various growths through which I pushed my way, explained to me the
jungles of India, the swamps of Central Africa, and the backwoods of
America; all the vegetation of the world. Representatives exist in our
own woods, hedges, and fields, or by the shore of inland waters. It was
the same with flowers. I think I am scientifically accurate in saying
that every known plant has a relative of the same species or genus,
growing wild in this country. The very daisy, the commonest of all,
contains a volume of botany; so do the heaths, and the harebells that
hang so heavily under the weight of the September dew. The horse-tails
by the shore carry the imagination further back into the prehistoric
world when relations of these plants flourished as trees. The
horse-tails by ponds are generally short, about a foot or eighteen
inches high, more or less, but in ditches occasionally there are
specimens of the giant horse-tail as high as the waistcoat, with a stem
as thick as a walking-stick. This is a sapling from which the
prehistoric tree can readily be imagined. From our southern woods the
wild cat has been banished, but still lives in the north as an English
representative of that ferocious feline genus which roams in tropical
forests. We still have the deer, both wild and in parks. Then there are
the birds, and these, in the same manner as plants, represent the
inhabitants of the trackless wilds abroad. Happily the illustration
fails mostly in reptiles, which need not be regretted; but even these,
in their general outline as it were, are presented.
It has long been one of my fancies that this country is an epitome of
the natural world, and that if any one has come really into contact
with its productions, and is familiar with them, and what they mean and
represent, then he has a knowledge of all that exists on the earth. It
holds good even of Australia; for palaeontologists produce fossil
remains of marsupials or kangaroos. As for the polar conditions, when
going round for snipes I constantly saw these in miniature. The planing
action of ice was shown in the ditches, where bridges of ice had been
formed; these slipping, with a partial thaw, smoothed the grasses and
mars of teazles in the higher part of the slope, and then lower down,
as the pressure increased, cut away the earth, exposing the roots of
grasses, and sometimes the stores of acorns laid up by mice. Frozen
again in the night, the glacier stayed, and crumbling earth, leaves,
fibres, acorns, and small dead boughs fell on it. Slipping on as the
wind grew warmer, it carried these with it and deposited them fifty
yards from where they originated. This is exactly the action of a
glacier. The ice-mist was often visible over the frozen water-meadows,
where I went for duck, teal, and at intervals a woodcock in the
adjacent mounds. But it was better seen in the early evening over a
great pond, a mile or more long; where, too, the immense lifting power
of water was exemplified, as the merest trickle of a streamlet flowing
in by-and-by forced up the thick ice in broad sheets weighing hundreds
of tons. Then, too, breathing-holes formed just as they are described
in the immense lakes of North America, Lakes Superior or Michigan, and
in the ice of the Polar circle. These were never frozen over, and
attracted wild-fowl.
In August, when there were a few young ducks about, the pond used to
remind me in places of the tropical lakes we heard so much of after the
explorers got through the portentous continent, on account of the
growth of aquatic weeds, the quantity and extent of which no one would
credit who had not seen them. No wonder the explorers could not get
through the papyrus-grown rivers and lakes, for a boat could hardly be
forced through these. Acres upon acres of weeds covered the place, some
coming up from a depth of twelve feet. Some fish are chiefly on the
feed in the morning, and any one who has the courage to get up at five
will find them ravenous. We often visited the place a little after that
hour. A swim was generally the first thing, and I mention a swim
because it brings me to the way in which this mere pond illustrated the
great ocean which encircles the world. For it is well known that the
mighty ocean is belted with currents, the cold water of the Polar seas
seeking the warmth of the Equator, and the warm water of the Equator
floating--like the Gulf Stream--towards the Pole, floating because (I
think I am right) the warm water runs on the surface. The favourite
spot for swimming in our pond was in such a position that a copse cast
a wide piece of water there into deep shadow all the morning up till
ten o'clock at least. At six in the morning this did not matter, all
the water was of much the same temperature; having been exposed to the
night everywhere, it was cold of course.
