BIRDS AND ALL NATURE.
ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.
VOL. IV. DECEMBER, 1898. No. 6
CONTENTS.
Page
VOICES. 201
THE AFRICAN LION. 207
A SYMBOL. 208
THE CACTUS. 211
MYTHS AND THE MISTLETOE. 212
THE FLYING-SQUIRREL. 215
HUMMING-BIRDS. 216
CHRISTMAS TREES. 220
A WINTER'S WALK. 221
THE SILK-WORM. 222
ANIMALS' RIGHTS. 225
THE CALIFORNIA VULTURE. 226
A GAMELESS COUNTRY. 229
SNOWFLAKES. 229
THE AMERICAN GOLDEN-EYE. 230
GOLDEN ROD. 230
THE AMERICAN SKUNK. 233
BIRDS IN "THE ILIAD." 234
SUMMARY. 238
INDEX. i
VOICES.
W. E. WATT.
All animals with lungs have some sort of contrivance in the windpipe
that is able to set the air in vibration as it is expelled or inhaled.
Some have not only this means of making vocal sound, but have also
power to vary the quality and intensity of it. Out of this second
ability come speech and song.
Ants converse with their antennæ, having no lungs nor windpipe. Bees
do the same. Those of her attendants who first perceive the absence of
the queen from the hive apply their antennæ to the feelers of their
companions. The ensuing excitement settles the question as to their
ability to talk. This shows that while voice is the usual organ of
language there is yet a good deal of conversation going on about us
that is not expressed in words, just as there is much music performed
by insect orchestras with no vocal contributions.
Hares and Rabbits never use their voices except when suffering
intensely. When caught by an enemy or wounded in the chase they utter
the only cry that ever escapes from their throats. Spasmodic agitation
of the chest muscles and the larynx gives forth the sound. Such
unintentional utterances are frequent in other animals that use their
voices freely when nothing has injured them, as the death shrieks of
cattle and the screams of horses attacked by wolves.
It is of little use to ask why animals are equipped with voices, for
the fact is an animal could hardly be constructed with lungs and
apparatus for controlling ingress and egress of air without the
controlling organ's being more or less noisy or even musical. Snorts,
snores, whistles, purrs, groans, and trumpetings follow naturally where
the bellows and pipe are active.
Although Darwin considers that the habit of uttering musical sounds
was first acquired for courtship, and that in man it was early
associated only with his strongest emotions, such as love, rivalry,
and triumph, the writer holds the opinion that both significant and
musical utterance originated not in any desire to move others, but was
cultivated solely for the pleasure it gave the one who made it.
If primitive man did not receive language ready-made at creation, but
developed it as the philologists claim, it was a gradual acquisition.
While our early ancestor dug in the ground he emitted certain sounds,
as he pursued he uttered others, and as he devoured he indulged in a
different grunt or exclamation. When he wished to call the attention
of others to one of these acts he merely reproduced the sound that
went naturally with it. And so _clamor concomitans_ became _clamor
significans_. But the sound as it came forth at first had no meaning
and no design. The man made the sound rather instinctively than
mentally and he enjoyed making sounds as much as a baby now enjoys
crowing or a youngster delights in yelling when he has no ideas he
cares to convey. Much of the singing of birds is done merely because
the birds wish to please themselves with the sounds peculiar to
themselves. They are, as a rule, in no-wise trying to charm their
mates, and they are not at all desirous of pleasing anyone but
themselves. It would be as reasonable to claim that the carpenter on
the roof is whistling to please his sweetheart or that the lumberman
alone with his cattle in the forest trolls forth his jolly song for
any amorous reason. There are times when these purposes are the cause
of singing, but the fact is that the great majority of the singing and
whistling done by men, birds, and beasts sounds far better to the ones
that produce it than to any other. In fact, society itself would be in
a far better state if the men and women who sing would only acknowledge
that they are doing so mainly to please themselves, and they might
then be persuaded in part to leave off trying to surprise their
hearers at times by singing louder or higher or faster than nature
intended they should do. Most people enjoy listening to song, but no
one can appreciate the beauties of it so well as the artistic singer
who has acquired his talents by assiduous and intelligent discipline.
His enjoyment of his own efforts is as much higher than that of his
auditors as is the pleasure of the man who sings out of tune above the
felicity of his hearers.
Elephants speak in three ways. Pleasure is evinced by blowing the
proboscis in a sharp manner--like the sound of a trumpeter learning.
Wants are murmured over in the mouth. Rage roars tremendously low
in the throat. While these sounds are not made for the purpose of
informing others of states of feeling, yet they do convey to man and
beast an idea of what is going on. So the lower animals accidentally,
if you please, have a sort of language. It is instinctive and conveys
no intelligence not immediately connected with the present state of the
speaker or his community.
Marcgrave says he has frequently seen the meetings held by the Ouarine
Monkeys and enjoyed their deliberations. "Every day they assemble in
the woods to receive instructions. One takes the highest place on the
tree and makes a signal with his hand for the rest to sit round. As
soon as he sees them placed he begins his discourse in a loud and
precipitate voice; the rest preserve a profound silence. When he has
done he makes a sign with his hand for the rest to reply. At that
instant they raise their voices together, until by another signal
silence is enjoined."
