Of course this moth was named Modesta because of modest colouring.  It reminds me of a dove, being one of my prime favourites.  On wing it is suggestive of Polyphemus, but its colours are lighter and softer.  Great beauty that Polyphemus is, Modesta equals it.

Modesta belongs to the genus Triptogon, species Modesta—­hence the common name, the Modest moth.  I am told that in the east this moth is of stronger colouring than in the central and western states.  I do not know about the centre and west, but I do know that only as far east as Indiana, Modesta is of more delicate colouring than it is described by scientists of New York and Pennsylvania; and, of course, as in almost every case, the female is not so strongly coloured as the male.

I can class the Modest moth and its caterpillar among those I know, but my acquaintance with it is more limited than with almost any other.  My first introduction came when I found a caterpillar of striking appearance on water sprouts growing around a poplar stump in a stretch of trees beside the Wabash.  I carried it home with a supply of the leaves for diet, but as a matter of luck, it had finished eating, and was ready to pupate.  I write of this as good luck, because the poplar tree is almost extinct in my location.  I know of only one in the fields, those beside the river, and a few used for ornamental shade trees.  They are so scarce I would have had trouble to provide the caterpillar with natural food; so I was glad that it was ready to pupate when found.

Any one can identify this caterpillar easily, as it is most peculiar.  There is a purplish pink cast on the head and mouth of the full-grown caterpillar, and purplish red around the props.  The body is a very light blue-green, faintly tinged with white, and yellow in places.  On the sides are white obliques, or white, shaded with pink, and at the base of these, a small oval marking.  There is a small short horn on the head.  But the distinguishing mark is a mass of little white granules, scattered all over the caterpillar.  It is so peppered with these, that failure to identify it is impossible.

These caterpillars pupate in the ground.  I knew that, but this was before I had learned that the caterpillar worked out a hole in the ground, and the pupa case only touched the earth upon which it lay.  So when my Modesta caterpillar ceased crawling, lay quietly, turned dark, shrank one half in length, and finally burst the dead skin, and emerged in a shining dark brown pupa case two inches long, I got in my work.  I did well.  A spade full of garden soil was thoroughly sifted, baked in the oven to kill parasites and insects, cooled, and put in a box, and the pupa case buried in it.  Every time it rained, I opened the box, and moistened the earth.  Two months after time for emergence, I dug out the pupa case to find it white with mould.  I had no idea what the trouble was, for I had done much work over that case, and the whole winter tended it solicitously.  It was one of my earliest attempts, and I never have found another caterpillar, or any eggs, though I often search the poplars for them.