the reedy pools near the aqueduct. Do you see that great tit on a
branch of this poplar? He is actually at work doing a bit of butchery
on a small warbler. See how he is beating the poor little fellow on
the head; he wants to get at his brains. "Are there not birds called
butcher-birds?" asked Willy, "that fix their victims on thorns, and
then peck off their flesh? Shall we see any of them?" There are three
kinds of butcher-birds that have been known to come to this country.
Two kinds are very uncommon, and we are not likely to meet with any of
them in our walks. I may as well, however, tell you something about
them; but, as I have no personal knowledge of the habits of any of the
species, I must get my information from other sources. The great grey
shrike, the red-backed shrike, and the woodchat shrike, are the three
species of the family occurring in Great Britain; the red-backed
shrike is the only tolerably common one, arriving in this country
late in April, and quitting it in September. Mr. John Shaw tells me
this bird visits the quarry grounds at Shrewsbury every spring, and an
early riser, if he goes there, can see these birds readily. Mr.
Yarrell says that the great grey shrike is only an occasional visitor
to this country, and is generally obtained between autumn and spring.
Its food consists of mice, shrews, small birds, frogs, lizards, and
large insects. "After having killed its prey, it fixes the body in a
forked branch, or upon a sharp thorn, the more readily to pull off
small pieces from it." The following remarks are by a gentleman who
had one of these birds in confinement:--"An old bird of this species,"
he says, "taken near Norwich in October, 1835, lived in my possession
twelve months. It became very tame, and would readily take its food
from my hands. When a bird was given it, it invariably broke the
skull, and generally ate the head first. It sometimes held the bird in
its claws, and pulled it to pieces in the manner of hawks, but seemed
to prefer forcing part of it through the wires, then pulling at it. It
always hung what it could not eat up on the sides of the cage. It
would often eat three small birds in a day. In the spring it was very
noisy, one of its notes a little resembling the cry of the kestrel."
It is a cunning as well as a bold bird. It is said that by imitating
the notes of some of the smaller birds it calls them near it, and then
pounces upon some deluded victim. The shrike is used by falconers
abroad for trapping falcons; "it is fastened to the ground, and by
screaming loudly gives notice to the falconer, who is concealed, of
the approach of a hawk." You will notice in any picture of a shrike
how admirably adapted is its curved beak for butchering purposes. The
red-backed shrike "frequents the sides of woods and high hedgerows,
generally in pairs, and may frequently be seen perched on the
uppermost branch of an isolated bush, on the look out for prey. The
males occasionally make a chirping noise, not unlike the note of the
sparrow." It also imitates the voice of small birds. Mr. Yarrell says
"the food of the red-backed shrike is mice, and probably shrews, small
birds, and various insects, particularly the common May-chaffer. Its
inclination to attack and its power to destroy little birds has been
doubted; but it has been seen to kill a bird as large as a finch, and
is not unfrequently caught in the clap-nets of London bird-catchers,
having struck at their decoy-birds;" and Mr. Hewitson says--"Seeing a
red-backed shrike busy in a hedge, I found, upon approaching it, a
small bird, upon which it had been operating, firmly fixed upon a
blunt thorn; its head was torn off, and the body entirely plucked."
