bird and has taken him to that fir tree, where he is eating him." It
is a kestril; one of the commonest of the British hawks, and which
we may often see in this district; though I am afraid those
destructive animals called gamekeepers will in time succeed in
destroying every hawk in the neighbourhood. "Well, but, papa," said
Willy, "do they not do a great deal of harm to young partridges and
pheasants, and of course the gamekeeper will not stand that?" I dare
say; indeed I have no doubt that a kestril will occasionally seize
upon a young partridge, but it is also certain that mice form the
principal part of its food. Remains of mice, shrews, beetles, lizards,
have been found in the kestril's stomach, and I am sure it would be a
great pity to seek to exterminate this handsome and attractive bird.
"Is this the hawk that you very often see hovering steadily in the
air over one spot?" asked May. Yes, it is, and from this habit it has
got the name of windhover; the outspread tail is suspended and the
head always points in the direction of the wind. The sparrow-hawk I
occasionally see, and now and then the merlin, a beautiful little
fellow and of great courage; the sparrow-hawk is a much greater enemy
to young birds than the kestril, and ought not to be allowed to
increase where game or poultry are reared, for so bold are these birds
that they will not unfrequently skim over a poultry yard, seize a
young chicken and carry it off. Have you never heard the cry of terror
an old hen utters when a hawk is seen in the air near her little
brood?
Mr. Gould gives us the following anecdote of a sparrow-hawk as related
to him by a friend:--
"Three or four years since I was driving towards Dover, when suddenly
a sparrow-hawk, with a stoop like a falcon's, struck a lark close to
my horse's head. The lark fell as a grouse or a partridge will fall to
a falcon or tiercel, and the sparrow-hawk did not attempt to carry,
but held on his way. I jumped down and picked up the body of the lark
and the head; the two being entirely disunited. The velocity and force
of the stoop must have been tremendous. I have often seen grouse and
partridges ripped up the back and neck, and the skull laid bare, but I
never saw a head taken clean off before." A sparrow-hawk has been
known to pursue a finch between the legs of a man, and to dash through
a window-pane with the intention of seizing some cage-bird.
"What was that very large bird, papa," said Willy, "that you noticed
near Eyton last November? It was one of the hawk family, was it not?"
Yes; I have no doubt it was the common buzzard, though it would not
allow me to get very near it; but I watched it at a distance for some
time. It would remain on a tree for some time, and then take a slow
flight away, returning again to some tree. Buzzards are not nearly
such active fliers and bold birds as the smaller kinds of hawks.
Though I said it was the common buzzard, you must not suppose that
this bird is really common; it is called common as being the species
most frequently seen in this country. Mr. Yarrell, in his book on
'British Birds,' has given the figure of a buzzard nursing and feeding
a brood of young chickens. Is not that a curious thing?
He says, "The extreme partiality of the common buzzard to the seasonal
task of incubation and rearing young birds has been exemplified in
various instances. A few years back, a female buzzard, kept in the
garden of the Chequers Inn, at Uxbridge, showed an inclination to sit
by collecting and bending all the loose sticks she could gain
possession of. Her owner, noticing her actions, supplied her with
materials. She completed her nest and sat on two hens' eggs, which she
hatched, and afterwards reared the young. Since then she has hatched
and brought up a brood of chickens every year.
"She indicates her desire to sit by scratching holes in the ground,
and breaking and tearing everything within her reach. One summer, in
order to save her the fatigue of sitting, some young chickens just
hatched were put down to her, but she destroyed the whole. Her
family, in June, 1839, consisted of nine, the original number was ten,
but one had been lost. When flesh was given to her, she was very
assiduous in tearing and offering it as food to her nurselings, and
appeared uneasy if, after taking small portions from her, they turned
away to pick up grain."