But after ten the thing was different; by that time the hot reaper's
sun had warmed the surface of the open water on which the rays fell
almost from the moment the sun rose. Towards eleven o'clock the
difference in temperature was marked; but those who then came to bathe,
walking along the shore or rowing, dipped their hands in and found the
water warm, and anticipated that it would be equally so at the
bathing-place. So it was at the surface, for the warm water had begun
to flow in, and the cold water out, rather deeper, setting up, in fact,
an exact copy of the current of the ocean, the shadowed part by the
copse representing the Polar area. Directly any one began to swim he
found the difference, the legs went down into cold water, and in many
cases cramp ensued with alarming results and danger. Down to the chest
it was warm, quite warm, while the feet were very cold. Not much
imagination is needed to conceive the effect on persons not used to
rough bathing, and even a strong man might suffer. People insisted that
these chills and cramps were caused by cold springs rising at the
bottom, and could not be argued out of that belief. As a matter of fact
there was not a single spring over the whole extent of the bottom. That
part in particular was often dry, not from dry weather, but as the
water of the pond was drawn away. Let it rain as much as it would, no
spring ever broke up there. The cold currents were produced by the
shadow of the copse, and, had the trees been felled, would have
disappeared. That would have been like letting the sun of the Equator
shine on the Polar seas.
After a storm of wind the lee shore was marked with a dark-green line
of weeds and horse-tails, torn up and drifted across, which had been
thrown up by the little breakers beyond the usual level of the water. A
mass of other weeds and horse-tails, boughs and leaves, remained
floating; and now was seen a reversal of the habits of fishes. Every
one knows that fishes seek the windward shore in a breeze for the
insects blown in; but now, while the gale, though subsiding, still
rippled the water, the best place to fish was on the lee shore, just at
the edge of the drifted weeds. Various insects probably were there
washed away from the green raft to which they had clung. The water
being often lowered by drawing hatches, the level changed frequently;
and as storms of wind happened at different levels, so there were
several little raised beaches showing where the level had been, formed
of washed gravel and stones--the counterpart, in fact, of the raised
beaches of the geologists. When the water was almost all drawn off,
then there was a deep winding channel in the mud of the bottom, along
which trickled a little streamlet which fed the pond. The sun hardening
the mud, it was possible by-and-by to walk to the edge of the channel,
where it could be seen that the streamlet ran five or six feet deep
between precipitous banks of mud.
Near where the stream first entered the pond the deposit was much
deeper, for this five feet of alluvium had, in fact, been brought down
by one small brook in the course of little more than fifty years. The
pond had been formed fifty years previously, but already in so short a
period, geologically speaking, all that end was silting up, and the
little brook was making a delta, and a new land was rising from the
depths of the wave. This is exactly what has happened on an immensely
larger scale in the history of the earth, and any one who had seen it,
and knew the circumstances, could comprehend the enormous effects
produced in geological time by rivers like the Ganges, the Amazon, or
Nile. Going by with a gun so frequently, one could not help noticing
these things, and remembering them when reading Lyell's "Geology," or
Maury's book on the sea, or the innumerable treatises bearing on the
same interesting questions. Whether en route for the rabbit-ground, or
looking for water-fowl, or later for snipe, I never passed by without
finding something, often a fragment of fossil washed from the gravel or
sand by the last storm.
