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ticeship in their trades. Therefore, in the egg something is registered on the substance of the future nervous tissue that, at a certain period in the future caterpillar's life, gives the command to work, to spin and weave a house of silk. Then, on this same or other nerve tissue, another command is registered, to be effective only after the other has been executed, which says, "cease work and take life easy." A third says, "travel." A fourth in turn says, "find some secluded place, regardless of the nature of the surroundings, and there surround yourself completely with a case of silk." After this the purely vegetative forces become predominant and changes follow in which regulated movements have no part. The change to the pupal stage and the final transformation to the moth are all physiological processes of growth; but even here the shedding by the pupa of the larval skin and the escape from the cocoon by the moth are acts of coordinated instinct. The moths themselves are bound by few rules of conduct. When the instincts to mate and to lay eggs on the leaves of trees have been fulfilled, their duties and their lives are ended.

Though we may have no unquestioned evidence that the power of reason is possessed by any insect, still, can we conceive that a mere mass of organized matter can do all the things that a webworm does, and yet have nothing in common with ourselves? Can the caterpillars have appetites, a sense of touch, fear of danger, and show resentment at an interference with their natural rights without some consciousness at least of their own existence? Does the worm turn with no more emotion than a piece of rubber? And, can we really believe it even if we think so?

[graphic]

FIG. 12.-Moths of the fall webworm, a pure white and a spotted individual (a little larger than natural size).

COLLECTING INSECTS ON MOUNT RAINIER.

By A. L. MELANDER,

Professor of Entomology, the State College of Washington.

[With 9 plates.]

Monarch of mountains is Rainier. But a few hours ride by train or auto southeastward from Tacoma, this massive peak rises to a height of 14,400 feet. Other mountains may be higher but none is as stupendous as the ice-covered dome of Rainier, pushing heavenward almost from sea level. The Indians revered the mountain as their god. Their white successors have created a national park about it, and modern roads and ways of conveyance now place the gardens of Paradise within easy access of all.

To the naturalist the broad slopes of the mountain are replete with more than ordinary interest. In a couple of hours it is possible to ascend through life zones almost duplicating those requiring a journey of thousands of miles to the north to explore. The dense tall forests at the foot of the mountain give way to open woods of stunted trees as the higher altitudes are reached, and these in turn to alpine grassy meadows, to gorgeous flower gardens, then to barren stone fields and to perpetual snow and ice.

As the vegetation changes at successive elevations, so different insect forms are encountered. The wealth of unusual species and often the abundance of individuals of bizarre forms make insect collecting on the slopes of Rainier a most exciting experience for the entomologist. The vastness of the mountain, bespeaking a great circumference to the various encircling life zones, has permitted extensive breeding grounds and lessened the chance of extinction of stranded forms left on its slopes at the conclusion of the great ice age. Thus it is that Rainier, more than any other mountain in the United States, shows an unusual number of species the counterparts of which live far to the north.

One of the main advantages of Rainier is its accessibility to the tourist. Most visitors enter the national park at the southwest or Nisqually entrance, coming over the roads from Tacoma. Those bringing camp outfits are permitted to tent at certain designated sta

tions, the most important of which are Longmire's Springs and Paradise Park, at both of which food supplies can be purchased from the stores. Elaborate hotels and less pretentious tent houses are also maintained at these two stations for the convenience of the unencumbered traveler.

Between the park entrance and Longmire the road winds through a dense forest of huge evergreen trees, the Douglas firs rivaling the giant trees of California in height. This forest is luxuriantly carpeted with shrubbery so as to be almost impenetrable at times. Large-leaved spiny devil's clubs, vine maples, alders, salmon berries, and spiræas help fill in the underbrush. Insect collecting in this darkened zone of from 2,000 to 3,000 feet elevation is mainly characterized, as elsewhere in the forests flanking the Cascade Mountains, by the abundance of small flying forms in early summer and the paucity of specimens after midsummer.

Above Longmire in general the forest opens, the trees are smaller, and different species enter to take the place of the larger trees found mainly below. The underbrush is less dense, mainly ericaceous, and in the burns along the ridges consists largely of fireweed and huckleberry. In the damper stretches microdiptera abound as in the lower woods. A chance dropping of bear dung entices swarms of coprophilous borborids. Tiny Rhamphomyias weave their interminable dance over the pools and rills, the silvery females hovering close to the surface of the water, the more venturesome black males going forth to capture the midges used as a mating offering. Over the purple flowers of the pentstemons a cloud of midget Anthalias zigzag up and down. Mosquitoes are a plague in the early summer. Bloodsucking Symphoromyias, called "the bad biter," follow the traveler and vie with the smaller buffalo-gnats, which have emerged from the mountain streams, in being a torment.

In the open there is less dearth of flowers and the insect fauna correspondingly changes. Syrphus flies, bumblebees, wasps, butterflies, and longhorn beetles are more abundant, but to the collector who is familiar with forest insects, so far there is nothing distinctive of the greatest mountain. At an elevation of about 5,000 feet, reached all the way by a road so evenly graded that automobiles ascend on high gear, suddenly a vista of an alpine flower park opens beyond a clump of scrubby trees. The effect of the first view is startling. In profusion of species, in infinite beauty of color, in the expanse of natural beds of flowers, the gardens of Rainier are wonderful beyond description. The verdict of mountaineers is that they surpass those of any other alpine region of the world. Reds, blues, yellows, purples, and white are commingled in luxuriant growth. It seems a sacrilege to wade knee-deep through

the flowers, but the swarms of mountain insects are too great a provocation for an entomologist to resist.