What is this little mouse-like thing in the grass? how quickly it
runs. Now I have got him. No! off again; burrowing under the
grass-roots. Now I have him safe enough; he cannot bite me with this
glove on. Look at the little rogue, with his soft short silky fur and
long nose. See how flexible that pointed nose is; how useful in
grubbing amongst the closest herbage, or under the surface of the
soil. How sharp are the little creature's teeth. With them he eats
worms and the larvæ of various kinds of insects. Well, what is its
name? It is the common shrew, and though the form of the body is
mouse-shaped, it is, properly speaking, not a mouse at all, being much
more nearly related to the mole. It is said that shrews are very fond
of fighting, and that if two be confined together in a box, the
stronger will conquer the weaker and then eat him. Moles are said to
eat their small relatives, but I have never had any evidence of the
fact, though it is probable enough. May wanted to know whether cats
eat shrews. I have often tried cats with dead shrews, and have always
found they will not touch them. I dare say, however, they would kill
them. The smell of the shrew is certainly unpleasant, as you may find
out from this little fellow I hold in my hand. Mind he does not bite
your nose. Now we have examined him I shall let him go. It is no
pleasure to take an animal's life, and as this little shrew does no
harm but good by destroying insect larvæ, it would be a shame to hurt
him. Where injurious creatures must be killed, let us always be
careful to take away life so as to cause the least possible pain. Now,
would any of you have ever thought that the little shrew I have just
released had ever been supposed to be one of the most dangerous
enemies to cattle? This was really once believed by our ancestors, who
thought that a shrew, by running over the backs of cattle, made them
weak in the loins, and that its bite made a beast swell at the heart
and die. Absurd as was the belief, the supposed cure for the injury
was, if possible, still more ridiculous. It consisted in passing over
the cow's back the twigs of a shrew ash. "Now a shrew ash," says
Gilbert White, "is an ash whose twigs or branches when applied to the
limbs of cattle will immediately relieve the pains which a beast
suffers from the running of a shrew-mouse over the part affected, for
it is supposed that a shrew-mouse is of so baneful and deleterious a
nature, that wherever it creeps over a beast, be it horse, cow, or
sheep, the suffering animal is afflicted with cruel anguish and
threatened with the loss of the use of the limb. Against this
accident, to which they were continually liable, our provident
forefathers always kept a shrew ash at hand which, when once
medicated, would maintain its virtue for ever. A shrew ash was made
thus: into the body of the tree a deep hole was bored with an auger,
and a poor devoted shrew-mouse was thrust in alive, and plugged in,
no doubt with several quaint incantations long since forgotten." It is
marvellous how people could ever have believed such stuff; but equal
absurdities are still accepted by many people to this very day; so
strong a hold on men's minds have the kindred vices of superstition
and ignorance.
Look at these spiders' webs on this hawthorn hedge, they are formed of
delicate silken threads, and are of a long funnel shape; the spider
occupies the bottom part and soon rushes up should any insect get into
the trap, and quickly rushes down and escapes at the back door if your
hand enters the front. The top of the funnel is spread out into large
broad sheets, and the whole snare is attached by silken cords to the
twigs of the bushes. This is the snare and residence of a good-sized
species, the _Agelena labyrinthica_. Such webs are common on hedges,
on grass, heath, and gorse. Now you must distinguish between spiders'
nests and spiders' snares. The very common wheel-like webs, which you
see abundantly on hedges, are snares or traps for insects, and
beautiful they look on a dewy morning all strung with liquid pearls.
Here under this oak are a number of old acorn-cups of last autumn's
produce; the acorns have fallen out and the black cups remain. Do you
see a delicate spider's web filling this cup; inside are a quantity of
tiny round eggs, and a small spider is keeping guard within; this is a
spider's nest. Many spiders spin cocoons for their little round eggs,
place them in various situations, and leave them; others show the
greatest care for them and carry them about wherever they go. The
cocoons of the species whose web or trap we are now looking at are
made of strong white silk, each cocoon containing perhaps 100 round
eggs, rather yellowish in colour. They are fastened to the inside of a
web the spider spins by means of silken pillars formed by a number of
threads closely glued together. The sac containing the cocoons is
fastened to stems of grass or other objects, and partially hidden by a
few withered leaves. "For the purpose of securing their prey," says
Mr. Blackwall, the author of a splendid work on 'British Spiders,'
"spiders have recourse to divers expedients. Numerous species run
