Homes Without Hands: Being a Description of the Habitations of Animals, Classed According to Their Principle of Construction

On the right hand of the accompanying illustration may be seen a large moth flying downward, and just above it are a couple of oval objects attached to a slender bough. This moth is that magnificent insect the ATLAS MOTH (Saturnia Atlas), and the oval objects are the cocoons which are spun by its larva.

The Atlas Moth belongs to the same genus as the emperor moth which has just been described, and is a truly splendid insect, though without the beautiful colors which decorate the emperor. Creamy white, soft yellow, and pale brown are the chief tints of the Atlas Moth; but they are so beautifully blended, the plumage is of so downy a softness, and the expanse of wing is so great, that the Atlas holds its own even amid the more vividly-colored lepidoptera of its own country.

Oiketicus and Atlas Moth.

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There are many members of this genus scattered over the different parts of the earth, the finest and largest specimens being found between the tropics. In all the species the antennæ of the males are remarkable for their beauty, being deeply feathered, and shaped something like a spearhead with a triangular blade, and in many examples there is a loose, membranous, talc-like spot in the middle of the wing.

The cocoons of the Atlas Moth are made of silken thread, much like that of the common silkworm, the cocoon being large in proportion to the size of the moth, and the quantity of silk is necessarily very great. Although the thread is not so fine or glossy as that of the ordinary silkworm, it is strong, smooth, and serviceable, and capable of being woven into fabrics of much utility.

The well-known Eria silk of India is produced by an insect closely allied to the Atlas Moth, Attacus ricini. This silk is very loose in texture, and, being without gloss, has a rather flimsy look. In reality, however, it is possessed of peculiar strength.

One large species of silk-producing moth, also allied to the Atlas, is the AILANTHUS SILKWORM. The Acclimatization Society is endeavoring to introduce this useful insect into this country, and so to make England a silk-producing country. We have not sufficient mulberry-trees to feed silkworms in such numbers as would make their employment profitable, and thus the ordinary silkworm is rather beyond our reach. But the insect in question feeds on the Ailanthus glandulosus, a tree which has been imported from China, and thrives wonderfully in the open air. In March, 1864, I saw a young sapling about three feet in height that had sprung from a seed sown in March of the previous year.

This insect is very hardy, and after it has been hatched and fed for a little time like the ordinary silkworm, it is laid on the growing leaves and left to shift for itself. The caterpillar is nothing of a wanderer, and does not attempt to straggle from the tree, being content to stay and make its cocoon among the branches. The moth is colored like the Atlas, being mostly of a grayish-yellow, with some markings of dull violet, and some spots of black and white. The caterpillar is green marked with black.

There is a North American species of moth—also one of the Atlas Moth's numerous allies—which displays a wonderful piece of ingenuity in suspending its cocoon. This is the insect called Saturnia Promethea, which lives in the sassafras-tree. The cocoon is placed within the leaf of the tree and secured by a strong web; but as the leaf would fall before the moth could escape, a strange instinct is implanted in the insect, which fastens the stem of the leaf to the branch by sundry silken threads, so that, although it may wither and part from the branch, it can not fall to the ground.

WE now pass to the second insect represented in the illustration. This is the HOUSE-BUILDER MOTH (Oiketicus Sandersii), an insect which is common in many parts of the West Indies, in several places being so plentiful that the sight of its long pendent domiciles is any thing but pleasant to the proprietor of a garden.

Out of five species of insects belonging to this singular genus, the present has been selected, because, on the whole, its habitation is more remarkable than that of any other species. Some of them make their nest in a much stiffer form than is depicted in the engraving, taking pieces of slender twigs and forming them into hollow cylinders, the twigs being laid parallel to each other, very much like the rods in the old Roman fasces, which were borne by the lictors before the consuls. So close indeed is the resemblance, that by some writers the insects have been called Lictor Moths.

The reader will observe that in the illustration the nest is shown as depending from the caterpillar, part of which protrudes from its mouth and the other part is hidden. This attitude is given because it is that in which the insect is generally seen. While young the caterpillar is so strong, and the house is so light, that it can carry the tail nearly upright.

Scraps of wood mixed with fragments of leaves are the materials which are used, and they are bound together very firmly by the silken threads with which so many caterpillars are endowed, whether they belong to the butterflies or moths. There is a tolerable degree of elasticity about it, especially at the mouth, which is slightly expanded so as to assume an irregular funnel-like shape, and can be drawn together at will by means of the silken threads attached to its circumference. The caterpillar has thus two means of guarding itself from attacks. If it is still clinging to a branch, it can retreat into the house and press the mouth so firmly against the branch that it is closed effectively, just as a limpet shelters its soft body by pressing the top of the shell against the rock. Or, if detached, it can pull the lips together, and thus shut itself up in its strange house as completely as a box tortoise in its shell.