In alpine regions the growing season is short. The gardens of Paradise Park are covered by many, many feet of winter snow which does not melt completely away until late in August. Beds of avalanche lily and of the large western anemone follow the retreating snowline, even pushing out their flowers through the disappearing crust. In a few weeks, or a few days even, the flowers must make their appeal for insect pollinators in order to mature seeds by the time of autumn snowfall. The struggle for existence is thus especially keen and the competing plants develop color, perfume, and nectar to the utmost. There are also physiological reasons why mountain gardens are so marvellously attractive to insects. The intensely sunny days alternating with the cold nights increase the production and condition the storage of sugars, and also influence the development of color.

Flowers in their phyletic making are illustrated by the castillejas, or Indian paintbrush. The floral parts of these plants are inconspicuous at the top of an erect stalk, but are advertised by whorls of compacted red leaves, that function like specialized corollas. Castillejas elsewhere are usually a salmon yellow, but on Mount Rainer several species approach a true scarlet.

Strangely enough, it is not the brightest-hued flowers that are visited by the most insects. Perhaps their colors are to compensate for other lack of appeal. The brilliant outstanding red paintbrushes, the beds of solid blue lupines, or the mats of pink heather are not the best places for the entomologist interested in general collecting to seek. Instead, it is the white heads of the ill-smelling valerian over which insects swarm. Bumblebees of many coat patterns, the large syrphus fly, Sericomyia chalcopyga (pl. 9, fig. 1). first described from Alaska, ichneumons, sawflies, butterflies, tachinids, the broad-shouldered beetle, Pachyta (pl. 8, fig. 12), and many species of syrphus flies attend these flowers in unbelievable numbers. Other flowers characteristic of the alpine gardens which are frequented by flying insects are the broad-leaved hellebore or veratrum, the nodding heads of mountain dock, the white avalanche lily or deerstongue, and the large western anemone.

The ridges above the alpine gardens teem with insects whenever the sun shines. A favorite promenade of a half-mile to the north of Paradise Inn is the climb to Alta Vista. This ridge has proved to be one of the best of collecting fields for insects. The copses of stunted alpine hemlock and subalpine fir on its slopes have produced several undescribed species of dance-flies. Now and then among the shadowy trees can be seen a conspicuous steel-blue horn

tail wasp (pl. 8, fig. 9), seeking to deposit its eggs beneath the bark of one of the firs. Here, also, the prize of the mountain, Pocota grandis, a large bumblebeelike syrphid (pl. 9, fig. 3), may alight on the panicles of mountain ash or rosy spiræa.

In the open spaces at the crest of the ridge a group of insects disport themselves in the sun. A bee fly of the genus Anthrax (pl. 8, fig. 3) flattens itself against the rocks to absorb to itself whatever heat may radiate, the silver base of its wings reflecting the sun like a mirror. Another bee fly lacks the epaulets, but is equally conspicuous by its dense coat of crimson hairs. A beautiful but rather rare western fly, Arctophila flagrans (pl. 8, fig. 1), which ranges from Alaska to New Mexico, also frequents this ridge. Here in a few minutes we have seen more specimens than in years of summer mountain collecting elsewhere. Two variations of this species occur, one covered with uniformly golden silky hairs, the other with bright red hairs over the abdomen. It is interesting to notice how many of the western flies that mimic bumblebees have a red abdomen, like the common western species of these bees. As would be expected from the presence of the red-tailed mimics, the red-bellied bumblebees also occur on Mount Rainier in abundance. A sister species to Arctophila flagrans was described in 1908 from British Columbia under the name of Arctophila Harveyi (pl. 8, fig. 2). This species is regarded by collectors as one of the most desirable of the popular family Syrphide. It resembles the white-tailed western bumblebee, Bombus occidentalis, in coloration, and is closely akin to the European type of this northern genus, A. bombiformis. Needless to say the discovery of this species on Alta Vista was a cause for rejoicing. This fly was not so fond of basking as A. flagrans, but hovered shyly at the edge of a copse and seemed to show a predilection to settle among the twisted flowers of the curious lousewort, Pedicularis racemosa.

It is characteristic of mountain diptera that many species are mimics, closely resembling wasps, yellow jackets, and bumblebees. This impression may be due to the predominance of the family Syrphide which contains many mimetic forms. On Rainier a dearth of yellow jackets is accompanied by a corresponding decrease in hornetlike forms, while the unusual abundance of bumblebees is reflected in the prevalence of fuzzy-hairy flies. Nowhere in our experience have we encountered more bumblebees than in these flower gardens.

Even the dead and bared tree trunks produced their quota of interesting species. On Alta Vista a beautiful species of the slender black bee fly, Eclimus (pl. 8, fig. 6) was encountered day after day on the weathered "ghost trees." A tiny fly which proves to be an undescribed genus of the Milichiine was also discovered peering and

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