arched, one broad white pad uplifted, his tail curved
decorously.--IN WEASEL WOOD.]
A BOOK OF NIMBLE BEASTS
Bunny Rabbit, Squirrel, Toad, and "Those Sort of People"
by
DOUGLAS ENGLISH
Fellow and Medalist of the Royal Photographic Society
With Over 200 Illustrations
from Photographs of Living
Animals Taken by the Author
London
Eveleigh Nash & Grayson Ltd.
148 Strand
1922
Printed by
Woods & Sons, Ltd.,
338-340, Upper Street,
London, N. 1.
IN MEMORY
C. J. E.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PAGE
_JANUARY_
SOMETHING ABOUT BATS 17
_FEBRUARY_
SOMETHING ABOUT TADPOLES 29
_VALENTINE'S DAY_
A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO 41
_MARCH_
ANIMALS' NESTS 75
_APRIL_
SOMETHING ABOUT BEETLES 89
_LADY DAY_
BUNNY RABBIT 101
_MAY_
A BUTTERFLY PAINT-BOX 117
_JUNE_
TWO WONDERFUL WASPS 127
_MIDSUMMER DAY_
SPINIPES THE SAND-WASP 143
_JULY_
PICTURES ON BUTTERFLIES' WINGS 171
_AUGUST_
A VERY WEE BEASTIE AND A VERY BIG ONE 179
_LAMMAS DAY_
IN WEASEL WOOD 187
_SEPTEMBER_
SHEEP IN WOLVES' CLOTHING AND WOLVES IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING 213
_OCTOBER_
THE BEASTIES' BED-TIME 227
_MICHAELMAS DAY_
THE BLUNDERS OF BARTIMÆUS 237
_NOVEMBER_
SOMETHING ABOUT A CHAMÆLEON 261
_DECEMBER_
THE TRAIL OF NIMBLE BEASTS 269
_CHRISTMAS DAY_
THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S BAND 279
_BOXING-DAY_
THE PYGMY SHREW 301
ILLUSTRATIONS
ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR PAGE
IN WEASEL WOOD
HE HELD HIMSELF WITH AN AIR, HIS BODY ARCHED, ONE BROAD
WHITE PAD UPLIFTED, HIS TAIL CURVED DECOROUSLY _Frontispiece_
A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO
THE GREEN TOAD SLOWLY STRETCHED HIMSELF.
"THAT?" SAID HE, "THAT'S NOT FRENCH" 60
AT THE FIFTH STONE--A BULKY SLANTING ONE--
HE SIGHTED THE FRENCH FROG 60
SPINIPES, THE SAND WASP
AN INSTANT'S PAUSE TO SHIFT HER GRIP, AND SHE HAD
PUSHED THE GRUB WITHIN THE ENTRANCE 162
"TAKE THAT--AND THAT--AND THAT," SAID SPINIPES,
AND DROVE HER SHARP STING HOME 162
THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S BAND
AND THE LAST THING WINNIE REMEMBERS WAS THE GREAT
GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S WIFE HURRYING THE LITTLE
SKIPJACKS OFF TO BED 279
ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT PAGE
SOMETHING ABOUT BATS
Natterer's Bat 17
Lesser Horseshoe Bat 19
The Noctule 20
The Noctule 21
Lesser Horseshoe Bat going to sleep 22
The Greater Horseshoe 23
The Greater Horseshoe Bat hanging head downwards 24
Long-eared Bat 25
The Pipistrelle 27
SOMETHING ABOUT TADPOLES
Toad's Spawn 29
Frog's Spawn floating on the water 31
Frog's Spawn Quite Fresh 33
Frog's Spawn showing Young Tadpoles, &c. 34
Frog's Spawn beginning to Grow 35
Tadpoles getting like Frogs 36
Tadpoles full grown 39
A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO
Passable 43
His Little Eyes were Starting from their Sockets 47
The Water Rat 48
The Salamander 51
The Natterjack 52
Have you Seen this Trick before 53
The French Frog 57
"I see a Natterjack" 58
"Fetch him," thundered the King Toad 59
Five Times He Tried 65
The Shrew Mouse 66
He Bristled with Apologies 67
The Green Toad 69
His Inside was Red Hot 70
He Lay as He had Fallen 71
"Ducks," whispered Bombinatrix 73
ANIMALS' NESTS
Four Moles' Nests Together 77
The Squirrel 79
The Harvest Mouse Nest 81
The Dormouse 83
A Dormouse's Nursery Nest 85
The Harvest Mouse 86
SOMETHING ABOUT BEETLES
The Stag-Beetle 91
The Stag-Beetle that I ran over 93
The Female Stag-Beetle 95
The Great Water Beetle 96
The Musk Beetle 97
The Cockchafer 98
The Churchyard Beetle 99
BUNNY RABBIT
Landed on his Back six feet below 103
It wasn't Mother after all 105
He Combed his Ears Out 106
He Watched and Heard the Awakening of the Wood 108
Berus the Adder 110
Lay full length, eyes closed 113
Bunny Rabbit Watched him out of Sight 116
A BUTTERFLY PAINT-BOX
The Brimstone Butterfly 118
The Red Admiral 119
The Purple Emperor 120
The Clifden Blue 121
The Swallow Tail Butterfly 122
The Black Pepper Moth 123
The Silver-washed Fritillary 124
TWO WONDERFUL WASPS
Spinipes' burrow opened up 128
Spinipes Bringing up a Grub 129
Spinipes Grub Feeding 131
Cocoon which Spinipes' Grubs make 132
The Little Beetle that Caterpillars turn into 133
Before and After the Thunderstorm 135
Crabro 136
Crabro Looking out of her hole 137
How the Cocoons Looked 138
One of the Crabro's Stores of Blue-Bottles 139
What the piece of Elm-bough looked like 140
One of the Cocoons of Crabro in Elm-bough 141
SPINIPES, THE SAND-WASP
The Sand Cliff splits the Old Gravel-Pit in two 144
First the Wild Bees, Red King, Black Queen 146
Down Dropped a Red King 147
"In Sand, Ma'am, in Sand" 148
"Well, call me when it comes" 149
Spinipes commenced to Dig in Earnest 151
"Good Hunting, Sister!" said the Ophion Fly 153
The Rose Chafer 155
Out flew the Bees 157
Hour after Hour she Toiled 158
The Lowest Chamber of the Shaft now held a precious thing 159
A Flabby, Green, Blackheaded Grub 160
Twelve Grubs in all she brought 163
She Sank five other Curving Shafts 167
PICTURES ON BUTTER-FLIES' WINGS
The Magpie Moth 171
The Emperor Moth 173