rapidly about in quest of those objects which constitute their food;
others, approaching their victims with great circumspection, spring
upon them from a distance; some lie concealed in flowers or among
leaves, seizing such insects as come within their reach; and many
species procure a supply of nutriment by means of complicated snares
of their own fabrication." Of these snares the most beautiful, as I
said, are the "wheel within wheel" nets of the various species of the
family _Epëiridæ_. "What are those spider-like things," asked Willy,
"with long thin bodies, you often see skating along the water? they
are something like the spiders." They are not spiders at all, but
insects called "water-measurers," from their peculiar habit of taking
a short skate on the surface of the water and then stopping; having
measured that distance, off they go again. However, many spiders do
run along on the surface of the water, and you know there is one, the
great water-spider, that lives habitually in it. Some years ago I had
one of these water-spiders in a glass vessel of water, and saw it spin
its curious dome-shaped web which it attached to the sides of the
glass and some weeds. These domes are formed of closely woven white
silk, in the form of a diving bell or half a pigeon's egg, as De Geer
has said, with the opening below. It looks like a half-ball of silver;
this appearance is due to a quantity of air. It is, in fact, a huge
air-bubble surrounded by a covering of white silk, and, as you may
suppose, a very interesting and pretty object. Within this silver dome
the spider places her eggs, perhaps a hundred or more in number, which
are enveloped in a cocoon, this being attached to the inner side of
the dome. "But how," said Jack, "is the bubble formed? Where does the
air come from?" You have asked a very interesting question, and one
which can be answered; for the question was set at rest by Mr. Bell,
an excellent observer and well-known naturalist, about twelve years
ago, if I remember rightly. He found that the old spider actually took
the air down with her from the surface of the water, and deposited it
in her domed house. I shall now quote Mr. Bell's words: "The manner in
which the animal possesses itself of the bubble of air is very
curious, and, as far as I know, has never been exactly described. It
ascends to the surface slowly, assisted by a thread attached to a leaf
or other support below and to the surface of the water. As soon as it
comes near the surface it turns with the extremity of the abdomen
upwards, and exposes a portion of the body to the air for an instant,
then with a jerk it snatches, as it were, a bubble of air, which is
not only attached to the hairs which cover the abdomen, but is held on
by the two hinder legs, which are crossed at an acute angle near their
extremity; this crossing of the legs taking place at the instant the
bubble is seized. The little creature then descends more rapidly and
regains its cell, always by the same route, turns the abdomen within
it, and disengages the bubble." Spiders have strong jaws; at the
bottom of each hooked jaw there is a small sac which contains a
poisonous fluid; this fluid is conveyed by a narrow channel from the
sac along the jaw, and is pressed out at an opening or slit at the tip
of the fang into the wound inflicted on its victim. The feet of
spiders are generally terminated by two or more claws furnished with
teeth; by means of these combs the animal is enabled to manage the
threads of its web with great dexterity and efficiency.
[Illustration: SPIDER'S FANG, MAGNIFIED.]
[Illustration: SPIDER'S FOOT, MAGNIFIED.]
[Illustration]
WALK IX.
JULY.
Let us be off to the fields once more; the sun is very hot, but we can
find refreshing shade under the trees when we are tired. What is this
beautiful little plant with bright scarlet flowers fully expanded? It
is the scarlet pimpernel, or "poor man's weather-glass;" for on rainy
days, and even before the showers are coming, the little plant,
conscious of their approach, closes up its flowers. Other wild
flowers, such as the convolvulus, close before rain. The little
pimpernel, however, is supposed to be the best barometer. There is
another thing about the pimpernel; you will not often see its blossoms
expanded after three o'clock in the afternoon. In other countries,
also, the regular closing of the flowers has been noticed. Dr. Seeman,
who went as naturalist on one of the Arctic Expeditions, noticed the
flowers to close during the long day of an arctic summer. "Although,"
he says, "the sun never sets while it lasts, the plants make no
mistake about the time, when if it be not night it ought to be, but
regularly as the evening hours approach, and when a midnight sun is
several degrees above the horizon, they droop their leaves, and sleep
even as they do at sunset in more favoured climes." Look at the
bright scarlet flower, with its small purple eye. Excepting poppies,
with their dazzling brightness, I do not think there is another wild
flower that has scarlet petals. However, the blossoms are not always
scarlet; there is a white variety with a purple eye, and another
having a dark blue blossom.
[Illustration: SCARLET PIMPERNEL.]
