THE GREAT PEACOCK MOTH

Insect Adventures by Jean-Henri Fabre and Louise Hasbrouck Zimm, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here. THE GREAT PEACOCK MOTH

CHAPTER XV. THE GREAT PEACOCK MOTH

IT was an evening long to be remembered, when the Great Peacock Moths came to my house. This Moth is magnificent, the largest in Europe, clad in maroon velvet, with a necktie of white fur. The wings are sprinkled with gray and brown, crossed by a faint zigzag and edged with smoky white, and they have in the center a round patch, a great eye with a black pupil and a many-colored iris containing black, white, chestnut, and purple arcs. The Moth is hatched from a Caterpillar also remarkable in appearance, being yellow with beads of turquoise-blue. It feeds on almond leaves.

Well, on the morning of the sixth of May, a female Great Peacock Moth came out of her cocoon in my presence, on the table of my insect-laboratory. I at once caged her under a wire-gauze bell-jar. I did not think much about the matter. I kept her on general principles, for I am always on the lookout for something to happen.

I was glad afterwards that I had done so. At nine o’clock in the evening, just as the household is going to bed, there is a great stir in the room next to mine. Little Paul, half-undressed, is rushing about, jumping and stamping, knocking the chairs over like a mad thing. I hear him call me:

“Come, quick!” he screams. “Come and see these Moths, big as birds! The room is full of them!”

I hurry in. The child has not exaggerated very much. The room is full of giant Moths. Four are already caught and lodged in a bird-cage. Many others are fluttering on the ceiling.

At this sight, I remember my prisoner of the morning.

“Put on your things, laddie,” I say to my son. “Leave your cage and come with me. We shall see something interesting.”

We run downstairs to go to my study, which is in the right wing of the house. In the kitchen I find the servant, who is also bewildered by what is happening and stands flicking her apron at great Moths whom she took at first for Bats. It seems that the Great Peacock has taken possession of pretty nearly every part of the house.

We enter my study, candle in hand. One of the windows had been left open, and what we see is unforgetable. With a soft flick-flack the great Moths fly around the bell-jar, alight, set off again, come back, fly up to the ceiling and down. They rush at the candle, putting it out with a stroke of their wings; they descend on our shoulders, clinging to our clothes, grazing our faces. The scene suggests a wizard’s cave, with its whirl of Bats. Little Paul holds my hand tighter than usual, to keep up his courage.

How many are there? About twenty in this room. Add to these the number who have strayed into the other parts of the house, and the total cannot be much short of forty. Forty lovers, who have come to pay their respects to the bride born that morning—the princess imprisoned in her tower!

Every night that week the Moths come to court their princess. It is stormy weather, so dark one can hardly see one’s hand before one’s face. Our house is difficult for them to reach. It is hidden by tall plane-trees, pines, and cypresses; clusters of bushy shrubs make a rampart a few steps away from the door. It is through this tangle, in complete darkness, that the Great Peacock has to tack about to reach his lady.

Under such conditions the Brown Owl would not dare leave the hole in his tree. Yet the Moth goes forward without hesitating and passes through without knocking against things. He steers his way so skillfully that he arrives in a state of perfect freshness, with his big wings unharmed, with not a scratch upon him. The darkness is light enough for him.

With a view to his wedding, the one and only object of his life, the Great Peacock is gifted with a wonderful talent. He is able to discover the object of his desire in spite of distance, obstacles, and darkness. For two or three evenings he is allowed a few hours to find his mate. If he cannot find her, all is over. He dies.

The Great Peacock knows nothing of eating. While so many other Moths, jolly companions one and all, flit from flower to flower, dipping into the honeyed cups, he never thinks of refreshment. No wonder he does not live long. Two or three evenings, just time enough to allow the couple to meet, and that is all; the big Moth has lived.

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This book is part of the public domain. Jean-Henri Fabre and Louise Hasbrouck Zimm (2014). Insect Adventures. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/45812/pg45812-images.html

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