CHAPTER XIV.

Seaweeds, by W. H. Grattann 195

Index 209

COLLECTING AND PRESERVING.

I.

GEOLOGICAL SPECIMENS.

By J. E. Taylor, F.L.S., F.G.S.

The great end of natural-history reading should be the development of

a love for the objects dwelt upon, and a desire to know more about

them. This can only be brought about by such practical acquaintance as

collecting and preserving them induces. At the same time we should be

sorry to see our young readers degenerate into mere collectors! It is

a great mistake to suppose, that because you have a full cabinet of

butterflies, moths, or beetles, therefore you are a good entomologist;

or that you may lay claim to a distinguished position as a geologist,

on account of drawers full of fossils and minerals. But this is a

mistake into which young naturalists frequently fall. We have seen

people with decided tastes for these studies never get beyond the

mere collecting. In that case they stand on a par with collectors of

postage-stamps. Nor is there much gained, even if you become acquainted

with English, or even Latin, names of natural-history objects. Many

people can catalogue them glibly, and never make a slip, and yet they

are practically ignorant of the _real_ knowledge which clusters round

each object, and its relation to others. Both Latin and English names

are useful and even necessary; but when you have simply learnt them,

and nothing more, how much wiser are you than before? No, let the

learning of names be the alphabet of science--the means by which you

can acquire a further knowledge of its mysteries. It would be just as

reasonable to set up for a literary man on the strength of accurately

knowing the alphabet, as to imagine you are a scientific man the moment

you have learned by heart a few scores of Latin names of plants,

fossils, or insects! Let each object represent so much knowledge, to

which the very mention of its name will immediately conjure up a crowd

of associations, relationships, and intimate acquaintances, and you

will then see what a store of real knowledge may be represented in a

carefully-arranged cabinet.

The heading of the present articles will have indicated the subject

chosen for brief treatment. We shall never forget the influence left

by reading such charming and suggestive books as Mantell's 'Medals

of Creation,' many years ago. Our mind had been prepared for the

enthusiasm which this little book produced by the perusal of Page's

'Introductory Text-book,' Phillips's 'Guide to Geology,' and several

others of a similar character. But we know of none which impels a

young student to go into the field and hammer out fossils for himself,

like Dr. Mantell's works. It is impossible not to catch the enthusiasm

of his nature. The first place we sallied out to, on our maiden

geological trip, was a heap of coal-shale, near a pit's mouth, in the

neighbourhood of Manchester. Our only weapon was a common house hammer,

for we then knew nothing of the technical forms which geological fancy

so often assumes. We had passed that same heap of coal-shale hundreds

of times, without suspecting it to be anything more than everybody else

considered it viz. a heap of rubbish. Why that particular spot was

selected, we cannot now say. We had seen illustrations of carboniferous

plants, shells, &c., in books, but we seemed to imagine their discovery

could only be effected by scientific men, and that it required a good

deal of knowledge before one should attempt to find them. Suffice it to

say we made the pilgrimage to the coal-shale heap in pretty much the

same mind as we should expect to get the head prize in some fine-art

drawing. The humble hammer was put into use, for a brief time without

much effect, as we could hardly have commenced on a more barren kind of

shale than we had chanced to hit upon. We imagined we could perceive

traces of leaves and slender stems, but were afraid to trust our eyes.

At any rate, there was nothing definite enough to raise our enthusiasm.

But by-and-by, as the hammer kept cleaving open the thin leaf-like

layers of shale, there appeared a large portion of that most beautiful

of all fossil plants, the _Lepidodendron_. Those who are familiar with

this object, with its lozenge-shaped markings running spirally up the

stem, will readily understand the outburst of pleasure which escaped

our lips! That was the first real fossil--a pleasure quite equivalent

to that of landing the first salmon. How carefully was it wrapped in

paper, and carried home in the pocket! There never was, and never will

be, another fossil in the world as beautiful as that insignificant

fragment of _Lepidodendron_.

We have seen a good many converts made to geology in a similar manner,

since first we laid open to the light this silent memorial of ages

which have passed away. Let a man have ever so slight acquaintance with

geology, and give him the chance of hammering out a fossil for himself,

and the odds are you thereby make him a geologist for life. There is

something almost romantic in the idea that you are looking for the

first time, and have yourself disentombed the remains of creatures

which probably lived scores of millions of years ago! We would strongly

advise our readers, therefore, not to fall into the error of supposing

that fossil-hunting belongs to highly-trained geologists. On the

contrary, it is by fossil-hunting alone that you can ever hope to be a

geologist yourself. Another mistake often made, is that of supposing

these rich and interesting geological localities are at a distance.

It seems so hard to suppose, after reading about typical sections,

&c., that under your very feet, in the fields where you have so often

played, there occur geological phenomena of no less interest. But it

is actually surprising what evidences of our earth's great antiquity,

in the shape of fossils, &c., may be studied and obtained in the most

out-of-the-way and insignificant places.

You say you have no _rocks_ in your neighbourhood--nothing but barren

sands, or beds of brick-earth or clay. Well, go to some section of

the latter, exposed, perhaps, in some tarn or stagnant pond in a

turnip-field. You examine the sides, and what do you see? Nothing, but

here and there a boulder-stone sticking out. Well, be content with

that. You said you had no rocks in your neighbourhood; how, then, has

that boulder, which is a rounded fragment of a rock broken off from

somewhere--how has it come there? Here is a poser at once. Examine

it, and you will perhaps see that its hard surface is polished or

scratched, and then you remember the theory of icebergs, and feel

astonished to think that you hold in your hand an undeniable proof

of the truth of that theory. Those very scratchings could have been

produced in no other way; that foreign fragment of a rock now only to

be found on some distant mountain-side could have been conveyed in no

other manner. Not content with the exterior examination, you break

the boulder-stone open, when you may chance to find it is a portion

of silurian, carboniferous or oolitic limestone, and that it contains

_fossils_ belonging to one of those formations. Here is a find--an

object with a double interest turning up where you never expected

to discover the slightest geological incident! You examine other

boulders, and find in them general evidences of ice-action in their

present re-deposition, and most instructive lessons as to the nature of

rocks of various formations, from the granite and trap series to the

fossiliferous deposits. In fact, there is no place like one of these

old boulder-pits for making oneself acquainted with petrology, or the

nature of stones.

[Illustration: Fig. 1. Pocket Trimming-hammer.]

[Illustration: Fig. 2. Duck's-head Hammer.]

And now, as to the _tools_ necessary to the young geologist. First

of all, he cannot take _too few_! It is a great mistake to imagine

that a full set of scientific instruments makes a scientific man.

The following hammers, intended for different purposes, ought to be

procured. Fig. 1 is an exceedingly useful weapon, and one we commonly

use, to the exclusion of all others. It is handy for breaking off

fragments of rock for examination; and, if fossils be included in them,

for trimming the specimens for cabinet purposes. As a rule, however,

field geologists are always divided over the merits of their hammers,

some preferring one shape and some another. Fig. 2 is generally

used for breaking up hard rocks, for which the bevel-shaped head is

peculiarly adapted. It is usually much heavier than the rest, and is

seldom used except for specific purposes. If our readers are inclined

to study sections of boulder clay, and wish to extract the rounded

and angular boulder from its stiff matrix, they cannot do better than

use a hammer like Fig. 3. This is sometimes called the "Platypus"

pick. Both ends can be used, and the pick end is also good for working

on soft rocks, like chalk. A little practice in the field will teach

the student how to use these tools, and when, much better than we can

describe on paper. The hammers can be obtained from any Scientific

instrument manufacturer, or from any of the dealers in geological

specimens. We have found that the best hammers for usage, however, were

to be made out of an old file, softened and well welded, rolled, and

then hammered into a solid mass. If properly tempered a hammer made in

this fashion will last you your life.

[Illustration: Fig. 3. "Platypus" Pick for clay, &c.]

So much for the rougher weapons of geological strife. Next, be sure

and provide yourself with _thick-soled_ shoes or boots. Geological

study will take you into a good many queer places, wet and dry, rough

and smooth, and it is absolutely necessary to be prepared for the

worst. Patent leather boots and kid gloves are rarely worn by practical

geologists. And we have heard it remarked at the British Association

meetings, that they could always tell which members belonged to the

Geological Section by their _thick-soled_ boots. A similar remark

applies to clothes. The student need not dress for the quarry as he

would for the dining room. Good, strong, serviceable material ought to

be their basis.

Secondly, as to the student's comforts and necessaries. These are

generally the last thing an ardent naturalist thinks about. For

ourselves, however, we give him ample leave to provide himself with

pipe and tobacco, should his tastes lie in that direction. _We_ never

enjoyed a pipe half so much as when solitarily disinterring organic

remains which had slumbered in the heart of the rock for myriads of

ages. As to the _beer_, we can vouch that it never tastes anything like

so good as during a geological excursion.

We have found the leathern bags sold for school-book purposes to be

as handy to deposit specimens in, during a journey, as anything else.

