FOOTNOTE:[B]'Marvels of Pond Life,' by H. J. Slack, p. 92.
[B]'Marvels of Pond Life,' by H. J. Slack, p. 92.
[B]'Marvels of Pond Life,' by H. J. Slack, p. 92.
TO-DAY we will go to Shawbury and try our luck with the trout. If the fish will not rise there will be plenty to observe, and I have no doubt we shall enjoy the day thoroughly; the wind is in the south-west and the day is cloudy; the May-fly is well out, and I think we have every chance of good sport. Let us look out our fishing-tackle and drive off at once to the river. How delightful it is to stroll by the river side and hear the rippling of the water; delightful, too, is the sensation of feeling at the end of your line the tugs and jumps of a good lively trout. I cannot resist quoting some lines from 'The Angler's Song,' which I think you will say are very pretty:
Merry in the greenwood is the note of horn and hound,And dull must be the heart of him that leaps not to their sound;Merry from the stubble whirrs the partridge on her wing,And blithely doth the hare from her shady cover spring;But merrier than horn or hound, or stubble's rapid pride,Is the sport that we court by the gentle river side.Our art can tell the insect tribe that every month doth bring,And with a curious wile we know to mock its gauzy wing;We know what breeze will bid the trout through the curling waters leap,And we can surely win him from shallow or from deep;For every cunning fish can we a cunning bait provide,In the sport that we court by the gentle river side.Where may we find the music like the music of the stream?What diamond like the glances of its ever-changing gleam?What couch so soft as mossy banks, where through the noontide hoursOur dreamy heads are pillowed on a hundred simple flowers?While through the crystal stream beneath we mark the fishes glide,To the sport that we court by the gentle river side?For as the lark with upland voice the early sun doth greet,And the nightingale from shadowy boughs her vesper hymn repeat;For as the pattering shower on the meadow doth descend,And far as the flitting clouds with the sudden sunbeams blend;All beauty, joy and harmony, from morn to eventide,Bless the sport that we court by the gentle river side.
Merry in the greenwood is the note of horn and hound,And dull must be the heart of him that leaps not to their sound;Merry from the stubble whirrs the partridge on her wing,And blithely doth the hare from her shady cover spring;But merrier than horn or hound, or stubble's rapid pride,Is the sport that we court by the gentle river side.
Our art can tell the insect tribe that every month doth bring,And with a curious wile we know to mock its gauzy wing;We know what breeze will bid the trout through the curling waters leap,And we can surely win him from shallow or from deep;For every cunning fish can we a cunning bait provide,In the sport that we court by the gentle river side.
Where may we find the music like the music of the stream?What diamond like the glances of its ever-changing gleam?What couch so soft as mossy banks, where through the noontide hoursOur dreamy heads are pillowed on a hundred simple flowers?While through the crystal stream beneath we mark the fishes glide,To the sport that we court by the gentle river side?
For as the lark with upland voice the early sun doth greet,And the nightingale from shadowy boughs her vesper hymn repeat;For as the pattering shower on the meadow doth descend,And far as the flitting clouds with the sudden sunbeams blend;All beauty, joy and harmony, from morn to eventide,Bless the sport that we court by the gentle river side.
Well, here we are once more at the charming little village of Shawbury. How often, both as a boy and a man, have I wandered by the banks of the river Roden. What changes have taken place since my early rambles! Long familiar forms, companions in my fishing expeditions, have vanished; the mind fondly cherishes their memory, and recalls past hours of cheerful intercourse. We will put up the horse and carriage at the Elephant and Castle Inn and stroll away to the river.