Professor Garner has studied simian speech so carefully that he is able
to converse with Monkeys to a limited extent. He says they have words
for "food" and "drink," have a spoken salutation, and can distinguish
numbers up to about three, and have some notion of music. "In brief,
they appear to have at least the raw material out of which are made the
most exalted attributes of man."
Aristotle noticed that voices vary with conditions when he gravely
announced that the Calf affords the only instance in nature where the
voice of the young is deeper and graver than that of its parent. Wild
animals frequently change their voices on domestication. Domestic Dogs
and even tame Jackals have learned to bark, which is a noise not proper
to any species of the genus, with the possible exception of the _Canis
latrans_ of North America. Columbus discovered that Dogs left by him on
an island where there was no game nor any other occasion for barking
lost their voices completely before he visited them on a subsequent
voyage. Some breeds of domestic Pigeons coo in a new and quite peculiar
manner not manifested in their wild state.
The same species of birds living in different localities sometimes
have different vocal habits. An excellent observer says an Irish covey
of Partridges spring without uttering a call, while, on the opposite
coast, the Scotch covey accompany their springing with intense shrieks.
Bechstein says that from many years of experience he is certain that in
the Nightingale a tendency to sing in the middle of the night or in the
day runs in families and is strictly inherited.
As the Parrot acquires human language by association with unfeathered
bipeds, so do many voices modify themselves as circumstances alter,
and the particular sound which one day may accompany and express
fright or anger may be laid aside for another more suitable to new
conditions, much as a man uses different sounds in asking for butter
at a French restaurant and in a German inn. And while it is probably
not true that speech was given for the purposes of communicating with
others, it has occurred in nature that speech has become the principal
means of transmitting ideas.
An old Goose had her nest in the kitchen of a farmer. She had been
endeavoring for a fortnight to hatch some eggs, but was taken ill
rather suddenly and found she could not finish the task. With evident
agony she repaired to an outhouse where was a Goose of but one year's
growth. In some way she told the young sister that her valuable mission
was about to be interrupted ere its fulfillment and implored her
to become her successor. So complete was the communication between
them that the young one entered the kitchen and took her place, with
evident maternal pride, remaining there till the eggs were hatched and
afterwards caring assiduously for the welfare of the Goslings. The old
Goose expired contentedly before incubation was complete.
A gentleman who visited London occasionally was usually accompanied by
a small Dog. Nearing the city, he put up at an inn and left the Terrier
there to await his return. Once, as he came back from London, the Dog
was not there. He had had a fight with a large Housedog and been so
badly wounded that it was thought he would not recover. But after lying
quietly for a couple of days he disappeared. About a week later he
returned with a larger animal, sought his adversary, and by union of
efforts gave him a terrible punishment. It was found that his coadjutor
was a neighbor, and that the wounded animal must have traveled long to
visit his friend, had been able to tell him of his sorrows, awaken his
sympathies, and keep him enlisted in his cause all the while they were
on their way to seek their enemy, and was no doubt able to congratulate
his partner many times during the homeward journey on the success of
their valorous enterprise.
Professor Morgan says: "I find that the sounds emitted by young Chicks
are decidedly instinctive--that is to say, they are inherited modes of
giving expression to certain emotional states. And some of them are
fairly differentiated. At least six may be distinguished: First, the
gentle, piping sound expressive of contentment--for example, when one
takes the little bird in one's hand. A further low note, a sort of
double sound, seems to be associated with extreme pleasure, as when
one strokes the Chick's back. Very characteristic and distinct is the
danger note. This is heard on the second or third day. If a large
Humble-bee, or a black Beetle, or a big lump of sugar, or in fact
anything largish and strange, be thrown to them this danger note is
at once heard. Then there is the piping sound, expressive apparently
of wanting something. It generally ceases when one goes near them
and throws some grain, or even only stands near them. My Chicks were
accustomed to my presence in the room, and generally were restless, and
continuously made this sound when I left them. Then there is the sharp
squeak when one seizes a Chick against its inclination. Lastly there is
the shrill cry of distress, when, for example, one of them is separated
from the rest. I have very little doubt that all of these sounds
have a suggestive value of emotional import for the other Chicks.
Certainly the danger-note at once places others on the alert, and the
pleasure-note will cause others to come to the spot where the little
bird is when the note is sounded."
A good story is told by H. B. Medlicott to show what ideas wild pigs
can express in sounds. "In the early dawn of a gray morning I was
geologizing along the base of the Muhair hills in South Behar, when
all of a sudden there was a stampede of many Pigs from the fringe
of a jungle, with porcine shrieks of _sauve-qui-peut_ significance.