NATURE AND THE GAMEKEEPER
The changes in the fauna of the inland counties brought about by the
favour shown to certain species are very remarkable. The alterations
caused by the preservation of pheasants have reached their limit. No
further effects are likely to be produced, even if pheasant-preserving
should be carried to a still greater extent, which itself is
improbable. One creature at least, the pine-marten, has been
exterminated over Southern England, and is now only to be seen--in the
stuffed state--in museums. It may be roughly described as a large
tree-weasel, and was shot down on account of its habit of seizing
pheasants at roost. The polecat is also practically extinct, though
occasional specimens are said to occur. These two animals could not be
allowed to exist in any preserve. But it is in the list of birds that
the change is most striking. Eagles are gone: if one is seen it is a
stray from Scotland or Wales; and so are the buzzards, except from the
moors. Falcons are equally rare: the little merlin comes down from the
north now and then, but the peregrine falcon as a resident or regular
visitor is extinct. The hen-harrier is still shot at intervals; but the
large hawks have ceased out of the daily life, as it were, of woods and
fields. Horned owls are becoming rare; even the barn-owl has all but
disappeared from some districts, and the wood-owl is local. The raven
is extinct--quite put out. The birds are said to exist near the
sea-coast; but it is certain that any one may walk over inland country
for years without seeing one. These, being all more or less birds of
prey, could not but be excluded from pheasant-covers. All these birds,
however, would probably resume their ancient habitations in the course
of five-and-twenty years if permitted to do so. They exist plentifully
at no great distance--judged as such strong flyers judge distance; and
if they found that they were unmolested they would soon come back from
the extremities of the land.
But even more remarkable than the list of birds driven away is the list
of those creatures, birds and animals, which have stood their ground in
spite of traps, guns, and dogs. Stoats and weasels are always shot when
seen, they are frequently trapped, and in every manner hunted to the
death and their litters destroyed--the last the most effectual method
of extermination. But in spite of the unceasing enmity directed against
them, stoat and weasel remain common. They still take their share of
game, both winged and ground. Stoat and weasel will not be killed out.
As they are both defenceless creatures, and not even swift of foot,
being easily overtaken in the open, their persistent continuance is
curious. If any reason can be assigned for it, it must be because they
spend much of their time in buries, where they are comparatively safe,
and because they do not confine themselves to woods, but roam
cornfields and meadows. Certainly, if man has tried to exterminate any
creature, he has tried his hardest to get rid of these two, and has
failed. It is even questionable whether their numbers show any
appreciable diminution. Kept down to the utmost in one place, they
flourish in another. Kestrel and sparrowhawk form a parallel among
winged creatures. These two hawks have been shot, trapped, and their
eggs destroyed unsparingly: they remain numerous just the same. Neither
of them choose inaccessible places for their eyries; neither of them
rear large broods. The sparrowhawk makes a nest in a tree, often in
firs; the kestrel lays in old rooks', crows', or magpies' nests. Both
the parents are often shot on or near the nest, and the eggs broken.
Sometimes the young are permitted to grow large enough to fly, and are
then shot down after the manner of rook-shooting. Nevertheless kestrels
are common, and sparrowhawks, if not quite so numerous, are in no
degree uncommon. Perhaps the places of those killed are supplied by
birds from the great woods, moors, and mountains of the north.
A third instance is the crow. Hated by all gamekeepers, and sportsmen,
by farmers, and every one who has anything to do with country life, the
crow survives. Cruel tyrant as he is to every creature smaller than
himself, not a voice is raised in his favour. Yet crows exist in
considerable numbers. Shot off in some places, they are recruited again
from others where there is less game preservation. The case of the
crow, however, is less striking than that of the two hawks; because the
crow is a cosmopolitan bird, and if every specimen in the British Isles
were destroyed to-day, there would be an influx from abroad in a very
short time. The crow is, too, partly a sea-coast feeder, and so
escapes. Still, to any one who knows how determined is the hostility to
his race shown by all country people, his existence in any number must
be considered remarkable. His more powerful congener the raven, as has
been pointed out, is practically extinct in southern counties, and no
longer attacks the shepherd's weakly lambs. Why, then, does the crow
live on? Wherever a pair of ravens do exist the landowner generally
preserves them now, as interesting representatives of old times. They
are taken care of; people go to see them; the appearance of eggs in the
nest is recorded. But the raven does not multiply. Barn-owls live on,
though not in all districts. Influenced by the remonstrance of
naturalists, many gentlemen have stopped the destruction of owls; but a
custom once established is not easily put an end to.
