I am dreadfully afraid of snakes, and when it seemed I could not force myself to take another step, and I was clinging to a button bush while the water arose above my low shoes, the moth lowered its wings flat against the bark.  From the size of the abdomen I could see that it was a female heavily weighted with eggs.  Possibly she had mated the previous night, and if I could secure her, Luna life history would be mine.

So I set my teeth and advanced.  My shoes were spoiled, and my skirts bedraggled, but I captured the moth and saw no indication of snakes.  Soon after she was placed in a big pasteboard box and began dotting eggs in straight lines over the interior.  They were white but changed colour as the caterpillars approached time to hatch.  The little yellow-green creatures, nearly a quarter of an inch long, with a black line across the head, emerged in about sixteen days, and fed with most satisfaction on oak, but they would take hickory, walnut or willow leaves also.  When the weather is cold the young develop slower, and I have had the egg period stretched to three weeks at times.  Every few days the young caterpillars cast their skins and emerged in brighter colour and larger in size.  It is usually supposed they mature in four moults, and many of them do, but some cast a fifth skin before transforming.  When between seven and eight weeks of age, they were three inches long, and of strong blue-green colour.  Most of them had tubercles of yellow, tipped with blue, and some had red.

They spun a leaf-cover cocoon, much the size and shape of that of Polyphemus, but whiter, very thin, with no inner case, and against some solid surface whenever possible.  Fearing I might not handle them rightly, and lose some when ready to spin, I put half on our walnut tree so they could weave their cocoons according to characteristics.

They are fine, large, gaudy caterpillars.  The handsomest one I ever saw I found among some gifts offered by Molly-Cotton for the celebration of my birthday.  It had finished feeding, soon pupated in a sand pail and the following spring a big female emerged that attracted several males and they posed on a walnut trunk for beautiful studies.

Once under the oak trees of a summer resort, Miss Katherine Howell, of Philadelphia, intercepted a Luna caterpillar in the preliminary race before pupation and brought it to me.  We offered young oak leaves, but they were refused, so it went before the camera.  Behind the hotel I found an empty hominy can in which it soon began spinning, but it seemed to be difficult to fasten the threads to the tin, so a piece of board was cut and firmly wedged inside.  The caterpillar clung to this and in the darkness of the can spun the largest and handsomest Luna winter quarters of all my experience.