"What an amazing quantity of little lady-bird beetles there are on
this hedge-bank," said May. "The ground is almost red with them." Yes,
it is a very common, but very pretty species. You see there are seven
black spots on its red wing-covers, three on each, arranged
triangularly, and one at the top of the wing-covers, just at the point
where they meet. "Are these insects injurious, papa?" asked Willy;
"you say there are so many insects that are. I do hope the little
lady-birds do no mischief." I am happy, then, to tell you that they
are as useful as they are pretty. You all know what are called
plant-lice, those nasty green or black flies called Aphides, which
cover the leaves or branches of so many trees and flowers, and do most
terrible mischief. Well, the lady-birds, both when they are larvæ and
when they are beetles, eat these pests, and help to keep their
devastating swarms in check. I have frequently seen an aphis in the
mouth of a lady-bird; and the larva, a curious six-footed grub, about
the third of an inch long, which you may often see late in the summer
and the autumn, is still more fond of aphis food. Mr. Curtis says two
lady-birds cleared two geranium plants of aphides in twenty-four
hours. The species we are looking at is the "seven-spotted lady-bird;"
there is another very common kind, whose scarlet wing-cases have one
black spot on the centre of each. This species is subject to
considerable variety; it is called the "two-spotted lady-bird." There
is another you may often find; it is small and yellow, with eleven
spots on each wing-cover. This is called the "twenty-two-spotted
lady-bird;" it is an elegant little creature. It is interesting to
note how the observation of some particular animal has led naturalists
to the choice of their favorite study. Mr. Gould tells us that his
first inclination to the study of birds arose from his father having
once lifted him up to peep into a hedge-warbler's nest. His admiration
for the beautiful blue eggs led him to devote his time to ornithology,
or the study of birds. If I remember rightly, Kirby's mind was
directed to the study of insects by noticing the wonderful vitality
shown by a little lady-bird beetle, which, after having been immersed
twenty-four hours in spirits of wine, on being taken out actually flew
away. "What is the meaning," asked Mary, "of the nursery rhyme about
the lady-bird?
Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home,
Your house is on fire, and your children will burn?"
Indeed, I cannot tell you. There are different versions of the old
song. One runs thus:
Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home;
Your house is on fire, your children at home,
All but one that lives under the stone,--
Fly thee home, lady-bird, ere it be gone.
In Yorkshire and Lancashire it is--
Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly thy way home,
Thy house is on fire, thy children all roam,
Except little Nan, who sits in her pan,
Weaving gold laces as fast as she can.
The names of Lady-bird, Lady-cow, no doubt originated from the general
reverence for this insect and its dedication to the Virgin Mary. In
Scandinavia this little beetle is called "Our Lady's Key-maid," in
Sweden "The Virgin Mary's Golden Hen." Similar reverence is paid in
Germany, France, England, and Scotland. In Norfolk it is called Bishop
Barnabee, and the young girls have the following rhyme, which they
continue to recite to it placed on the palm of the hand, till it takes
wing and flies away.
"Bishop, Bishop Barnabee,
Tell me when my wedding be;
If if be to-morrow day,
Take your wings and fly away!
Fly to the East, fly to the West,
Fly to him that I love best."
The word barnabee or burnabee, or, as Southey writes it, burnie-bee,
no doubt has reference to the burnished or polished wing cases of the
insect.
Let us now look out for the coots and water-hens, which love to dabble
amongst the weeds of these pools, and to hide amongst the hedges and
bulrushes that so thickly skirt them. See how rapidly the swifts or
"Jack-squealers," as the country folks call them, are gliding by; you
remember when we were noticing the swallows and martins that we
thought of the swifts. Look at the beautiful scythe-like form of the
wings; the tail, you see, is slightly forked; but the bird has the
power of bringing the feathers together, so that sometimes you cannot
see its cleft form. I generally notice swifts in the neighbourhood
about the 5th of May; this year Mr. John Shaw tells me he saw some in
Shrewsbury as early as the 23rd of April. Although they come to us the
last of the swallow family, they leave us the soonest. By the middle
of August most of the swifts will have left us.
This bird has remarkably short legs; and I remember more than once
taking one off the ground when I was a boy at school, for unless it is
raised a little above the level of the ground, it finds it very
difficult to mount upwards by reason of its extremely short legs and
long wings. If we had a swift in our hands, I could point out how it
differed from the rest of the swallow family in the structure of its
feet; in the other members the four toes are arranged three before and
one behind; in the swift all the four toes are directed forwards.
There is another kind of swift, the "white-bellied swift," which has,
on a few occasions, been noticed in this country. It is rather larger
than the common swift, and has wings of greater length, and can fly
even more rapidly. Hark! I hear the noise of a coot proceeding from
the reeds of a pond. I dare say if we keep quite still we shall get a
glimpse of her. There she comes; and do look, a lot of young ones with
her; little black downy things they are, as we should see were we near
enough to examine them. The old birds have a naked white patch on the
forehead, and are therefore called bald-coots. You can see the white
patch now she faces us and the sun is shining; the body is a dingy
black tinged with dark grey; you notice a little white about the
wings. The feet of the coot are curiously formed, each of the four
toes is partly webbed, having a membrane forming rounded lobes; the
claws are very sharp, and the bird does not hesitate to make use of
them if you catch hold of it carelessly; so Col. Hawker gives the
following caution to young sportsmen--"Beware of a winged coot, or he
will scratch you like a cat."