They have the merit of being cheap, are strong, and easily carried. If

not large enough, then get a strong, coarse linen haversack, like that

worn by volunteers on a field day. Paper, cotton _wadding_ (not wool),

sawdust for fragments of larger fossils, intended to be repaired

at home, wooden pill-boxes, and a few boxes, which may be obtained

from any practical naturalist, with _glass tops_, are sufficient

"stock-in-trade" for the young geologist. The wadding does not adhere

to the specimens as wool does, and the glass-topped boxes are useful,

as it is not then necessary to open a box and disinter a delicate

fossil from its matrix in order to look at it. Add a good strong pocket

lens, such as may be bought for half-a-crown, and your equipment will

be complete. If you intend to study any particular district, get the

sheets published by the Geological Survey. These will give you, on a

large scale, the minute geology of the neighbourhood, the succession

of rocks, faults, outcrops, &c. In fact, you may save yourself a world

of trouble by thus preparing yourself a week or so before you make

your geological excursion. The pith of these remarks applies with

equal force if you purpose, first of all, to examine the neighbourhood

in which you live. Don't do so until you have read all that has been

written about it, and examined all the available maps and sections.

This advice however, applies more particularly to _geological_

examination of strata. If you are bent chiefly on _palæontological_

investigation, that is, on the study of _fossils_, perhaps it will be

best just to read any published remarks you may have access to, and

then boldly take the field for yourself. In addition to a hammer, we

would advise the young student to take a good narrow-pointed steel

chisel, and a putty-knife. The former is very useful for working round,

and eventually obtaining, any fossil that may have been weathered into

relief. The latter is equally serviceable for clayey rocks or shales.

In arranging the spoils of these excursions for the cabinet, a little

care and taste are required. We will suppose you to possess one of

those many-drawered cabinets which can now be obtained so cheaply.

Begin at the bottom, so that the lowest drawers represent the

lowest-seated and oldest rocks, and the uppermost the most recent. If

possible, have an _additional_ cabinet for _local_ geology, and never

forget that the first duty of a collector is to have his own district

well represented! A compass of a few miles will, in most cases,

enable him to get a store of fossils or minerals which cannot well be

obtained elsewhere. Supposing he is desirous of having the geological

systems well represented, he can always do so by the insertion of such

paragraphs as those which appear in the Exchange columns of 'Science

Gossip.' It is by well and thoroughly working separate localities in

this fashion that the science of geology is best advanced. You hear

a good deal about the "missing links," and it is an accepted fact

that we, perhaps, do not know a tithe of the organic remains that

formerly enjoyed life. Who knows, therefore, but that if you exhaust

your district by the assiduous collection of fossils, you may not come

across such new forms as may settle many moot points in ancient and

modern natural history? The genuine love of geological study is always

pretty fairly manifested in a student's cabinet. Science, like charity,

begins at home. It impels a man to seek and explain that which is

nearest to him, before he attempts the elucidation of what really lies

in another man's territory!

It is not necessary that the student should waste time in the field

about naming or trying to remember the names of fossils, &c., on the

spot. That can be best done at home, and the pleasure of "collecting"

can thus be spun to its longest length. Box them, pack them well (or

all your labour is lost), and name them at home. Or supposing you do

not possess books which can assist you in nomenclature, carry your

fossils or minerals, just as you found them, to the nearest and best

local museum, where you will be sure to see the majority of them in

their proper places and with their proper names. Copy these, and when

you arrange your specimens in the cabinet, either get printed cards

with the following headings--

_Genus______________________________________

_Species____________________________________

_Formation__________________________________

_Locality___________________________________

(which can always be obtained at a cheap rate from the London dealers),

or else set to work and copy them yourself in a good plain hand, so

that there is no mistaking what you write. As far as possible, in

each drawer or drawers representing a geological formation, arrange

your specimens in natural-history order--the lowest organisms first,

gradually ascending to the higher. By doing so, you present geological

and zoological relationship, so that they can be taken in at a glance.

You further make yourself acquainted with the relations of the fossils

in a way you never would have done, had you been content to huddle

them together in any fashion, so that you had them all together.

Glass-topped boxes, again, are very useful in the cabinet, especially

for delicate or fragile fossils, as people are so ready to take them in

their hands when they are shown, little thinking how soon a cherished

rarity may be destroyed, never to be replaced. Pasteboard trays, made

of stiff green paper, squared by the student according to size, can

also be so arranged as that the drawer may be entirely filled, and so

the danger of shaking the contents about may be removed. Each tray of

fossils ought to have the above-mentioned label fastened down in such a

way as that it cannot by accident get changed by removal.

The spring and summer time are fast approaching, and we know of nothing

that will so much assist in their rational enjoyment as the adoption

of some study in natural science. Botany, entomology, ornithology,

geology, are all health-affording, nature-loving pursuits. We have

passed some of the very happiest moments of our lives in solitary

quarries, or on green hill-sides,

"The world forgetting, by the world forgot!"

There, amid the wreck of former creations, and with the glory of

the present one around us, we have yielded to the delicious sense

of reverie, such as can only be begotten under such circumstances.

The shady side of the quarry has screened us from solar heat, and,

whilst the air has been melodious with a thousand voices, we have made

personal acquaintance with the numerous objects of God's creation,

animals and plants. How apt are the thoughts of the poet Crabbe, and

how well do they convey the feeling of the young geologist in such

places:

"It is a lonely place, and at the side

Rises a mountain rock in rugged pride;

And in that rock are shapes of shells, and forms

Of creatures in old worlds, and nameless worms;

Whole generations lived and died, ere man,

A worm of other class, to crawl began."

II.

BONES.

By Edward Fentone Elwin, Caius College.

Why is it that the students of Osteology are so few in number? It is

a branch of science which offers a wide field for original research,

and one in which at every step one's interest must get more and more

engrossed. It is a branch of science in which a sufficient portion

of its elements may be rapidly learned, in order to set the student

fairly on his road. The barriers which surround it are few: that is to

say, the _technical_ barriers are few. Many people who want to occupy

themselves with scientific study are deterred, because of the feeling

that there are so many laborious preliminaries to be gone through

before they can begin to take any real pleasure in the pursuit. Now,

in Osteology it is true that a wide and really almost unexplored field

lies open before one, but the equipments necessary to fit one for

one's journey are easily attained. The first step is to get thoroughly

acquainted with some one typical specimen, as a standard of comparison

for all future work. It matters little what species is taken;

whichever comes most convenient. Some familiar mammal of fair size is

the best. The dog is as good as any, and easy to obtain. There ought

never to be any real difficulty in getting a suitable specimen. If

expense is no object, the simplest way is to get a preparation, set up

so as readily to take to pieces, at any of the bone-preservers' shops

in London. One like this costs only a moderate sum, and is, of course,

the least trouble, although the manner in which professionals prepare

their bones is not altogether satisfactory. But we may regard this

as something in the light of a luxury; and it is not hard to prepare

one's own specimens, provided we do not mind a little manipulation with

unsavoury objects. I have given hints as to the best method by which

this may be done in various pages of 'Science-Gossip.'[A] Of course,

as one's work gets on, one needs further specimens, but I do not think

that anyone who keeps his eyes open need be at a loss in this matter.

I have picked up several admirable bones ready cleaned by the wind and

weather, and many slightly damaged ones may be got at naturalists'

shops for small sums, which are almost as good as the perfect ones for

an observer's purposes. Even single and isolated bones are often very

instructive.

[A] 'Science-Gossip' for 1873, p. 39; for 1874, p. 226.

But the first main point is that of getting the forms, peculiarities,

names, and positions of the bones of one skeleton fully impressed on

the student's mind. As to the books which are to help him to do this,

it is very hard to know what to recommend. As far as I know, there is

no really luminous book on osteology in existence. So far as learning

the names and peculiarities of the bones, nothing could be better

or more to the purpose than Flower's 'Osteology of the Mammalia';

but this treats only of one class, and does not get beyond technical

description. The first and second volumes of Owen's 'Comparative

Anatomy of Vertebrates' fill the gap the best of any, and yet these are

by no means what we really want. There is a good deal about bones in

Huxley's 'Anatomy of Vertebrated Animals,' but in such a fragmentary

and scattered form as to be of little use. The fact is, the field is

yet open for an Osteological Manual. Much has been written on the

subject. Pages of precise and accurate description, beautiful and

artistic sheets of plates of bones without number, can be seen in

any scientific library. But this is only half the matter. We want

to advance a step farther. It is the relation between structure and

function which needs working out.

When a new bone finds its way into the student's hands, he observes

some peculiarity in shape or structure in which it differs from the

bones he is already acquainted with; the question naturally occurs to

him, Why does this bone assume one shape in one animal, and in another

is modified into a different form? He may look in vain in his books for

an answer to his query. And yet it is points like these which, in my

opinion, make up the true science of Osteology. It is through careful,

constant, and intelligent observation, that these enigmas are to be

solved. Observation, indoors and out; close attention to the habits of

the animal in question, on the one hand, and careful consideration of

its anatomical peculiarities, on the other.

Let me give an instance of this, first of all taking it as an axiom

that everything has been done with a purpose. Take, then, the skull

of a crocodile. What do we find? The orbits of the eyes, the nasal

orifice, the passages leading to the auditory apparatus, all situated

on a plane, along the upper flattened surface of the head. What,

then, is the cause of this? Palpably to allow the crocodile to remain

submerged in the water, with its nose, eyes, and ears just above the

surface to warn him of the approach of enemies or prey, and the rest of

his carcase securely hidden beneath the waters.