The Elephant Hawk Moth's Caterpillar 174
The Elephant Hawk Moth showing his Trunk 175
The Peacock Butterfly 176
The Mother Shipton Moth 177
A VERY WEE BEASTIE AND A VERY BIG ONE
The Common Shrewmouse 181
The Water Shrewmouse 183
The Pygmy Shrewmouse 184
How the Pygmy Coils Himself Up to Sleep 185
IN WEASEL WOOD
Again the Fox Cub was Puzzled 188
He Sank from his Hindquarters forward 191
The Stoat Tiptoed Towards Him 193
"My Plumed Tail! you wait till Squirrel grows" 195
Marten has seen you 197
"Perhaps you will be good enough to get higher up the tree" 201
It was another Badger 207
She came out full charge 209
And in due course of time, his wife 210
SHEEP IN WOLVES' CLOTHING
The Lobster Moth Caterpillar 213
The Spider on the Bramble Blossom 217
The Dragon in the Water-weed 219
The Lobster Moth Caterpillar, Angry 220
The Ichneumon Fly 221
The Puss Moth Caterpillar 223
The Giant Wood Wasp 225
THE BEASTIES' BEDTIME
The Queen Wasp in her Winter Sleep 227
Bill the Lizard 228
Toadums 229
Round Eye the Dormouse 230
Dormouse in his Winter Sleep 231
Prickles the Hedge Pig 233
The Hedge Pig in his Winter Sleep 234
Lesser Horseshoe Bat Asleep 235
THE BLUNDERS OF BARTIMÆUS
Bartimæus 237
He Headed Straight for the Water 239
The Bank Rose Steeply Over Him 241
Only one grass-blade stirred, but Tatters saw it 246
The Harvest Mouse stood up full length 251
The Harvest Mouse drew herself up indignant 253
"Weasels!" said the Meadow Mouse 254
"Don't rush!" the Pygmy screamed behind 257
His fortress, his own fortress had been breached 258
SOMETHING ABOUT A CHAMÆLEON
You can see his eye looking back over his shoulder 263
You can see his hands and feet 264
The Chamæleon 267
THE TRAIL OF NIMBLE BEASTS
Nuts Gnawed by Mice 269
The Weasel's Trail 271
Where the Weasel met the Mice 272
Where the Weasel met the Rook 274
Two Mouse Trails 275
The Fox's Footprints 276
THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S BAND
She Never went to Sleep at all 281
The Cricket was Sitting on the Hearthstone 283
The pair of them dropped 284
"I beg your pardon," said the Grasshopper's Wife 288
The Mole Cricket 291
The Field Cricket 292
The Wood Cricket 293
The First Note sent the Grasshopper's Wife's hind legs
straight up 295
He had backed out of his hole 296
The Grasshopper's Wife reared herself up 297
THE PYGMY SHREW
The Woodmouse First 303
He took the Right-hand Surface run 305
He could now see and hear as well 306
His rival feinting, flicked his tail 308
The Grey Shrew Leant against the Trunk 309
With Tangled Tails and Rounded Straining Bodies 310
There they lay head to tail 311
The Field Voles 312
The Bat came to a halt and stared 313
The Pygmy climbed two inches up 314
Now one was on his back, now the other 315
The Mole plunged into the air 317
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
The publisher may, perhaps, be allowed to call the reader's attention to
the illustrations--particularly to the two of the Sand-Wasps, reproduced
in colour. The difficulties of photographing from wild life active
creatures of such small dimensions as hymenopterous insects are very
great from an optical standpoint. The picture of Spinipes bringing the
beetle grub to her tube took several years to accomplish successfully,
and the strain involved by the conditions, a blazing June sun on the
operator's back, an uncertain foothold, and the necessity of keeping the
attention riveted for hours on one particular patch of sunlit sand, was
exceptional. It is of course possible, probable even, that with the
introduction of an improved lens system, which will enable fast
exposures to be made at very short range on minute moving objects, this
particular picture may be repeated and improved upon. But the odds
against the second picture on the same page, that of Spinipes stinging
the jewel-fly, _ever_ being repeated, are enormous. It will be necessary
in order to secure the repetition of such a picture, first, that the
camera shall be focussed on one out of a score of tubes; second, that
the parasitic jewel-fly shall enter that particular tube; third, that
the Owner Wasp shall return while the jewel-fly is below; fourth, that
the Owner Wasp shall pull the jewel-fly to the surface; fifth, that the
jewel-fly shall cling to the rim of the tube; sixth, that the Wasp shall
sting it in this position--it will be noticed that the sting is directed
at the junction of the thorax and abdomen; seventh, that the observer
shall be ready to expose his plate at the exact psychological moment;
and eighth, that he shall succeed in doing so. The first six conditions
were, in Mr. English's case, fulfilled by chance. As regards the seventh
he was unready. He was, in fact, some feet below his camera. But chance
befriended him still further.
He caught the jewel-fly's glint, and caught the shadow of the returning
Wasp. He flung his arm up, grabbed the dangling bulb, and pressed at
random. This action dragged the camera from its moorings--to fix a
camera on a Sand Cliff's side is no slight task--and it fell twelve feet
down. Yet it had done its work and made the picture.