Ah! here is a capital place. Now, Master Willy, there is no tree to interfere with your throw, so cast in just near that spot, quietly, carefully, anxiously; if there is a fish there he cannot resist your green drake. I recommend him the artificial before the fat natural fly. As Christopher North says—"Devouring ephemerals! Can you not suffer the poor insects to sport out their day? They must be insipid eating—but here are some savoury exceedingly ... they carrysauce piquantein their tails. Do try the taste of this bobber—but any of the three you please." There, holdfast, Willy, for that's a good one. Bring him up carefully to the side; hold your rod erect; play him a little, for he is full of vigour. There! well done; I have got him in the landing net. Is not he a beauty? A pound weight, I'll be bound; and what condition! His flesh will be almost as pink as that of a salmon. Further down stream I managed to take a fish in very different condition; I took him where the river was rather muddy, and flowed very slowly. Just look at him, with a body lean and dark coloured, and an enormous head for so slender a body. "Oh! but, papa," said Willy, "what are these curious creatures crawlingover him? Do look." Ah! I know them well; anglers call them trout lice. I will scrape off a specimen, and put him in the bottle. Now look at him. The body is nearly round, and almost transparent; colour rather green; it has four pairs of swimming feet, each pair beset with a fringe of hairs; a pair of foot-jaws; a small half-cleft tail; and a pair of fleshy circular suckers just in front of the foot-jaws, by means of which the little creature is able to attach itself, as a parasite, upon various fish. It is a graceful little creature, and, as you see, can swim with great activity in the water; now it swims in a straight line, now it suddenly turns quickly round and turns over and over. It is known to naturalists under the name ofArgulus foliaceus; I do not think it has any English name. It is found on many kinds of fish, and generally in greater abundance upon individuals that are in an unhealthy state; though these parasites often attach themselves to fish in good condition. The mouth is furnished with a long, sharp sucking-tube, by means of which the animal can pierce the skin of the fish it lives upon, and suck up the juices. We will take a few home, and I will show you the different parts of the creature under the microscope.
PARASITE (Argulus foliaceus) ON TROUT, NAT. SIZE AND MAGNIFIED.PARASITE (Argulus foliaceus) ON TROUT, NAT. SIZE AND MAGNIFIED.
Let us now sit down and rest for an hour, and eat our lunch; the fish do not rise as freely as they did; perhaps later on they will be in the humour again. But what do I see sticking to the sides of that rail across the river; I must go and see. Well, really this is an interesting thing. An immense mass of flies, a few alive, but the greater number quite dead; and, look!a quantity of white eggs underneath them. Let us examine a fly; it is of a brown or tawny colour, and has rather long, diverging, colourless wings, marked with irregular brown spots. Why, there must be thousands of dead flies covering these eggs. What an odd idea! Presently up comes Mr. Collins from the farm near the bank of the stream. "Oh, sir, I know those flies quite well; they are oak-flies (Leptis scolopacea)." Certainly not, I replied, though they do somewhat resemble them in colour and appearance; but the farmer stoutly asserted he was right, and I did not think it worth while discussing the matter further with him. Mr. Collins is a good fly-fisherman; and fly-fishermen, unless they are naturalists, are generally very positive. How often have I tried to teach anglers that the May-fly does not come from a caddis worm; how often have I failed! Well, the two-winged fly I have just found in such thousands, with their dead bodies brooding over this mass of eggs, is known to entomologists by the name ofAtherix Ibis; the females are gregarious, and, as we have seen, attach their eggs to rails, boughs, or other objects overhanging streams; each female, having laid her eggs, remains there and dies; shortly after comes another and does the same, and so on till immense clusters are formed. The larva, when hatched, falls into the water, its future residence; it is said to have a forked tail about one third the length of its body, and to "have the power of raising itself in the water by an incessant undulating motion in a vertical plane." I am not, however, acquainted with either larva or pupa, but hope to become so thissummer. "It is very curious, papa," said Jack, "that the flies, after they have laid their eggs, should die there; why do not they fly away? Do any other animals do the same?" Yes, pretty much so. Some of the female insects of the genus calledCoccus, scale insect, or mealy bug, common on the stems of various trees, to which they sometimes do incredible mischief, lay their eggs and die over them, the dead bodies of the parents forming coverings for the young. See how fast the green drake is appearing. Notice how it flies with head erect for a second or two, and then falls almost helplessly on the surface of the water.