Well, Jack, you have found something, have you? Ah! this is a queer
plant, it has queer habits, and a queer name; it is called
"Jack-go-to-bed at noon." We sometimes call you after the name of
another plant, "Jack-by-the-hedge." May, of course, is "May," or
hawthorn blossom, and Robin at home, from his often tearing his
clothes, is "Ragged Robin." Another name for the plant you hold in
your hand is goat's beard; the leaves are long and grass-like, the
flowers bright yellow; it is not yet quite eleven o'clock, and the
blossoms are expanded; they generally close about noon. Look at the
colour of the stem, it has a kind of sea-green bloom upon it. Well,
you would never find this plant with blossom expanded in the
afternoon; so "Jack-go-to-bed at noon" is really not a bad name for
it.
"And goodly now the noon-tide hour
When from his high meridian tower
The sun looks down in majesty.
What time about the grassy lea
The goat's-beard prompt his rise to hail
With broad expanded disc, in veil
Close mantling wraps its yellow head,
And goes, as peasants say, to bed."
Here we are at a stream; do you see those things at the bottom slowly
moving? They seem to be bits of stick. "I know what they are," said
Jack, "there is a good fat maggot in each of these cases; they are
caddis-worms." Quite right, and in time they will change to insects.
Here is another kind; the house is made of small bits of gravel, and
it is attached to this smooth stone. I will break open the case; do
you see inside is a long cylindrical case, with a thin covering; I
slit this open with my penknife, and now you see the creature inside.
There are a great variety of these caddis-worms, and most interesting
it is to notice the different kind of houses they build. Some of the
larvæ live in movable cases, as we have seen, some in fixed
habitations; the materials, too, out of which the different cases are
constructed, are different, sometimes they are bits of gravel, or
sand, wood, leaves, grass, the empty shells of various fresh-water
molluscs. The fragments of stick and the small bits of gravel are held
together by a kind of cement which the larva spins from his mouth.
Sometimes we may meet with cases made of sand, having on either side
long slender bits of rush or stick. A lady once took a number of the
larvæ out of their cases, and placed them in a vessel of water with
various materials, such as coloured glass, cornelian, agate, onyx,
brass filings, coralline, tortoiseshell; and these little maggoty
things made use of and built their houses out of them. The perfect
insect has four wings; and from these being closely covered with
hairs, the order to which they belong has received the name of
_Trichoptera_, which means "having hairy wings." You must know many of
these insects; they are very common near ponds and streams; generally
they fly in a zig-zag fashion, and have the appearance of moths.
[Illustration: _a, b, c, d._ Larva, cocoon, nympha, and insect of
Caddis-fly.]
Ah! here is a splendid bed of the forget-me-not growing on this bank
near the stream. Look at the blue enamel-like flowers, each with a
yellow centre-eye; the leaves are bright green and rather rough. There
are other species very much resembling this one you may often see in
hedgerows and fields; but they are generally smaller plants; this one
is the true forget-me-not. There are several stories about the origin
of the name. Here is one:--Many years ago, a lady and knight were
wandering by a river; the lady espied these bright blue flowers, on a
small islet I suppose, in the deep river, and wished to possess them.
Her lover immediately plunged in and plucked the plants, but the
strength of the stream was too much for him on his return. With a
great effort, however, he threw the flowers on the bank, exclaiming
"Forget-me-not," and sank!
"But the lady fair of the knight so true
Still remember'd his hapless lot;
And she cherish'd the flower of brilliant hue
And she braided her hair with the blossoms blue,
And she call'd it 'Forget-me-not.'"
We must proceed on our walk and not linger too long here, though, I
must own, it is hard to tear oneself away from the banks of a
gently-flowing river. So good-by to
"That blue and bright-eyed flowret of the brook,
Hope's gentle gem, the sweet 'Forget-me-not.'"
[Illustration: GOLDFINCH.]
As we crossed the road we met two men with cage-traps, and a slender
twig covered thickly with bird-lime. In each cage-trap was a tame
goldfinch, which were the decoy birds. The men had only succeeded in
taking one goldfinch--for which they asked half a crown. The decoy
birds attract other goldfinches by their call-note; these sometimes
alight on the trap, which instantly closes upon them; sometimes they
alight on the twig smeared with bird-lime, which is so sticky that
they cannot free themselves from it. "Gay plumage, lively habits, an
agreeable form and song, with a disposition to become attached to
those who feed them, are such strong recommendations, that the
goldfinch has been, and will probably continue to be, one of the most
general cage favourites. So well also do the birds of this species
bear confinement, that they have been known to live ten years in
captivity, continuing in song the greater part of each year. This
tendency to sing and call make them valuable as brace-birds,
decoy-birds, and call-birds, to be used by the birdcatcher with his
ground nets, while the facility with which others are captured, the
numbers to be obtained, and the constant demand for them by the
public, render the goldfinch one of the most important species
included within the bird-dealer's traffic."