There are a score of pictures in this book, which are believed to be
unique, not only by reason of the rarity of their subjects, but also by
reason of the fact that they are the _only_ pictures of such subjects,
good or bad, in existence. The most remarkable among them is the picture
of Spinipes stinging the jewel-fly.
INTRODUCTION
I know a Boy Scout who has never seen a weasel. Many weasels, I fancy,
must have seen that Boy Scout.
And I know a Girl who has never seen a Harvest Mouse, but who might
have, often.
There may be other boys and girls like these. There may be grown-ups
also.
It is for them that I have written this book. It is to them that I offer
its pictures.
I would lead them (with hushed voices and quiet feet) into God's
Under-World; a World of queer small happenings; of sparkling eyes and
vanishing tails; a whispering, rustling World.
I would have them, whatever their age be, approach this World as
children. For children's eyes are closest to the ground.
DOUGLAS ENGLISH
HAWLEY, DARTFORD, 1910
SOMETHING ABOUT BATS
(JANUARY)
[Illustration: NATTERER'S BAT
The best-looking Bat in Britain]
You must all, I think, have seen Bats flying, or, at any rate, pictures
of Bats flying, and you must all know that they are night, or twilight,
beasties, though some of our English kinds fly about in broad daylight
more often than most people think. But do you all know that they are the
only four-footed creatures that _really_ fly--for they are four-footed
though they don't look it; and do you all know that there are, probably,
more different kinds of Bats in England than there are different kinds
of any other beastie; and that they are the very ugliest of British
Beasties, taking them altogether; and that they all have very small
eyes--which is a queer thing for twilight beasties to have; owls, of
course, and dormice have very big eyes--and that they have either very
wonderful ears, or very wonderful noses, but not both together? If you
don't know all this, perhaps you would like to hear more.
[Illustration: THE LESSER HORSESHOE BAT
You can see his nose-leaf, shaped like a horseshoe, very
well in this picture. Both the Greater and Lesser Horseshoe
Bats are wonderfully neat fliers]
We had better, I think, begin with a Bat's wings, for, when we have
learnt something about these, we may perhaps get some notion as to why a
Bat is more clever in the air than a bird, and far, far more clever than
a flying machine, worked by a human brain, is at present. The reason why
a Bat is a cleverer, I don't mean a stronger, flier than a bird, is a
reason which you young people will find to be a very common one, if ever
you try your hand at guessing Mother Nature's riddles. It is simply
this--that _he has to be_. A Bat has to catch his food, tiny food
mostly, in the air, and he has to catch it in a bad light, and, as far
as we can tell, though we cannot be sure of this, his eyesight is not as
good as, say, a swallow's eyesight. This means that he has had to pick
up a wonderful quickness in checking his own flight, and in turning
sharp in the air, almost head over heels sometimes, and in diving, and
in soaring up again. To do all these things well he has had to be built
in a very special way, and I will try to explain to you how he has been
built by comparing a Bat with one of ourselves, for you must remember
that a Bat belongs to the same great order of living creatures as we do,
and that a Bat is much more like a human being than a bird is.
[Illustration: THE NOCTULE
You can see one earlet quite plainly, and his eye "starting
out of his head"]
Let us fancy, then, a small boy being turned into a Bat. The first thing
that would have to happen would be that his legs would have to be bent
at the knees, and shrunk until they were as thin as sticks. Then they
would have to be twisted right and left until the knee-caps faced the
wrong way about. His arms would have to be shrunk too, and his fore-arms
would have to be stretched until they were twice their natural length,
and his middle-fingers would have to be about a yard long, and his other
fingers nearly a yard long also. His thumb might be left as it was, but
it would have to have a strong claw at the end of it. In between his
fingers, and joining his arms to his body, and stretching down to his
legs, and joining his legs together, there would have to be a web of
skin, and then, perhaps, if his chest was brought well forward like a
pigeon's, and his head pressed well back until it stopped between his
shoulders, he might, if his muscles were strong enough, and the whole of
him was light enough, be able to fly.
[Illustration: THE NOCTULE
One of our largest Bats. He is sometimes more than a foot
across the wings, and his brown fur is as velvety as a
Mole's--when he feels quite well]
[Illustration: LESSER HORSESHOE BAT
He is hanging head downwards, and beginning to wrap himself
up in his wings before going to sleep]
Now about a Bat's eyes. I have already told you that these are very
small--at least they look very small in our English Bats--and that it
does not seem likely that Bats possess the wonderful eyesight, which one
would expect them to have. In some cases the eyes are so curiously
placed in the head that the Bat can hardly be able to see straight in
front of him at all. In the Leaf-nosed Bats, for instance, you can only
just see the Bat's eyes when you look at him full face, because his
leaf-nose all but hides them--you can see what I mean from the
pictures--and in the case of one rare little bat, the Barbastelle, the
eyes are set so far back that part of the ear comes round them like a
horse's blinkers; and one can hardly imagine his being able to see much
sideways, even if he can see quite well in front. There is just one
little thing, however, which I have noticed in a large Bat called the
Noctule, and this may mean that Bats have better eyesight than one would
at first suppose. The Noctule can make his own eyes "start out of his
head," until they seem to be almost twice as large as usual. If all Bats
can do this it is quite likely that very few people have seen their eyes
properly at all; that is, have seen them as they really appear, when the
Bats are chasing moths in the twilight.
[Illustration: THE GREATER HORSESHOE--A PIG THAT _DOES_ FLY]
[Illustration: THE GREATER HORSESHOE BAT
Hanging head downwards. Except when he is flying he always
carries his tail cocked up over his back, as you see it.]
