THE CLOTHES MOTH.
For over a fortnight we once enjoyed the company of the caterpillar of a common clothes moth. It is a little pale, delicate worm (Fig. 57, magnified), about the size of a darning needle, and rather less than half an inch in length, with a pale horn-colored head, the ring next the head being of the same color. It has sixteen feet, the first six of them well developed and constantly in use to draw the slender body in and out of its case. Its head is armed with a formidable pair of jaws, with which, like a scythe, it mows its way through thick and thin.
But the case is the most remarkable feature in the history of this caterpillar. Hardly has the helpless, tiny worm broken out of the egg, previously laid in some old garment of fur or wool, or perhaps in the haircloth of a sofa, when it begins to make a shelter by cutting the woolly fibres or soft hairs into bits, which it places at each end in successive layers, and, joining them together by silken threads, constructs a cylindrical tube (Fig. 58) of thick, warm felt, lined within with the finest silk the tiny worm can spin. The case is not perfectly cylindrical, being flattened slightly in the middle, and contracted a little just before each end, both of which are always kept open. The case before us is of a stone-gray color, with a black stripe along the middle, and with rings of the same color round each opening. Had the caterpillar fed on blue or yellow cloth, the case would, of course, have been of those colors. Other cases, made by larvæ which had been eating loose cotton, were quite irregular in form, and covered loosely with bits of cotton thread, which the little tailor had not trimmed off.
Days go by. A vigorous course of dieting on its feast of wool has given stature to our hero. His case has grown uncomfortably small. Shall he leave it and make another? No housewife is more prudent and saving. Out come those scissor-jaws, and, lo! a fearful rent along each side of one end of the case. Two wedge-shaped patches mend the breach; the caterpillar retires for a moment and reappears at the other end; the scissors are once more pulled out; two rents appear, to be filled up by two more patches or gores, and our caterpillar once again breathes more freely, laughs and grows fat upon horse hair and lambs' wool. In this way he enlarges his case till he stops growing.
59. 58. 57.
Early Stages of the Clothes Moth.
Our caterpillar seeming to be full-grown, and apparently out of employment, we cut the end of his case half off. Two or three days after, he had mended it from the inside, drawing the two edges together by silken threads, and, though he had not touched the outside, yet so neatly were the two parts joined together that we had to search for some time, with a lens, to find the scar.
To keep our friend busy during the cold, cheerless weather, for it was mid-winter, we next cut a third of the case entirely off. Nothing daunted, the little fellow bustled about, drew in a mass of the woolly fibres, filling up the whole mouth of his den, and began to build on afresh, and from the inside, so that the new-made portion was smaller than the rest of the case. The creature worked very slowly, and the addition was left in a rough, unfinished state.
We could easily spare these voracious little worms hairs enough to serve as food, and to afford material for the construction of their paltry cases; but that restless spirit that ever urges on all beings endowed with life and the power of motion, never forsakes the young clothes moth for a moment. He will not be forced to drag his heavy case over rough hairs and furzy wool, hence with his keen jaws he cuts his way through. Thus, the more he travels, the more mischief he does.
After taking his fill of this sort of life he changes to a chrysalid (Fig. 59), and soon appears as one of those delicate, tiny, demure moths that fly in such numbers from early in the spring until the autumn.