 CHAPTER XV. THE WATER BOATMAN What may you want to see a bug? Well, that is easy enough. Here is one of this pond at our feet. Do you know it? Yes, John, it is a water boatman. Nell says she doesn't see it. There, Nell, the little thing that shines like silver under the water. It is clinging to a weed. No, we cannot see it very well unless we catch it. Ned, do you think you can be spry enough to scoop it out with the net? There, he has it. No, it is off. Well, we shall never see that one again. But here, in this corner of the pond, see several of them. No, don't be in too great a hurry, Ned. They are hard to catch. He has it. Here. Don't touch it. Bugs are biters, remember. Put it in this tumbler of water and clap the cover over it. Quick. So, now we have it. What is that, Molly? I just said bugs do not bite, and now I call them biters. I don't wonder you are puzzled. They do not bite, but they pierce with their mouth tubes, and that feels just as though they bite us. So we commonly speak of bugs as biting. If you wish to be very exact, we will hear after speak of bugs as piercing or sucking. Now, Mr. Water Boatman, we are going to have a good look at you. Nell says it is not like silver anymore, but just a little black and gray speckled bug. This is because it is now on top of the water. When it goes under, it is surrounded with a layer of air, and that is what makes it look as though it had on a silver dress. May wants to know how it manages to take a layer of air down under the water. If you were to look at it with a magnifying glass May, you would see it is covered with fine hairs. The air becomes entangled in these hairs. Do you not remember how the leaf of the jewelweed, or touch me not, as it is also called, shines when you plunge it in water? It, too, is covered with the fine hairs that hold air. Many leaves shine in this way when put under water, and always because of the fine hairs that prevent the air from being pushed out by the water. You see the hairs on the bugs serve the same purpose as those on the leaves. They hold fast the air. Our water boatman breathes this air that surrounds him. You know how insects breathe, do you not? Dear me, the night shall have to tell you. They have no lungs, of course, so they cannot breathe with the lungs as we do. Take a long breath. See how your chest rises. That is because you filled your lungs full of air. Well, the insects have to breathe. Every living thing has to breathe air. Nothing in the world could live without air. Even plants breathe the air, you know. Now there is a little row of holes, or pores, along each side of the abdomen of the insect. These are the breathing pores. No, May, the insects do not breathe through their mouths. They breathe through their sides. You can see the breathing pores, or spiracles, as they are called, very plainly in many insects. You can see them on the abdomen of the locust, and in the caterpillars they are bright colored spots. There are spiracles on the sides of the thorax, too, but they do not show so plainly as those on the abdomen. The spiracles open into air tubes that carry air to the blood of the insect. If you watch a grasshopper or a bee, you can plainly see it breathe. The abdomen moves in the bee as though it were panting. These movements of the abdomen cause the air to go in and out. All insects move their abdomens to send the air in and out, but it does not show plainly in all of them. For though insects need air, some of them can get along with very little. Yes, John, insects have blood. It is not just like our blood, but still it is blood. It is not generally red in color, though sometimes it is reddish and sometimes it is brown or violet or even bright green. Yes, that seems strange to you, but you remember how ears are ears and serve to hear with, no matter where on the body of the creature they are located. So blood is blood and serves the purpose of blood, no matter what its color. The blood of some insects has a very bad odor, and in the case of certain beetles, when they are disturbed, this foul smelling liquid oozes out of the joints of the legs. Yes, Mabel, it is probably used like the molasses of other little friends we know, to repel enemies, but to return to breathing. Some larvae breathe by gills and do not have spiracles until they are grown up, but all grown up insects breathe by spiracles. Yes, John, the larvae of the dragon flies and may flies breathe with gills. I thought you would remember that. The water boatman breathes by spiracles and carries his supply of air with him. All grown up bugs breathe by spiracles. Now look down into the pond. I think you will see some water boatman anchored near the bottom. Yes, May, they cling by their front feet. Their hind pair of legs are rather odd-looking. They have a fringe of hairs on the inside. John says their hind legs are modified to swim with. Very good, John. The hind legs are the oars that row these little boats about the water. But why are the little boats that have come to anchor down there, moving their paddle so constantly? Ah, yes, it is because they want fresh air to breathe. You know there is always air in pond water, and they keep their paddles moving, so as to change the envelope of air that surrounds them. They know what to do to take care of themselves if they are nothing but little bugs. When winter comes, they go down to the bottom of the pond and bury themselves in the mud. They lie there without moving or breathing until spring, when out they come as lively as ever. Yes, certain other animals pass the winter in this way. The bears, for instance, find a snug den and sleep all through the coldest winter weather. We call this winter sleep of animals, hibernation, and many of the insects hibernate. Yes, Ned, hibernating animals can get on with very little air. They sometimes seem to need none at all, and they take no food. May wants to know what these queer water boatmen eat. They suck out the juices of other insects. They must lay their eggs in the water, little now thinks, and so they do, own water plants. Near the city of Mexico there are species that lay enormous quantities of eggs in the ponds, and what do you think? The Indians mix these eggs with meal, make them into cakes, and eat them. The Mexican bugs are gathered by the tongue, too, and sent to England as food for cage birds, fish, and poultry. Little now thinks there must be a great many bugs in a ton. Indeed there are, probably about 25 millions of them, so you can imagine Mexico is well supplied with water boatmen. When the young ones hatch out they look like their parents, only of course they are tiny little dots of things that have no wings. But they eat and grow and molt like other larvae until they are full grown insects. What have you discovered Ned? You look surprised. The water boatman has no antennae. It doesn't seem to have any, but look carefully, and I think you will find some tiny ones tucked away under its head. Nell wants to know if the water boatman has a thorax and an abdomen. Indeed it has, but you will have to look carefully to see them. Its abdomen is short and thick and hard. The water boatman is much more compact in form than the orthoptera or any of the other insects we have studied. You are right, John, an insect with a long abdomen like a grasshopper could not get on very well in the water. Now may take the cover off the tumbler. There, our water boatman was not slow to make use of his wings. Well, good-bye and good luck to you, little water boatman. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of The Insect Folk. This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley. Chapter 16. The Funny Back Swimmers What, John? You know a water boatman that swims on its back? That makes no laugh and no wonder. Yes, there is a little bug that swims on its back. It is very much like the water boatman, and it has long paddles made of its queer hind legs. Unlike the water boatman, however, its back is not flat, but is shaped like the kill of a boat. This being the case, it just turns over and swims with its kill shaped back in the water. It is sometimes called the back swimmer, and most boys are well acquainted with it. What do you think about catching it in your fingers, Ned? Ah, you do not like to? It has a very sharp beak for sucking the life out of other insects, and if you succeed in getting hold of it, it will stick that into your finger. And my, how it does sting. It is not an easy matter to catch it, however. It is such a quick little rascal. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of The Insect Folk This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 17 The Giant Water Bug A good many kinds of bugs live in the water, but perhaps the oddest of all is the giant water bug. It is a giant. Have you ever seen very large, flat brown bugs lying on the ground under the electric street lamps? Those are the giant water bugs. They fly in the night from pond to pond and are attracted by bright lights. They fly into the electric lights and are killed in great numbers sometimes. This is such a common habit with them that in some places they are called electric light bugs. A good many people never saw these bugs until they were found dead under the electric lights, and so they imagined they did not exist until electric lights were invented. But that is a very foolish notion. The bugs were here thousands of years before electric lights were dreamed of. The giant water bugs are not pleasant to handle when alive. If you ever succeed in catching one in the water, which is not easy, they slip about so quickly. Be sure and not take it in your fingers. The California children call a species they have their toe biters, and they say they bite their toes when they go in waiting. The giant water bugs are the largest of living bugs, and they even kill and eat fish. Their forelegs can shut up like a jackknife. The tibia shuts into a groove in the femur, and thus the bug is able to seize and hold its prey. It clasps its victim in its arms, as it were, and calmly proceeds to suck out its blood. In some species of the giant water bugs the female does not leave her eggs in the pond to take care of themselves. She puts them on the back of her mate, who is obliged to carry all of his progeny about with him until they relieve him by hatching out and swimming off to see life for themselves. CHAPTER XVIII. LITTLE MISSISS SHOREBUG. May said she wants to hear more about bugs. Well, there is little Mrs. Shorebug. I think you must all know her. She is a little bug that flies along in front of you on the seashore, or indeed, on the edge of any body of water. She flits along just in front of you, and is so quick in her motions that you will hardly ever catch her. She does not fly far. She alights just far enough ahead to make you try again to capture her. But when you think you have her, she isn't there. She has sped off on one of her short flights, and so she will continue to do as long as you continue to chase her. CHAPTER XIX. THE ARI WATERSTRIDERS. Then there are the water striders. They are bugs, and it is easy to guess how they got their name. You surely remember the long-legged, dark-colored fellows that straddle about on top of the water in ponds or instill pools in streams. Who has not tried to catch them, and how very seldom any one succeeds? May knows where we can see some water striders close at hand. They are on the pond in the meadow. Let us go. Ah, you little ones! There you are, scampering over the water on your airy, fairy feet, as though you are on dry ground. How they flash about, and what cunning dimples their little feet make on the water when they stand still. If we keep fairy quiet, they will stop darting about in that wild way, and we can see them better. Now, water striders, why do you behave so, and what do you eat? Eat? Why, insects, of course. And as to behavior they may well wonder more at hours than we at theirs. They skate about on the surface of the water all summer, and when winter comes they hide away at the bottom of the pond, right under the water, or along the edges of the banks. When the warm spring sunshine wakes up the sleeping plants, then the little water striders wake up too. Out they come to resume their endless skating and insect catching. But now they lay their eggs, gluing them fast to waterweeds. The young water striders look like their parents, and they too like to go circling and flashing over the top of the water, with their long legs spread out. End of Chapter 19 Chapter 20 of The Insect Folk. This Looper Vox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Moorley. Chapter 20. A Queer Fellow What do you suppose is in this box? Little Nell may open it. There, out he comes, slowly, as though he were looking around and thinking about it. May says, Hello, Mr. Walking Stick. You hear again? Ho, ho. Is it, Mr. Walking Stick? You look again. Molly thinks if she were going to name it, she would call it Mr. Walking Threads. Yes, it is more slender than even the Walking Stick. What is that, John? You thought insects had six legs, and this has only four? Now here is something for us to think about. Ned says it has six long threads that might be legs, but it does not walk on the two front ones. It seems to use them as antennae. Ned says those front ones look to him to be jointed just like the others, and he thinks they are legs. Molly says they have no little feet like the others, and she thinks they are antennae. Well, well, what are we to do? Think of its having fillers that look like legs, or legs that look like fillers, so that you cannot tell which they are. Now it is beginning to move, and, oh, ho, that long part in front is not its head. See, it separates into two. What? Surely, two front legs? See, they were folded up, somewhat like the front legs of the mantis, only these could fold close together, being thread-like. So the long threads are antennae after all. Now, it has raised its head, which we easily see as quite round, with tiny eyes, and the antennae are growing out from the front of it. What is it? A walking stick? A mantis? Why? Why, there it goes, sailing off in the air with a queer little fluttering motion of its whole body. It has wings. John has caught it and brought it back. Now, let us look at those wings, you strange little creature. You will have to look close, but there they are, narrow, short, such tiny wings. How do you suppose it flies with them? You seem queerer and queerer the more we look at you. Little, what shall we call you? But we know you are not a walking stick because our walking sticks have no wings. The truth is, you are a bug. Yes, this little thread-like creature belongs to the same order as the big, flat, giant water bug. It grasps its victim in its forefeet like the mantis, but instead of biting its prey it sucks out the juices. You would hardly expect such a delicate creature to catch and kill other insects, yet such is the case. No, I do not think it will pierce your finger with its beak. I have often handled them and have never been stung by one. We often see them walking about in the grass and along paths. If we pay a visit to the Hawthorne Bush, we shall probably find a bug to our liking. Yes, here is one. It is a tiny thing I know, but wait until you see it under the microscope. Ah, I thought you would be pleased. Nell says it looks as though it had on a lacy party dress. Is it not a dainty fairy? We call it the lace bug. It does not suck the juices of other insects, but instead it sucks the juices of plants. Its eggs are very curious. It lays them on leaves and glues them fast. They look like little outgrowths of the leaf. The young lace bugs are like their parents in form. Only, of course, they have no wings and so they are not pretty. Fairy lace bug, we are glad to make your acquaintance. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of The Insect Folk This slipper fox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 22 A Bad Bug Now here is a bug we all loathe. It is round and flat and reddish brown in color and it has a disgusting odor. But though we hate this bug it is very fond of us. It has a short sharp tube folded down under its head and this tube it likes to raise up and stick into the skin of people and suck out their blood. It has no wings, only a pair of little scales where its wings should be. Yes, may these scales are rudimentary wings and they are good for nothing. It once had wings but it preferred to go slipping about in cracks and hiding in beds until in course of time no wings grew which served it right. It has antennae and eyes and spiracles. Indeed it has everything a bug should have but wings and good manners. We call it the bed bug because its favorite home is in beds so that it can sally forth at night and feast upon its sleeping victims. It lays its eggs in cracks and crevices and each egg is like a little jar with a rim and a lid at the top. When the young one hatches it pushes off the lid. The young are in shape like their parents only they are very light colored and almost transparent. They look like ghosts of bugs but they are very voracious ghosts indeed and they eat and molt and grow and become darker colored until they reach maturity. One strange thing about them is that they can live a very long time with nothing to eat so that houses long vacated may still contain these nuisances that sally forth eager to round out their emaciated forms at the expense of the new occupants of the house. The barn swallow is sadly afflicted by a species of these unwelcome visitors to its nest and the poor bats are also victimized by a species of bed bug. The bad odor comes from a liquid poured out of the back of the young bugs and from the underside of the old ones. These insects are very undesirable acquaintances and they breed so fast that even one brought into a house may cause it to become generally infested in a few weeks. Eternal vigilance and great cleanliness are the housekeepers only safeguards. There are some species of bugs that closely resemble the bed bugs only they have wings and live on flowers or in the cracks of the bark of trees. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of The Insect Folk This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 23 The Troublesome Red Bug There are a great many kinds of bugs on the leaves and flowers in summer and some of them do much damage by eating the vegetation. One of the most troublesome of these is the red bug. Here is a picture of one. Its wings look as if it had an X drawn on them. Let us spread out one of the wings. Why do you all laugh? Sure enough Ned, how can we spread out the wings of a bug in a picture? But there is a way out of that difficulty. Yes, another picture. Only the upper wings are spread out. You see, the half of the wing next to the body is stiff like a wing cover and the other half is thin and silky and folds up under the stiff part. When the insect flies it spreads out the under wings too, for there is a pair of thin flying wings folded on the body under these upper wings. These upper wings that are half wing covering and half flying wing are characteristic of the bug order. Not all the bugs have them, but a great many have. The name of the bug order is hemiptera, meaning half wing. You see why. Yes, John, the word hemiptera comes from two Greek words, hemmy, meaning half, and as you know, taeron, meaning a wing. The young red bugs are like the old ones accepting in color. What do we call the young of insects little now? Yes, we call them larvae. These red bug larvae are bright red with black legs. They pierce the cotton plants in the south and suck out the juices. Of course, they grow and molt until they arrive at the adult form. What, John? You do not know what adult means. Adult means grown up. It is a short way of saying grown up. And after this, when we mean a grown up insect, let us say an adult insect. To return to the red bug, when it reaches the adult state, it is not such a bright red, but rather of a reddish color with brownish wings striped with light yellow. Besides eating the juices of the cotton plants and thus injuring or even killing them, the red bug stained the white cotton and spoil it. They are also troublesome in some parts of Florida, where they pierce the skins of the oranges and cause the fruit to decay. End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 of The Insect Folk This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 24 The Ravenous Chinch Bugs There are a great many bugs injurious to vegetation, among them the little chinch bugs. They are so small, each one no larger than a plant louse, that you would not think they could do much harm. One of them could not, but when they appear in millions, then they are terrible. Here is one magnified to show the white wing covers with black markings. Would you believe that this tiny insect has destroyed millions of dollars worth of grains in the United States? What, Charlie, you should think that they could be killed out? That is a very difficult task. You see, they are so small, and they breed so fast. There are two broods of them in one year, and when they have eaten one grain filled, they start off, million strong, to another. Of course, a great many methods have been tried for getting rid of them, and one very curious method you would like to hear about. You know insects are subject to diseases. What now, you never heard of a sick bug? Yet it seems they are sick sometimes, and certain diseases kill them. Chinch bugs are not as healthy in some places as in others. There is a contagious disease that kills them off in very great numbers. Ned says he can guess what remedy the people apply to the healthy chinch bugs that are eating their grain. Yes, they introduce diseased chinch bugs into the grain fields with the healthy ones. The contagion spreads and the bugs die. There is another way of getting rid of some kinds of troublesome insects. That is, to introduce an insect not injurious to vegetation that will prey upon the injurious ones. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Of The Insect Folk This Looper Fox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Moorley Chapter 25 The Well Protected Stink Bug One of the bugs we know the best and like the least is the stink bug. It deserves its name. John says he had one on his hand this morning. How did you like it, John? Did any of you ever pick berries where these bugs were? See what a face Molly is making? It is very evident that she has. What a nasty taste they give the delicious fruit. Even the flavor of the red raspberry is spoiled if one of these bugs pollutes it. What makes them smell so? May is asking. The disgusting odor is caused by a liquid that is ejected out of the little pores on the underside of the thorax. The bug can eject this liquid when it pleases. Most members of the bug order can eject a disagreeable liquid, though few of them do it so successfully as the stink bug. If the stink bug is not disturbed it does not give forth the bad odor. But when we jostle the bushes in getting the berries that startles it and we get the benefit of its alarm. Yes, undoubtedly the bugs make a bad odor for the same reason the grasshoppers make molasses. They wish to repel their enemies. Very few birds ever touch a stink bug. Nell thinks a bird would be crazy to eat a stink bug. Molly says if it were not crazy when it began it surely would be before it got through. Not only the bugs make these disagreeable odors, many other insects do. The cockroaches as we know and one reason we dislike them so is because of this offensive odor. Some species of crickets too and indeed many many insects give forth odors from glands that exist just for that purpose. No indeed these odors are not all alike. Some have a strangling quality like ammonia and sometimes the odors are not disagreeable. Some insects have sweet odors like perfumes. The pleasant odors are not used to repel but to attract. If an insect wishes to see its mate it may be able to give forth a pleasant odor that will reach a long way through the air and the mate smelling it will follow it to its source. You see this pleasant odor is one way of talking. At least it is one way of sending a message. Insects can detect odors much better than we can. No doubt many insects produce odors that affect other insects but that are so faint we cannot smell them at all. The sense of smell even in the human being is very wonderful. It is the keenest of all the senses. You have studied weights and measures and you know how small a quantity a grain of anything is. Well you will be astonished to know that your nose can detect the presence of one in two billion seven hundred sixty million of a grain of mercaptan a substance having a very bad smell. So you see insects that can smell very very much better than we would be greatly influenced by the odors of other insects. Some of the stink bugs although so disagreeable if disturbed are very useful to us as they eat other insects injurious to vegetation. Most of them however eat fruits and vegetables and some species do a vast amount of mischief. End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 of The Insect Folk. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley. Chapter 26. The Laos. Yes John, lice are bugs but very mean bugs too. They have lived at the expense of other creatures so long that they cannot exist unless they have a living body to feed on. Here is a picture of one very much enlarged. No wings, no beauty, a pale white thing, all claws and mouth. It has a long sucking tube by which it pierces the skin and a sucking stomach by which it pumps the blood into its mouth. Such creatures are called parasites. Yes bedbugs are parasites too. Besides the lice that live on human beings there is a species which infest animals. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 of The Insect Folk. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley. Chapter 27. Bird Lice and Book Lice. Bird lice are not lice. That is, they do not belong to the bug order. They belong to a small order by themselves, but they are parasites like the lice. The little white book lice that scurry away when we open an old book that has been standing on the back shelf are not lice either. They also belong to a little order of their own and are constructed very differently from the true lice. End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 of The Insect Folk. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley. Chapter 28. Friend Cicada. Maysa she wishes that locust would keep quiet. It makes her warmer than ever to hear him carrying on so this hot day. John says it is the weather that is warm, not the song of the Locust. And yet, Locusts generally sing during the hottest part of the summer, so that we have learned to associate them with warm weather. Since we must listen to its shrill outcry, I wish we could also see it. Ah, this is a wish soon gratified. Here comes one out of John's pocket. John says it is not a Locust. Ah, yes, the short-horned grasshoppers are the real Locusts, and this fellow has somehow got the name. But it is not a Locust. It is also called the dog-day harvest fly, but it is not a fly, though it looks considerably like one. Really, you know, it is a bug. Yes, it belongs to the bug order. Its true name is Cicada, and its shrill mid-summer song has been famous from the beginning of time. It looks like an enormous fly, but its mouth parts are the mouth parts of the bug, and in other respects it resembles the member of the bug order, when it is examined closely. What glassy wings. Let us spread them out carefully. Four of them it has. The cicada you see has no wing covers, nor are its upper wings half wing cover and half wing, like those of so many of the bugs. No, all four of its wings are alike, and all four are flying wings. When it is at rest, the inner wings slip out of sight under the outer ones, which fold down like a roof over its body. See how beautifully the wings are veined. You think cicada has a very broad back now? So it has, and a broad head. See its black eyes on the corners of its head? How many facets have its eyes? I wish I knew, but I do not. This, however, I can tell you. If you look on the top of its head between its compound eyes, with the magnifying glass, you will find it has three little eyes there. These small eyes are simple, and are called ocelli. Many insects have ocelli. Indeed, some of the grasshoppers have these extra eyes on top of their head. May says the grasshoppers are very astonishing insects. You think you know all about them, and you are all the time finding out something new. You would not be apt to notice these small ocelli on the grasshopper's head, they are so small, and besides, some of the grasshoppers do not have them. Yes, Molly, it is the same with the crickets and katydids. Some species have ocelli, and