[Illustration: THE LONG-EARED BAT
His ears are more than twice as long as his head, and
beautifully pink and transparent when seen in the right
light]
I think I will leave the pictures to show you the ugliness of Bats
generally, though I have purposely put one picture in to show you that
all Bats are not ugly--for I am sure you will agree with me that the
little white-fronted Natterer's Bat, has quite a pretty face. I must
tell you a little more, though, about Bats' ears and noses.
When we were turning, in imagination, our small boy into a Bat, we did
not trouble ourselves about his ears and nose, but we ought to have done
so, for there are some very wonderful differences between Bats' ears and
noses, and the ears and noses of human beings. If you will look at
anybody's ear carefully you will see that in front of, and just a little
below the ear-hole, there is a small lump of flesh which points
backwards across the opening. It is not much to look at in a human
being, and does not seem to serve any particular purpose, but in many
Bats it is evidently very important, for it is quite large and takes all
sorts of curious shapes. It is called the "earlet." Sometimes it is
pointed, sometimes square, and sometimes rounded. Sometimes it is long
and thin and tapering like a dagger, and sometimes it is short and thick
and blunted like a kidney-bean. You will see several of its different
shapes in the pictures, and you will also see that the leaf-nosed Bats,
who have such queer ornaments on their noses, do not have it all. Now
some wise folk think that the ornament on the face of a leaf-nosed Bat,
which makes him appear so very ugly to our ideas (though I have no doubt
his wife thinks it very beautiful) may give him a kind of sixth sense
which is neither seeing, nor smelling, nor hearing, nor feeling, nor
tasting: a sense, that is, like that which blind people often seem to
possess and which helps them, poor souls, through their world of
darkness. If this is so (but you must remember that we can only guess
about it), it may be that the earlets of Bats do much the same, and
that, therefore, Bats with earlets have no need of leaf-noses, and Bats
with leaf-noses have no need of earlets.
[Illustration: THE PIPISTRILLE
A small Bat and one of the commonest]
SOMETHING ABOUT TADPOLES
(FEBRUARY)
[Illustration: THIS IS TOAD'S SPAWN, WHICH IS LAID IN "ROPES"]
How many of you can tell me the difference between a frog-tadpole and a
toad-tadpole? I don't mean when they are so small that it seems a
kindness to call them tadpoles at all, but when they are quite a good
size, with great fat heads and shiny little eyes and squiggly little
tails. And how many of you can tell me the number of different kinds of
tadpoles which one can find in England in the springtime? Most of you, I
am sure, know a tadpole when you see one (sometimes he is called
"pot-ladle,"or "polly-wog," or "horse-nail,") and some of you may know
that a fat frog-tadpole is brown with little specks of gold, while a fat
toad-tadpole is black all over; but I don't expect many of you know that
there are two kinds of frog-tadpole, and two kinds of toad-tadpole, and
three kinds of newt-tadpole, to be met with in England, which makes
seven kinds of tadpoles in all.
Now as these seven little tadpoles are all different from one another
(though the two frog-tadpoles and the two toad-tadpoles are not _very_
different), we may be quite sure that they grow up into seven different
little beasties. I am going to tell you something about the frog- and
toad-tadpoles now and leave the newt-tadpoles for another time, for it
will be easier for you if you don't have too much to remember at once.
If you go into the country in springtime (the middle of March is the
best time where I live, but in other places it may be a little earlier
or a little later) and find a pond, or a brook which runs quite slowly,
or even a hole in swampy ground which has water in it, you are almost
sure to see a lump of stuff which looks like dirty grey jelly, either
close to the bank or on the top of some of the weeds.
If you pick up a little of this, you will find (perhaps before it has
slipped out of your fingers and perhaps after) that it is full of round
black eggs.
[Illustration: THIS IS FROG'S SPAWN FLOATING ON THE WATER]
The grey jelly is either frog's spawn or toad's spawn.
If it is just a lump with no particular shape to it, it is frog's spawn,
but if it is made up of small slimy ropes, which come apart from one
another, and in which the eggs lie in rows like strings of black beads,
it is toad's spawn. When you find toad's spawn, you may be sure that
frog's spawn has been about for some time, for frog's spawn is always to
be found rather earlier in the year. Whichever it may be you should take
a little of it (quite a little is best) and put it in a glass jam-jar
half full of water, and stand this in some bright, warm place, where it
will not get knocked over, and where the sun will not shine directly on
to it.
Frogs and toads usually lay their eggs in places where the sun _does_
shine on them and warms them gently, and so hatches them out, but of
course they do not lay them in glass bottles, and if the sun shines on
these, the water will get warmer than is good for them, partly because
there is no other water round to keep it cool, and partly because the
bottle acts as a kind of burning-glass, and brings too much of the
sunshine into itself, and so gives too much warmth to the eggs.
Some people think the jelly of frog's or toad's spawn acts like a
burning-glass too; this, however, is a burning-glass which Mother Nature
has arranged, and so there is no fear of its not acting properly.
[Illustration: THIS IS FROG'S SPAWN WHEN IT IS QUITE FRESH]
If you find frog's or toad's spawn soon after it is laid, you will see
only a small quantity of jelly round it, but this soon swells out and
gets much bigger.
[Illustration: THIS IS FROG'S SPAWN, TOO
But I have photographed it with a microscope, so that you
may see it a little bigger than it really is. Right in the
middle is a Tadpole who has grown his feathery gills, and
close to him is one like a little alderman. There is
another Tadpole with gills towards the right hand bottom
corner, but there is an egg behind which makes his shape
wrong. All the round things are eggs and the long things
are Tadpoles which have just hatched]
[Illustration: FROG'S SPAWN
The Little Curly Tails are beginning to Grow]
Have you ever seen Cook make a jelly? The first thing she does is to
soak the gelatine in water, so that it gets soft and swells to twice the
size it was before. It swells because it takes up water inside it, and
frog's spawn does just the same. Now we must try and think what the
frog's spawn jelly is for. It is really the white of the eggs, the black
beads being the yolk. You wouldn't understand all its uses, but one is
that it makes the frog's spawn much more difficult to eat, because it is
so slippery. A great many water birds are very fond of frog's spawn and
would gobble it up very quickly if they had a good, big spoon, instead
of a rather small bill. As it is, a great deal of frog's spawn and a
good many tadpoles are eaten up one way or another, which is really
rather lucky for us, for frogs and toads lay millions and millions of
eggs, and, if they all hatched out, there wouldn't be room in the world
for all little frogs and toads.
