It would not be human if some belief had not arisen that the insects that
fly by night imitate human thieves and rob those which toil by day. There
has always been a tradition that the death's-head moth, the largest of all
our moths, does this, and that it creeps into the hives and robs the bees,
which are said to be terrified by a squeaking noise made by the gigantic
moth, which to a bee must appear as the roc did to its victims. It is said
that the bees will close up the sides of the entrance to the hive with
wax, so as to make it too small for the moth to creep in. Probably this is
a fable, due to the pirate badge which the moth bears on its head. But it
is certainly fond of sweet things, and as it is often caught in empty
sugar-barrels, it is quite possible that it does come to the hive-door at
night and alarm the inmates in its search for honey.

[1] In the illustration it was impossible to photograph butterflies
actually sleeping. They show their attitude, but not the degree to which
the wings are flattened into a very acute angle.




CRAYFISH AND TROUT


About the middle of August, when walking by one of the locks on a disused
canal in the Ock Valley, I saw a man engaged in a very artistic mode of
catching crayfish. The lock was very old, and the brickwork above water
covered with pennywort and crane's-bill growing where the mortar had
rotted at the joints. In these same joints below water the crayfish had
made holes or homes of some sort, and were sitting at the doors with their