterpillar.
His color is bright green. On each of his twelve rings he has a black
band. On each black band there are gay, yellow spots. He is about an
inch and a half long when full grown.
There is a queer thing about this caterpillar. If you touch him, while
he eats, he runs out a little forked horn from behind his head. He
seems to want to frighten you! When you let him alone he draws in his
horns. These horns can emit a strong smell.
His feet are made with rings and hairs, so that he can creep safely
along the plants where he feeds. His mouth is weak, so he can eat only
soft leaves. In about two weeks he has eaten all that he needs.
Then he creeps up a plant stem and spins a strong silk rope. He binds
this rope about his body and the plant stem. That ties him fast. The
caterpillars of several kinds, which tie themselves in this way for the
pupa state, are called girdle caterpillars, or belted caterpillars. He
is also held fast by the tail as well as by this body belt. When he is
tied, his body shortens and thickens. His caterpillar skin bursts, and
drops off.
He is now a pupa. The pupa skin hardens into a little case. Now he
neither moves nor eats.
How long is he a pupa? That depends upon the time of year. In spring,
two weeks are enough for the change. In hot summer, nine days or a week
will do. If it is cold autumn weather, the pupa will not change to a
full-grown insect until the next spring.
If in the winter you find a pupa tied to a weed, and bring it into a
hot-house, or a warm room, in a few days you will have a fine butterfly
out. A wise man, who studied butterflies, put some pupæ in a very cold
place, and they did not change for two or three years!
When it is time for the insect to come out of the pupa case, some
motions like deep breathing are made. These crack open the hard skin.
Then the insect pulls itself out. It is moist and weak. Its wings droop
a little.
The new butterfly breathes hard, many times. At each breath air rushes
through its body, and through the tubes of its wings. The frame of its
wings stiffens and fills out. The body and legs grow dry and firm.[21]
Then the new-made butterfly rests a little,--perhaps for several hours.
After that it seems to feel fine. It can move its wide wings! It can
fly! It sails away!
Now it lights on a great white head of wild carrot, or on a rose. Let
us look at it. Its wings are black and yellow. The black is in bands
and streaks. It has six bluish spots on each lower wing, and one large
red and blue spot. Its body is like black velvet. Each lower wing has a
long, beautiful, curved tail.
The butterfly is an insect with far more beauty than sense. We may say
it is an insect with very little brains. It has none of the wise ways
of the ant, wasp, bee or spider; it only flies and eats, and lays eggs.
It builds no house, stores no food, takes no care of its young.
The butterfly can see. It has wonderful eyes. It can hear. It can
smell. It can taste. Its flower partners spread out for it their finest
colors, perfumes, and honey drops.
FOOTNOTES:
[21] See Nature Reader, No. 2, Lesson 45.
LESSON XXIV.
LIFE AMONG SNOW AND ROSES.
I told you that the butterfly did no work, built no house, and showed
very little sense. That is true of the full-grown butterfly. He seems
so pleased with his wings that he does nothing but enjoy them.
But you must know that the caterpillar is only one state of the
butterfly, and there are caterpillars which build for themselves very
curious houses.
[Illustration: A FROSTY MORNING.]
There are caterpillars which leave the egg in the autumn. They live as
caterpillars all winter, and enter the pupa state in the spring. Let us
watch them, as they live with the snow-flakes flying about them. Then
we will watch them to the time of roses.
Many butterflies lay their eggs singly. They put one egg alone, on the
tip of a willow, hazel, poplar, or oak leaf. Other butterflies put
their eggs in small clusters on the underside of carrot, nettle, or
blackberry leaves. Some put eggs in a ring, around an elm or birch twig.
Now and then you find the eggs in a chain or pyramid, hanging upon a
leaf. There are, also, some butterflies which drop their eggs on the
ground among the grasses, or on the lower parts of grass blades.
In all cases the caterpillar feeds on the plant on which he is hatched
from the egg. When he is ready to come out of the egg all he has to
do is to bite a hole in his shell and crawl forth. Then, at once, he
begins to eat.
He may begin at the tip of the leaf, and eat up to the mid-vein on both
sides. He is careful not to bite the mid-vein. When he has had a full
meal, he goes and lies along the mid-vein to rest. Then, when rested,
he eats again. Many do this, but not all.
When one leaf is finished, he takes the next one on the twig. After the
first leaf he is not so careful to begin at the tip. He just bites out
pieces anywhere, but he does not bite the big vein. Perhaps it is too
hard. Perhaps he knows he must have it for a roadway.