[Illustration: THE TADPOLES ARE HERE SEEN GETTING VERY LIKE FROGS
Most of them have all four legs, but one has only his hind
legs at present]
Well, if you keep your glass bottle with the eggs in it in a good place
and look at it every day, you will find something fresh to interest you
every day. First the black yolks will grow larger and change their shape
so that they seem longer than they are broad, and presently you will
find that they are turning into tadpoles. The baby tadpole seems much
too fat to begin with, and sticks out in front like a little alderman;
but soon he gets slimmer again, and you find that he is growing a curly
tail (which no alderman ever did), and that there are tiny markings
where his eyes and mouth are going to be. He is still very small (about
a quarter of an inch long), but before he is much bigger a very
wonderful thing happens--it has been happening all the time, though you
have not been able to see it--he grows a pair of gills like a fish. They
are delicate, feathery things, and stand out on either side of his head,
I should like to say "neck," but I do not think I ought to because frogs
and toads have no necks at all, and so I suppose tadpoles have none
either. All this time his tail is growing too, and presently it is long
enough for him to swim with. When this happens he slips out of the jelly
and wriggles about in the water. At present he has no real mouth, but he
has a little opening, shaped like a horseshoe, near to where his mouth
is going to be, and he uses this to hold on to weeds when he is tired,
which he very soon is at first.
Once he is fairly hatched, however, his mouth grows quickly and he gets
a pair of rather hard little jaws with which he can nibble the
water-weed. When this happens you must, of course, put some water-weed
into the bottle, though grass will do if you can't get anything else.
[Illustration: TADPOLES FULL GROWN
They are covered with little specks of gold. At the bottom
one can be seen feeding]
I told you that he had gills like a fish, but they are curious gills at
this early stage because they have no flap of skin to protect them. If
you want to see a fish's gills you must lift up the hard flap of skin
which covers them. The tadpole soon grows a flap of skin, though, just
like a fish, and this always appears first on the right side, so that at
one stage he looks as if he had only one gill, the one on the left side.
When both the flaps of skin have grown, the tadpole is really a little
fish, and he stays in much the same shape, though he gets fatter and
fatter, for about a month. At the end of this time he begins to grow
legs, first the hind ones and then the front ones (newt-tadpoles grow
the front ones first); but, in spite of his legs, he is still only a
fish, because, instead of breathing the air with his lungs as a grown-up
frog does, he breathes the water with his gills. During the next month,
when he is getting on for three months old, another wonderful change
comes over him. For a time he breathes both with his lungs (he has to
put his head out of water for this) and with his gills, and so he is
both a frog and a fish at once; but he gets more and more like a frog,
and less and less like a fish. His lungs keep growing inside him, and
his body and gills and tail get smaller and smaller, and his mouth and
his eyes and his legs get larger and larger, and presently he leaves the
water altogether, for he is tired of water-weeds and tired of his tail
(he can swim beautifully without it), and he wants to make his meals off
insects and slugs, and to learn how to croak and jump, and to be a great
fat frog like Mother.
[Illustration]
A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO!
(VALENTINE'S DAY)
[Illustration]
"This is better," gasped Bombinator.
Bombinatrix eyed him anxiously.
Only his waistcoat touched the ground. His eyes and nose had vanished.
The right of either foot was now the left; the left of either hand was
now the right; his head, subverted, curled to touch his toes, and, in
his back, was a deep hollow.
This sounds involved, and that is just what Bombinator was.
"It's awful," said Bombinatrix.
"What do I look like?" spluttered Bombinator. "It's awkward talking to
your feet."
"You're like--you're like a toadstool," said Bombinatrix, "a crinkled,
gummy, yellow-spotted toadstool."
"That's the idea," said Bombinator, as he snapped back to shapeliness.
"Now you try," and Bombinatrix tried.
"Passable," said Bombinator, "but not sufficient curl."
"It cricks my neck," she answered. Her head was slowly drooping.
"You _must_ keep rigid," said Bombinator. "I can't see half the yellow.
Throw back your head."
Bombinatrix threw back her head, until it grazed her toe-tips. Then she
unstrung herself.
(I see you look incredulous. You ask and ask with reason: How came two
fire-toads in an English garden? To this I answer frankly--I put them
there myself.)
Even a fire-toad loves his liberty, though prison-life may have its
compensations. The breakfast gong, for instance, two taps upon the
glass. The sluggish fatted meal-worm, the feeling of full-fed security.
Nor had there been a lack of company.
The Natterjack had livened things--by running races with his own
reflection. So had the mottled Green Toad, an alien like themselves; so,
in his own quiet way, the Salamander.
[Illustration: "PASSABLE," SAID BOMBINATOR, "BUT NOT
SUFFICIENT CURL"]
Each welcomed freedom differently.
The Natterjack went straight into the pond (quite the wrong thing for
him), and swam with short-legged jerky sweeps up to the water-lilies.
There he met the Water-Rat, of whom more later. The Green Toad sought
the nearest tuft of grass, and, scratching with his fore-feet at the
roots, contrived a roomy burrow. He backed inside and sat there quite
content, blinking his emerald eyes. The Salamander stayed where he was
put--and smiled.
The fire-toads climbed upon a stone and practised squiggles--aposematic
squiggles.