Take another instance. Observe the habits of a mole. With what

rapidity it burrows underground, shovelling away the earth with its

fore feet. Then look at its skeleton. We find just what we should

have expected. The bones of its fore legs of astounding strength and

breadth, furnished with deep grooves, which, together with its sternum

or breastbone, which is furnished with a keel almost like that of the

sternum of a bird, afford attachment to the powerful muscles. Its hind

legs, being simply needed for locomotion, are of the normal size. So,

also, with the birds. The size of the keel of the sternum varies in

proportion to the powers of flight which each species requires, for it

is to the broad surfaces of the sternum that the great wing-muscles are

attached. Take the skeleton of a hummingbird, which spends its life

almost upon the wing. We find there a keel of so vast a size, that the

remainder of the skeleton is reduced to insignificance in comparison.

Of course, these instances that I have given are all of the most

obvious nature, but they serve to show my meaning; and the same line of

reasoning can, I am sure, be extended to all the more minute points in

osteological structure.

In these researches, one is soon struck by the fact that in the

modifications in various bones, or sets of bones, in accordance with

the habits of each animal, the original type is never departed from,

only modified. See, for example, the paddle of a whale. More like the

fin of a fish in general appearance, and yet the same set of bones

which are found in the arm of a man, are again found in an adapted form

in the paddle of the whale. So, also, the fore leg of a horse preserves

the same general plan. What is generally called its knee is in reality

its wrist. It is there that we find the little group of bones which

forms the carpus. All below it answers to our hand--a hand consisting

of one finger.

Take even a wider instance. Compare the arm of a man and the wing

of a bird. Still greater adaptations have taken place, and yet the

plan remains the same. We still find the clavicle or collar-bone, the

scapula or shoulder-blade, the humerus, ulna, and radius, answering to

the same bones of our arm, a small carpus or wrist, and finally the

phalanges or fingers, simplified and lengthened and anchylosed to form

but one series of bone, with the exception of a rudimentary thumb. It

is not uncommon to find a rudimentary bone like this which in some

allied species is fully developed. The leg of the horse again gives us

a very striking example of this. There is, so to speak, only a single

finger, but we find, one on each side of this single finger, two small

bones, commonly known only as splint-bones. These are the rudimentary

traces of the same finger-bones, which in the rhinoceros are fully

developed.

Now Osteology abounds in wonderful forms of structure like these. It

is a study pregnant with pleasurable results, and is a real profitable

study, and one in which each fresh student may do real solid work.

It is all the little facts observed by naturalists from time to

time all over the world, which on being collected together form the

nucleus of knowledge; for indeed all the scientific knowledge which

we possess is little more than a nucleus, with which we are supplied.

The mere collector of curious objects in no way furthers science.

Plenty of people have amassed beautiful collections of insects

interesting in their way, but of very transient interest if it goes no

farther. The collector possibly knows nothing at all of the wonderful

internal structure of the animals he preserves. His insects are to

him simply a mosaic--a collection of pretty works of art. So also

the shell-collector--for I cannot call such a one as I describe a

conchologist--has often, I believe, the most vague ideas of what kind

of animals they were that dwelt in the cases he so carefully treasures,

and his collection is consequently of a dubious worth to him. Now,

to those who study the anatomy of the mollusc as well as its shell,

such a collection is full of the deepest interest. He has learnt

from his dissections that the habits of every variety of mollusc are

accompanied by a variety of structure, which occasions a variety in

the shape of the case which envelopes it. It all blends together, and

forms a harmonious whole. With a real love for science, as doubtless

some of these collectors have, one is sorry to see so much time and

money wasted on a pursuit which in their hands yields no fruit of any

worth. The work of the mere collector can only be classed with that

of the compiler of a stamp-album. Whereas, collections of natural

objects, combined with intelligent study, are invaluable and almost

indispensable to the naturalist.

In Mr. Chivers's note on Preserving Animals, No. 117 of

'Science-Gossip,' the following passage occurs:--"The skeleton must

be put in an airy place to dry, but not in the sun or near the fire,

as that will turn the bones a bad colour." I cannot comprehend how

this idea should have arisen. Perhaps the most indispensable assistant

to the skeleton preparer is that very sun which Mr. Chivers warns

him against. The bleaching power of the rays of a hot summer sun is

astounding, and bones of the most inferior colour can rapidly be turned

to a beautiful white by this means. It is for want of time and care in

following out this method that the professional skeleton preparers in

London resort to the aid of lime, which, although it makes them white,

is terribly detrimental to the bones themselves. In a smoky city like

London, the principle of sun-bleaching would be hard to follow; but so

great is its value, that more than once I have had valuable specimens

sent down to me in the country, by a comparative anatomist in London,

to undergo a course of sun-bleaching; and a specimen which I have

received stained and blotched, I have returned of a beautiful uniform

white, a change entirely due to that sun which we are told to beware of.

The question, How are skeletons to be prepared? is one which is

repeatedly asked. People desire a method by which with little trouble

the flesh may be removed from a specimen, and a beautiful skeleton of

ivory whiteness left standing in its natural position. I can assure all

such inquirers that this cannot be accomplished by any method at all.

The art of preparing bones is a long, elaborate, and difficult one, and

he who wishes to become a proficient in it must be alike regardless to

the most unpleasant odours, and to handling the most repulsive objects.

Mr. Chivers's receipt for the maceration of specimens is about the best

which one could have, only I should not advise so frequent a change

of the water. What is needed is as rapid a decomposition of the flesh

as is possible, and then the cleaning of the skeleton just before the

harder ligaments have also dissolved. But this requires very careful

watching, and with the utmost pains it is almost impossible to get a

skeleton entirely connected by its own ligaments.

Another point which must be taken into consideration is this: What use

is to be made of the specimens after they are prepared? Are they for

purposes of real study, or simply as curious objects to look at? If the

latter is the purpose, I must confess I do not think they are worth the

trouble of preparing. If the former is the object for which they are

intended, then I think no care or pains are thrown away. But for the

real student of Osteology the separated bones, as a rule, are far more

valuable than those which are connected. He needs one or two set up

for purposes of reference, but the great bulk of his specimens should

be separate bones. Osteology is one of the most delightful branches

of comparative anatomy, and one not very hard to master. Let anyone

try the experiment by getting together a few bones--and those from the

rabbit or the partridge we have had for dinner are by no means to be

despised--and then, by purchasing Flower's 'Osteology of the Mammalia,'

which is a cheap and first-rate book, he will learn what the study

of the skeleton really is. And then let him be on the look-out for

specimens of all kinds on all occasions, bringing home all suitable

objects he meets with in his walks, however unsavoury they may be, and

he will be astonished to find how many specimens he will get together

in the course of a year. I have now myself upwards of seventy skulls of

various kinds, with often the rest of the skeleton as well, the greater

part of which were gradually collected, by keeping constantly on the

watch for them, within a year and a half.

III.

BIRDS' EGGS.

By Thomas Southwell, F.Z.S., etc.

I can imagine no branch of natural history more _fascinating_ in its

nature, or more calculated to attract the attention of the young,

than the study of the nests and eggs of birds; the beauty of the

structure of the one, and of the form and colour of the others, cannot

fail to excite wonder and admiration; and the interest thus excited,

if rightly directed, may, and indeed has, in many instances, led to

the development of that passionate love for all nature's works, that

careful and patient spirit of investigation, and that deep love for

truth which should all be characteristics of the true naturalist.

Who can look back upon the days, perhaps long passed away, when as a

school-boy he wandered through the woods and fields, almost every step

unfolding to him some new wonder, some fresh beauty--glimpses of a

world of wonders only waiting to be explored--who can look back to such

a time without feeling that in those wanderings there dawned upon his

mind a source of happiness which in its purity and intensity ranks

high amongst those earthly pleasures we are permitted to enjoy, and

which has influenced him for good in all the changes which have since

come upon him, lightening the captivity of the sick room, and adding

fresh brightness to the enjoyments of health.

Between the true naturalist and the mere "collector" there is a wide

gap, and I trust that none for whom I am writing will allow themselves

to drift into the latter class; the incalculable mischief wrought by

those who assist in the extermination of rare and local species by

buying up every egg of a certain species which can be obtained, for

the mere purpose of exchange, cannot be too much deprecated, and I

hope that none of my readers will be so guilty; to them the pleasures

of watching the nesting habits of the bird, the diligent search and

the successful find are unknown; the eggs in such a cabinet are mere

egg-shells, and not objects pregnant with interest, recalling many a

happy ramble, and many a hardly-earned reward in the discovery of facts

and habits before unknown. Every naturalist must be more or less a

collector, but the naturalist should always be careful of drifting into

the collector, his note-book and his telescope should be his constant

and harmless companions.

When the writer first commenced his collection, the mode of preparing

the specimens for the cabinet was very rude indeed, and the method of

arranging equally bad; he is sorry to say the popular books upon the

subject which he has seen do not present any very great improvement; in

giving the results of his own experience, and the plan pursued by the

most distinguished oologists of the day, who have kindly allowed him to

explain the methods they adopt, he will, he trusts, save not only much

useless labour, but many valuable specimens.