After a short run in the open they took to the jungle again, and in a
few minutes there was another uproar, but different in sound and in
action; there was a rush, presumably of the fighting members, to the
spot where the row began, and after some seconds a large Leopard sprang
from the midst of the scuffle. In a few bounds he was in the open, and
stood looking back, licking his chaps. The Pigs did not break cover,
but continued on their way. They were returning to their lair after
a night's feeding in the plain, several families having combined for
mutual protection; while the beasts of prey were evidently waiting for
the occasion. I was alone, and though armed, I did not care to beat
up the ground to see if in either case a kill had been effected. The
numerous herd covered a considerable space, and the scrub was thick.
The prompt concerted action must in each case have been started by
a special cry. I imagine that the first assailant was a Tiger, and
the case was at once known to be hopeless, the cry prompting instant
flight, while in the second case the cry was for defense. It can
scarcely be doubted that in the first case each adult Pig had a vision
of a Tiger, and the second of a Leopard or some minor foe."
The structure of throats that talk and sing varies greatly, and
scientists have yet much to learn about the adaptations of forms to
purposes. Agassiz gives the following clear description of the throats
of birds: "The proper larynx is very simple, destitute of vocal chords,
and incapable of producing sounds; but at the lower end of the windpipe
there is a second or inferior larynx, which is very complicated in
structure. It is a kind of bony drum, having within it two glottises,
formed at the top of the two branches of the windpipe, each provided
with two vocal chords. The different pieces of this apparatus are moved
by peculiar muscles, the number of which varies in different families.
In birds which have a very monotonous cry, such as the Gulls, the
Herons, the Cuckoos, and the Mergansers, there is but one or two pairs;
Parrots have three; and birds of song have five." But there are still
further items regarding special uses that make the question hard to
solve.
Some throats that have apparently the same structure as far as the
scalpel and microscope can distinguish have marvelously different
powers of delivery. MacGillivray has pointed out that the Rook and
the Hooded Crow seem to have just as complex an apparatus for their
sepulchral utterances as the Nightingale and the Blackbird. But where
loudness of sound is required without regard to range and quality
there are some notable conformations, as in the Whooping Crane and the
Howling Monkey. This Monkey has large cavities communicating with the
glottis, and the air reverberates as it passes the larynx so the most
deafening noises are produced.
Birds sing and other animals yell, roar, and snort, not for love-making
purposes, but rather because of the joy of life that is in these
creatures, and it manifests itself in this way as well as in the
gambols of the Lambkin or the antics of the Monkey. The voice of the
Mule is the sweetest sound in the world--to some other Mule. But it
is sweeter still to the Mule that makes the joyful sound. Placzeck
notes that a bird frequently sings lustily when he knows himself to
be entirely alone. "In the spring-time of love, when all life is
invigorated, and the effort to win a mate by ardent wooing is crowned
with the joy of triumph, the song reaches its highest perfection. But
the male bird also sings to entertain his mate during the arduous
nest-building and hatching, to cheer the young and, if he be a
domesticated bird, to give pleasure to his lord and the Providence
that takes care of him, and in doing so to please himself. Lastly, the
bird sings--by habit, as we call it--because the tendency is innate in
the organs of song to exercise themselves." In other words, animals
have the apparatus for making noises provided them in their organs of
breathing, and because they have them they use them and are delighted
with them, each in his own kind. Finding them a source of joy unto
themselves it is not to be wondered at that they employ their voices
in their love-making because they feel that what pleases themselves so
much must not be without effect upon their loved ones.
[Illustration: AFRICAN LION.
Copyright 1898, by Woodruff and Staley.]
THE AFRICAN LION.
Amid the far-off hills,
With eye of fire, and shaggy mane upreared,
The sleeping Lion in his den sprang up;
Listened awhile--then laid his monstrous mouth
Close to the floor, and breathed hot roarings out
In fierce reply.
--EDWIN ATHERSTONE. (1821)
The common opinion of the Lion from the remotest times is that he
is King of Beasts, and a single glance at his face of majesty is
sufficient to make us accept it. His roar is terrific, and the fact is
well known that all animals tremble at the mere sound of his voice.
The effect of it on his subjects is said to be indescribable. "The
howling Hyena is stricken dumb, though not for long; the Leopard ceases
to grunt; the Monkeys utter a loud, gurgling sound and mount to the
highest tree-tops; the Antelopes rush through the bushes in a mad
flight; a bleating flock becomes silent; the laden Camel trembles and
listens no longer to his driver's appeal, but throws load and rider
off and seeks salvation in flight; the Horse rears, snorts, and rushes
back; the Dog, unused to the chase, creeps up to his master with a
wail." But it is said we must not think that the Lion lets his roar
re-echo through the wilderness at all times. His usual sounds are a
deep growl and a long-drawn tone, like the mewing of a giant Cat. His
real roar is uttered comparatively seldom, and many people who have
visited countries inhabited by Lions have never heard it. It is the
only one of its kind, and is surpassed in fullness of tone by the
voice of no living creature except the male Hippopotamus, according
to Pechnel-Loesche. "The Arabs have a pertinent expression for it:
'_raad_,' meaning thunder. It seems to come from the very depth of the
chest and to strain it to the utmost."