Do you remember what you read in the First Nature Reader about the
spider, which has in her body little knobs for spinning silk?[22] The
caterpillar has a silk-spinner. It is in the underside of his head. It
is a little tube in the shape of a cone.
Did you ever notice the queer way a caterpillar has of wagging his head
from side to side? He acts as if in great pain. But he is not in pain.
He is only laying down a silk web with that motion.
It is by means of this silk that the caterpillar makes his home. Let us
look at him while he works. He fastens his line to the edge of a leaf.
Then he carries it to the other edge, or to the next leaf. Then another
line, and so on. Each line is a little shorter than the one before.
This bends the leaf. At last it is bent into a tube, or box, or several
leaves are bound into a bower.
The caterpillar bites a notch, or line, in the tip of the leaf to make
it bend over for a roof. Is not that cunning? Think how strange it is,
that a tiny thing, just out of the egg, away up alone on a tree, should
know how to build this pretty house!
The caterpillar of the swallow-tail chooses a leaf for a home, weaves a
silk carpet over it, and lies along the mid-vein. What do you think he
does on rainy days, when the water begins to take his bent leaf for a
spout or gutter?
He builds a second floor of silk, a little higher up, between the edges
of the leaf. That makes a nice, dry, silk hammock. There he lies, while
the water ripples along the mid-vein below him. I suppose the sound of
the water sings him to sleep.
A caterpillar which makes a bag of a nettle leaf, for a nest, lies in
it so snug that he is too lazy to go out for food. So he eats up his
roof for his dinner! Another caterpillar draws a leaf together into
a pretty little pocket. He weaves silk over it, outside and in, and
then,--he eats up this dear little home, and has to make another!
These caterpillars make their homes for summer. There are some which
need winter homes. The caterpillar of the Viceroy butterfly is only
half-grown when winter comes. He lives in a willow-tree. He makes his
warm winter house of a willow leaf.
How does he do it? He eats part of the leaf away to the mid-vein. Then
he bends the lower part together, with silk. He fastens the edges tight
and lines the inside with silk. Then he covers the outside with silk,
and binds the nest to the twig with a silk thread, by crawling around
and around, drawing the silk with him.
The fierce winter storms will not tear off this house, which he has
bound to the tree. The silk he uses is of a brown, dry-leaf color.
When the house is made, he crawls in, head first. The knobbed hind end
of his body fills up the open part of the nest. Did you ever hear of
caterpillars called “woolly-bears,” because of their furry bodies?
This caterpillar has a little cousin, who makes his winter home of a
bent birch leaf. The color of his silk, and the knobbed end of his
body, are just the gray-purple of young birch buds. So, in the spring,
no bird notices him. Thus, while the snow flies, these caterpillars lie
safe in their warm homes. They are torpid.
Early in the spring they become pupæ, and then butterflies. Some
butterflies pass the winter as eggs, some as caterpillars, some as
pupæ. Some butterflies have two or more broods in the summer. Thus we
have new butterflies every week.
Full-grown butterflies sometimes live over winter. They come out in
the spring, looking rather shabby, and with the edges of their wings
broken. When frost comes, they creep into some crack, or under a piece
of tree-bark, or down among the roots. As they lay their wings flat
against each other, a small crevice will hold them.
But the glad time of the butterflies is in the summer, when they have
wings, honey, and sunshine. Some live from May until September. Some
come out in April, and live only through May. Some wait until July and
August. Others come for a little time in the spring, and a second brood
in October. Of these many lie torpid in cracks over winter.
At night, and during rainy days, butterflies hide, as they do in cold
weather. They seldom fly abroad before nine in the morning. Between
four and five in the afternoon they begin to steal off to bed. They are
out in full force in those bright, hot noon hours, when the flowers are
at their best. Happy butterfly, he flits about in the sun and drinks
honey all the time of roses!
FOOTNOTES:
[22] Nature Reader, No. 1, p. 54.
LESSON XXV.
JOSEPH’S COAT.
Many butterflies live alone. But some seem to go in what we call a
swarm. A “flight” of butterflies is a better name for many together
than “a swarm.” It is more common to see a number of caterpillars
together than many butterflies. The large, gay-colored butterflies are
generally seen only by one, two, or three, at a time.
No doubt you have seen a piece of damp ground, which looks as if it had
burst into blossom, so many yellow butterflies have lit upon it. They
are fond of moisture.
Orange-and-black butterflies have been seen to settle on a dead bush,
and cover its branches like gay leaves. They hang, in such a case,
with their wings folded against each other, and their backs down. They
do not cling one to another, as bees, when they swarm.
[Illustration: AS NIGHT DRAWS NEAR.]
