Chapter II Moths, eggs, caterpillars, winter
quarters
Chapter III The Robin Moth
Chapter IV The Yellow Emperor
Chapter V The Lady Bird
Chapter VI Moths of the moon
Chapter VII King of the hollyhocks
Chapter VIII Hera of the corn
Chapter IX The Sweetheart and the Bride
Chapter X The Giant Gamin
Chapter XI The Garden Fly
Chapter XII Bloody-Nose of Sunshine Hill
Chapter XIII The Modest Moth
Chapter XIV The Pride of the Lilacs
Chapter XV The King of the Poets
To me the Limberlost is a word with which to conjure;
a spot wherein to revel. The swamp lies in
north-eastern Indiana, nearly one hundred miles south
of the Michigan line and ten west of the Ohio.
In its day it covered a large area. When I
arrived; there were miles of unbroken forest, lakes
provided with boats for navigation, streams of running
water, the roads around the edges corduroy, made
by felling and sinking large trees in the muck.
Then the Winter Swamp had all the lacy exquisite
beauty of such locations when snow and frost draped,
while from May until October it was practically tropical
jungle. From it I have sent to scientists flowers
and vines not then classified and illustrated in our
botanies.
It was a piece of forethought to work unceasingly
at that time, for soon commerce attacked the swamp
and began its usual process of devastation.
Canadian lumbermen came seeking tall straight timber
for ship masts and tough heavy trees for beams.
Grand Rapids followed and stripped the forest of
hard wood for fine furniture, and through my experience
with the lumber men “Freckles"’ story
was written. Afterward hoop and stave men and
local mills took the best of the soft wood.
Then a ditch, in reality a canal, was dredged across
the north end through, my best territory, and that
carried the water to the Wabash River until oil men
could enter the swamp. From that time the wealth
they drew to the surface constantly materialized
in macadamized roads, cosy homes, and big farms of
unsurpassed richness, suitable for growing onions,
celery, sugar beets, corn and potatoes, as repeatedly
has been explained in everything I have written of
the place. Now, the Limberlost exists only
in ragged spots and patches, but so rich was it in
the beginning that there is yet a wealth of work for
a lifetime remaining to me in these, and river thickets.
I ask no better hunting grounds for birds, moths,
and flowers. The fine roads are a convenience,
and settled farms a protection, to be taken into
consideration, when bewailing its dismantling.