some have not. If you look full in the face of a cicada, you can see the three little round ocelli between the compound eyes. They show very plainly with the magnifying glass. Indeed, it is difficult to explain what the ocelli are for. Some think they are to see objects close at hand, while the compound eyes see more distant objects. Others think the ocelli are only capable of distinguishing light from darkness. Yet others think they are merely a survival of the eyes of the worms. You know, way back in time, before there were winged insects, there were worms. In some way the insects are descended from the worms, and though they have got rid of many of their worm-like parts, they still retain some of them, and probably among these are the ocelli. When an animal of any kind keeps organs that belong to its ancestors but that are of no use to it, we say these organs are survivals. They have not yet had time wholly to disappear. Yes, John, the time may come when the ocelli will disappear from the insects. A good many insects have lost them already. Indeed, you are right, May. They have lost some of them because they did not use them. When an animal ceases to use an organ in course of time, for lack of exercise, that organ dwindles away and disappears. It generally takes a very long time for this to happen. Yes, Mabel, thousands or even millions of years may pass before an organ that has gone out of use entirely disappears. As generations succeed each other, each generation loses a little power of that organ, until, finally, there is no organ left. John is puzzled to know just what is meant by an organ. It is some particular part of the creature. An arm is an organ, a stomach is an organ, and I is an organ. The whole creature is made up of organs and is called an organism. Your whole body, John, is an organism, but your legs and arms are organs. Now I think you understand. Our cicada has one organ that is very interesting. It is the little apparatus by which it sings. Turn it over, Ned, and all of you look at the two thin plates lying against the abdomen just below the thorax. Those membranes are like two little kettle drums, and they are its song organs. There are other membranes beneath them and large muscles within the body to move the membranes. The membranes, being set in rapid vibration, we get the shrill cry of the locust. Only the male has the kettle drums. In the female these organs are rudimentary, and she is dumb. Cicada, you are a pretty little thing with your clear glass-like wings and your black body with red and green trimming. See its mouth lying in that little groove under its head? It is a tube and sharp. The cicada sticks it into a leaf or young twig to suck out the juice. Nell wants to know if the young cicadas are like the old ones. Indeed, they would be cunning little things if they were. And, yes, they would look very much like flies. But the young cicadas are queer babies indeed. They do not look very much like their parents, although they have a head, a thorax, and an abdomen. The female cicada makes a slit in the bark of the tree twig with her ovipositor and lays the eggs there. As soon as they hatch out, the tiny cicadas drop down to the ground and burrow into the earth. You would not know that they are cicadas. They are such queer-looking little creatures, but they have strong, sucking mouth parts with which they pierce holes in the roots of trees and suck out the juices. Of course, these larvae grow and molt and continue to do so until they have molted a good many times and grown quite large. They stay down under the ground two years. At the end of that time they crawl up to the surface of the earth in the early summer. They climb trees or weeds or fence posts, and then the skin splits down the back for the last time and out comes a full grown cicada with bright, glassy wings. The wings of the larvae do not grow at each molt like the wings of the grasshopper. The larvae never gets beyond short little wing-pads. See John's eyes twinkling? I believe. Yes, he has. He has brought us the cast-off skin of a cicada to look at. Why, John, you are like a good fairy to us today, giving us just the things we want just when we want them. Now see this little shell, see the front legs like strong paws to dig with, and see its glassy eyes and its little wing-pads. It is a perfect cast of the cicada larvae. Yes, May, this little cast is made of chitin, and it will last a long time. Chitin is a very indestructible substance. Even fire will not destroy it. But in course of time the moisture and the acids in the earth destroy it, so that at last the millions of cicada shells and grasshopper cast-off skins, which are also of chitin, and cricket molts, and all the other little cast aside, chitinous overcoats of the insects return again to the earth and the air whence they came. The minerals and gases that compose them let go of each other as it were, and the chitin is no longer chitin. Amy says she has seen these little cicada shells hundreds of times, but did not know what they were. Yes, we are sure to find them almost every summer. If we look, we will also find other larvae shells. Down in the grass are the cast-off coats of the grasshoppers and the crickets. All we need to do is to look, and we shall be sure to find them, like unsubstantial ghosts of the active little wares. No doubt you have all heard of the 17-year locusts. They, too, are cicadas, and they look very much like this one. Only it takes the young ones 17 years to complete their growth. Think of living in the ground and sucking the juices out of the earth and of tree roots for 17 years. How would you like to do it? But no doubt the cicada is quite happy living in this way. At the end of 17 years the cicadas come up out of the earth in great swarms. They cast their skins for the last time. The queer little shells are seen everywhere, and the air resounds with the songs of the freed prisoners. In the south it takes only 13 years for these cicadas to develop. I once went up the side of a beautiful mountain in North Carolina, where was such a mighty host of cicadas in the trees that I could not hear my companion speak, and a little way off the noise sounded like a torrent of rushing water. By Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 29 The Odd Spittle Insect Why, little Nell, what is the matter? You do wish the frogs would stop spitting on the grass? Let me see. Why, poor child, she is all covered with frog-spittle. That is kind, Ned. See, he is wiping her apron off with some fresh, clean leaves. Let us rest a while under this shady tree. John, pick that grass-blade with the frog-spittle on it. Be careful. Do not disturb it. There is a surprise in store for you. This white frothy substance that is so abundant in some places in the summer, and that looks like spittle, is, guess what? Frog-spittle, May says. So you think the frogs spit on the grass, do you? They must be tall frogs to reach up so high. With this little twig, let us carefully brush away the white froth. Now, see. Yes, there is something in the center of it. It is the larva-ava bug. The female bug, and here is one of the little things, lays the egg on the leaf or twigs, and when it hatches, the young bug sucks out the sap of the plant, which finally appears as this white froth. The larva remains surrounded by the froth until its transformations are complete. Just before the last malt, it stops sucking out sap. The froth dries about it in the form of a little room, and in this it undergoes its last malt and comes out an adult bug. The froth is supposed to be used as a protection, and it may be against some enemies, but there are certain wasps that delight in invading the frothy masses and tolling out the unwilling morsels within to feed to their young. No little now. The frogs have nothing whatever to do with this frothy substance which was called frog-spittle before people understood about the little insect that made it. They really thought the frogs did it. The adult spittle insect is called a frog-hopper, and it has the power of leaping very well. CHAPTER XXXIV. Pretty Leaf Hoppers. Just see this bush. Be careful not to shake it. It is covered with such pretty bright-colored little insects. There may run against the bush and see. They are hopping wildly off in every direction. Yes, little now, they do sound like raindrops pattering on the leaves. They are prettier than the spittle insects and more slender, but they hop about in very much the same way. The larvae do not make froth, however. These are the leaf-hoppers. What big heads they have, and how daintily their green forms are penciled with red lines. There are a great many species of the leaf-hoppers, and not all of them are as pretty as these. Some of them are very small indeed, and some do great damage to the grain crops and the fruits. They suck out the juices of the plants. If you sweep the insect net over bushes or through the grass in mid-summer, you will be pretty sure to draw in a good collection of leaf-hoppers. Most of us are only too well acquainted with the rose-leaf hopper that swarms on rose bushes and kills the leaves. If we have not noticed the insect itself, we have not failed to notice the little white skins that it has cast off and left clinging to the leaves. Yes, these are the little skins it discards when it molts. John says we can kill them by washing the bushes with strong soap suds. Ned says it is better yet to spray them. It is better and also easier to spray them than to wash them. You know there are machines for spraying trees and other plants. They consist of a tank to hold the liquid that is to be sprayed and a pump to force it through the rubber pipe with a sprinkle at the end. Very often a mixture of soap and kerosene oil, known as kerosene emulsion, is used to spray with. Paris green and blue vitriol, both very poisonous, are often used on grapevines before the grapes are formed, and very gaudy vines they are for a little while after this bright poison has been sprayed upon them. Although insects are so very interesting, we have to protect ourselves against many species in order to live. Yes, John, it is oftentimes merely a question which shall profit by the crops we plant, the insects or ourselves. Sometimes the insects win, sometimes we win, but it is a closely contested warfare all the time. We plow the land and take care of it. We plant the seeds and keep out the weeds. Then when we have a fine crop growing along come certain destructive insects feeling very happy no doubt to have found such a feast. Now the fight begins. They attack the crop. We attack them. We spray them with poisons, burn up their eggs, do everything we know how to to get rid of them. Wise men have spent many years of close study finding out the habits of the insects destructive to grains and fruits in order to be able to destroy them. Although many of the plant hoppers are such nuisances to us, there is one family of hoppers that is seldom a nuisance. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 of The Insect Folk This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 31 The Comical Tree Hoppers Do you know the tree hoppers? Observed little jokers that they are? Oh yes, they are hard and three cornered like animated beach-nuts as somebody has said. Yes, some of them have humps on their backs and some have horns. John says he once made a collection of tree hoppers and put them in a box with a reading glass over the top and showed them to his friends to make them laugh. May says she saw them and they reminded her of brownies. Would it not be fun to have a tree hopper brownie book? The tree hoppers jump about on the bushes and eat the juices of the plants but there are not usually enough of them to do damage. They seldom come in swarms like some of the leaf hoppers though sometimes they do. End of Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Of The Insect Folk This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 32 The Jumping Plant Lice The jumping plant lice are nearly related to the tree hoppers but they do not look at all like them. Under the magnifying glass they look like tiny cicadas. See, here is a picture of one enlarged. Their natural size is no larger than a plant lice. Have you not often seen them clustered close together on the young twigs of pear trees? Tiny, light colored things that jump in all directions when you touch the twig? The name of the plant lice that infests pear trees is the pear tree silla. It is very destructive to pear trees, sucking out the juices of the young shoots. The pear trees can be saved by spraying them with kerosene emulsion as soon as the young leaves have opened in the spring. End of Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Of The Insect Folk This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 33 The Aphids Now let us go and search of the Aphids or Aphides as they are also called. We shall not have to search far. In a very dry season we generally need not search at all. All we need to do is to examine the nearest we to find plenty of Aphides. Yes, they are the little plant lice that seem at times to cover every growing thing. Sometimes they are green, sometimes brown or gray or reddish in color. They are tiny creatures, but what they lack in size they more than make up in numbers. Go now and find some Aphides. Ah, here you all come, each bearing a leaf or a twig on which are Aphids. There was no trouble in finding them. They do not hop like the jumping lice when they are disturbed. They remain where they are unless they are very much shaken up. See, most of them are without wings, though here are a few with beautiful transparent wings. And to any they have long and thread like and see the knowing little eyes. They seem to be anchored to the leaf. Hold the leaf up to the light and see if you can discover what they are doing. Ah, see those mouth tubes firmly stuck into the leaf. There they stand all day long and suck out the juice. Ned says he should think they would burst. But they do not. They grow. And they also get rid of a large part of the superfluous sap in a curious way. They use what they need to grow on, and the rest escapes from the insect's body in the form of honeydew. It is the sweet liquid of which ants and bees are very fond. What, John, you have heard that the aphids give out honeydew from little horns near the tip of the abdomen? Let us see if we can find these horns. Yes, we can see them plainly and very plainly with a magnifying glass. But now listen, the honeydew does not come from the horns. On the end of some of the horns or tubes we can see a drop of clear liquid. For a long time people believed this was honeydew. But instead it is a waxy substance which is not sweet. It has been very carefully studied by wise men who tell us it contains no sugar and is probably used as a means of defense, as aphids have been seen to smear the faces of insect enemies with this wax. There are a great many species of aphids and on all of them have the little tubes or horns on their backs. But probably many that have no horns give forth honeydew. It is really a waste substance from the body of the aphid. Ants are so fond of the honeydew that certain species of aphidies have been called the ants' cows because the ants take care of them for the sake of the honeydew. Some ants protect the aphids from their enemies. They drive off those insects that would devour the aphids and when winter comes these ants carry the aphids down into their warm nests underground and keep them safe through the cold winter. The aphidies cannot stand wet weather but after a long spell of dry weather they will be found in great abundance. Sometimes they eat so fast and so much that the honeydew falls like a shower from the trees upon which they are. It covers the ground beneath and the leaves of plants and makes everything very sticky and disagreeable to the touch. The dust settles on it too and a growth something like mold often turns it black as we find to our discomfort. But when the honeydew is fresh the bees love it. They collect large quantities of it to make it into honey. Squirrels like it too. It is great fun to watch the nimble squirrel folk sitting in the trees and holding a leaf between their little hands while they lick off the honeydew. Children sometimes suck the honeydew from the leaves in back country places where sugar is scarce and where candy is seldom to be had. Which side of the leaf does the aphid prefer? Yes, it is on the underside always. I wonder why? John says the aphids would be better protected in case of a shower. Ned says the skin is tenderer on the underside and easier to pierce. Molly thinks they want to be in the shade out of the hot sunshine. I should not wonder if all of these reasons were right. My little aphid, how many wings have you when you have any? Yes, little now they have four of the daintiest, prettiest little wings you ever saw. True enough, most of them have no wings at all. John thinks those must be young ones. Sometimes they are, but not always. Many of the adult aphids have no wings. The aphids are very curious insects, and when you are older I hope you will remember to study them carefully. No, John, not all species of aphids make honeydew. Some form instead a white powdery substance that is seen scattered over the body. May says that must be the kind she has. Let us see. Yes, May's aphids produce the white powder instead of honeydew. That is their way of getting rid of the waste matter. May says she is glad to know that. She thought her aphids had something the matter with them. They seem to be falling to pieces. No, May, they are not falling to pieces. That powder can all be rubbed off, and there are your aphids hole and sound beneath it. Do you know that some species of your funny little treehoppers secrete honeydew also, and even have ants to attend them? See if you can find some of these this summer. Sometimes aphids live on the roots of plants as well as on the leaves. Yes, indeed, May, they are very destructive insects. We have to spray our house plants to get rid of them and often our garden flowers as well, and they do a great deal of damage to fruits and vegetables, and one of them, the phylloxera, has nearly destroyed the vineyards of France. It lives on the leaves of some species of grapes and on the roots of others. We have to be very careful about getting grapevines from Europe to plant in this country on account of the phylloxera. What have you found now, John? Ah, yes, an alder branch with a white cottony substance on it. You have been poking into it with a little stick, and you think there are insects beneath it? What, May, you always thought that white stuff was a plant growth like mold? We can easily find out. Get out some of the little things inside if you can, John. It is not easy to separate them from their cottony covering without crushing them. But now we can see quite well with the magnifying glass, and yes, you see they are little insects. We call them the woolly aphids. They also secrete honeydew. You say the ground below the alder bush was all sticky and black, John? That was the honeydew, blackened by a little plant something like mold that grows on it. We often see woolly plant lice in the summertime on different plants and one species enters apple trees. It gets on the roots as well as the tender bark of young trees and kills them. Yes, indeed, Molly, the aphids are bugs. They belong to the bug order, which is a very large and important insect family, and contains some members that are exceedingly troublesome to us. End of Chapter 33 Chapter 34 of The Insect Folk. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley. Chapter 34. Scale Bugs. What may you are tired out? What have you been doing? Oh, yes, washing the scales off the leaves of your mother's window-fern. It must indeed have been a task. What did you wash them off with? Why did you use soap suds? Because your mother told you to. Well, that is a good reason. But why do you think she told you to use soap suds? You say you don't know, but you think very likely these scales are some sort of bug, as everything nowadays seems to be bugs. Well, I don't know about everything being bugs, but those scales certainly are. They are scale bugs. Did you stop to look at them under the magnifying glass? No, but you brought a piece of the fern for us to look at. It will be necessary to put it under the microscope. There, now look. Yes, that scale looks like a tiny mussel shell. But look carefully, and you will see it has legs. Lift it up with the point of a pin, and under it you will find a mass of eggs. Yes, Ned, it is like a quantity of eggs under a dish cover. The cover is the female scale bug, and she has laid all those eggs. Yes, the scales we see on so many plants are the scale bugs. They are not all alike in shape, or size, or color. Here is a different kind, you see. But they are all very prolific. That is to say, they produce a great many young, and do it in a short time. Yes, John, the tiny dark colored scales that look like little oyster shells on the skins of oranges are a form of scale bug, and a very troublesome one too, to the orange grower. But though most of these insects are troublesome, the family is redeemed by a few members that are of great value to us. One of these is the scale bug that supply shellac, and all that comes from it to our markets. These curious bugs give forth a resinous substance that envelopes the eggs and glues them to the twigs whose juices the bug sucks out. It is this resinous substance that is collected by breaking off the twigs where the insects are. It is used for varnishes, as you know, and for polishing wood and other substances. There are other scale bugs that secrete wax, and some of them produce it so abundantly, and of such good quality that it has become an article of commerce. China wax, which is wax of a very fine quality, is secreted by a Chinese scale bug, and the wax is used for making fine candles, as well as for other purposes. In Mexico, we have the cocconeal insect, which is a scale bug that lives on a cactus that grows in Mexico. Like many others of the scale bugs, the cocconeal males have wings and are not so scale-like as their helpless mates. But they are of no use to us. It is only the female cocconeal we use. She is raised in great numbers in cactus gardens planted on purpose. Here is a picture of a cactus with cocconeal insects upon it. These insects contain a very brilliant red coloring matter that is used by us in dyeing leather and wool and in making paints. The insects are gathered and dried, and thus sent to market. Although a few of them are useful to us, the scale bugs on the whole are a serious pest, and they are found on nearly all kinds of plants all over the world. You should think all the plants would soon be gone, so many insects eat them. Well, they would. Only other things eat the insects. Insects have a great many enemies after all. Sometimes the weather is bad for them. The season is too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry, and then they do not appear in large numbers. Sometimes one kind of insect eats another kind. Sometimes tiny plants, like molds, grow on the insects and kill them, and birds destroy a very large number. If the farmers only knew how much good the birds do them, they would never allow one to be killed. Even the crows that pull up their corn are worth many times the corn they eat in the insects they destroy. There is scarcely a bird, but what is a value to the farmer? The hawks that catch his chickens catch more mice and moles in his fields than chickens in his barnyard. And as for the robins, the blue jays, and all the small birds, they do more to save the growing plants than all the soap suds and kerosene emulsion that were ever made. No one should ever shoot a bird. The birds are our natural protectors against the vast armies of insects. That but for the birds would soon destroy us by eating up our food plants. What is that, May? You belong to an Audubon society for the protection of the birds? Yes, I know you do, and so do John and Ned and Molly and Little Nell. I wish every child in the United States belonged to the Audubon society. Then our birds would be safe. They would never be killed as they are now for foolish women to wear on their hats. When the Audubon society children grew up, they would not wear dead birds, of course, and their children would be taught better, so that after a while the Audubon society people would be the only ones left, and so the birds would be safe. Let us get as many people to belong to the Audubon society as we can. What is that, Amy? You have learned more interesting things about birds in the Audubon society than you ever knew in your life before? Yes, I am sure you have, and what could be lovelier to study about than the birds? What is that you are saying, Ned? You love to go bird hunting? Ah, I see your eyes twinkle, sir. I know how you go hunting. You hunt with your mother's opera glass. That is the proper way to hunt birds. We can learn more from watching one bird with a glass than we could from shooting a hundred. But you do shoot them, John? Yes, I know about that, too. I know what kind of a shooting instrument you got for Christmas, sir, and I have seen the birds you shot. Yes, nearly all of us have seen them. And how well he does it. What, Amy? You think John ought to be ashamed of himself to go about shooting birds, and we ought to be ashamed of ourselves to talk so about it? There now. Don't be vexed with Amy children. She has known us but a little while, and she has not seen John's birds. So I do not wonder she feels indignant. What is that, May? You have one of John's birds right here in your school bag? Show it to Amy. Isn't it pretty? It is a very charming photograph of a cat bird on its nest. You see, John shoots birds with a camera. His father gave him a beautiful one for Christmas, and he has made good use of it. How long did it take you to get that bird, John? Just here. He spent more than a week getting acquainted with the bird, so it would sit still on the nest while he took its picture. I am sure that was a week well spent. John says he feels better acquainted with the cat bird than he would have been if he had read fifty books about it. And I am sure he is right. The only way to enjoy a bird and to know it is to watch it alive. A camera is the very best gun in the world for catching birds, and it is really much better fun to take their pictures than to shoot and kill them. It seems to me we have strayed a long way from bugs. May says she thinks birds are much more interesting than bugs. That may be, but still we want to know about bugs too. Do you think you will know a bug when you see it now? No, I do not believe you can be sure of that, but at least you know something about a few bugs. Someday you will study more carefully how insects are formed, and then you will understand better how we decide what order they belong to. We group together the insects that are most like each other. End of Chapter 34 Chapter 35 of The Insect Folk The insect folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 35 The Horned Corridilis No more bugs, if you please. We are to make the acquaintance of another order of insect folk this time. I think we can find some worthy members of this new order if we go with John to a brook he knows of. Here we are, and it certainly is a lovely brook, whether we find a dobson in it or not. Yes, Nell, the dobson is the new insect we shall try to find. Now be careful and not get your clothes too wet, but we have to turn over the stones along the edge of the brook until we find what we are after. Morley wants to know how she is to know if she finds it. Well, Morley, whatever you find that is interesting, you must show us. Even though it is not what we are searching for, we shall enjoy seeing it. Look at little Nell. She has tumbled into the brook. Her foot slipped, and down she went. Don't cry, dearie. You are not wet enough to do any harm. The warm sun will soon dry you. No, indeed, you will not have to go home. Perhaps you will be the first one to find a dobson, after all. Hurrah! Hurrah! Here, John shout. He must have found the first dobson. Yes, he has. What may it is a horrid monster, and you have a good mind to scream? Well, scream if you want to. That won't do any harm. It isn't pretty, but we shall like to look at it. You see it is a larva, and a big one, dark gray in color and with a thick, leathery skin. Molly says it reminds her a little of the larva of the mayfly. That is, in shape. Let us look at a picture of the mayfly larva. You see, it has a head, a thorax to which is attached the six legs in the rudimentary wings, and an abdomen, all distinctly separated from each other. The dobson has a head, but no thorax. The body behind the head is divided into segments