Before saying a word as to preparing specimens for the cabinet, I wish

to impress upon the young oologist the absolute necessity for using

the greatest care and diligence in order satisfactorily to identify,

beyond possibility of doubt, every specimen, before he admits it to

his collection. Without such precautions, what might otherwise be

a valuable collection is absolutely worthless; and it is better to

have a small collection of authentic specimens than a much larger

one, the history of which is not perfectly satisfactory; in fact, it

is a good rule to banish from the cabinet every egg which is open

to the slightest doubt. There are some eggs which, when mixed, the

most experienced oologist will find it impossible to separate with

certainty, and which cannot be identified when once they are removed

from the nest.

The difficulties in the way of authentication are by no means slight,

but space will not allow me to dwell upon them; the most ready means,

however, is that of watching the old bird to the nest, although even

in this, as the collector will find by experience, there is a certain

liability to error. In collecting abroad it will be found absolutely

necessary (however reluctant we may be to sacrifice life) to procure

one of the parents with the nest and eggs. As we are writing for

beginners at home, we trust such a measure will rarely be necessary;

but that an accurate knowledge of the appearance of the bird, its

nesting habits, the situation, and the materials of which the nest is

composed, will be found amply sufficient to identify the eggs of our

familiar birds. This knowledge of course is only to be obtained by

patient and long observation; but it is just by such means that the

student obtains the practical insight into the habits and peculiarities

of the objects of his study, together with the careful and exact method

of recording his observations, which eventually enables him to take his

place amongst the more severely scientific naturalists whom he desires

to emulate.

I will first describe the tools required, and then proceed to the mode

of using them.

[Illustration: Fig. 4. Fig. 5. Drills for perforating Birds' Eggs.]

Figs. 4 and 5 are drills used for making the hole in the side of the

egg, from which the contents are discharged by means of the blowpipe,

Fig. 6. Fig. 4 has a steel point, brass ferrule, and ebony handle, and

may be used for eggs up to the size of the wood-pigeon's; Fig. 5 is

all steel, the handle octagonal, to give a firm hold to the fingers in

turning it, and may be used for eggs from the size of the wood-pigeon's

upwards. The points of both are finely cut like the teeth of a file,

as shown in the woodcut. The blowpipe, Fig. 6, is about 5-1/2 inches

in length (measured along the curve), and is made of German silver,

which from its cleanliness, lightness, and freedom from corrosion, will

be found the most suitable: it should be light and tapering, and with

a ring at the upper end to prevent it from slipping out of the mouth

when used. A piece of thin wire, Fig. 7, should be kept in the tube

when not in use, to prevent it from becoming stopped up by any foreign

substance. A common jeweller's blowpipe may be used for large eggs,

such as those of gulls and ducks. Fig. 8 is a small glass bulb-tube,

which may be used for sucking out the contents of very delicate eggs,

and other purposes, which will be explained hereafter. The small drill

and blowpipe may be carried inside the cover of the note-books.

[Illustration: Fig. 6. German-silver Blowpipe.]

[Illustration: Fig. 7. Wire for unstopping ditto.]

[Illustration: Fig. 8. Glass Bulb-tube, for sucking eggs.]

The sooner a fresh egg is emptied of its contents after it is taken

from the nest the better. This should be done by making a hole in the

side with the drill (choosing the side which is least conspicuously

marked) by working it gently backwards and forwards between the

forefinger and thumb, and taking great care not to press too heavily,

or the egg will burst with the outward pressure of the drill: a very

small hole will generally be found sufficient. When this is done,

take the egg in the left hand with the hole _downwards_, introduce

the blowpipe, by blowing gently through which, the contents may soon

be forced out. Water should then be introduced by means of a syringe

or the bulb-tube, which may be filled and blown into the egg. After

shaking, blow the water out again by means of the blowpipe; repeat this

till the egg is free from any remains of the yolk or white: should

the egg not be quite fresh, it will require more washing. Care should

be taken to wet the surface of the egg as little as possible. After

washing the interior, lay the egg, with the hole downwards, on a pad of

blotting-paper to drain till it is quite dry. Should the eggs be much

incubated, I should recommend that the old birds be left to complete

their labour of love; but a valuable egg may be made available by

carefully cutting a piece out of the side, extracting the young one,

and, after replacing the piece of shell with strong gum-water, covering

the join with a slip of very thin silk-paper, which may be tinted so as

to resemble the egg, and will scarcely be noticed. This is a very rough

way of proceeding, however, compared with Professor Newton's plan of

gumming several thicknesses of fine paper over the side of the egg to

strengthen it, through which the hole is drilled: the young chick is

then cut into small pieces by means of suitable instruments, and the

pieces removed with others:[B] the paper is then damped and removed

from the egg.

[B] "Suggestions for forming Collections of Birds' Eggs." By Professor

Newton. Written for the Smithsonian Institution of Washington, and

republished by Newman, 9, Devonshire Street, Bishopsgate.

The old plan of making two holes in the side of the egg is very

objectionable: a hole at each end is still worse. Many eggs would be

completely spoiled by washing; none improved. There is no necessity

for washing at all, except such as are very filthy, and these eggs

(which you may be sure are not fresh) are not such as should be

willingly accepted as specimens: a _little_ dirt only adds to the

natural appearance of the egg; washing in most cases certainly does

not. Never use varnish to the shell; it imparts a gloss which is not

natural: all eggs should not have a polished appearance like those of

the Woodpecker. Should the yolk be dried to the side of the egg, a

solution of carbonate of soda should be introduced: let it remain till

the contents are softened, then blow out and wash well. Great care must

be taken not to allow the solution to come in contact with the outside

of the egg. Having blown the egg, and allowed the inside to become

quite dry, procure some thin silk-paper gummed on one side, and with a

harness-maker's punch cut out a number of little tickets suitable to

the size of the hole in the egg, moisten one of these, and place it

with the gum side downwards over the hole, so as to quite cover it;

cover the ticket with a coat of varnish, which will render it air-tight

and prevent its being affected by moisture. The egg thus treated will

have all the appearance of a perfect specimen, and if kept from the

light will suffer very little from fading.

The note-book has been mentioned. This should be a constant companion;

nothing should be left to memory. When an egg is taken, a temporary

pencil number should at once be placed upon it, and this number should

correspond with the number attached to an entry in the note-book,

describing the nest (if not removed), its situation, number of eggs,

day of month, and any other particular of interest. When the egg is

ready for the cabinet, as much of this information (certainly, name,

date, and locality) should be indelibly marked upon it as conveniently

can be done (neatly, of course, and on the under side); also the number

referring to the collector's general list of his collection, into

which the important parts of the entry from the note-book should be

copied. Never trust to gummed labels, which are always liable to come

off; by writing the necessary particulars upon the egg itself there

can be no confusion or mistake. Most collectors have their own plan of

cataloguing their collection. I have adopted the following, which I

find to answer very well. Obtain a blank paper book the size of common

letter-paper, rule a horizontal line across the centre of each page,

and make a complete list of British birds, placing only two names on

each page, one at the head of each division, prefixing a progressive

number to each name: this number is to agree with that marked on the

egg of the species named. Then follow the locality whence the egg came,

by whom taken (if not by myself), or how it came into my possession,

with any other particular worthy of note. With all eggs received in

exchange or otherwise, this note should, if possible, be obtained in

the handwriting of the person from whom they are received, and the

slip on which it is written be affixed in the book under the number.

When specimens of the eggs of the same species are obtained from

various localities, those from each locality should be distinguished by

a letter prefixed to the number. The plan will be better understood by

referring to the following extract:

62. Great Sedge-warbler (_Sylvia turtoides_, Meyer).

62. Received of ----, from the cabinet of Mr. ----.

a62. Taken by ----, a servant of ----, on the banks of the river

Tougreep, near Valkenswaard, in the south of Holland,

on the 9th of June, 1855. The birds may be heard a long

way off by their incessant "Kara, Kara, Kara." A few

years ago not one was to be found near Valkenswaard.

A. B----

b62. Bought at Antwerp in August, 1865. X/

* * * * *

118. Mealy Red-pole (_Fringilla borealis_, Tem.).

118. Nyborg, at the head of Mæsk Fjord (one of the two

branches into which Varanger Fjord divides), East

Finmark, Norway, July, 1855. The birds were very

plentiful, and only one species seen, which appears

quite identical with that which visits England every

winter.

C. D. E----

By means of these entries, and the corresponding number on the egg,

mistakes are impossible, and the name and history of each egg would be

quite as well known to a stranger as to the possessor. It needs not to

be said that this catalogue is replete with the deepest interest to

its compiler. In it he sees the record of many a holiday trip and many

a successful find. Some of the entries in my own register--the earliest

date back five-and-twenty years--are memorials of companions long since

dead, or separated by rolling oceans, but on whose early friendship it

is a pleasure to dwell.

Nothing can be more vexatious and disappointing than the receipt of a

box of valuable eggs in a smashed or injured condition from want of

care or knowledge of the proper method of packing. A simple method

is recommended by Professor Newton, which, from experience, I can

confidently recommend:--Roll each egg in tow, wool, or some elastic

material, and pack them closely in a stout box, leaving no vacant

place for them to shake; or a layer of soft material may be placed at

the bottom of the box, and upon it a layer of eggs, each one wrapped

loosely in old newspaper; upon this another layer of wool or moss, then

again eggs, and packing alternately until the box is quite full. Bran,

sawdust, &c., should never be used; and it should be ascertained that

the box is quite filled, so that no shaking or settlement can occur.