Mr. Mayhew says that a goldfinch has been known to exist twenty-three
years in a cage. The same person tells us that goldfinches are sold in
the streets of London from sixpence to a shilling each, and when there
is an extra catch, and the shops are fully stocked, at threepence and
fourpence each. Only think, it is computed that as many as 70,000 song
birds are captured every year about London; the street sale of the
goldfinch being about a tenth of the whole. Goldfinches may be taught
to perform many amusing tricks, to draw up water for themselves by a
small thimble-sized bucket, or to raise the lid of a small box to
obtain the seed within. A goldfinch has been trained to appear dead;
it could be held up by the tail or claw without exhibiting any signs
of life, or to stand on its head with its claws in the air, or to
imitate a Dutch milk-maid going to market with pails on its shoulders,
or to appear as a soldier, keeping guard as sentinel. One was once
trained to act as a cannoneer with a cap on its head, a firelock on
its shoulder, and a match in its claw; it would then discharge a small
cannon. "The same bird also acted as if it had been wounded. It was
wheeled in a barrow, to convey it, as it were, to the hospital; after
which it flew away before the company." Another turned a kind of
windmill; another stood in the midst of some fireworks, which were
discharged all around it, without showing any fear. When we consider
how docile and affectionate many birds become; when we think of their
beauty and the sweet music they pour from their little throats; when
we consider also of what immense use a great number of species are to
man in helping to check injurious insects and caterpillars; does it
not seem strange that they meet with so little protection? How often,
as you know, we have met lads and great strong men with helpless
fledglings in their hands, which they intend to torture in some way or
other; perhaps they will tie strings to their legs and drag them
about, or place them on a large stone and throw at them. To
expostulate with them on the wickedness of such barbarous conduct is
hopeless; one might as well quote Hebrew to a tadpole!
How noisy the grasshoppers are, with their incessant shrill chirpings;
how thoroughly they enjoy the heat and sun! Just catch me one or two,
Willy; there, one has hopped just before you; now he is on that blade
of grass. Have you got him? No? Well, take this gauze net. Now you
have him. "How does the grasshopper make that peculiar sound?" asked
May. If you will get near one of these insects while he is making the
noise you will see how he does it. There, one stands on that plantain
stem. Do you see how briskly he rubs his legs against the wing-covers?
Now he is quiet, and his legs are still; so it is evident that the
friction or rubbing of the legs against the wings causes the sound. I
rub the thigh of this specimen I hold in my hands against the wing.
You distinctly hear the shrill sound. It is the males only who make
the noise; the females are mute. Some people have described another
organ which seems to increase the sound. I have sometimes placed both
field-crickets and grasshoppers under a tumbler, and supplied them
with moist blades of grass; it is curious to see how fast they eat
them. You should remember that the grasshopper is a relative of the
locust, to which, indeed, it bears a close resemblance; only the
locust is a much larger insect. There are several species of locusts,
and all are extremely injurious. You have read in the Bible of the
fearful damage they are able to cause to the trees and various crops.
It is seldom that locusts visit this country, happily, for there is
not a greater insect scourge in existence. Our green grasshopper is
also related to the cricket, so merrily noisy in dwelling-houses.
Crickets are difficult to get rid of when they have thoroughly
established themselves in a house. Like many noisy persons, crickets
like to hear nobody louder than themselves; and some one relates that
a woman who had tried in vain every method she could think of to
banish them from her house, at last got rid of them by the noise made
by drums and trumpets, which she had procured to entertain her guests
at a wedding. It is said, but you need not believe the story, that
they instantly forsook the house, and the woman heard of them no more.
Possibly some half dozen more women in the house would have had the
same effect, without the musical instruments! What do you say to that
idea, May? "That is too bad of you, papa, but you know you are only
joking."
[Illustration: _a, b, c._ Leg, wing-cover, and wing of Grasshopper,
magnified.]