A YOUNG GRASSHOPPER’S SKELETON
When the young grasshopper emerges from the egg, it is very small indeed—a wingless, helpless little creature, all legs and mouth.
It passes through successive ages, or stages, as they are called, each one of which is separated from the other by a moult or casting of its outer shell.
These moults take place at fixed periods, and as the insect finds itself restrained by its firm, inelastic skeleton, a longitudinal rent occurs along the back, and the insect, soft and dangerously helpless, struggles out of the old skin, inclosed in a new but delicate cuticle, which takes some time to harden and color up.
Some people go to great trouble and expense to keep the baby portraits and even the baby shoes, and I cannot help wondering whether a full-grown grasshopper, leading a life in the open air, is ever interested in observing the baby skeletons which show its five stages of terrestrial life.
What an interesting collection could be made of these insects’ skeletons, photographed large enough so that we could see and study them!