that all look very much alike, and there is a pair of legs attached to each of the first three segments. The dobson eats other larvae that it chews up with its strong jaws. It lives almost three years in the larval state, so you see it has plenty of time in which to grow. Of course it molds. It is usually to be found under stones in swift running water. Those two pairs of hooks at the tip of its body are its anchors. It clasps them about a bit of stone or a stick that is firmly lodged, and then it can bid defiance to the swirling stream. Ned wonders why it is always found hiding under stones. Listen to John. He says fishes are very fond of dobsons, and that is why they hide away. Fishermen hunt the dobsons for bait, so you see they have a hard time in spite of their large size and their strong jaws. When they have lived nearly three years in the water, they crawl out on the bank and hollow out a place under a stone. Here they lie, apparently dead, but they are not dead. They are undergoing a wonderful transformation. It takes about a month for this transformation, or metamorphosis, as it is called, to be completed. All of our insect friends have changed gradually from larval to adult form. At each molt they become a little more like their parents, and finally at the last molt, without any resting period, outsprang the perfect insect. Not so the dobson. It goes into its hole in the bank, a larva, almost exactly like the larva that hatched from the egg. Only, of course, it is larger. There is no hint of wings. It has no separate thorax and abdomen. Could we see under the bank where it has crept to undergo its great metamorphosis? We should find not a larva, but a strange-looking, motionless object. Here is the picture of one. See its little wing-pads, and now it has a thorax and an abdomen. It seems to have changed and been turned to some hard substance. In this state it is called the pupa, which means doll. Is it not a cunning insect doll? But it is not really a doll, although so still and apparently lifeless, yet it lives. Someday it will burst its pupa-shell and pull itself out. Not a larva now, not a pupa, but a strong winged insect. In its adult form it is known as the horned curidolus. There, I thought John was saving one for us. He had it in a box in his pocket. Now see what a, uh, what shall I say, a beauty or a monster? That is just as you feel about it. It certainly is an alarming-looking insect. This one is a male, as we can tell by the long, curved jaws that look very dangerous. But in this instance the creature's appearance is worse than its bite, and the real biter is the female whose jaws are smaller but very useful in nipping tormentors or biting prey. Now here she is, a fit mate for a formidable licking companion. John, you are fortunate in your hunting. In spite of its terrifying appearance see what wonderful wings the curidolus has. See, John has spread out the wings of the female. They are indeed beautiful. May cannot understand how those great wings came out of those little wing-pads. When the wings were first pulled out of the wing-pads they were small, but they rapidly expanded and became thin and broad and long as the air touched them. You will understand that better after a while. The curidolus differs from all other insects we have studied in its metamorphosis. It begins life far more unlike its parents than the other insects we have been looking at, for they had the thorax and abdomen distinct from the beginning. Instead of changing gradually and remaining active all the time up to the final metamorphosis our curidolus goes into the pupa state and in that motionless condition transforms to the perfect insect. This is called a complete metamorphosis. When the change is gradual without any pupa form, any stopping place as it were, the change is said to be an incomplete metamorphosis. Yes, the metamorphosis of the grasshoppers is incomplete and of the katydids and the crickets and all the other insects we have studied until we come to the dobson. Another name for the larva of insects that undergo an incomplete metamorphosis is nymph. Some books speak of the nymph of the grasshopper and never of the larva of the grasshopper. Such books use the word larva only in speaking of the young insects that undergo a complete metamorphosis. Yes, Ned, they would speak of the nymph of the dragonfly and the nymph of the mayfly and the nymph of the cricket and the katydid, but they would speak of the larva of the curidolus. Egg, nymph, adult. Those are the stages of insects that have an incomplete metamorphosis. Egg, larva, pupa, adult. Those are the stages of insects that have a complete metamorphosis. No, it is not wrong to say larva instead of nymph. I only want you to know how the word nymph is used so that when you see it in reading about insects, you will know what it means. The curidolus lays its eggs near the water and it lays a great many, sometimes nearly three thousand. Think of that. The young larvae crawl into the water as soon as they are hatched and those that escape the hungry fishes grow into these large larvae and finally metamorphose into the big horned curidolus. It is such a remarkably fierce-looking creature that it has received many names that are neither complementary nor beautiful, such as conniption bug, alligator, and dragon, and numerous others equally expressive. Now we must go home. Let us put the dobson back into the brook. It does no harm and we will not kill it. Yes, Ned, there are smaller insects like the curidolus that are near relatives to it, and I am sure you have often seen them. End of CHAPTER XXV. CHAPTER XXXVI. Here is our little lace wing. May says it is a darling, like a woodland fairy clad all in green. And, oh, its eyes! Are they not beautiful? They shine like gold. Do its wings not remind you a little of the wings of the curidolus? May says no indeed. That has ugly brown wings. But look again, May. See how these wings are veined, and do you not remember how you admired the silvery wings of the curidolus when we spread them out? Yes, it belongs to the same order as the curidolus. The name of the insect order to which they both belong is Neroptera. From neuron, a nerve, and pteron. Who remembers what pteron means? Yes, a wing. Nerve winged. What does that mean? It means that the wings are crossed by many nerves or veins. Yes, that is what gives them their lace-like appearance. Pretty golden eye, why do we not often or see you on the trees and bushes? It is only by accident we found you today, down in the grass. The truth is, this pretty fairy hides by day, and comes out at night to lay its eggs. Like the Mayfly, the adult lace wing does not eat. It is a helpless little beauty, though it has one powerful means of defense, as you will discover if you touch it. Ah, yes, you have already detected it. It gives forth such an offensive odor that nothing, one should think, could have the hardyhood to eat it. May says she supposes the larva of the lace wing is a little monster like that of the curidolus. But you will not expect to find it as large as a dobson. I think if we hunt about a little, we can find one. Here is one on the leaf. See what a little fellow and how fast it runs. We shall have to take it captive in order to get a chance to see it. It is a funny little larva with jaws that are tremendous for one of its size. Why do you suppose it has such jaws? May says for the usual reason, to eat up the other larvae. Yes, but wait till I tell you another name for this larva. It is also called the aphis lion. Aphis, you know, is the same as aphid or plant louse. In other words, it is the plant louse lion. Ah, yes, you are quite willing it should devour the aphids. And it does. It is very fond of them, though it will also devour any unlucky insect it is strong enough to overcome. It has a terrible appetite, this child of the pretty lace wing. It would even eat its brothers and sisters before they hatched out of the egg if it could get at them. The pretty lace wing knows what an appetite her ever hungry larvae will have, and so she protects them against each other. Clever little mother, she lays the eggs in such a way that the larvae that hatch out first cannot devour the rest of the eggs. How do you think she manages it? Here are some of her eggs on this leaf. Yes, John, each one is on top of a slender stalk. The stalk is of stiff silk. There they are, like a little forest with an egg for each treetop. When an egg hatches, the young aphis lion drops down to the leaf and runs about like a ravening lion seeking some living thing to devour. Above his head, quite unsuspected by him, are the eggs out of which his brothers and sisters have not yet hatched. What a feast he could have if he knew about it, and what a sad little cannibal he would be. The larva of the aphis lion has no distinct thorax. Its legs are attached to the upper segments of the body, and its metamorphosis is like that of the curridilis. When about to become a pupa, it makes for itself a little covering of white silk. Here it lies quite motionless and undergoes the final transformation. Yes, its metamorphosis is complete. It bites an opening through its silken walls and out steps, not the hungry little all-devouring aphis lion, but this elegant lady with her pale green lace-like wings and her large golden eyes. You see the aphis lion is our very good friend. It helps us get rid of the aphids, and we should never kill a lace-wing or a child of the lace-wing. CHAPTER 37 The Ant Lion John has found something he wants us all to see. We will go with him. Now we will sit down on this sand-bank and look at what he has to