Having now seen something of the exterior and interior of the caterpillar, we will watch it as it prepares for its next state of existence.
Hitherto it has been tolerably active, and if alarmed while feeding, it curls itself round like a hedgehog and falls to the ground, hoping to lie concealed among the foliage, and guarded from the effects of the fall by its hairy armour, which stands out on all sides, and secures it from harm. But a time approaches wherein it will have no defence and no means of escape, so it must find a means of lying quiet and concealed. This object it achieves in the following manner.
It leaves its food, and sets off on its travels to find a retired spot where it may sling its hammock and sleep in peace. Having found a convenient spot, it sets busily to work, and in a very short time spins for itself a kind of silken net, much like a sailor’s hammock in shape, and used in the same manner. It is not a very solid piece of work, for the creature can be seen through the meshes; but it is more than sufficiently strong to bear the weight of the inclosed insect, and to guard it from small foes.
On [plate B], and fig. 5 b, the silken hammock is represented, the form of the pupa inside being visible. It casts off its skin for the last time, and instead of being a hirsute and active caterpillar, becomes a smooth and quiescent chrysalis. In this state it abides for a time that varies according to the time of year and the degree of temperature, and at last bursts its earthly holdings, coming to the light of the sun a perfect insect.
When first the creature becomes a chrysalis, its colour is white, and its surface is bathed in an oily kind of liquid, which soon hardens in the air, and darkens in the light.
On one occasion, I watched a Woolly Bear changing its skin, and, seizing it immediately that the task was accomplished, put it into spirits of wine, intending to keep it for observation.
Next day, the spirit was found to have dissolved away the oily coating, and all the limbs and wings of the future moth were standing boldly out.
Before closing this chapter, I must just remark that the absence of scientific terms throughout the work will be intentional, from a wish to make the subject intelligible, instead of imposing. It would have been easy enough to speak of the Woolly Bear as the larva of Arctia Caja; to describe it as a chilognathiform larva, with a subcylindrical body, and no thoracic shield: passing through an obtected metamorphosis, and becoming a pomeridian lepidopterous imago; and to have proceeded in the same style throughout. But as nearly every one who has taken a country walk has seen Woolly Bears, and hardly any one knows what is meant by “chilognathiform,” the subject is treated of for the benefit of the many, even at the risk of incurring the contempt of the few.