This Lion is distributed all over Central and Southern Africa. They are
regularly met with on the banks of the Blue and White Nile, and in the
deserts of central and Southern Africa they are of common occurrence.
The Lion leads a solitary life, living with his mate only during the
breeding season. Selous says that in South Africa one more frequently
meets four or five Lions together than single specimens, and troops of
ten or twelve are not extraordinary. His experience taught him that
the South African Lion prefers feasting off the game some hunter has
killed to exerting himself to capture his own prey. This is why he
regularly follows nomadic tribes wherever they go; he regards them as
his tributary subjects and the taxes he levies on them are indeed of
the heaviest kind.
The Cubs are usually two or three and the Lioness treats them with
great tenderness. They play together like Kittens. In well-managed
zoological gardens Lions are now bred as carefully as Dogs; and even in
circuses, where the animals have but little room and often insufficient
nourishment, they are born and sometimes grow up. The cubs are at
first rather clumsy. They are born with their eyes open and are about
half the size of a Cat. Towards the close of the first year they are
about the size of a strong Dog. In the third year the mane begins to
appear on the male, but full growth and distinction of sex, according
to Brehm, are only completed in the sixth or seventh year. Lions in
captivity have lived to be seventy years old.
Brehm, who loved the Lion and was probably better acquainted with his
habits than any other traveler, says: "The most prominent naturalists
give the Lion credit for qualities which in my opinion include nobility
enough. And whoever has become more closely acquainted with that
animal; whoever has, like myself, intimately known a captive Lion for
years, must think as I do; he must love and esteem it as much as a
human being can love and esteem any animal."
A SYMBOL.
BY IRWIN RUSSELL.[1]
Over the meadow there stretched a lane,
Parting the meadow in segments twain;
And through the meadow and over the sod
Where countless feet had before him trod--
With a wall forever on either hand
Barring the lane from the meadow-land,
There walked a man with a weary face,
Treading the lane at a steadfast pace.
On before him, until the eye
To gauge the distance could no more try,
To where the meadow embraced the sky,
The lane still stretched, and the walls still barred
The dusty lane from the meadow sward.
He paid no heed to the joyous calls
That came from men who had leaped the walls--
Who paused a moment in song or jest,
To hail him "Brother, come here and rest!"
For the Sun was marching toward the West,
And the man had many a mile to go,
And time is swift and toil is slow.
The grassy meadows were green and fair
Bestudded with many a blossom rare,
And the lane was dusty, and dry, and bare;
But even there, in a tiny shade
A jutting stone in the wall had made,
A tuft of clover had lately sprung--
It had not bloomed for it yet was young--
The spot of green caught the traveler's eye,
And he plucked a sprig, as he passed by;
And then, as he held it, there came a thought
In his musing mind, with a meaning fraught
With other meanings.
"Ah, look!" said he,
"The spray is one--and its leaves are three,
A symbol of man, it seems to me,
As he was, as he is, and as he will be!
One of the leaves points back, the way
That I have wearily walked to-day;
One points forward as if to show
The long, hard journey I've yet to go;
And the third one points to the ground below.
Time is one, and Time is three:
And the sign of Time, in its Trinity--
Past, Present, Future, together bound
In the simplest grass of the field is found!
The lane of life is a dreary lane
Whose course is over a flowery plain.
Who leaps the walls to enjoy the flowers
Forever loses the wasted hours.
The lane is long, and the lane is bare,
'Tis tiresome ever to journey there;
But on forever the soul must wend--
And who can tell where the lane will end?"
The thought was given. Its mission done,
The grass was cast to the dust and sun;
And the sun shone on it, and saw it die
With _all three leaves_ turned toward the _sky_.
[1] Died in 1878. The Century Co. published a small volume of his poems
a few years ago. This poem has never before been printed.--ED.
[Illustration: From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.
CACTI.
1/2 Life-size.
Copyright 1898,
Nature Study Pub. Co., Chicago.]
THE CACTUS.
PROF. W. K. HIGLEY.
Because the Greeks in olden times applied the word Cactus to a prickly
plant, Linnæus, often called the Father of Botany, gave the same name
to our wonderful American growth and since his time these strange and
varied plants have borne this nomenclature.
We can hardly imagine any group of plants more interesting. There are
over eight hundred varieties of curious and unexpected forms, bearing
tubular or rotate flowers most varied in size and color--white, pink,
purple, yellow, crimson, deep red--all beautiful and fascinating,
and in our Northern country, protected in the conservatories. The
Night-blooming Cereus is most renowned, most admired of all.
The Cacti are commonly found in the United States, in Mexico, and in
South America, and some species are cultivated on the borders of the
Mediterranean Sea, where the fruit is eaten.
They vary in size from an inch or two in height to enormous growths of
fifty or sixty feet (_Cereus giganteus_) which stand like telegraph
poles, sometimes nearly bare, sometimes with many vertical branches,
reminding one of a huge candelabrum. Then again some forms are nearly
spherical, while others are long, jointed, and square, one species
(_Echinocactus visnaga_) grows about nine feet in height with a
diameter of three feet or more and a single plant of this species will
sometimes weigh a ton. One of our most common forms is flat and broad.