I never saw a coot dive; and think it seldom does; water-hens, every
one knows, are frequent divers.
The old bird is pulling up some of the weeds of the pool for the young
ones; how carefully she attends to them; the heads of the little ones
are nearly naked, and of a bright orange colour mixed with blue; but
this brilliant colouring lasts only a few days. The nest is made of
broken reeds and flags, and hidden amongst the tall rushes and edges
in the water.
Bewick mentions the case of a coot having built her nest among some
rushes, which were afterwards loosened by the wind, and of course the
nest was driven about and floated upon the surface of the water in
every direction; notwithstanding which, the female continued to sit as
usual, and brought out her young upon her movable habitation. See, now
they have all gone away to hide amongst the reeds; they like to come
out into the open water late in the evening, and it is not often easy
to observe them in the day-time. There are plenty of moor-hens or
water-hens in these reedy pools. They are not so peaceful as the
coots, for they have been known to attack young ducklings. There one
swims, jerking up its tail, which is whitish underneath, and nodding
its head; the moor-hen is a smaller bird than the coot, though
resembling it both in form and habits. The feet, however, are very
different, for, instead of the toes being furnished with a lobed
membrane, they have a continuous narrow one down each. Moor-hens have
been known to remove their eggs from the nest, in order to add to it,
and to replace them again. Mr. Selby relates the following interesting
account:
"During the early part of the summer of 1835 a pair of water-hens
built their nest by the margin of the ornamental pond at Bell's Hill,
a piece of water of considerable extent, and ordinarily fed by a
spring from the height above, but into which the contents of another
large pond can occasionally be admitted. This was done while the
female was sitting; and as the nest had been built when the
water-level stood low, the sudden influx of this large body of water
from the second pond caused a rise of several inches, so as to
threaten the speedy immersion and consequent destruction of the eggs.
This the birds seem to have been aware of, and immediately took
precaution against so imminent a danger; for when the gardener, upon
whose veracity I can safely rely, seeing the sudden rise of the water,
went to look after the nest, expecting to find it covered and the eggs
destroyed, or at least forsaken by the hen, he observed, while at a
distance, both birds busily engaged about the brink where the nest was
placed; and when near enough, he clearly perceived that they were
adding, with all possible dispatch, fresh materials to raise the
fabric beyond the level of the increased contents of the pond, and
that the eggs had by some means been removed from the nest by the
birds, and were then deposited upon the grass, about a foot or more
from the margin of the water. He watched them for some time, and saw
the nest rapidly increase in height; but I regret to add that he did
not remain long enough, fearing he might create alarm, to witness the
interesting act of the replacing of the eggs, which must have been
effected shortly afterwards; for upon his return in less than an hour,
he found the hen quietly sitting upon them in the newly raised nest.
In a few days afterwards the young were hatched, and, as usual, soon
quitted the nest and took to the water with the parent. The nest was
shown to me _in situ_ very soon afterwards, and I could then plainly
discern the formation of the new with the old part of the fabric."
"What is that little bird in the water?" asked Jack. "Oh! he is
suddenly gone; do you see the curl in the water where it dived?" It
was no doubt a dabchick, then, from your description, though I was not
in time to see it before it dived; if we keep quite still and silent I
dare say it will appear again. There it is, dabbling in the water in
search of water insects that are found amongst the weeds. Another name
of this bird is the little grebe; several species of grebes have been
found in this county; the great-crested grebe is a very handsome bird
and frequents lakes and rivers; but of the five British grebes, the
little dabchick is by far the most common. The feet of these birds are
peculiar, the toes are not connected together by a web, as you see in
ducks and geese; they are, however, united at the base, and each of
the three front toes is surrounded by a broad continuous membrane; the
lower part of the leg is also very flat; the legs are placed very far
backwards, so that these birds stand almost upright; the wings are
short and seldom used for flight; however, they are admirable swimmers
and divers, and pretty, lively little birds. The plumage of this
little grebe varies according to the time of year. Now, in the summer
weather, the head, neck and back are a very dark brown; the cheeks and
front of the neck a rich chestnut; chin jet black; in the winter they
lose this chestnut colour, and are then of a light olive-grey colour
and white underneath. Formerly the two different states of the plumage
were thought to mark two different species.
