The decayed hollows which we have mentioned as so often productive of
little owls have their possibilities by no means exhausted by one visit.
The disturbed owl may take himself elsewhere, after being so
unceremoniously disturbed; but there are roving, tramp-like characters,
with dispositions taking them here and there through the winter nights, to
whom, at break of day, a hole is ever a sought-for haven.
So do not put your hand too recklessly into an owl hole, for a hiss and a
sudden nip may show that an opossum has taken up his quarters there. If
you must, pull him out by his squirming, naked tail, but do not carry him
home, as he makes a poor pet, and between hen-house traps and irate
farmers, he has good reason, in this part of the country at least, to be
short tempered.
Of course the birds'-nests are all deserted now, but do not be too sure of
the woodpeckers' holes. The little downy and his larger cousin, the hairy
woodpecker, often spend the winter nights snug within deep cavities which
they have hollowed out, each bird for itself. I have never known a pair to
share one of these shelters.
Sometimes, in pulling off the loose bark from a decayed stump, several
dry, flattened scales will fall out upon the snow among the debris of wood
and dead leaves. Hold them close in the warm palm of your hand for a time
and the dried bits will quiver, the sides partly separate, and behold! you
have brought back to life a beautiful _Euvanessa_, or mourning-cloak
butterfly. Lay it upon the snow and soon the awakened life will ebb away
and it will again be stiff, as in death. If you wish, take it home, and
you may warm it into activity, feed it upon a drop of syrup and freeze it
again at will. Sometimes six or eight of these insects may be found
sheltered under the bark of a single stump, or in a hollow beneath a
stone. Several species share this habit of hibernating throughout the
winter.
Look carefully in old, deserted sheds, in half-sheltered hollows of trees,
or in deep crevice-caverns in rocks, and you may some day spy one of the
strangest of our wood-folk. A poor little shrivelled bundle of fur,
tight-clasped in its own skinny fingers, with no more appearance of life
in its frozen body than if it were a mummy from an Egyptian tomb; such is
the figure that will meet your eye when you chance upon a bat in the deep
trance of its winter's hibernation. Often you will find six or a dozen of
these stiffened forms clinging close together, head downward.
As in the case of the sleeping butterfly, carry one of the bats to your
warm room and place him in a bird-cage, hanging him up on the top wires by
his toes, with his head downward. The inverted position of these strange
little beings always brings to mind some of the experiences of Gulliver,
and indeed the life of a bat is more wonderful than any fairy tale.
Probably the knowledge of bats which most of us possess is chiefly derived
from the imaginations of artists and poets, who, unlike the Chinese, do
not look upon these creatures with much favour, generally symbolising them
in connection with passages and pictures which relate to the infernal
regions. All of which is entirely unjust. Their nocturnal habits and our
consequent ignorance of their characteristics are the only causes which
can account for their being associated with the realm of Satan. In some
places bats are called flittermice, but they are more nearly related to
moles, shrews, and other insect-eaters than they are to mice. If we look
at the skeleton of an animal which walks or hops we will notice that its
hind limbs are much the stronger, and that the girdle which connects these
with the backbone is composed of strong and heavy bones. In bats a reverse
condition is found; the breast girdle, or bones corresponding to our
collar bones and shoulder blades, are greatly developed. This, as in
birds, is, of course, an adaptation to give surface for the attachment of
the great propelling muscles of the wings.
Although the hand of a bat is so strangely altered, yet, as we shall see
if we look at our captive specimen, it has five fingers, as we have, four
of which are very long and thin, and the webs, of which we have a very
noticeable trace in our own hands, stretch from finger-tip to finger-tip,
and to the body and even down each leg, ending squarely near the ankle,
thus giving the creature the absurd appearance of having on a very broad,
baggy pair of trousers.
When thoroughly warmed up, our bat will soon start on a tour of inspection
of his cage. He steps rapidly from one wire to another, sometimes hooking
on with all five toes, but generally with four or three. There seems to be
little power in these toes, except of remaining bent in a hooked position;
for when our bat stops and draws up one foot to scratch the head, the
claws are merely jerked through the fur by motions of the whole leg, not
by individual movements of the separate toes. In this motion we notice,
for the first time, that the legs and feet grow in a kind of "spread
eagle" position, making the knees point backward, in the same direction as
the elbows.
We must stop a moment to admire the beautiful soft fur, a golden brown in
colour, with part of the back nearly black. The tiny inverted face is full
of expression, the bead-like eyes gleaming brightly from out of their
furry bed. The small moist nostrils are constantly wrinkling and
sniffling, and the large size of the alert ears shows how much their owner
depends upon them for information. If we suddenly move up closer to the
wires, the bat opens both wings owl-like, in a most threatening manner;
but if we make still more hostile motions the creature retreats as hastily
as it can, changing its method of progress to an all-fours, sloth-like
gait, the long free thumb of each hand grasping wire after wire and doing
most of the leverage, the hind legs following passively.
When at what he judges a safe distance he again hangs pendent, bending his
head back to look earnestly at us. Soon the half-opened wings are closed
and brought close to the shoulders, and in this, the usual resting
position, the large claws of the thumbs rest on the breast in little
furrows which they have worn in the fur.
Soon drowsiness comes on and a long elaborate yawn is given, showing the
many small needle-like teeth and the broad red tongue, which curls outward
to a surprising length. Then comes the most curious process of all.
Drawing up one leg, the little creature deliberately wraps one hand with
its clinging web around the leg and under the arms, and then draws the
other wing straight across the body, holds it there a moment, while it
takes a last look in all directions. Then lifting its fingers slightly, it
bends its head and wraps all in the full-spread web. It is most
ludicrously like a tragedian, acting the death scene in "Julius Caesar,"
and it loses nothing in repetition; for each time the little animal thus
draws its winding sheet about its body, one is forced to smile as he
thinks of the absurd resemblance.
But all this and much more you will see for yourself, if you are so
fortunate as to discover the hiding-place of the hibernating bat.
Our little brown bat is a most excellent mother, and when in summer she
starts out on her nocturnal hunts she takes her tiny baby bat with her.
The weird little creature wraps his long fingers about his mother's neck
and off they go. When two young are born, the father bat is said sometimes
to assume entire control of one.
After we come to know more of the admirable family traits of the
_fledermaus_--its musical German name--we shall willingly defend it from
the calumny which for thousands of years has been heaped upon it.
Hibernation is a strange phenomenon, and one which is but little
understood. If we break into the death-like trance for too long a time, or
if we do not supply the right kind of food, our captive butterflies and
bats will perish. So let us soon freeze them up again and place them back
in the care of old Nature. Thus the pleasure is ours of having made them
yield up their secrets, without any harm to them. Let us fancy that in the
spring they may remember us only as a strange dream which has come to them
during their long sleep.
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