That resonant epithet comes, I think, from Oxford. It means, _you dare
to touch me and you'll catch it_, or words to that effect. "Apo," get
out, and "sema," a sign. It is quite simple, really. Yet its
significance (in toads) may need explaining, and, to be master of the
sense of it, you must remember that fire-toads, though dusky olive green
above, are orange red beneath. A patch of orange underneath each hand, a
patch of orange underneath each foot, an orange patchwork waistcoat.
Now orange is a poison-label. It means in wild-folk speech, "Be
careful," and yellow means the same; and when black joins the scheme, it
means, "Be very careful, here is poison."
Sometimes the colour flaunts itself--witness the salamander, or the
wasp. Sometimes it is concealed, witness the fire-toad. But fire-toads
have the knack of showing it. Drop one upon his back and there he stays,
knowing the underpart of him is fearsome. Startle one as he sits at
ease, and he will flick into a knot, crinkly, immovable, unreal, with
screaming labels at each corner. To be adept at this, the fire-toad
needs spare living, one meal, at most two meals a day. When corpulent he
finds the bend beyond him.
But corpulence is transient in toads. The first to find a waist was
Bombinator, and Bombinatrix quickly followed. They now could travel with
less apprehension. They made five equal hops and stopped. Before them
stretched the pond, green-carpeted, a mirror-patch of water here and
there, balsam and iris on the fringe of it, and fronting them, upon his
leaf, the Rat.
The Natterjack had left him, and was swimming landwards. His head bobbed
with each stroke, and he was slow in coming.
"The surliest brute I ever met," he said.
"The Rat?" said Bombinator.
"The Rat," replied the Natterjack. "He grumbled at my ripples in the
water--and _he_ makes noise enough. Just listen to him."
The Water-Rat had left his leaf, and now was in the reed-stems. He held
a two-inch cutting in his paws. They heard his munching plainly.
"This is a queer pond," said the Natterjack; "it's full of noises. A
shrew-mouse chirped as I swam back, and half a dozen bubbles struck me.
That means there's something grunting. My yellow stripe! what's that?"
It rose _crescendo_,
"_brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!_"
and finished _amoroso_,
"_KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_"
"I know it," shrieked Bombinator. His little eyes were starting from
their sockets, as he sat up entranced.
"I know it," echoed Bombinatrix.
"Then you might share your knowledge," snapped the Natterjack. Jealousy
had convulsed him, for he too can sing.
"A French Frog," cried Bombinator.
"A French Frog," echoed Bombinatrix, and in a rattle came the southern
notes:
"_brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!_"
"_KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_"
"I'll find him, if I hop all night," said Bombinator.
He plunged aside into the grass, and Bombinatrix followed at his heels.
The Natterjack soon caught them. He ran with little mouse-steps.
[Illustration: HIS LITTLE EYES WERE STARTING FROM THEIR
SOCKETS AS HE SAT UP ENTRANCED]
"Are you quite prudent?" he jerked out.
"Prudent?" said Bombinator, "why, he's a countryman."
So all three went together, and dropped abreast into the Green Toad's
burrow.
"Have you heard him?" said Bombinator.
The Green Toad was half dozing.
"Heard what?" he muttered sleepily.
"The French Frog," said Bombinator. "Come out and listen."
They pulled him out between them.
[Illustration: THE WATER-RAT HAD LEFT HIS LEAF AND NOW WAS
IN THE REED-STEMS. HE HELD A TWO-INCH CUTTING IN HIS PAWS.
THEY HEARD HIS MUNCHING PLAINLY]
The Green Toad slowly stretched himself.
"_That?_" said he, "that's not French." Then he relapsed to sleep again.
"What did I tell you?" said the Natterjack.
"You told us nothing," said Bombinator. "Let's ask the Salamander."
The Salamander had not moved an inch.
"Is that song French?" the Natterjack inquired.
The Salamander slowly raised his head, curled S-wise out and home again,
blinked either eye three times, smiled fatuously at each toad in turn,
and then smiled at the sky.
"Oh, come on!" said the Natterjack. The Natterjack is all on wires, and
Salamanders madden him.
"_brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!_"
"_KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_"
The Natterjack now led them, faster and faster as the song grew louder,
hippy-hoppy, hurry-scurry, bumping against the snails and spiders,
starting the flies and beetles, and rousing every sleeper in the grass.
Small wonder that they soon encountered trouble.
They wakened the King Toad.
Since you last knew him, the King Toad has grown. His waist is fourteen
inches. His mouth could welcome three small toads abreast.
The fire-toads crouched in front of him (the mouth seemed very wide);
even the Natterjack hung back, and waited to be spoken to.
Ten minutes passed, and then the King Toad spoke, in slow,
imperial-measured tones.
"Who are you?" said he, and fixed his royal eye on Bombinator.
Bombinator's mouth was flattened to the ground, and his reply was
indistinct.
"Speak louder," said the King Toad.
But Bombinator kept his head. If he spoke louder he must move, and, if
he moved, he might be swallowed.
Once more he muttered with closed lips.
The King Toad slowly raised one foot. Before it reached the ground again
the Natterjack had vanished. So had the fire-toads, but in different
fashion. Where they had been were now two spotted toadstools.
"That's a queer trick," said the King meditatively. "Orange underneath I
see. Risky to eat without inquiries. Come back, Natterjack."
[Illustration: THE SALAMANDER HAD NOT MOVED AN INCH]
Two yellow eyes were peeping round a dock-leaf. The Natterjack slouched
low in the Presence.
"Have you seen this trick before?" said the King Toad coldly.
"I have, Sire," said the Natterjack.
"Do it yourself," said the King Toad.
"Alas, Sire," said the Natterjack, "I am too stout."
"Not a bad fault," said the King more graciously, "not a bad fault. What
is the meaning of it?"
"It means, Sire, that my two small friends are frightened."
"Frightened?" said the King Toad; "frightened of what?"
"Of you, Sire."