Almost every collector has his own plan for constructing his cabinet,

and displaying his collection. The beginner, if left to himself, will

find it a matter of no small difficulty, and many will be the changes

before he arrives at one at all satisfactory. Mr. Osbert Salvin has

invented a plan which I think as near perfection as it is possible

to arrive at, and through his kindness I am enabled to give a brief

description of it. In the first place, his cabinets are so constructed

that the drawers, of different depths, are interchangeable. This is

effected by placing the runners, which carry the drawers, at a fixed

distance from each other and making the depth of each drawer a multiple

of the distance between the runners. For example: if the runners are

three-quarters of an inch off each other, then let the drawers be

1-1/2, 2-1/4, 3, 3-3/4, 4-1/2, &c., inches deep. All these drawers

will be perfectly interchangeable, and a drawer deep enough to hold an

ostrich's egg can in a few moments be placed amongst those containing

warblers': every requirement of expansion and rearrangement will be

vastly facilitated, involving none of those radical changes so worrying

to a collector.[C] Mr. Salvin's plan of arranging the eggs is equally

simple, and admits of any amount of change with very little trouble.

Each drawer is divided longitudinally by thin slips of wood into three

or more parts, about 4 to 6 inches across, as may be convenient; a

number of sliding stages are then constructed of cardboard, by cutting

the cardboard half through, at exactly the width of the partition,

and bending the sides down to raise the stage to the required height.

A section of one of these stages will be seen in Fig. 9, and the

arrangement in the drawer at Fig. 10. A number of oval holes are then

to be cut by hand, or with a wadding-punch of suitable size (altered

in shape by hammering), and a thin layer of cotton-wool gummed on the

upper surface of the stage: the holes, of course, should be suitable

in size to the egg they are intended to receive. Between these stages

sliding partitions must be placed: these should be made of just

sufficient height that the horizontal part may fit closely on the wool,

as shown at Fig. 9. These partitions should be made of thin wood for

the upright part, along which a horizontal strip of cardboard is to be

fastened with glue, on which is to be placed a label bearing the name

of the species of egg displayed on the stage, as seen in Fig. 10. All

this will be better understood by referring to the figures.

[C] Of course, cabinets thus constructed will be found equally

convenient for collections of bird-skins, fossils, &c.

[Illustration: Fig. 9. Section of Sliding Stage.]

[Illustration: Fig. 10. Cabinet Drawer on Mr. Salvin's plan.]

Fig. 9 represents a longitudinal section of one of the stages in its

place, with the ends of the two next; 1, showing the cardboard stage;

2, the cotton-wool; 3, the sliding partition; and 4, the horizontal

slip of cardboard to carry the label.

Fig. 10 represents one of the drawers on Mr. Salvin's plan: it is

divided into three parts (1, 2, 3) by fixed partitions. No. 1 is

represented empty; No. 2 with the specimens arranged; No. 3 with two

stages and two of the movable partitions.

This may appear very complicated at first sight, but a few trials

will be sufficient to master the details, and the result will be very

beautiful if neatly carried out. The eggs are well shown, not liable to

fall out of their places, and it is very little trouble to alter the

arrangement, every part being movable. Each drawer should be covered by

a sheet of glass to exclude dust.

Mr. Salvin's cabinet is an excellent one for holding the nests of

birds, which should be removed with as little damage as possible, and

placed in the drawers, under cover of glass. Great care must be taken

to keep them free from moth, to which they are very liable; for this

purpose they should be dressed with the solution of corrosive sublimate.

The young collector should remember that what is worth doing at all is

worth doing well, and that the care bestowed upon his cabinet is not

labour in vain; habits of exactness and precision of arrangement are

absolutely necessary if he would make the best use of the materials

which come in his way; and, above all, never let him degenerate into

the mere collector: his collection should be for use, and not merely

ornamental.

IV.

BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS.

By Dr. Henry Knaggs.

The collector of Lepidoptera who aspires to success must read the

book of nature as he runs. If he have not the wit to note and turn to

account each little fact which may come under his observation, neither

he nor science will be the better for his collecting. He should,

whenever he makes a capture, _know the reason why_, or he will never

make a successful hunter. He should be ever on the alert: his motto,

_nunquam dormio_.

Some collect for profit, others for pastime; but the aim of our

readers, I take it, is not only to acquire a collection of really

good specimens, but also at the same time to improve their minds; and

the best way of effecting this purpose is to hunt the perfect insect,

not so much for itself as for the sake of the golden eggs, which,

with proper care and attention, will in due course yield the most

satisfactory results in the shape of bred specimens.

This being the case, and space being limited, it seems best to simply

touch upon the preliminary stages of insect existence, pointing out as

we go those methods of collecting and preserving which experience has

shown to be the most successful.

There can be no doubt but that egg-hunting is a very profitable

occupation, and far more remunerative than most people dream of,

particularly as a means of acquiring the Sphinges, Bombyces, and

Pseudo-bombyces. Eggs, speaking generally, are to be found on the

plants to which the various species are attached; and a knowledge of

the time during which the species remains in the egg state, as well as

the appearance of the eggs as deposited in nature, should if possible

be acquired previous to proceeding to hunt. The most practical way of

ascertaining the food and time is to watch the parent insect in the act

of depositing her ova; but when the plant has been thus discovered, the

best way is to capture her, and induce her to lay at our home. When

eggs are inconspicuous, of small dimensions, or artfully concealed, the

use of a magnifying glass is invaluable.

Eggs may be preserved by plunging them in boiling water or piercing

them with a very fine needle, or they may have their contents squeezed

out and be refilled by means of a fine blowpipe, with some coagulable

tinted fluid; but the shells themselves, after the escape of the larvæ,

form, when mounted, beautiful objects for the microscope.

The three most successful plans of obtaining caterpillars are

searching, beating, and sweeping. The first requires good eyesight and

a certain amount of preparatory knowledge; the others are a sort of

happy-go-lucky way of collecting, useful enough and profitable in their

way, but affording a very limited scope for the exercise of the wits.

In searching for larvæ, the chief thing is to observe the indications

of their presence. A mutilated leaf, a roughened bark, a tumid twig,

a sickly plant, an unexpanded bud, an abortive flower, or a windfall

fruit, should at once set us thinking as to the cause; or, again, the

webs, the silken threads, the burrowings and trails, or the cast-off

skins of larvæ, may first call our attention to their proximity. Of

course, larvæ may be found on almost all plants, as well as in the

bark, stems, or wood of many; but the collector should fortify himself

with a knowledge of what each plant is likely to produce, and hunt

accordingly; for though indiscriminate collecting may sometimes be

successful, it does not tend to improve the intellectual powers.

Beating is the more applicable method of working trees and bushes. It

is carried out by jarring the larvæ from their positions by the aid of

a stick or pole, in such a manner that they will fall into an inverted

umbrella, or net; or a sheet may be spread beneath for their reception.

Sweeping with a strong net, passed from side to side with a mower-like

movement, is better adapted for working low ground-herbage. The

umbrella net, shown in Fig. 11, is, perhaps, the best for the purpose.

It is constructed by hinging two lengths of jack-spring on two pieces

of brass, and adapting them to the stick of the net, the upper piece of

brass being fixed, the lower movable.

[Illustration: Fig. 11. Umbrella Net.]

When captured, larvæ should be transferred to chip boxes, or else to

finely and freely perforated tins, the latter better preserving the

food. A very handy box for the purpose is formed by fitting a second

lid on to the bottom of a chip box, and then cutting from the second

lid and bottom a hole, as shown in Fig. 12 (2); larvæ may then be

inserted through the hole; but when the lid is shifted round, and the

holes are not opposite, of course there will be no opening, as in Fig.

12 (1), and the contents are secured from escape.

[Illustration: Fig. 12. Collecting Box for Larvæ.]

Larva preserving is carried out by first killing, and then squeezing

and extracting the contents through the anal orifice by means of a

crochet hook.

When this has been done, the skin is inflated, but not to such an

extent as to distend the segments, and is kept thus inflated while it

is being dried in a heated metal chamber. Afterwards, if the colours

are observed to have faded, they may be cautiously restored by the

application of paint. These objects, mounted on suitable artificial

leaves, are then ready for the cabinet.

Chrysalis collecting is conducted according to the situation of the

object sought. Some are to be found in the chinks of bark or under

loose bark, which may be detached by means of a powerful lever. Some

are suspended from trees, bushes, copings, hanging head downwards,

or girded by silken threads to low plants or walls; others are to be

found in the stems or trunks of their food-plants; many are concealed

in cocoons of more or less perfect construction, others again amongst

fallen leaves, but the majority are to be met with under the surface of

the ground; in which case we shall have to dig for them by the aid of a

trowel or broad chisel. The best situations for subterranean pupæ are

open park-like fields, borders of streams, open spaces in fir woods,

and they are usually situated within a foot or so of the tree trunks,

at the depth of two or three inches, though sometimes considerably

deeper. Of course both larvæ and pupæ of aquatic species will have to

be sought for in their element, among the plants they frequent.

Chrysalis preserving is a simple matter: the pupæ may be killed by

plunging them into hot water or by baking; frequently, however, we

find that the natural polish disappears with death, and this may be

restored by varnishing. It is advisable that the cocoons also, where

practicable, should be preserved, to give a notion of their appearance

in nature.