This, the Prickly Pear or Indian Fig (_Opentia Vulgario_), is the only
species found as far north as Wisconsin and New York.
As many of the Cacti require but little care, they are quite
extensively cultivated, not only for the rare beauty of their flowers,
but for economic purposes. However, nearly all are worthy of culture
because of their peculiar forms.
In structure they are fitted for growth in the most arid regions;
they abound in the deserts of New Mexico and southward, in many cases
obtaining their food from a soil in which no other plant will grow,
their thick coats enabling them to retain moisture and vitality for
many weeks. Specimens of the Prickly Pear have been known to grow after
lying on a dry floor, in a closed room, for six months and they have
blossomed when left in this condition for some time.
These plants, which are more or less succulent, are usually protected
from the ravages of animal life by a formidable array of spines and
prickles. Those who have carelessly handled our common Prickly Pear can
attest to the intensely irritating character of its defensive armor.
Thus does nature provide for the care of its otherwise defenseless
forms.
A form of the Prickly Pear (_Opuntia coccinellifera_) is cultivated
in Mexico for the purpose of raising the Cochineal insect (_Coccus
cacti_) which feeds upon it. Some of these plantations contain as many
as 50,000 plants. The females are placed on the Cactus in August and in
about four or five months the first gathering of the Cochineal takes
place, being then ready for the market.
There are many other interesting uses to which these plants are put.
When suffering from thirst animals will tear off the hard outer
fibers and eagerly devour the moist, juicy interior of the stems. The
Moki Indian basket makers use the fiber in their work. This they dye
different colors and wind around the foundations, giving strength and
beauty. The spines of one species (_Echinocactus visnaga_) are used by
the Mexicans as toothpicks. It has been estimated that a single plant
may bear upward of 50,000 spines.
A unique and beautiful sight was a group of Cacti blooming in a
Colorado garden, where the owner had spent much time and expense in
gathering together many varieties, and one was made to realize how
remarkable a thing Nature had lavished upon us: for, as Mr. Grant Allen
has said: "The Cactuses are all true American citizens by birth and
training, and none of them are found truly indigenous in any part of
the Old World."
MYTHS AND THE MISTLETOE.
On Christmas Eve the bells were rung;
On Christmas Eve the chant was sung;
That only night in all the year
Saw the stoled priest the chalice near;
The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;
The hall was dressed with Holly green;
Forth to the woods did merry men go
To gather in the Mistletoe.
The Mistletoe, particularly that which grows on the Oak, was held in
great veneration by the Britons. At the beginning of their year the
Druids went in solemn procession into the forests, and raised a grass
altar at the foot of the finest Oak, on which they inscribed the names
of those gods which were considered the most powerful. After this the
chief Druid, clad in a white garment, ascended the tree and cropped
the Mistletoe with a consecrated golden pruning-hook, the other Druids
receiving it in a pure, white cloth, which they held beneath the tree.
The Mistletoe was then dipped in the water by the principal Druid and
distributed among the people as a preservative against witchcraft and
disease. If any part touched the ground it was considered an omen of
some dreadful misfortune.
In the Eddas of mythological Norse lore, Loke, the evil spirit, is
said to have made the arrow with which he wounded Balder (Apollo), the
son of Friga (Venus), of a branch of Mistletoe. Balder was charmed
against everything which sprang from fire, earth, air, and water, but
the Mistletoe, springing from neither of these, was fatal, and Balder
was not restored to the world till by a general effort of the other
gods. In some parts of Germany and Switzerland it is believed that by
holding in the hand a branch of Mistletoe one will be enabled not only
to see, but to converse with departed spirits.
The Druids, partly because the Mistletoe was supposed to grow only on
the Apple tree and the Oak, and also on account of the usefulness of
the fruit, paid great attention to its cultivation. Many old rites and
ceremonies, in connection with the Apple, are practiced to this day in
some parts of England. On Christmas Eve the farmers and their men take
a huge bowl of cider, with a smoking piece of toasted bread in it and,
carrying it to the orchard, salute the Apple trees with great ceremony,
in order to make them bear well next season.
The wassail bowl drank on Christmas Eve, and on other church festivals,
was compounded of old ale, sugar, nutmegs, and roasted apples, of which
each person partook, taking out an apple with a spoon and then a deep
draught out of the bowl.
Under the Mistletoe of Christmas, the custom of kissing has been handed
down to us by our Saxon ancestors, who, on the restoration of Apollo,
dedicated the plant to Venus, the Goddess of Love and Beauty. It was
placed entirely under her control, thus preventing its ever again being
used against her in future ages.--_E. K. M._
[Illustration: From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.
FLYING SQUIRREL.
1/2 Life-size.
Copyright 1898,
Nature Study Pub. Co., Chicago.]
THE FLYING-SQUIRREL.
With the exception of Australia, Squirrels are found in all parts
of the globe; they extend tolerably far north and are found in the
hottest parts of the South. As a family they are lively, quick, and
nimble in their movements, both in trees and upon the ground, Flying
Squirrels alone being ill at ease when upon the surface of the earth.