[Illustration: THE NATTERJACK SLOUCHED LOW INTO THE PRESENCE]
"Of me?" said the King Toad. "Why should a toad fear me? I am the
Protector of all toads." He swelled himself imperially.
[Illustration: "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS TRICK BEFORE?" SAID
THE KING TOAD]
"These are strange toads, Sire," said the Natterjack, "they come from
France."
"France?" said the King; "this must be looked to. The place is being
overrun with aliens. Undo them, Natterjack."
The Natterjack looked pained.
"Sire," he gasped out, "they're poisonous. I bit one once, and could not
sing for days."
"Could not sing for days?" said the King. "Could not sing for days?" The
shadow of a smile played round his mouth.
"Just fetch me that French Frog," he said.
"Sire," said the Natterjack, "it was during our unsuccessful search for
him that we had the felicity of being so graciously received by your
Majesty."
"You know him then," said the King, frowning.
"The fire-toads know his song, Sire. At least they said he was a
countryman."
"They shall be made better acquainted," said the King, "much better
acquainted. You will find the French Frog by the water's edge, beneath
the furze-bush. You may go."
The Natterjack went scudding like a mouse.
He started in the wrong direction, but chance befriended him. Climbing
upon a clump of moss, he opened out the circuit of the pond. The
furze-bush stood on the far side of it. Its lower branches jutted from
the bank, and, arching downwards, trailed into the water. From the first
dip of them spread dancing waves.
The French Frog still was singing, and each note, caught and re-echoed
overhead, crept down the boughs and rippled to the shore.
So far so good. His goal was plainly visible. But how to get there? He
made a bee-line for the water's edge, and tumbled down the bank.
[Illustration]
His first idea, to swim, was soon abandoned.
With no clear mark by which to set his course he might swim on till
nightfall. But if he crept along close to the water? This seemed a
certainty, so off he started.
It was uneven going. Sometimes a stretch of sticky mud, sometimes the
mazy reed-stems, and sometimes, where the bank was hollowed out, deep
water.
The Natterjack was nimble on his feet, and scuttling, crawling,
swimming, made good progress. Before he paused, the furze-bush rose
above him. Once in the shade of this, he moved discreetly. He slid from
stone to stone, and at each stone he rose to reconnoitre. At the fifth
stone, a bulky slanting one, he sighted the French Frog. The French Frog
sat absorbed in his own harmonies, his mouthpiece taut, to right and
left of it two filmy bubble spheres, now swelling now collapsing.
"_brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!_"
"_KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_ _KO-ax!_"
It sounded like a challenge.
The last notes struck the listener squarely. He too could sing. Had he
not sung against the wood-pecker, yaffle for yaffle, note for note? He
swelled himself to bursting point, shut both his eyes, strained to their
uttermost the voice-chords underneath his tongue, and loosed one mighty
"Yaup!" It cut the last "_Ko-ax_" in half, and as its rattle spent
itself, he looked to see what came of it. He looked in vain. The French
Frog was not there.
The Natterjack at first was jubilant (a signal victory this) but quiet
reflection sobered him.
His mission was to bring the French Frog with him. Now there was no
French Frog to bring. He searched five yards each way, then gloomily
retraced his steps.
[Illustration: THE FRENCH FROG SAT ABSORBED IN HIS OWN
HARMONIES, HIS MOUTHPIECE TAUT, TO RIGHT AND LEFT OF IT,
TWO FILMY BUBBLE SPHERES, NOW SWELLING, NOW COLLAPSING]
He found the King Toad sleeping, and pausing at a prudent range, croaked
nervously.
The King Toad made no sign.
He croaked again, and louder.
The King Toad moved uneasily. His eyebrows twitched, and one eye half
revealed itself. Upper and under lids stayed fast, but, in their
crescent interval, a third lid fluttered, a filmy, shadowy, cobweb
thing, which brushed aside the dream-mists.
[Illustration: "I SEE A NATTERJACK," HE SAID, "A
STARVELING, MOUSE LEGGED NATTERJACK. I SENT FOR A FRENCH
FROG"]
So in due order, decorously, to open round-eyed vision. The Natterjack
was palpably distressed.
His mouth drooped dismally; he shuffled each squat foot in turn.
At last the King Toad spoke.
"I see a Natterjack," he said, "a starveling, mouse-legged Natterjack. I
sent for a French Frog."
"Sire," said the Natterjack, his voice a-quiver, "I f-found him, but he
v-vanished."
"Fetch him," thundered the King Toad.
The Natterjack fled headlong.
"I shall have to find him," he muttered to himself.
He stumbled on the Salamander. The Salamander, after working for an
hour, had partially concealed himself. His smiling face alone was
visible, framed by the grass-stems.
"Have--you--seen--the--French--Frog?" said the Natterjack, as loudly and
as plainly as he could.
[Illustration: "FETCH HIM," THUNDERED THE KING TOAD.
THE NATTERJACK FLED HEADLONG]
The Salamander turned his face away and smiled across his shoulder.
"Have--you--seen--the--French--Frog?" the Natterjack repeated.
The Salamander's face came slowly round again, still smiling. It was too
much; no longer could the Natterjack contain himself. He ducked his head
and pranced, his legs flung round him anyhow.
So for a mad five minutes; at last he got his answer, suave tones across
the intervening grass: "Have I seen what?"
The Natterjack plunged straight into the pond. His nerves were
over-wrought, his heart was racing. But for this cooling dive he must
have burst. He rose among the lily leaves, and, clutching one, hung
slantwise. Slowly the madness left him.
Then he commenced to paddle circumspectly.
[Illustration: The Green Toad slowly stretched himself.
"THAT?" said he, "that's not French."]
[Illustration: At the fifth stone--a bulky slanting one, he
sighted the French Frog.]
He steered a zig-zag course, and, scanning every leaf in turn, came to
the outskirts of the cluster. Here he sank slowly down, until his nose
alone was visible. The leaf on his right hand was moving. A ripple ran
the length of it; then, close beside its stalk, appeared a snout, a
quivering trembling snout; then two bead eyes; then a trim velvet body.