Moths and butterflies may be sought for at rest or on the wing. They

may be disturbed from their hiding places or they may be attracted by

various alluring baits.

At rest on stems of grasses and other plants butterflies may be taken

on dull, sunless days; but it requires some experience to detect a

butterfly with its wings raised up over its back: the little "Blues"

may thus be freely boxed in their localities. Again, such butterflies

as hybernate may be found in old sheds and outhouses, or under stacks.

Moths may be taken at rest on tree trunks, palings, and walls, or

amongst foliage and ground herbage. Some species are to be freely

captured in this way after their evening flight is over. Of course, for

evening work, a lantern to assist our vision will be indispensable.

On the wing, some butterflies are exceedingly active, others

comparatively sluggish; some fly high, others low. In hunting them, the

chief points to be remembered are not to alarm, but rather cautiously

to stalk our game, and strike, when we have an opportunity, with

precision. It is important also to avoid throwing a shadow over them,

and it is a good plan to get to windward of them--anything like flurry

will be fatal to success.

Moths which fly by day may be chased in the same manner, but some

may be observed disporting themselves round trees; these must be

watched, and netted as they now and then descend. Others fly at a

very low altitude, and are only brought into the field of vision by

our assumption of the recumbent position. At night again, though we

watch for anything stirring the air, among the trees or the herbage,

our tactics are somewhat modified; for, if the insect be of whitish

colour, we should so place ourselves that its form will stand boldly

out against a mass of dark foliage, whereas, if it be dingy in hue, we

must take the sky for our background.

Disturbing insects, and thus causing them to start forth, and so render

themselves visible, is another method of collecting. This is carried

out in various ways.

First, the occupants of high trees may be expelled by jarring the

trunk with a heavily loaded mallet, or by thwacking the trunk with a

long hazel stick; but a sharp look-out must be kept, for some sham

death, and fall plump down, while others make off as fast as they can.

Other plans are to pelt the trees with stones, or pump on them with a

powerful garden engine, or beat them with a long pole; and of all tress

the most profitable for this purpose is the yew; though firs, oaks,

beeches, and other trees are not to be despised.

For beating bushes there is nothing better than a walking-stick, and

for low herbage a long switch passed quickly from side to side with a

tapping movement is best adapted. The tenants of tree trunks may be

disturbed by brushing the surface with a leafy little bough, or, better

still, by the use of a strong fan, with which a powerful blast may be

driven, the net being held in such a position as to intercept such

insects as are blown off.

Thatch-beating in the autumn is a very profitable employment,

particularly in the matter of _Depressariæ_. Sweeping need only be

mentioned here, for moths collected by the process are anything but

perfect insects.

There are various methods of attracting moths and butterflies. The

first is effected by confining a virgin female in a muslin cage, the

frame of which may be very readily formed by bending three pieces of

cane into circles, and fixing these together at right angles, as shown

in Fig. 13. When this baited cage is placed in a favourable position,

and the weather is propitious for the flight of the males, the latter

will, in some cases, congregate, and may be freely captured.

[Illustration: Fig. 13. Frame of Cage for Virgin Lepidoptera.]

Then, the food-plant of the species is an attraction at which we stand

the best chance of procuring impregnated females.

[Illustration: Fig. 14. Lantern and Net.]

Various kinds of blooms possess alluring qualities for insects: of

these, sallow and ivy are the greatest favourites with collectors.

They should be worked after dusk by means of a lantern and net; but

the combination of a lantern fixed to a long stick, with a shallow net

beneath and a little in advance of it, as shown in the cut, is the

apparatus best adapted for the purpose; the object of the net being

to intercept any insects which may happen to fall under the stimulus

of light. These attractions should be first well searched over, and

afterwards, a sheet (split if necessary) having been carefully spread

below the bushes, a gentle shaking should be administered. Besides

these blossoms, heather, ragwort, bugloss, catchfly, bramble,

various grasses, and a vast number of other flowers, are wonderfully

attractive. In working patches of bloom we should remain stationary and

strike as the visitors arrive. Again, over-ripe fruit, the juicy buds

of certain trees, sap exuding from wounds in trees, are all more or

less attractive. The secretion of aphides, commonly called honeydew,

observable in hot seasons on the leaves of nettles and various other

plants and trees, is also well worth attention, and is at times very

productive of insects.

[Illustration: Fig. 15. Net for sugaring.]

[Illustration: Fig. 16. Box with linen joints.]

Sugaring is the next attraction, and a very important one it is.

"Sugar" may be prepared by boiling up equal quantities of coarse

"foots" sugar and treacle in a sufficient quantity of stale beer,

a small quantity of rum being added previous to use, and also, if

considered advisable, a flavouring of jargonelle pears, anise-seed, or

ginger-grass. This mixture should be applied by means of a small paint

brush to the trunks of trees, to foliage, flowers, tufts of grass, or

indeed to any object which may present a suitable surface; for in some

localities we are put to shift to know where to spread our sweets. This

operation should be performed just before dusk, and soon afterwards

the baited spots should be visited and, by the aid of a lantern gently

turned on them, examined, a net being held beneath the while. The

best form of net for the purpose is formed by socketing two paragon

wires into a Y-piece and connecting their diverging extremities by a

piece of catgut, as shown in Fig. 15. The catgut, being flexible, will

adapt itself (see the dotted line) to the surface of a tree trunk when

pressed against it. With regard to insects captured at sugar, they

are usually remarkably quiet, and may be boxed without difficulty,

and, with a few exceptions, may be conveyed home in the boxes, care

being taken to let each have a separate apartment. The boxes should be

strengthened with strips of linen pasted round the joints, as shown in

Fig. 16, otherwise accidents may occur, particularly on wet evenings

or on rough ground. The skittish individuals may be best captured by

means of the sugaring drum, of which a cut is given in Fig. 17. This

apparatus consists of a cylinder, one end of which is covered with

gauze, the other provided with a circular valve, which works in a slit.

For use, the valve is opened and the cylinder placed over the insect,

which naturally flies towards the gauze; then the valve is closed, the

corked piston, shown at the upper part of the cut, placed against it,

the valve re-opened, the piston pushed up to the gauze, the insect

pinned through the gauze, and the piston withdrawn with the insect

transfixed to it.

[Illustration: Fig 17. Sugaring Drum.]

[Illustration: Fig. 18. Cyanide Bottle and Ferrule.]

Light is another most profitable means of attracting. The simplest way

is to place a powerful moderator lamp upon a table in front of an open

window which faces a good locality, and then wait net in hand for our

visitors, which usually make their appearance late in the evening, and

continue to arrive until the small hours. Those who prefer it can use

the American moth-trap, which is self-acting, detaining such insects

as may enter its portals, or those who can afford the space may fit

up a room on the same principle. Street lamps are very profitable

certain localities, and amply reward the collector who perseveringly

and minutely examines them. The apparatus depicted in Fig. 18 is very

useful for taking off such insects as may be on the glass of the lamp:

it consists of a cyanide bottle attached by a ferrule to the end of a

sufficiently long stick. When placed over an insect, stupefaction is

quickly produced. A net of the shape represented in Fig. 19 is also

very useful for getting at the various parts of the lamp.

[Illustration: Fig. 19. Lamp Net.]

[Illustration: Fig. 20. Chloroform Bottle.]

The best methods of stupefying and killing insects on the field is the

cyanide bottle, prepared by placing alternate layers of cyanide of

potassium and blotting-paper in the bottom of a wide-mouthed bottle,

the mouth of which is accurately stopped with a cover, which is better

for the purpose than a bung. The chloroform bottle, which is generally

made with a little nipple, through which the fluid flows slowly out,

and covered with a screw-tap, as in the cut 20, is also handy. The

chloroform should be dropped over perforations in the box containing

our patient, these perforations having been previously made by a few

stabs of a penknife. After the fluid is dropped, our thumb should cover

it, when the vapour will quickly enter, and the inmate speedily become

insensible. Afterwards the _coup de grâce_ may be given to the insect

by pricking it under the thorax with the nib of a steel pen dipped in

a saturated solution of oxalic acid. If we are smokers, a puff of

tobacco may be blown into the box with like result. If we are destitute

of any apparatus, and brimstone lucifers for the purpose of suffocating

our captures under an inverted tumbler cannot be obtained at some

roadside inn, we must fall back on the barbarous practice of pinching

the thoraces of such as cannot be carried home in boxes. At home we

shall find the laurel jar and ammonia bottle the most useful. The

former is made by partially filling a large wide-mouthed bottle or jar

with cut and bruised dry leaves of young laurel: if any dampness hang

about them, we shall have the mortification of seeing our specimens

become mildewed. The latter consists in adding a few lumps of carbonate

of ammonia, or some drops of strong liquid ammonia, on a sponge, to the

bottle in which our captures, with each box lid slightly opened, have

been placed. But it must be borne well in mind, firstly, that ammonia

is injurious to the colours of most green insects; and secondly, that

if the specimens be not well aired after having been thus killed, the

pins with which they are transfixed will become brittle and break.

Insects should be left in the ammonia for several hours, and are then

in the most delightful condition for setting out.

