It is surprising at how early an age the sporting instincts of the English race develop. The ordinary schoolboy let loose for the summer holidays, when not actively engaged at any game, is apt to look about him for something to destroy, and to destroy aimlessly and indiscriminately also. Now there are few surer protections against such a reprehensible habit than to make the Creator’s works in some branch or other a special study. The practical entomologist never kills for the mere sake of killing, and when he does deprive of life he endeavours to do so with as little cruelty as possible. Hence we need make no apology for this chapter. When we consider how many men hunt for exercise, or for food or clothing for the body, one can hardly consistently condemn a little margin to feed the mind.
Most boys have a taste for natural history, and the following practical hints may, it is hoped, tend to develop it, by teaching them not only how to destroy life, but how to preserve what they have destroyed. Thus they may learn wonderful lessons regarding the habits and the structure of the marvellous insects and birds and beasts with which the Almighty has peopled this beautiful world of ours.
I propose to begin with hints about butterflies, because the average British boy is apt first to turn his hunting instincts to these. Yet the catching and collecting of butterflies is a pursuit worthy of any age, and, to be done well, requires dexterity, delicacy of touch, and care. Under these conditions, and armed with a few simple implements, there is no reason why any boy should not, in time, become the happy possessor of one of the most beautiful of natural history collections, the which, should fate ever call upon him to leave his native shores, he will, in other climes, find a new pleasure in increasing. For butterflies may be collected in many a dull, out-of-the-way quarter, where larger game is conspicuous by its absence, or the means of pursuing it wanting.
The first consideration, however, is the momentous question, as to which is a butterfly and which is a moth? The answer to this is, that butterflies have blunt ends like pins-heads at the points of their antennæ, and that moths have none. In England there are seventy-two sorts of butterflies, not to be confounded with night or day moths, which number over nine hundred families in this country alone. A point which strikes the collector almost at the beginning, are the extremely local habits of butterflies. In almost every place new specimens are to be found, and the varied flight of each kind will soon lead the collector to learn to detect a new species. These are usually classed by their undermarkings, as many which present the same appearance on the top side are different underneath. My small boy, with his rough cotton net and wild shout, left very little of the unfortunate insect he had captured, to put into his trouser pocket! The greatest care and manipulation are required to procure a specimen fit for a collection.
The net should be of silk gauze, fitted on to the circle of cane, nearly eighteen inches across. The two ends of the cane should run into a T-shaped brass socket. The foot of the T is a screw, which screws into the stick handle, the which may be used also either to hold a gaff or a landing net. The circle of cane should be covered with some soft thick flannel, firstly, that the silk gauze may be sewn on securely, and, secondly, that the butterflies, which are often struck by the rim of the net, are not injured by it. The flannel is, moreover, a saving to the wear and tear of the net.
Another kind of net is the collector’s scissor net, with which you can pick a butterfly off a flower. It is about five inches square, in the form of two bags mounted one on each point of a wire, which opens and shuts.
Having caught the butterfly, the next thing is to kill him. A pinch through the net, across the thorax (the part from which the wings spring) will accomplish this. For obstinate specimens, such as ‘skippers,’ a lethal chamber can be prepared, in the shape of a wide-mouthed two-pound jam bottle, with a well-fitting cork. At the bottom of this is fixed some blotting-paper, on which a few drops of chloroform have been poured. The butterfly should be left in the bottle a quarter of an hour.
The specimens can be carried home in safety in a collector’s box, about five inches long by three deep and broad, in the pocket. Triangular envelopes, varying in size, according to that of the butterfly, are often used. Into these the insects can be slipped with folded wings, and left for any length of time till it is convenient to relax and set him.
Fig. 1.