There! did you see that fish rise at him? He has escaped the hungry trout, and has reached a blade of grass, where he will probably rest for some hours. But give me my rod; perhaps the same trout will rise at my artificial fly. There! that throw was exactly over the spot. No; he won't have it. I'll try again and again. No. Objects tosauce piquante, I suppose. Well, I will tempt him again in an hour's time or so. The water is smooth here, and free from rapids; let us lie down on the grass and see the birth ofEphemera—for that is the May-fly's proper name. Here comes something floating down. It is within the reach of my hand, so I will secure it. What is it? As I thought. Ephemera is throwing off its swaddling clothes. See how it twirls and twists itself about. Now it is free; and the strange-looking worm has changed into a beautiful fly. But there is yet one other operation to go through ere it assumes its final and complete form; you see at present it is a heavyflier, for the wings are scarcely dry, and the muscles as yet unequal to great exertion; so in their present imperfect form they are constantly dropping for a second or two in the water, and are often sucked down the throat of some roach, trout, or other fish on the look-out. You should remember that theEphemera, or May-fly, in this itssub-imago, or imperfect winged state, represents the "green drake" of the angler. What have I here on this blade of grass? Do you see? What is the shadowy form that lifelessly clings to it? It is a delicate membrane, thin and light; see, I blow it away. You saw the split in the back, through which the former tenant left the abode. It is the cast-off skin of the green drake, now metamorphosed into a creature more active than harlequin or columbine, the male into a dark brown insect, with gauze-like wings, the female into a beautiful creature, with body marbled white and brown, and able to fly well and strongly, now high in the air, now sailing along close to the surface of the water, ever and anon dipping gently into it for the purpose of laying her eggs. The small oval eggs sink down to the bottom, and attach themselves to the weeds and stones that are found there. The flight of the male Ephemera is different; it is the males that practise together that peculiar up-and-down dance, with heads erect and bodies curving prettily upwards; of course, you can understand how countless multitudes fall victims to fish and bird, for dainty morsels they are. These flies, though voracious feeders both in the larval and nymphal state, never eat at all after they have assumedtheir perfect form. Indeed, they have no true mouth, only an imperfect or rudimentary one; and you would never find a particle of food in their stomachs, which are always more or less full of air-bubbles, which, no doubt, assist in buoying up the insect, and thus save the expenditure of muscular power. I'll catch one of those dancing males, and press him quickly in the middle. There! crack he goes! for the little air-bubbles in the stomach have burst by the pressure of my finger and thumb.
Abundant as are the May-flies at the latter end of May and the beginning of June in this country, in other countries they are sometimes more astonishingly numerous. In some parts of Holland, Switzerland, and France, their great numbers have been compared to pelting flakes of snow. "The myriads of Ephemeræ which filled the air," says Reaumur, "over the current of the river and over the bank on which I stood, are neither to be expressed nor conceived. When the snow falls, with the largest flakes and with the least interval between them, the air is not so full of them as that which surrounded the Ephemeræ." The occurrence of such prodigious numbers is, I believe, unknown in the British isles. In the perfect orimagostate the May-fly lives but a short time. The wordephemerameans "living only for a day;" and though individuals may live longer, yet the term is fairly correct as expressing their short existence. The May-flies (Ephemeræ) have all three long fine hairs at the end of the tail; some members of the same family, but belonging to a different genus, have only two hair-like appendages.For instance, the fly known to fishermen as the "March-brown" belongs to the same family as the May-fly; it is smaller than it, and has only two hairs at the end of the tail; but with this exception, the natural March-brown and the May-fly are wonderfully alike; yet it is most curious to notice what a wonderful difference there is in the larvæ of these two insects. Significant facts, no doubt, lie at the bottom of such differences in the case of insects so evidently allied, but these I will not speak of. Here are the two forms of larvæ, the one being the larva of the common May-fly (Ephemera),the other that of the March-brown (Baëtis).
LARVA OF BAËTIS, WITH BREATHING PADDLES, MAGNIFIED.LARVA OF BAËTIS, WITH BREATHING PADDLES, MAGNIFIED.
LARVA OF EPHEMERA, OR MAY-FLY, MAGNIFIED TWO DIAMETERS.LARVA OF EPHEMERA, OR MAY-FLY, MAGNIFIED TWO DIAMETERS.
