the veranda.

Moths kept coming. We began studying the conditions. The
female had emerged in the diningroom on the west side of the
cabin. On account of the intense heat of the afternoon sun, that
side of the building had been tightly closed all day. At four
o'clock the moth was placed on the east window, because it was
sheltered with vines. How soon the first male found her, I do not
know. There was quite a stiff evening breeze blowing from the
west, so that any odour from her would have been carried on east.
We sat there and watched and counted six more moths, every one of
which came down wind from the west, flying high, above the
treetops in fact, and from the direction of a little tree-filled
plot called Studabaker's woods. Some of them we could distinguish
almost a block away coming straight toward the Cabin, and sailing
around the eastern corner with the precision of hounds on a hot trail.
How they knew, the Almighty knows; I do not pretend to; but
that there was odour distilled by that one female, practically
imperceptible to us (she merely smelled like a moth), yet of such
strength as to penetrate screen, vines, and roses and reach her
kind a block away, against considerable breeze, I never shall
believe.

The fact is, that moths smell like other moths of the same species,
and within a reasonable radius they undoubtedly attract each
other. In the same manner birds carry a birdlike odour, and
snakes, frogs, fish, bees, and all animals have a scent peculiar
to themselves. No dog mistakes the odour of a cat for that of
another dog. A cow does not follow the scent of horses to find
other cattle. No moth hunts a dragon-fly, a butterfly, or in my