Jays and magpies have also been subjected to a bitter warfare of
extermination. Magpies are quite shot off some places; in others they
exist sparingly; here and there they may be found in fair numbers.
Occasionally their nests are preserved--indeed, the growing tendency is
to spare. Still, they have been shot off rigorously, and have survived
it. So have jays. In large woods--particularly where there is much
fir--jays are so numerous that to destroy them seems almost impossible.
Another bird that has defied the gun and trap is the green woodpecker,
which used to be killed for alleged destruction of timber. Woodpeckers
are not now so ceaselessly killed, though the old system of slaying
them is common enough. They have defied not only gun and trap, but the
cunning noose placed at the mouth of their holes.
Twenty creatures, furred and feathered, have undergone severe
persecution since the extension of pheasant-covers, and of these the
first nine have more or less succumbed--namely, pine-marten, polecat,
eagle, buzzard, falcon, kite, horned owl, harrier, and raven. The
remaining eleven have survived--namely, stoat, weasel, rat, crow,
kestrel, sparrowhawk, brown and barn owl, jay, magpie, and woodpecker.
Pheasants of themselves are not responsible for all this warfare and
all these changes; but the pheasant-cover means more than pheasants, or
rather has done. Rabbits required even more protection from furred
enemies; the head of rabbits kept up in many places practically paid
the keeper's wages. This warfare in its fiercest form may be roughly
said to be coeval with the invention of the percussion gun, and to have
raged now for over half a century. The resistance, therefore, of the
various species has been fairly tested, and we may reasonably conclude
that no further disappearance will take place, unless by the
destruction of woods themselves. One new bird only has been introduced
into England since the pheasant--the red-legged partridge which seems
to be fairly established in some districts, not to the entire
satisfaction of sportsmen. One new bird has also been introduced into
Scotland--in this case a re-introduction. The magnificent capercailzie
is now flourishing again in the north, to the honour of those who
laboured for its restoration. In these notes I have not included
attempts at acclimatisation, as that of the wild turkey from North
America, which has partly succeeded. Beavers, too, have been induced to
resume possession of their ancient streams under careful supervision,
but they are outside present consideration. While England has thus lost
some species and suffered a diminution of several, other countries have
been supplied from our streams and woods and hedgerows. England has
sent the sparrow to the United States and Australia; also the
nightingale, rabbit, salmon, trout, and sweet-briar.
It is quite open to argument that pheasant-covers have saved as well as
destroyed. Wood-pigeons could scarcely exist in such numbers without
the quiet of preserved woods to breed in; nor could squirrels. Nor can
the rarity of such birds as the little bearded tit be charged on game.
The great bustard, the crane, and bittern have been driven away by
cultivation. The crane, possibly, has deserted us wilfully; since
civilisation in other countries has not destroyed it. And then the
fashion of making natural history collections has much extended of
recent years: so much so, that many blame too ardent collectors for the
increasing rarity of birds like the crossbill, waxwing, hoopoe, golden
oriole, and others which seem to have once visited this country more
commonly than at present.
THE SACRIFICE TO TROUT
How much the breeding of pheasants has told upon the existence of other
creatures in fur and feathers I have already shown; and much the same
thing is true of the preservation of trout. There is this difference,
however: that while the pheasant has now produced its utmost effect,
the alterations due to trout are increasing. Trout are now so highly
and so widely preserved that the effect cannot but be felt. Their
preservation in the numbers now considered necessary entails the
destruction of some and the banishment of other creatures. The most
important of these is the otter. Guns, dogs, traps set under water so
as not to be scented; all modes of attack are pressed into the service,
and it is not often that he escapes. When traces of an otter were
found, a little while since, in the Kennet--he had left his mark on the
back of a trout--the fact was recorded with as much anxiety as if a
veritable wolf had appeared. With such animosity has the otter been
hunted that he is becoming one of the rarest of wild animals here in
the south. He is practically extinct on the majority of southern
streams, and has been almost beaten off the Thames itself. But the
otter is not likely to be exterminated in the sense that the wolf has
been. Otters will be found elsewhere in England long after the last of
them has disappeared from the south. Next the pike must be ousted from
trout-streams. Special nets have been invented by which pike can be
routed from their strongholds. Much hunting about quickens the
intelligence of the pike to such a degree that he cannot be secured in
the ordinary manner; he baffles the net by keeping close to the bank,
behind stones, or by retiring to holes under roots. Perch have to go as
well as pike; and then comes the turn of birds.