To pin an insect properly is a most important procedure. The moth, if

of moderate dimensions may be rested or held between the thumb and fore

finger of the left hand, while the corresponding digits of the right

hand operate by steadily pushing a pin through the thorax, bringing

it out between the hind pair of coxæ until sufficient of the pin is

exposed beneath to steady the insect in the cabinet The direction of

the pin should be perpendicular when the insect is viewed from the

front, as in Fig. 21; but a lateral view should show the pin slightly

slanting forwards, as in Fig. 22. Pins made for the purpose in numerous

sizes are sold by Mr. Cooke, of New Oxford Street.

[Illustration: Fig. 21. Front View of properly pinned Insect.]

[Illustration: Fig. 22. Side View of ditto.]

[Illustration: Fig. 23. Cork Saddle for setting out Insects.]

[Illustration: Fig. 24. Braces for setting out.]

Setting out moths and butterflies is an operation which, if skilfully

performed, adds much to the beauty of the future specimens. The method

of setting most popular is carried out by means of saddles and braces.

These so-called saddles are pieces of cork rounded as in the sectional

figure, a groove being cut out for the reception of the bodies of the

insects: they are generally strengthened by a strip of wood, upon

which they are glued. Braces are wedge-shaped pieces of card or thick

note-paper, the thick end strengthened, if necessary, with a disc

of card fixed by shoemakers' paste, and pierced with a pin through

it, as shown in Fig. 24. The mode of application of these appliances

is beautifully shown in Fig. 26[D]. But before these straps can be

applied, the wings must first be got into position by means of the

setting needle and setting bristle, which are thus manipulated (the

setting bristle, by the way, being formed by fixing a cat's whisker and

a pin into a piece of cork, at the angle shown in Fig. 25):--After the

insect is straightly pinned upon the saddle, and the legs, antennæ,

and, if necessary, the tongue, got into position, the left fore-wing is

to be pushed or tilted into its place by means of the setting needle,

which is merely a darning needle with a handle; and simultaneously it

is to be held down by the bristle; then a small brace should be applied

to the costa of the fore wing. Next the hind wing should in like

manner be adjusted, and as many braces as are considered necessary to

keep the wings in their place should be added. Lastly, the right side

of the insect should be treated in a similar way.

[D] Figs. 26 and 27 have been kindly lent by Messrs. Reeve & Co.

[Illustration: Fig. 25. Setting Bristle.]

[Illustration: Fig. 26. Moth set out on Cork Saddle.]

[Illustration: Fig. 27. Four-strap setting.]

A very useful mode of setting, invaluable when we are destitute of

saddles, is known as "four-strap" setting, and is well explained in

Fig. 27. In this case the lower straps are first put into such a

position, that when the insect is placed over them the middle of each

of the costæ will rest upon them; then the wings are got into position,

and the second pair of straps are applied over the wings, the latter

retaining their position through the elasticity of their costæ: two

more straps are generally added to secure the outer borders of the

wings, as shown in the drawing; but these, though advantageous, are

not absolutely necessary. The saddles, with their contents, should be

kept in a drying house, which is a box adapted for their reception, and

freely ventilated, until the specimens are thoroughly dry, when the

latter may be cautiously removed, and transferred to the collection.

To preserve our collection from decay, considerable care and attention

is necessary. In the first place no insect which is in the least degree

suspected of being affected by mites, or mould, or grease, should on

any account be admitted to our collections. It is best to be on the

safe side and submit every insect received from correspondents, whether

mity or not, to quarantine, by which is meant their detention for a few

weeks in a box the atmosphere of which is impregnated with some vapour

destructive to insect life; such as that of benzole. Our own specimens

we should kyanize by touching the bodies of each with a camel's-hair

brush dipped in a solution of bichloride of mercury of the strength six

grains to the ounce of spirits of wine,--no stronger.

As for mould, it is best destroyed by the application of phænic

or carbolic acid, mixed with three parts of ether or spirit. As

preventives, the specimens should be kyanized as above. Caution in the

use of laurel as a killing agent must be exercised, and the collection

must be kept in a dry room.

Grease may be removed by soaking the insects in pure rectified naphtha

or benzole, even by boiling them in it if necessary. When the bodies

only are greasy, they may be broken off, numbered, and treated as

above. After the grease is thoroughly softened, the insects should

be covered up in powdered pipeclay or French chalk, which may be

subsequently removed by means of a small sable brush. As a precaution

against grease, it is advisable to remove the contents of the abdomina

by slitting up the latter beneath with a finely pointed pair of

scissors before they are thoroughly dry, and packing the cavities with

cotton wool. The males, especially of such species as have internal

feeding larvæ, should be thus treated.

Some prefer to keep their collections in well-made store boxes, which

possess many advantages over the cabinet; for example, they may be kept

like books in a bookcase, the upright position rendering the contents

less liable to the attacks of mites; they are more readily referred to,

and are more portable, and they admit of our gradually expanding our

collections to any extent. Cabinets, on the other hand, are preferred

by many, for the reasons that they are compact and generally form

a handsome article of furniture; moreover, good cabinets are made

entirely of mahogany, which is the best wood for the purpose; deal, and

other woods containing resinous matter, having a decidedly injurious

effect on the specimens. As a preservative, there is, after all,

perhaps nothing better than camphor; but it should be used sparingly,

or its tendency will be to cause greasiness of the specimens.

V.

BEETLES.

By E. C. Rye, F.Z.S., etc.

The general rules, so ably expounded by Dr. Knaggs in his instructions

for collecting _Lepidoptera_, as to constant alertness and making "the

reason why" the starting-point of investigation, apply with equal force

to the collector of _Coleoptera_, and need not be here recapitulated.

But they do not, in the instance of the latter, require generally to

be observed, except as to the perfect state of beetles; for, owing

to the hidden earlier conditions of life of most of those insects,

and to the long period during which these conditions exist, it is but

seldom that the pursuit of rearing them, so universally and profitably

adopted by the Lepidopterist, is found of much use to the collector

of beetles. And this is very much to be regretted; because, in the

majority of cases, if the latter succeed in rearing a beetle from its

earliest stage, and keep proper notes of its appearance and habits,

he will probably be adding to the general stock of knowledge, as the

lives of comparatively few, even of the commonest species, are recorded

from the beginning. It may be, also, in addition to the reasons above

mentioned, for the usual want of success attending the rearing of

beetle larvæ, that the fact of bred specimens being frequently (from

the artificial conditions attending their development, and from their

not being allowed that length of time which, in a state of nature,

they require after their final change before they are ready to take an

active part in their last stage of life) not nearly so good as those

taken at large, militates considerably against the more general use

of this method of adding to a collection. In this respect, of course,

the Lepidopterist is actuated by precisely opposite motives; as for

him, a bred specimen is immeasurably superior to one captured. And the

fact of so few beetle larvæ being known at all, or, if known, only

to the possessor of somewhat rare books, renders it very likely that

a mere collector, finding a considerable expenditure of patience and

trouble result in the rearing of a species of which he could at any

time readily procure any number of specimens, may very probably abandon

rearing for the future.

These observations, however, are not in the least intended to dissuade

anyone from breeding or endeavouring to breed beetles. On the contrary,

it is obvious from them that it is precisely by attending to these

earlier stages that the earnest student (novice or expert) has the

most chance of distinguishing himself, on account of the more open

field for discovery. And in the instance of many small, and especially

gregarious, beetles, breeding from the larvæ is frequently very easy,

if only the substances (fungus, rotten wood, roots, stems of plants,

&c.) containing them be carefully left in precisely the state as when

found, and be exposed to the same atmospheric or other important

conditions. In fact, to ensure success and good specimens, it is best

that in their early stages beetles should be "let alone severely."

It may be here observed that we have been lately in this country

indebted to the minute observations and great tact of some of our best

students of _Micro-Lepidoptera_ (in which branch of entomology we are

second to none in Europe) for some most interesting additions to our

knowledge of habits, and for long series of beetles usually rare in

collections.

Dismissing then the earlier stages of beetles, the following

observations will apply only to the imago, or "beetle proper." And here

I would repeat how evident it is that the knowledge of "the reason

why" is especially indispensable to the beetle collector, judging from

the extreme rarity of the occurrence of any new or valuable insect

in the stores of a mere random collector or a beginner. For him, no

old hand detects an equivalent to _Daplidice_ or _Lathonia_ in his

duplicate boxes; whereas, among Lepidopterists, "school-boy's luck" is

proverbial. I can give no reason for this statement, founded on my own

(by no means trifling) experience in the way of examining specimens.

And in this idea I think I am corroborated by the very great rarity in

old collections and records of many species now universally common;

the directions in older manuals, as to looking under stones, on walls,

paths, &c., pretty clearly showing that the majority of captures in

the olden time were what are now irreverently designed as "flukes."

Still, it is astonishing to what good account a sharp observer may turn

these casual meetings, often to him resulting in the discovery of "the

reason why" as to the particular species accidentally found, and to the

correlative increase of his collection. And, apart from captures during

collecting expeditions, good things will at times occur to the alert

entomologist: one, for instance, who will startle his friends in the

streets by suddenly swooping with his hat after an atom flying in the

sunshine, or who is not too proud to pick up another, racing on the hot

pavement, during those days of early spring, when the insect myriads,

revelling in warmth and light, after their long winters durance, may be

seen madly dashing about, even in towns: on such a day, for instance,

as that whereon a certain well-known doctor among the beetles found

that living carabideous gem _Anchomenus sexpunctatus_, far from its

native _Sphagnum_ and heath, wandering on the flagstones of the W.C.

district.