Not only does the creature reside in this nest during its larval condition, but also passes the pupal stage in it, and sometimes the whole of its life. As soon as it ceases from feeding, and is about to become a pupa, it retires far into its cell, shuts up the mouth, throws off its last caterpillar skin, and there remains until the larva has become a perfect insect. Should the moth be of the male sex, it creeps out of the domicile and speedily takes to wing, employing itself in the great object of its life, that of seeking a mate.

In ordinary cases, to find a mate seems to be no difficult task, but the House-builder Moth has no ordinary obstacles to overcome. The female never leaves her cell, for she would be more helpless as a moth than as a caterpillar. Among the British moths we have several species in which the females are wingless, but at all events they do look like moths which have been deprived of wings, and are able to move about with tolerable freedom. Of these wingless females, the common Vaporer Moth (Orgyia antiqua) is a familiar example, its fat, rounded abdomen and little truncated rudiments of wings being known to all collectors.

But the female House-builder Moth is as utterly helpless a being as can well be conceived. She has not the least vestige of wings, and but the smallest indications of legs or antennæ. None but an entomologist would take her for a lepidopterous insect, or even for an insect at all, for she looks like a fat, down-covered grub, with very feeble limbs, which can scarcely support the body, and with antennæ that merely consist of a few rounded joints, entirely unlike the beautiful feathered forms which decorate the male.

So utterly unlike a moth is this creature, that our most skilful entomologists are much perplexed as to the position which the insect ought to occupy. Mr. Westwood states that they are "the most imperfect of all lepidopterous insects, and even less favored than their larvæ, which they considerably resemble;" while Mr. Newman expresses still stronger opinions, and asserts that the Oiketici ought to be removed from the lepidoptera altogether, and placed with the Phryganeidæ, or caddis flies, whose dwellings are wonderfully similar to those of the Oiketici.

The Oriental idea that feminine delicacy is only to be maintained by concealing the face, seems to have been borrowed from the House-builder Moth, which is a perfect model of female excellence, according to Oriental notions, always staying at home, always hiding her face, and always producing enormous families. Perhaps the male may be attracted to the female by some peculiar instinct, for the eyes can have little to do with the discovery, she being so closely shut up in her house, and never leaving it till the day of her death. Many British insects, such as the well-known oak-egger moth, have this curious power, and the male has even been known to enter a pocket in which was a female shut up in a box.

THERE is an allied genus, named Psyche, found in England, the males of which have their wings partly transparent, rather long and sharply pointed, and the females are without wings at all.

The larva of this insect also makes a hollow case, and behaves in a very curious manner before it assumes the pupal condition. First, it fastens the mouth of the case firmly to the leaves or branches of the plant on which it has been feeding, and then withdraws itself into the case. Should it be a male larva, it turns completely round, so that its head coincides with the opening at the lower end of the case, through which it makes its escape when fully developed. The female moth, however, behaves like that of the House-builder, and, although she also fastens the mouth of her case to the tree, she never leaves her home, and therefore does not need to alter her attitude.

The name of Psyche certainly seems to be misapplied in this instance. In our minds the name of Psyche conveys an idea of the utmost grace and delicacy—two attributes which sculptors and painters have in vain endeavored to embody. If, therefore, we hear that a certain insect is named Psyche, we certainly expect to see a bright and elegant creature, delicate in form and pleasing in color. Whereas, when the domicile is opened and the real Psyche comes to view, nothing can be more disappointing than the fat, awkward, shapeless grub which has been glorified with such a name.

ONE of our commonest moths makes a really beautiful pensile nest, though it is hardly appreciated as it should be. I allude to the well-known TIGER-MOTH (Arctia caja), whose scarlet, white, and brown robes are so familiar to every one who cares for insects, or who happens to possess or take an interest in a garden.

In two of its stages the insect is very common. In the larval condition it is popularly known as the Woolly Bear, in consequence of the coating of long bristle-like hairs with which its body is profusely covered, and which project like the quills of a porcupine, or the spines of a hedgehog, whenever the creature rolls itself up, a movement which it always makes when alarmed. So elastic are the hairs, that the caterpillar may be thrown from a considerable height without suffering any injury, and in all probability their formidable appearance serves to deter foes from meddling with it.