The nest, as Mr. Gould tells us, is a raft of weeds and aquatic plants
carefully heaped together in a rounded form. The young ones have
delicate rose-coloured bills and harlequin-like markings on the body,
and rosy-white breasts. "So active and truly aquatic is the dabchick,
even when only one or two days old, that it is almost impossible to
see it in a state of nature; for immediately after the young birds are
hatched, they either take to the water of their own accord, or cling
when not more than an hour old to the backs of their parents, who dive
away with them out of harm's way." Mr. Gould mentions that a friend of
his, when out on a fishing excursion with him, once shot a dabchick as
it dived across a shallow stream; on emerging wounded, on the surface,
two young ones clinging to the back were caught by Mr. Gould in his
landing net.
So rapid is their diving that they can often avoid the charge of a
gun; they then rise again "with only the tips of their bill above
water, and even these generally concealed amongst some patch of weeds
or grass." The grebes have a peculiar habit of plucking off the soft
feathers from the under side of the body and swallowing them. Why they
do so is not known.
[Illustration: CONVOLVULUS.]
"What is this pretty pink flower," asked May, "with long trailing
stems and leaves broadly arrow-shaped? From its resemblance to that
beautiful convolvulus in the garden I should think it must be a
smaller kind of that plant." You are quite right, it is a convolvulus,
and its English name of Field Bindweed is expressive of the clinging
habits of this plant; see how tightly it has wrapped itself round
this tall blade of grass. Although a very pretty plant; with its pink
flowers and darker plaits, its arrow-shaped leaves, and its fragrant
smell, it is a troublesome weed to the farmer. Then there is the
greater bindweed, with its large bell-blossoms sometimes white as
snow, sometimes striped with pink, sometimes almost rose-colour, so
often seen growing profusely over the tallest bushes. Both kinds of
bindweed, however, are mischievous weeds; the large kind you may find
in flower as late as September. Some of the bindweed family, I ought
to say, are valuable in medicine. There is for instance the
_Convolvulus jalapa_ and _Convolvulus scammonia_, both of which are
extensively used in medicine; the former a South American plant and
the latter a Syrian one. Then there is the so-called sweet-potato,
which is the root of _Convolvulus batatas_ used in China, Japan, and
other tropical countries as a wholesome food. Strange it seems that
plants so closely related should differ so much in their properties.
The accompanying vignette may be supposed to represent Master Willy
watching the movements of a snail.
[Illustration]
WALK VIII.
JULY.
Let us have another stroll on the moors. We pass over a small brook on
our way, and of course stop on the bridge and gaze into the little
rivulet. What do I see about four yards off in the shade? A number of
small dark-coloured patches which I recognise at once as one of our
most beautiful fresh-water algæ. We will gather some from the bottom.
There! the little tufts are attached to the upper sides of stones.