In compensation for this, however, they are possessed of a faculty
which enables them to make exceedingly long leaps, which they take in
an obliquely descending direction.
The nocturnal Flying Squirrels, says Brehm, differ from the diurnal
Tree Squirrels mainly in having their fore and hind legs connected by
a wide flying-membrane. This membrane acts as a parachute, and enables
them to execute considerable leaps with ease, in an inclined plane from
above downward. This membrane consists of a stout skin, extending along
both sides of the body, thickly grown with hair on the upper side,
while the lower one shows but a scanty covering. A bony spur at the
first joint of the fore-legs gives especial strength to the membrane.
The tail serves as an effective rudder and is always vigorous, though
it is not of the same conformation in the different species, one group
having it simply bushy, while the other has the hair on it arranged in
two lateral rows. There are also slight differences in the structure of
the teeth.
The Flying Squirrel of North America, Assapan, is next to the smallest
variety of the whole species, the Jaguan, or East Indian, being the
largest, nearly equaling a cat in size.
The fur of the North American Flying Squirrels is exceedingly soft
and delicate. In captivity they suffer themselves, by day, to be
gently handled, making no effort to bite with their little sharp teeth
as other Squirrels do. Overcome with sleep they lie curled up in
their cage, as much hidden from view as possible, rarely bestirring
themselves before nine o'clock at night. Then, "on the upper edge
of the sleeping-box, which one must give them as a substitute for
their nest, a round little head becomes visible; the body follows
and soon one of the little creatures sits on the narrow edge of the
box in a graceful Squirrel-like attitude, the flying membrane half
folded against its body, half hanging down in a soft curve. The small,
expanded ears move back and forth as does the bewhiskered muzzle, and
the large, dark eyes inquisitively scan the cage and surroundings. If
nothing suspicious is visible, the Assapan glides down like a shadow,
always head first, whether the plane be inclined or vertical, without
any noise, without a perceptible movement of the limbs, the greater
part of which is covered with the membrane. It proceeds on the woven
ceiling of the cage, back downward, as if it walked on level ground; it
rope-dances over thin twigs with unsurpassed precision and agility at a
uniform speed; spreading its membrane to the full, it darts through the
whole space of the cage like an arrow, and the next instant seems glued
to the perch, without having made an effort to regain its balance.
During all this moving about it picks up a crumb, a nut, a grain of
meat from its dish; drinks, sipping more than it laps, washes its head
with saliva, combs its hair with the nails of its fore-feet, smooths it
with the soles of its small paws, turning, stretching, stooping all the
while, as if its skin were a bag in which its body sits quite loosely.
After hunger and thirst are somewhat appeased, and the toilet over, a
playful humor succeeds. Up and down, head upward or inverted, along the
ceiling, or the floor, running, jumping, gliding, soaring, hanging,
sitting, rushing ahead as if it could move a thousand joints at once,
as if there were no such thing as gravity to be overcome."
HUMMING-BIRDS.
If these exquisite little creatures are called Humming-birds, you
little folk may ask, why wasn't the Bee called a Buzzard because it
buzzes?
Well, really, that is a question which I will not attempt to answer,
but the fact remains that no other name would have been so appropriate
for these jewel-like birds but the one above, on account of the humming
sound which they produce when hovering in their curious fashion over a
tempting blossom, and feeding on its contents while suspended in air.
There are four hundred and sixty-seven species of these little birds,
and no two of them, 'tis said, make precisely the same sound, one
producing a noise exactly like the whizzing of a wheel driven by
machinery, while that of another is very like the droning hum of a
large Bee. But no two voices in even one human family, you know, are
alike, so it is not amazing that the rule holds good among the birds.
You can capture and tame these lovely little creatures, too, though
I wouldn't advise you to keep them in a cage very long. They will
pine away and look very doleful if you do. Rather, after you have
accustomed them to your presence, and fed them regularly upon the
honey and syrup and other sweets which they dearly love, open the cage
door and give them their liberty. A gentleman once did this and was
delighted to see them return to their old quarters in a very little
while. By watching them the next morning after setting them free again,
he found they had been pining for a nice fresh garden Spider which they
had been accustomed to daintily pick from the center of his web. He had
provided them with Spiders and Flies, but they wanted to flit about and
search for themselves. For dessert they liked the sweets which he gave
them, so back they went to their cage, instead of extracting it from
the flowers with their long bills, as they were wont to do.
A Humming-bird one summer built its nest in a butternut tree very near
a lady's window. She could look right down into its nest, and one day,
as it began to rain, she saw the mother-bird take one or two large
leaves from a tree near by and cover her little birdlings with it. She
understood how to make an umbrella, didn't she?
[Illustration: From col. Chi. Acad. Sciences.
HUMMING-BIRDS.
Life-size.
Copyright 1898,
Nature Study Pub. Co., Chicago.]
HUMMING-BIRDS.
