“'Faugh! the claret’s corked!’ 'So it is, and very
badly corked,’ growls my lord.”
Thackeray.
THE CORK MOTH.
IT may appear to many readers a most unlikely thing that even in our sitting-rooms, on our window-panes, or in our wine-cellars we should find subjects for study in natural history, but I will try to show that there is some truth in such a statement.
We only need to be careful observers to be rewarded from time to time by finding material for thought and investigation in very unlikely places. Not having ever lived in town, I cannot tell whether the creatures I purpose to speak about would be found there, and my remarks must, therefore, apply to country-houses and their visitants. If I had been told that a certain moth existed in my wine-cellar, and that by means of its larvæ burrowing into the corks some dozens of choice old Italian wines would soon ooze away and leave nothing but half-empty bottles, I should have been very incredulous. I had never seen such an insect in the wine-cellar in the past thirty years, and knew nothing of its existence.
I made its acquaintance, however, in the following manner. The plate containing the daily food of my mongoose is kept on a bracket just inside the cellar stairs. A cork had lain on this bracket for some months, and had apparently become glued there, for I could not detach or lift it. On close examination I found that this cork must have a tenant of some kind, for it was surrounded by fine particles, evidently gnawed by an insect. When a light was brought I soon found that a grub had been at work mining holes and furrows in the cork, and had then spun a very strong silky texture, by which it had firmly attached the cork to the bracket. Having made its home secure, it had gone on to spin a soft, silken cradle, in which I found the culprit itself ensconced.
This may seem but a trivial thing to record, but here was a life-history being worked out in small compass, all unknown to us in our daily business, and though in this particular case no harm resulted, yet by this apparently insignificant insect, as I afterwards found out, thousands of pounds are lost every year, its larvæ boring the corks, and thus causing the leakage of valuable wine, especially old sweet wines.