Herons, kingfishers, moorhens, coots, grebes, ducks, teal, various
divers, are all proscribed on behalf of trout. Herons are regarded as
most injurious to a fishery. As was observed a century ago, a single
heron will soon empty a pond or a stretch of brook. As their long necks
give them easy command of a wide radius in spying round them, it is
rather difficult to shoot them with a shot-gun; but with the small-bore
rifles now made no heron is safe. They are generally shot early in the
morning. Were it not for the fact that herons nest like rooks, and that
heronries are valued appurtenances in parks, they would soon become
scarce. Kingfishers prey on smaller fish, but are believed to eat
almost as many as herons. Kingfishers resort in numbers to trout
nurseries, which are as traps for them: and there they are more than
decimated. Owls are known to take fish occasionally, and are therefore
shot. The greatest loss sustained in fisheries takes place in the
spawning season, and again when the fry are about. Some students of
fish-life believe that almost all wild-fowl will swallow the ova and
fry of trout. It must be understood that I am not here entering into
the question whether all these are really so injurious; I am merely
giving a list of the "dogs with a bad name." Moorhens and coots are
especially disliked because they are on or near the water day and
night, and can clear off large quantities of fry. Grebes (di-dappers or
dabchicks) are similar in habit, but less destructive because fewer.
Ducks are ravenous devourers; teal are equally hated. The various
divers which occasionally visit the streams are also guilty. Lastly,
the swan is a well-known trout-pirate. Besides these, the two kinds of
rat--land and water--have a black mark against them. Otter, pike,
perch, heron, kingfisher, owl, moorhen, coot, grebe, diver, wild-duck,
swan, teal, dipper, land-rat, and water-rat--altogether sixteen
creatures--are killed in order that one may flourish. Although none of
these, even in the south of England--except the otter--has yet been
excluded, the majority of them are so thinned down as to be rarely seen
unless carefully sought.
To go through the list: otters are practically excluded; the pike is
banished from trout streams but is plentiful in others; so too with
perch; herons, much reduced in numbers; owls, reduced; kingfishers,
growing scarce; coots, much less numerous because not permitted to
nest; grebes, reduced; wild-duck, seldom seen in summer, because not
permitted to nest; teal, same; swan, not permitted on fisheries unless
ancient rights protect it; divers, never numerous, now scarcer;
moorhens, still fairly plentiful because their ranks are constantly
supplied from moats and ponds where they breed under semi-domestic
conditions. The draining of marsh-lands and levels began the exile of
wild-fowl; and now the increasing preservation of trout adds to the
difficulties under which these birds strive to retain a hold upon
inland waters. The Thames is too long and wide for complete exclusion;
but it is surprising how few moorhens even are to be seen along the
river. Lesser rivers are still more empty, as it were, of life. The
great osier-beds still give shelter to some, but not nearly so many as
formerly. Up towards the spring-heads, where the feeders are mere
runlets, the scarcity of wild-fowl has long been noticed. Hardly a
wild-duck is now seen; one or two moorhens or a dabchick seem all.
Coots have quite disappeared in some places: they are shot on ponds,
having an ill reputation for the destruction of the fry of coarse or
pond fish, as well as of trout. Not all these changes, indeed, are
attributable to trout alone; but the trout holds a sort of official
position and leads the van. Other southern rivers, with the exception
of the Thames, are for the most part easily preserved.