"Minutest of the feathered kind,
Possessing every charm combined,
Nature, in forming thee, designed
That thou shouldst be
"A proof within how little space
She can comprise such perfect grace,
Rendering thy lovely fairy race
Beauty's epitome."
It has been said that what a beautiful sonnet is to the mind, one
of these fairy-like creations is to the eyes. This is true even in
the case of mounted specimens, which must necessarily have lost some
of their iridescence. Few can hope to see many of them alive. The
gorgeous little birds are largely tropical, the northern limit of their
abundance as species being the Tropic of Cancer. They are partial to
mountainous regions, where there is diversity of surface and soil
sufficient to meet their needs within a small area. The highlands of
the Andes in South America are the regions most favored by a large
number of species. They are most abundant in Ecuador, the mountain
heights affording a home for more than one hundred species. Columbia
has about one hundred species; Bolivia and Peru claim about ninety-six;
then follow, in consecutive order, Central America, Brazil, Venezuela,
Mexico, Guiana, the West Indies, and the United States.
The eastern part of the United States has but one representative of the
Humming-bird family, and only seventeen species have been found within
the limits of the country. As ten of these really belong to the Mexican
group, we can claim ownership of only seven, most of which, however,
migrate far south in winter. Only one of these, the Anna, spends the
winter in the warm valleys of California.
Most of the Hummers are honey-lovers, and they extract the sweetest
juices of the flowers.
The "soft susurrations" of their wings, as they poise above the
flowers, inserting their long beaks into tubes of nectar, announce
their presence. Some of the Warblers and Kinglets will sometimes poise
in this way before a leaf and peck an insect from its surface, but
it is not a regular habit with them. The Hummer's ability to move
backwards while on the wing is one of the most wonderful features of
its flight, and this movement, Mr. Ridgway says, is greatly assisted by
a forward flirt of the bird's expanded tail.
The nests of the Humming-birds are of cup-shape and turban-shape, are
composed chiefly of plant-down, interwoven and bound together with
Spider webs, and decorated with lichens and mosses. Usually the nest is
saddled upon a horizontal or slanting branch or twig, but that of the
Hermit Hummer is fastened to the sides of long, pointed leaves, where
they are safe from Monkeys and other predaceous animals.
"Dwelling in the snowy regions of the Andes are the little gems called
Hill-stars," says Leander S. Keyser, "which build a structure as large
as a man's head, at the top of which there is a small, cup-shaped
depression. In these dainty structures the eggs are laid, lying like
gems in the bottom of the cups, and here the little ones are hatched.
Some of them look more like bugs than birds when they first come from
the shell. The method of feeding the young is mostly by regurgitation;
at least such is the habit of the Ruby-throat, and no doubt many others
of the family follow the fashions of the Humming-bird land. The process
is as follows: The parent bird thrusts her long bill far down into the
throat of her bantling, and then, by a series of forward plunges that
are really terrible to witness, the honey food is pumped from the old
bird's craw into that of the youngster. So far as is known the babies
enjoy this vigorous exercise and suffer no serious consequences from
it."
CHRISTMAS TREES.
FRED. A. WATT.
Our Christmas tree is a relic of the old heathen times and came down
to us as a part of the Yule festival. It seems to have originated in
Germany and can be traced back as far as the year 1604 with certainty,
and as it was an established custom at that time it is evidently much
older.
How the early man conceived the idea is open to dispute, but in my
opinion it is due to an old superstition which has some believers even
to this day. It is said that any maid who is not kissed under the
Mistletoe at Christmas will not be married during the year following.
I have no doubt that the anxiety of the young ladies to be always
found under the Mistletoe on that day has led to the profuse green
decorations, from which it is only a step to the Christmas tree.
It was introduced into the Court of St. James in 1840 by Prince Consort
Albert of Saxe-Cobourg, and the custom spread rapidly through the
aristocratic families of London and was almost immediately adopted by
all classes throughout England.
It was introduced into the court at Paris in 1830 by the Duchess of
Orleans and is now a French custom.
It seems, however, that in our own country it has taken deepest root.
Here, by reason of the democratic nature of the people, it may be said
to be distinctively American, as the German who first introduced it
undoubtedly became an American citizen long ago and his successors are
probably numbered among our best citizens even to the present time. Our
people of all nationalities have adopted it and we find it installed
in our churches, our family gatherings, our schools, and private
clubs. Our nineteenth century inventor has even tried to change it
into an affair of cast iron, through whose hollow trunk and branches
gas pipes are conducted and gas jets among the branches take the place
of candles. One of the results of all this is that the demand for
Christmas trees and Christmas greens has grown to enormous proportions
in our larger cities and furnishes employment during the latter part of
September and through November and December to a number of people who
make a business of gathering the gay green branches and transporting
them to market.
While traveling through the southern part of Maine a few years ago, I
was struck by the symmetry and beauty of a tract of Evergreen Trees
and remarked that they would make good Christmas trees. I afterward
found that such was likely to be their fate, as men who make a business
of "clam-whopping" and fishing during the summer months turned their
attention during the fall to the business of gathering these trees and
shipping them to New York, Philadelphia, and Boston.