When taken out of the water, the plant looks and feels like a mass of
very dark jelly. I will float a piece out in this bottle of water. Did
you ever see anything more beautiful? It consists of a number of
delicate branches, each arranged in a bead-like row, and from a
certain resemblance which these beaded rows bear to frog-spawn, as
well as from their jelly-like consistency, this alga has received the
name of _Batrachospermum_, which means "frogs' spawn." If we take a
bit home and spread it out carefully on a piece of drying paper,
separating the numerous beaded branches one from the other with the
point of a needle, and leave it to dry gradually, we shall get a very
pretty object indeed. As you may suppose, the plant is a most charming
object for the microscope. "Do you think," asked Willy, "it would do
in my aquarium?" I have several times tried it in an aquarium; it
would live for a few days, then gradually lose colour and break to
pieces. The fact is that, as Dr. Hassall says, these plants "inhabit
mostly pure and running waters, being usually met with in fountains,
wells, and streams, the force of which is not considerable." The
frog-spawn alga, therefore, will not thrive in any but the purest
water, and a gentle flow is necessary to its growth and health. "These
plants are so exceedingly flexible," Dr. Hassall continues, "that they
obey the slightest motion of the fluid which surrounds them, and would
seem almost to be endowed with vitality; nothing can surpass the ease
and grace of their movements. When removed from the water they lose
all form, and appear like pieces of jelly without trace of
organization. On immersion, however, the branches again quickly resume
their former disposition. They adhere strongly to paper, and in drying
frequently change to some other tint usually much deeper; on being
moistened after long intervals they recover much of their original
freshness; and it is even asserted that, after having lain in the
herbarium for some years, when they are replaced in water in a
suitable locality, they will vegetate as before." This last assertion
I must say I do not credit. I shall never forget the delight I felt
when I first made the acquaintance of this curious and graceful alga.
From the eyes of how many people are its charms hidden! It is only
those that look closely that would notice the little jelly-like tufts
growing modestly in shaded places for the most part. This species,
however, is common enough in gently flowing and shallow streams, and
we may often come across it in our rambles if we take the trouble to
use our eyes. There are other extremely beautiful forms of fresh-water
algæ.
Here in this same stream are the long green threads of _Cladophora
glomerata_. I use as few hard words as possible, but I cannot help
using them sometimes, as many objects have no English names. This alga
is also attached to stones and floats out with the current sometimes
two feet in length; and, like the frog-spawn alga, is fond of pure
water, but I have often kept the _Cladophora_ alive in perfect health
in an aquarium for weeks together. Its deep refreshing green colour
and graceful form make it a very desirable acquisition for the
aquarium. I break off a small bit. Now see its beautifully branched
form. Do you remember a round green ball about the size of a small
apple which I have at home? Well, that ball, which came from
Ellesmere, is nothing else than a mass of this same _Cladophora_. Dr.
Hassall is no doubt correct in his explanation of the formation of
these balls. He says, "This state of _Cladophora glomerata_ I believe
to be formed as follows: A specimen by the force of some mountain
stream swollen by recent rains becomes forced from its attachment; as
it is carried along by the current, it is made to revolve repeatedly
upon itself, until at last a compact ball is formed of it, which
finally becomes deposited in some basin or reservoir in which the
stream loses itself, and in which these balls are usually found." Here
are some specimens in the water of a rich brown colour instead of
green. This is caused by the growth of other algæ over its long
branches. See! I shake a bit in my bottle, and you see a quantity of
brown deposit comes off, showing the green threads of the _Cladophora_
underneath. This brown deposit looks to you, I dare say, very
uninteresting. I will show you some under the microscope when we get
home, and you will see many extremely beautiful forms. These are known
by the name of _Diatomaceæ_ and _Desmidiæ_. I will not tell you more
of them at present; but a picture which I will show you will give you
the forms of some of these microscopic plants.
[Illustration: FRESH-WATER ALGÆ, DESMIDEÆ, AND DIATOMACEÆ.
All highly magnified.
1.--Staurastrum.
2.--Trigonocystis.
3.--Euastrum.
4.--Closterium.
5.--Diatoma.
6, 7.--Meridion.
8.--Eunotia.
9.--Exilaria.]
Here we are once more on the wild moors. There is really nothing very
"wild" about them now; cultivation has turned them into excellent
pasturage; the epithet, too, is a corruption of weald, signifying a
wood. But this whole district, extending from Longdon-upon-Tern to
Aqualate, was once, there can be no doubt, covered with water. Perhaps
it was the bed of a large lake a great many years ago; the soil, you
see, is composed of peat varying in thickness in different parts, and
below the peat is often found sand and pebbles, which looks as if it
was once the bottom of a vast lake ten miles or more long, and three
broad. The village of Kinnersly was evidently once an island, and you
can now see the moors extending all around it. Once, then, the whole
district was covered with water, but about 200 years ago it was
covered with wood.
[Illustration: KESTREL.]