Far below the sea surface, the solid earth trembles. Avalanches of water are torn from the ocean and hurled down the slopes of the gale. A colossal darkening storm begins to move across the ocean. It sucks inward the hot, moist lower atmosphere and brings it along with it, using the vapor to feed its monstrous, seething caldron. Down here at the surface of the earth, its winds are warm and humid. Its tentacles—octopus-like arms—reach out with gale-driven torrents of rain and begin picking everything to pieces. After hours that seem like days, the central fury of the earth-blasting storm begins its devastation of man’s possessions. And as it has proved to be unquestionably true that no two hurricanes are exactly alike, so it is evident now that the same hurricane is subject to massive changes from day to day. It has a life history. Like the caterpillar that is transformed into the cocoon and then into the butterfly, the tropical storm goes through definite stages. The problems involved for the hurricane hunters in each of these distinct stages demand separate solutions. Like a living thing, the monster has infancy, youth, middle age and decline. In infancy, its malevolent forces are directed vigorously toward the mysterious removal of large quantities of air from above its gale-swept domain. The excessive heat and moisture of its birthplace yield far more energy than is needed to keep its mighty low-level winds in motion. In youth, it is extremely violent and the removal of air brings exceedingly low pressure into its center. Its outer parts become ominously visible through the condensation of moisture on a grand scale, cloaking its internal mechanism. Its destructive forces spread. In this stage, the removal of air in upper regions continues in excess of the inflow at the bottom in proportion to the horizontal expansion of the system. In middle age, its violent forces are directed toward maintenance of the colossal wind system. The total energy it can derive from heat and moisture no longer produces an outflow above in excess of the inflow of air at the bottom. It expands in the vertical and its visible parts push against the stratosphere. As it moves farther away from its birthplace and the available energy begins to decline, it dies. For a few days nature’s processes for the transport of moisture from the oceans to the thirsty continents have run amuck. Life and property suffered while torrential rains fell. So it is clear that in life the monster thrives on heat and water vapor. Down at sea level it is a warm phenomenon. Only the heated air of the tropical regions can hold enough moisture to feed the giant.