My first exciting
capture was a small tortoiseshell, and I was much disappointed when I
discovered that it was quite a common insect. In 1917 some nettles
here were black with the larvae of this species, but I think they must
have been nearly all visited by the ichneumons, which pierce the skin,
laying their eggs in the living body of the larva, as the butterflies
were not specially common later. I was, however, fortunate in
identifying a specimen of the curious variety figured in Newman's
_British Butterflies_, variety 2, from one in Mr. Bond's collection;
it has a dark band crossing the middle of the upper wings, but, though
interesting, it is not so handsome as the type. I did not catch this
specimen, as I do not like killing butterflies now, but I had ample
leisure to observe it quite closely on the haulm of potatoes. It was
decidedly smaller than the type.
The old garden at Aldington in the repose of a June evening was a
place of fragrant joy from honeysuckle on poles and arches, and just
as the light was fading the huge privet hawk-moths, with quivering
wings and extended probosces, used to sip the honey from the long
blossoms. I could catch them in a net, but these specimens were nearly
all damaged from their energetic flight among the flowers, and perfect
ones are easy to rear from the larvae, feeding in autumn on privet in
the hedges.
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