A gentleman saw a great number of blue-spotted butterflies, rising from
some low pine-trees, where they seemed to have spent the night. Another
gentleman saw a very great swarm of the orange-and-black butterfly,
which hovers about the milk-weed. Hundreds of small, copper-red
butterflies sometimes light together on a hot, dusty road. Even the
fine swallow-tails have been seen in numbers together, when attracted
by the honey and perfume of a lilac-bush.
Some butterflies eat less than others, and spend much time sitting in
the sun, opening and shutting their vans or wings. They seem very fond
of play. You will see them whirling about, and chasing each other, like
children at a good game.
Some butterflies have a way of flying at whatever they see in motion.
If you toss a glove, ball, or little basket, into the air, they dart
at it. They seem curious to know what it is. Did you ever see a little
copper-colored butterfly, with black spots, darting at a big beetle or
grasshopper?
These little fellows seem to lie in wait under the leaves, and rush out
at whatever goes by, just as little dogs dash out from gate-ways!
Let us now talk a little about the colors of butterflies. The upper
and under sides of the wings often differ much. The upper side is much
brighter than the under side. Do you see a reason for this?
The insect flies with the wings spread out in full view. Its flight
is not even and straight. It moves in jerks, called “flitting,” and
it dashes here and there, zig-zag. This way of flying makes it very
difficult for a bird to pick up a butterfly on the wing.
Thus the pretty insect is safe enough when he flies. But it would be
easy to pick him up when he lights. So the upper side of his wings
shows most of his beauty, and the under side, which only is shown when
he rests, is shaded like a dry leaf, or is of the hue of the plants
upon which he often sits.
Not only is the butterfly protected by the graver color of the under
side of its vans, but it wears the general flower-color of the season,
or of its home.
In spring, you know how many of the flowers are blue, or partly blue.
The violets, the hyacinths, the purple crocus, the liverwort, and many
more, are blue, and among them fly blue butterflies. There are more
blue ones in spring, than at any other time of year.
Also, in spring, there are many yellow butterflies. You will hardly
be able to distinguish them at first glance, from the buttercups,
dandelions, crocuses, and cowslips, upon which they rest.
The little butterflies, which love the dusky woods, are brown, drab,
and gray, with black or reddish spots, and dull, yellow marks. Their
coats are like the colors of the tree trunks, the mosses, and dead
leaves, where they live.
Then when the daisies and lilies are wide out, with the white roses
and bright-hued summer flowers, come the white butterflies. With them
follow the splendid swallow-tail family, to swing around the tulips
and gladiolas, and petunias, yellow lilies, and geraniums.
In the autumn, among the marigolds, dahlias, and asters, all our
gayest-coated butterflies come out,--orange, gold, brown, scarlet,
purple,--eyed like peacocks’ tails.
You must not think from this, that you will see _only_ such and
such colored butterflies, at certain times of year. You may see
swallow-tails very early in spring. They have lived over winter.[23]
You may see in autumn the second brood of spring butterflies. You may
find the autumn butterflies sailing about in the summer. They have
lived over winter as caterpillars.
A little lad said to me, one day, when he saw a very gay peacock
butterfly, “I think Nature got tired of painting, and emptied her whole
paint-box on that fellow!” Indeed, it does seem as if there is no gay
tint of earth, or sky, or sea, no hue of flower, or rainbow, which the
butterfly does not wear.
They come to us in red, purple, green, blue, white, black. They take
all shades of these colors. Then the colors are put on in lines, dots,
streaks, bars, spots, fringes. They are made more beautiful by the
waved line of the lower wings, by the velvet body, the slender legs,
the graceful feelers, the bright, jewel-like eyes.
No silk dyer can bring out a new shade, but some butterfly has worn
it for his every-day clothes, since the creation. No king can buy any
richer colors, or more finely put together, than our butterfly wears.
And all else about him sets off the splendor of Joseph’s coat.
FOOTNOTES:
[23] North of New Jersey and Pennsylvania, the swallow-tails never live
over winter.
LESSON XXVI.
COUSIN MOTH.
[Illustration: A LOWLY LIFE.]
In the great order of the scale-wings, the butterfly is of the family
of the “club-horns.” His cousin, the moth, is of the family of the
“varied-horns.” The feelers of the butterfly, up to the club, are
straight and smooth. The feelers of the moth are curved and often
fringed. If you put them under a strong microscope, you might think you
were looking at lovely ferns.
Do you remember what you read in the first and second book of Nature
Readers, of the hook-wing family? Almost all moths have a hook and
catch to fasten the lower wing to the upper one in flight. No butterfly
has such a hook.