In looking the subject up to determine what became of all these Trees I
found an industry which I had not dreamed of. I find that the Christmas
greens for New York City were first shipped from Keyport, N. J. That
as the demand for them assumed larger proportions the raw material
was exhausted in that neighborhood, but the inhabitants having become
interested in the business, and finding it a source of profit, have
continued to advance into the surrounding country, little by little,
until now they are gathering Spruce from Maine, New Hampshire, and
Vermont, Princess Pine from Vermont, White Pine from Michigan and even
Wisconsin, Laurel and Holly from the South, and in fact they can now
gather only Balsam on the home grounds in paying quantities.
In addition to the above-named evergreens, quantities of Ground Pine,
Cape Flowers, Fir, Hemlock, the plants of the Club Mosses, berried
Black Alder, Quill Weed, and Mistletoe are sought out and gathered
wherever found and shipped--the Christmas trees to New York where they
lie piled up by thousands along West street facing the dock lines, for
several weeks before the holidays, and the other greens to Keyport and
vicinity where they are made up into stars, anchors, crosses, wreaths,
hearts, triangles, horseshoes, and miles of roping for decorative
purposes.
For the entire length of Monmouth county the families within a mile
of the bay shore are nearly all engaged in the business of making
these decorations at this season. Four miles from Keyport is the town
of Keansburg which now surpasses the former place in this industry.
Neighbors are referred to as "making" or "not making" and numbers of
new faces appear in the town, attracted by the industry from the north,
south, and west. The wages paid are not high but anyone who can "make"
can always find a position during the busy season.
The small villages along this strip of country now present a pretty
appearance. The houses are almost hidden behind stacks of evergreens
of all kinds. A peep into a detached summer kitchen will disclose a
group of girls gathered around a long table piled high with evergreens,
and at first glance they appear to be principally engaged in pleasant
conversation, but you will not have to watch them long before you are
aware that their busy fingers are turning out Christmas decorations at
an astonishing rate. Or, if you should happen to look in at night, you
might see the tables and evergreens pushed to one side and gay groups
of girls and young boat-builders, oystermen, and fishermen engaged in a
lively neighborhood dance.
Materials other than evergreens are used in this industry to a
considerable extent; laths are used to make frames for the stars and
crosses. Willows are gathered in quantities from the marshes with which
frames for wreaths are made, but the trade in rattan is probably the
most benefited, as nothing else will give such satisfaction in making
the frames for hearts, anchors, and other decorations of this kind.
The completed decorations are shipped to New York, Philadelphia, and
Boston, but not to Chicago. In Chicago we find a different state of
affairs. We are so near the evergreen forests of Wisconsin, where
Christmas trees may be had for practically nothing, that the cost of
transportation alone from New Jersey would be greater than the price
realized would amount to.
Numbers of hulks of condemned vessels lie in and around Chicago which
are practically worthless. These boats are taken in the fall by seamen
who are out of employment up along the Wisconsin coast and there loaded
with evergreens, are brought back to the Chicago river and docked,
and lie there until the load is disposed of to the holiday trade. The
decorations are mainly manufactured in the city in the store-rooms of
the dealers.
That the business of bringing these trees down from the north is not
without serious danger and hardship is evidenced by the wreck of the
schooner S. Thal, which occurred off the coast near Glencoe, Ill., a
short time ago, in which five lives were lost. Five lives yielded up
that our children may enjoy an hour of pleasure!
Do they ever think of the cost?
A WINTER'S WALK.
Gleamed the red sun athwart the misty haze
Which veiled the cold earth from its loving gaze,
Feeble and sad as hope in sorrow's hour--
But for thy soul it still hath warmth and power;
Not to its cheerless beauty wert thou blind;
To the keen eye of thy poetic mind
Beauty still lives, though nature's flowrets die,
And wintry sunsets fade along the sky!
And naught escaped thee as we strolled along,
Nor changeful ray, nor bird's faint chirping song.
Blessed with a fancy easily inspired,
All was beheld, and nothing unadmired;
From the dim city to the clouded plain,
Not one of all God's blessings given in vain.
--_Hon. Mrs. Norton._
THE SILK-WORM.
The Caterpillar, or Silkworm, is at first of a dark color, but soon
becomes light, and in its tints much resembles the perfect insect--a
circumstance common in Caterpillars. Its proper food is the Mulberry,
though it will likewise eat the Lettuce, and some few other plants, on
which, however, it does not thrive equally well, and the silk yielded
is of a poor quality.
The Silkworm is about eight weeks in arriving at maturity, during which
period it changes its skin four or five times. When about to cast its
skin it ceases to eat, raises the forepart of the body slightly, and
remains in perfect repose. In this state it necessarily continues for
a time, in order that the new skin, which is at this time forming, may
become sufficiently mature to enable the Caterpillar to burst through
the old one. This operation is performed thus: The forepart of the old
skin is burst; the Silkworm then, by continually writhing its body,
contrives to thrust the skin back to the tail and disengage itself;
this is difficult, however, since it is no uncommon occurrence for them
to die from not being able to free themselves.