show us. See those smooth little funnels in the sand. Those are what we have come out to see. Let us watch them a while. Molly says an ant is walking close to the rim of the funnel she is watching. Now the ant slips over the edge and slides down the smooth sides of the funnel. And see, from the bottom of the funnel leap out two curved jaws and a good-bye ant. The ant has been dragged down out of sight through a hole in the bottom of the funnel. What a strange proceeding. Who can be living down there at the bottom of the funnel? We are sorry to disturb such a pretty piece of work, but we shall have to dig out one of the funnels. We shall have to be quick, too. There, there, under the trowel. No, it is gone. There it is again. Dig fast, Ned. That is right. He has put it with a trowel full of sand into our box. We will gently shake out the sand until we uncover it. Mabel says it is just what she thought it was, a larva. Yes, it is a larva. You see it looks a little like the lace-wing larva, and it, too, belongs to the Neuroptera. What jaws! How do you suppose it makes its dunnel? If we give it plenty of sand, and keep very quiet, perhaps it will go to work. There, it is throwing the sand about. Mae says it is using its own head as a trowel. Yes, it is shoveling the sand away with its head. Why is Ned laughing? Oh, see the ant-lion. He is watching. An ant-slid partway down its funnel and tried to climb out again, and the ant-lion down below is flinging sand at it. There, it has succeeded in making the poor ant slip. Down it goes, and now the ant-lion has seized it and dragged it down under the ground. It is easy to find these pitfalls of the ant-lion in sandbanks in the summertime. Yes, Mae, the ant-lions eat many ants, and they molt and grow, and finally they, too, make a little cocoon about themselves. Yes, the little silken room they weave, we call a cocoon, but the ant-lions make theirs of silk and sand. Within the cocoon, they become motionless pupae, and finally appear a silver-winged little creatures that bear no resemblance to the large-jawed, ever-hungry ant-lion. Mae says she thinks the neuroptera differ from all the other orders in the way the larvae transform. This is true, Mae, they do. In no other order that we have studied do the insects go into the pupil state to undergo the final transformation. Who remembers what the young of insects that undergo an incomplete metamorphosis are sometimes called? Dear me, you all remember. Yes, the young are sometimes called nymphs. The nymphs do not change into pupae. The young grasshoppers do not change into motionless pupae. They just keep on growing until they are perfect adults. Young grasshoppers are sometimes called nymphs instead of larvae. End of Chapter 37 Chapter 38 of The Insect Folk This Lubervox recording is in the public domain. The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley Chapter 38 The Little Catus Flies Here we are in the woods again. How sweet it smells! Let us sit down by this brook and look into it. It is such a clear little stream, with fine sand and little pebbles at the bottom. What has Nell found that pleases her so? She says she sees some little bars of sand moving about. Ned says they are not sandbars, but tubes of sand, containing a little live thing. The truth is, this sandbag is a house, and its occupant is a larva. See the black head come popping out, and the tiny four legs. The larva does not come entirely out, you see, but pulls its house along with it, and when it is frightened, it pops back into its little stone case. Molly says it reminds her of a hermit crab. A hermit crab, you know, lives on the seashore and takes possession of an empty snail shell for a house. It comes partly out dragging its house with it, but if you disturb it, it draws back, sometimes quite out of sight. This little larva lives in a house, too, but it is a house of its own making. It is the larva of the catus fly, or case fly. Let us put one of these little sand cases in the saucer here. Please fill the saucer, about half full of water, John. Thank you. Now, Molly, I see you have picked up a fine big catus case. Put it in the saucer, and let us watch the larva crawl about. It never comes entirely out of the case, you see. It holds onto it with its hind or part of its body. Its little black head is hard, but its body is soft, and that is why it does not like to expose itself to hungry larvae that might be living in the water. May says she wants to see the whole larva. Suppose we carefully break away the little sand case. No, indeed, little Nell, we are not going to hurt the larva. We are only going to open its house. There, the larva is outside now, and you can see what a tender, pale little thing it is. It does not like to have its body exposed. See, it is already gathering little bits of sand together. It seems to be sticking them fast to its body. It is really binding them together by a saliva-like substance from its mouth. It draws out little glistening threads that harden into silk as soon as they touch the water. Queer saliva, you think, but the Catus larva does not find it queer. It is used to saliva that hardens into silk. Yes, that is why the larva of the aphis lion and the ant lion made their cocoons. They spun out silk in this manner. The Catus larva makes its house of silk and sand and also lines it with a beautiful covering of fine silk. Yes, May, it papers its wall with silk. You see, it did not hurt the Catus larva to take away its house. It immediately went to work to build another. Why not pull it out instead of breaking its house to pieces? Because if it had been pulled hard enough to come out, it might have been torn to pieces. It is such a tender little thing, and it holds fast so tightly. So the best way to remove it safely is to break its case bit by bit from around it. It does no harm to break its case if one is careful. It will soon build another. Yes, this larva has no distinct thorax. It is like the larvae of the dobson, the aphis lion, and the ant lion in that respect. See, John has found one whose tube is made of quite large stones as compared with this tube of fine sand that we have broken open. Some Catus larvae build houses of wood instead of stone. They stick little twigs together, and some use little pieces of leaves. Others, again, use tiny snail shells, which, as you can imagine, make very pretty cases. Our little Catus has made a neat little house of fine sand grains very nicely put together. Some others make much rougher houses. You will be apt to find the Catus larvae in any brook and in some ponds, and I hope you will always look for them. Notice the tracery in the soft mud of the brook. Those lines that look as though someone had been ornamenting the bottom of the brook are made by our Catus larvae. They drag their cases along and thus make the lines. Sometimes such lines are made by the little freshwater snails, but you can always find the decorator by following along the lines he makes. What may, how is the delicate larva able to cling to the case tightly enough to pull it along? If you look at it very carefully, you will find a pair of tiny hooks at the tail end by which it can hold on to the silk lining, and some Catus larvae have hard points on their backs, which help them to hold fast. The Catus larvae are carnivorous. That is, they eat animal food. Yes, may, their food is usually the larvae of other insects, but you will be glad to know that some of them eat plants too. They eat the larvae of the mayflies when they can find them, and no doubt they build these strong cases about themselves to prevent the mayfly larvae from returning the compliment. Frank has found some empty cases, yes, and some that are closed at both ends. Now let us look at this one closed at both ends. What do you suppose is in it? We will open just one of these closed cases. There, it is a pupa. Yes, now, a very pretty doll is this. It has a thorax, you see, and an abdomen. Its long antennae lie close to its body as do its little wing pads. Yes, the Catus larvae grows and molts in the usual way. It keeps adding to its house as it grows longer. Finally, it closes the end of its little tube and lies quite still. You know what happens next. Its worm-like form divides into thorax and abdomen. Legs and wings appear, attached to the thorax. In short, it is no longer a worm-like creature. Finally, it comes forth from its case. It never goes into it again. It does not need to. For now it is a dainty little nun with a long tan-colored cloak. Its cloak, of course, is its wings folded down about its body. Like the fairy mayflies, it has no mouth and eats nothing in the adult form. It looks like a dainty brown moth as it flutters about the bushes and goes flying up and down the brook. You will always find these little brown cloaked figures flitting about the brooks where the Catus larvae live. You see, the Catus larvae undergoes a complete metamorphosis. No, it does not belong to the Neuroptera. Examine its wings very carefully. Look at them through the magnifying glass, and you will see that they are clothed with hairs. So these are the hair-wings. The name of the order to which they belong is Tricoptera, from Pteron, a wing, and Thrix, a hair. Sometime you must take a Catus larvae from its house and put it in a saucer of water with fine bits of mica, which you know is another name for the Isenglass that makes the little windows in our stoves. If you are fortunate, your Catus will build for itself a little glass house through whose walls you can look and see what is going on inside. End of Chapter 38 End of The Insect Folk by Margaret Warner Morley