But, before referring to special modes of hunting, it may be as well

to mention the _instrumenta belli_ required for the equipment of the

Coleopterist in this country. These are but few, and of the simplest

kind; indeed, in entomology, as in the gentle art of angling, it

is often the most roughly accoutred that secures the best basket.

The umbrella net, figured at p. 47, used both for beating into and

sweeping, cannot be dispensed with, and a beating stick can be cut

out of the nearest hedge. The net itself should be of fine "cheese

cloth," or some strong fabric that allows the passage of air, but not

of beetles; otherwise, if of too close a fibre, it is apt to "bag"

with the inclosed air, and reject its contents during the operation

of sweeping. The net being of course used with the right hand, its

left top edge especially bears the brunt of the attendant friction,

and gets soon worn; it is consequently advisable to have an outer

strip of stout "leather-cloth" sewn strongly over the rim there for

some little distance, extending that protection also to the right top

edge, though not for so long a space. The curved handle of the stick

should be sawn off as soon as possible; it frequently catches in the

pockets of the sweeper, causing a jerk to the net, and dispersal of its

contents. For a similar reason, the ferruled apex may well be removed.

Some collectors keep the sharp cutting edge of the spring sides of the

net uncovered, sewing the net itself to holes drilled at intervals on

the lower side of the springs: a net of this kind cuts very close,

and where there is much herbage soon gets full of fragments, taking a

long time to examine. It will be found handy if the bag of the net be

cut to a point from the front towards the handle side: this causes the

contents to gravitate to the bottom, as far as possible from the point

where the rim meets the substance swept.

A common umbrella (easily slung by a stout string over the back when

not in use) is an admirable (some think, superior) substitute for

this net, as it can be held up higher by the ferrule, and tall bushes

and trees (of which the branches nearer the top are usually most

productive) can be beaten into it with more certainty of their beetle

contents being caught. The steel frames will be found in the way when

the beetles are being bottled; consequently, a good large gingham may

be consecrated to collecting, and its inside (not merely the outer

ribs) covered all over up to the middle (leaving no aperture there if

possible) with thin white calico, stitched _over_ the frame.

Another good form of net for sweeping or dragging in long grass or

herbage, is of the common fishing landing-net description, made of

very stout wrought-iron or steel wire, either in a simple hoop, if a

moderate size only be required, or with a single hinge to fold into

two, or with three such hinges, folding into four, as may be desired.

I have used one of these four-folding nets for years, and never found

it fail. One end is hammered out flat and perforated, the other forming

a male screw (1-1/2 inch long), bent at right angles with the body

of the frame, passes through the hole, and fits into a female screw

in a strong and long ferrule, fixed in the usual way to the end of

a stout oaken walking-stick. As the power exerted in sweeping with

such a net is great, and the action continuous, the simple screw

is not enough, and a small screw hole is drilled right through the

ferrule and the screw end of the net; a small thumb-screw, in shape

like an old-fashioned clock key, going transversely through both, and

effectually hindering lateral displacement. The framework of the net

and the ferrule are better made of the same metal, because, if made

of two metals of different density, the stronger soon wears away the

weaker; and the stick must be inserted deeply into the ferrule, and

held on with _two_ deep pins or small screws on opposite sides (not on

the same level, however, as the wood is in that case weakened), one

being insufficient to stand the strain. The net, of the same substance

as that above mentioned, is made with a loose "hem" to slip on the

frame before screwing it in the ferrule. A leather-cloth edging all

round is advisable, and the bag should be cut long enough to prevent

the possibility of the contents jerking out. Another very good plan for

securing the frame to the ferrule is to have both ends of it soldered

together into a deep square-sided plug, fitting into a corresponding

square hole in the ferrule. The small cross-screw or pin is here also

to be used; but the angles of the plug naturally keep a much tighter

hold than the worm of a screw. Such a frame as this cannot, of course,

be folded.

For water beetles, a similar net to that last mentioned is effective,

but it should be stouter and with a flat front, for dredging closely

against the sides and bottoms of ponds. The best substance for its

bag is fine sampler canvas; and a very large, stout bamboo cane is at

once light and strong for its stick. To avoid friction the bag may be

affixed to small wire rings let into holes on the lower edge of the

frame, or running on the frame itself.

A sieve is one of the most remunerative implements, and may be procured

either simple or folding. It consists of a stout wire-framed circle,

connected by a strong linen band, six inches deep, with the bottom of

an ordinary wire sieve, the meshes of which are wide enough to allow

any beetle to pass through. Leaves, grass, flood refuse, ants' nests

materials, cut grass, seaweed, haystack and other _débris_, are roughly

shaken in this over a sheet of brown paper, which should invariably

form part of a Coleopterist's apparatus. A stout piece of double

waterproof material may be substituted; and, in marsh collecting, must

be used as a kneeling pad.

For ordinary bark collecting, a strong ripping chisel (of which the

blade is well collared, so as not to slip) is as useful a tool as

can be procured; but for _real_ tree working, no ordinarily portable

instrument is thoroughly effective. Light steel hammers with a lever

spike may delude the collector; but a woodman's axe, a saw, a pickaxe

or crowbar, will often be found not too strong. For cutting tufts,

&c., a strong garden pruning-knife is good, and an old fixed-handled

dinner-knife (carried in a sheath) better. For holding the results of

the operation of these instruments, the collector needs but one or two

collecting bottles--one rather small and circular, of as clear and

strong glass (_not_ cast) as can be got, with a wide mouth and flat

bottom. Its neck should not slope, but be of even width, or the cork

will often get out of itself. This cork should be a deep one, and

be perforated longitudinally by a stout and large round quill, the

bottom of which should be level with the bottom of the cork, the top

projecting some inch and a half, with the upper orifice not cut off

straight, but slightly sloped diagonally, so as more easily to scoop

up beetles from the net or hand. It is closed with an _accurately

fitting_, soft, wooden plug, rather longer than the quill, reaching

exactly to the bottom of it, but with its top projecting above the top

of the quill, and broader than it, so as to be easily pulled out by

the teeth when the hands are occupied. The bottle should be secured

by stout twine to the buttonhole, enough play being left for it to

reach the net in any ordinary position. I usually secure the external

junction of quill and cork with red sealing-wax, and have more than

once found the bright red catch my eye when I have lost my bottle.

[N.B. This loss will always happen to every collector; generally after

a peculiarly lucky day's work: so use the string-preventive.] The body

of the bottle may usefully be half covered with white paper gummed on.

A few stout, plain glass tubes, papered in like way, and with plain

corks, should be carried for special captures; and a cyanide bottle,[E]

as mentioned at p. 57, or one containing bruised and shredded young

laurel shoots, will be found useful for safely bringing home larger

species, or such as would devour their fellow-captives. When put into

these, beetles almost instantly die and become rigid, needing a stay

of two days or so to become relaxed, in which condition they will then

safely remain for a considerable period. In the first collecting bottle

a piece of muslin should be put, to give the contents foothold: these

are brought home alive, and killed by bodily immersion in boiling

water, after which they are placed on blotting paper to drain off

superfluous moisture.

[E] "Killing bottles," containing cyanide of potassium under a layer of

gypsum, may be bought at most natural-history apparatus dealers, and

are useful as relaxing dépôts.

Good things should always, when practicable, be set out at once, as the

pubescence is apt to get matted if they are consigned for too long a

period to the laurel or cyanide bottle; but such as remain unmounted

can be put in a little muslin bag, and deposited in laurel until a

more convenient opportunity. Beetles also, when taken in large numbers

during an expedition into a productive locality, may be collected

indiscriminately into a bottle containing sawdust (sifted to get rid

both of large pieces and actual dust), slightly alcoholized, or with

a small quantity of carbolic acid or cyanide of potassium in it. Each

night, on reaching home, these will be found to be dead, and they can

then be transferred to a larger bottle or air-tight tin can, partially

filled with the same materials and a little carbolic acid to check

undue moisture. Filled up with sawdust, this will travel in safety for

any distance, and almost any time.

Species of moderate size, say up to that of an ordinary _Harpalus_, are

in this country usually mounted on card. Much is to be said both for

and against this practice: it enables the proportions and formation of

limbs to be well appreciated, and it preserves the specimens securely;

but there can be no doubt that it prevents an inspection of the under

side, except at the slight trouble of extra manipulation in floating

off in cold water and reversing, and that the gum used clogs the

smaller portions of the insect that come in contact with it. Specimens

larger than those mentioned should be pinned through the centre of

the upper third of the right wing-case (never through the scutellum

or thorax), and the limbs extended in position with pins on a setting

board, made of a flat strip of cork glued on deal. Both these and the

mounted examples must be left to dry, for a week at least, in the open

air: if the boards are fitted in a frame, they can be reversed (as soon

as the gum is dry in mounted specimens), so that the specimens are

bottom upwards--dust cannot then collect on them, and there is less

chance of mites attacking them. Specimens dry more rapidly in spring

and summer than at any other time, and of course more readily in dry

weather.