The Natterjack brought up his head again. No danger here, only a water
Shrew-mouse. The Shrew-mouse took no heed of him. She swam the circuit
of her leaf three times, dived once or twice, then climbed upon its
surface. Here she performed her toilet. The goggle-eyes in no way
disconcerted her. At length the Natterjack found words:
"Can you tell me," he said, politely, "where the French Frog has got to?"
The Shrew-mouse gave a little jump. She had been combing out her tail,
which was important.
"The French Frog?" she said; "the French Frog? I'm sick of the French
Frog. What between him and the Water Rat--and the queer thing is that
neither of them seems to know that the other----"
"Of course, he's very fond of me," she added. "Every day he sings _at_
me, and so, of course, when he comes my way, I have to _ask_ him to
sing; and the worst of it is, when I _ask_ him to sing, he _does_ sing."
[Illustration]
"I think that might be cured," said the Natterjack, "if you can tell me
where he is."
"Where did you see him last?" said the Shrew-mouse.
"Under the furze-bush," said the Natterjack.
"Under the furze-bush?" echoed the Shrew-mouse; "perhaps then I can find
him. Swim behind me."
She slid so neatly off her leaf that not a drop of water reached her
back. Then she commenced to paddle, her feet alternate, her square tail
trailing, her nose and face awash. Twin ripples spread on either side of
her, and, in between them, though their distance widened, the Natterjack
swam stoutly, using his squat hind-legs alone, short jerky thrusts of
them, and losing at each stroke.
He reached the shore two yards behind, but yet in time to see the last
of her, a fluttering wavy tail-tip, which skimmed the summit of a stone
and disappeared behind it.
This was disheartening. The Natterjack had spent his strength, and quick
pursuit was out of question. He paused and stretched each limb in turn,
scratched his chin doubtfully, and looked about him. He looked first at
the water, then at the stone to fix it in his memory, and lastly at the
bank above. Here his eyes rested, expressionless at first,
lack-lustrous, but presently, with quickened interest, sparkling.
[Illustration]
It must be, yes it was, the self-same furze-bush. He stared intently. It
was the self-same stone. Perhaps the French Frog still was close at
hand; perhaps the Shrew-mouse knew his hiding-place.
He flung his tiredness off him, and started running jauntily.
He had not far to go. Two scurries brought him to the stone, two
scrambles to its summit.
There was the Shrew-mouse just below.
She was too occupied to note his coming. She coursed along the water's
edge, her head dropped low, her face almost submerged. At times she
paused and sniffed the air, her nose upturned and crinkly, her bristles
fan-shape. Then she would drop her head again and probe the water.
The Natterjack watched quietly for a while, but soon impatience mastered
him. He crept down and addressed her timidly.
"You said you might find the French Frog," he began.
"I have found him," said the Shrew-mouse; "he's down there--as usual."
"Down where?" said the Natterjack.
"Down in the water," said the Shrew-mouse, "down at the bottom of this
pool, a good foot down."
"Would you mind asking him to come up?" said the Natterjack.
"I've asked him for five minutes," said the Shrew-mouse. "He must be
fast asleep. I know he's there; I've seen his bubbles."
"How can we wake him?" said the Natterjack.
"You'd better dive," said the Shrew-mouse.
Now Natterjacks are bad enough at swimming; at diving they are hopeless.
"In you go," said the Shrew-mouse.
For very shame the Natterjack went in.
He swam to what he judged a likely spot, ducked down his head, his hands
pressed tight against it, and lunged with both hind-legs. These,
splashing on the surface, urged him on, but not one inch below.
Five times he tried, and five times his fat body, when half submerged,
shot up and bobbed afloat.
[Illustration: FIVE TIMES HE TRIED, AND FIVE TIMES HIS
FAT BODY, WHEN HALF SUBMERGED, SHOT UP AND BOBBED
AFLOAT]
The Shrew-mouse rocked with laughter.
"Again, Natterjack!" she cried. "Again! again!"
Shame-faced, he paddled back to shore.
"Be charitable, Shrew-mouse, be charitable. I did my best."
The Shrew-mouse looked at him inquiringly. "Never mind, Natterjack," she
said, "I'll fetch him. It's hardly the right thing to do, but still----"
[Illustration: THE SHREW-MOUSE DREW ALL FOUR FEET
TOGETHER AND SLITHERED EEL-WISE OFF THE LEDGE]
She climbed a ledge, drew all four feet together, and slithered off it
eel-wise. She swam a yard and dived. The water closed like oil upon her
going. Ten seconds passed and then she reappeared.
"He's coming, Natterjack," she said, and landed close beside him. The
French Frog shot up like a cork, and half of him splashed clear above
the surface. He took two strokes to reach the shore, and came out moist
and shiny. He bristled with apologies--"It was unpardonable. He was
altogether desolated. That a lady should have had to dive for him. Alas!
he had been dreaming, and his dream, like all his dreams----"
[Illustration: HE BRISTLED WITH APOLOGIES]
The Shrew-mouse cut him short.
"The King Toad has heard your singing," she said, "and has commanded your
presence. The Natterjack will guide you."
Ambition strove with gallantry, and, for a time, the French Frog wavered.
"And have I your permission, Shrew-mouse?" he said, at last.
"Please go," said she, "then come and tell me all about it." So both
departed. The Shrew-mouse watched them out of sight, then swam to open
water. She wished the Rat to see her next.
* * * * *
"Sire," said the Natterjack, "it is my privilege to inform you that I
have been successful."
The King Toad made no answer. His eyes turned from the Natterjack to his
companion, and, after an appropriate pause, he signed with one fore-foot.
The French Frog tiptoed forward.
"I have heard your singing," said the King Toad, "and your singing has
annoyed me intensely."
There was a queer strained silence.