Come, we have lunched, and rested, and watched the May-flies; let us try to catch a few more trout. It is very strange why sometimes the fish will not rise, though the weather is propitious and the water in first-rate order. Holloa! master Willy, what game are you after now? "Oh, papa," he exclaimed, "there are a lot of dace on this shallow, so I put the spinning hooks on, and, see, I have managed to hook a couple out, by simply throwing the tackle on the other side of the fish and then drawing it smartly through the water over them." Well, that looks like a bit of poaching, at all events; the fish are spawning amongst that water-crowfoot, no doubt; just hook out some weed, and I dare say we shall see some eggs. To be sure; there they are, dotted over the long thread-like leaves of the plant, like little pearls. You have caught enough, for I think it is not sportsmanlike conduct to take such unfair advantage of the unfortunate dace. Put on your casting line and try under the old forge bridge. You think there is not much use? A true fly-fisherman should never say so. I have taken many a trout under the bridge, and I dare say you may be successful this time. There! I told you so. Keep your line tight, and Jack shall land him. He is not a large fish evidently, but very lively. Now you have him, throw him on the grass. Are there any parasites on him? Yes; but different to the last we observed. Here is a leech-like creature, rather small and cylindrical; it is thePiscicola, a not uncommon parasitic leech on fish. Well, put him into the bottle; we can take him homeand examine him at leisure. How many trout have we taken now? "We have got nine, papa, and, remember, I have caught three." Yes; but I suppose you include the poaching? "No; I have caught three trout with the fly, and I don't count the dace." Not a bad day's sport, after all; for I threw back again three small fish. What is this showy plant, with large, yellow, globe-like blossoms? How pretty it is, growing in abundance in a little spot near the river! It is the globe flower, so called from the rounded shape of the corolla; it is one of the buttercup family, as you will, perhaps, guess. In its wild state I believe it is found in mountain districts, so I suspect it has found its way here from some of the cottage gardens which are only a quarter of a mile distant. We will grub up a few roots; perhaps Mrs. Charlton would like them for her wild garden shrubbery. When you go a-fishing always be provided, if not inconvenient, with a trowel and a small basket, as well as with a few wide-mouthed bottles; they will be very useful, especially if the trout will not rise. The trowel and basket you can leave at a cottager's house, and the bottles are indispensable to every angler-naturalist. What are you running after, Jacko? Oh! I see; one of the most beautiful insects that are found in this country. Ah! he is too quick for you. It is the brilliant steel-blue dragon-fly. Let us sit down for a few minutes and watch its flight. How rapidly it flies, now pursuing the course of the river, now suddenly darting back again. It is theAgrion virgo, the most splendid of all the dragon-flies, even rivalling the gorgeously colouredinsects of tropical countries. All the dragon-flies proceed from water larvæ; strange creatures of unbecoming forms and ferocious dispositions. The mouth, or rather the lower lip of the larva is of very singular form. Two jaw-like organs are at the end of the lip, its basal portion being articulated to the head; this mask, as it has been called, is folded beneath the head when in repose, but it can be suddenly shot out in front of the head so as to seize any small creatures that may pass near it which the larva thinks good to eat. Imagine one of your arms being joined on to your chin, bend your elbow up till your hand covers your face—this will represent the dragon larva with the mask in repose; now shoot out your arm in a straight line from the head—this will represent the mask unfolded and in use; your fingers may be considered to represent the jaws of the creature. When the larva wishes to turn into an insect, it leaves the water and creeps up the stem of some water weed or other object out of the water, bursts its skin, and commences its new state of existence. If we look about us near the water side, we shall be sure to find some empty pupa skins. Here are two on this sedge; you see a slit on the back through which the dragon-fly has come out. The dragon-flies are the largest and most active of our British insects, and, to quote the descriptive words of Professor Rymer Jones, "are pre-eminently distinguished by the rapidity of their flight and the steadiness of their evolutions while 'hawking' for prey in the vicinity of ponds and marshy grounds, where in hot summer weather they are everywhere to be met with. Equallyconspicuous from their extreme activity, their gorgeous colours, and the exquisite structure of their wings, they might be regarded as the monarchs of the insect race. The very names selected for them by entomologists would testify the perfection of their attributes; their titles ranging from that ofAnax imperator, indicative of imperial sway, to epithets expressive of feminine delicacy and ladylike grace, such asvirgo,puella,demoiselle, anddamsel-fly, which are appropriated to the sylph-like forms that many of them exhibit. In their habits, however, they by no means deserve the gentle appellations bestowed upon them. They are, in truth, the tigers of the insect world, and their whole lives are devoted to bloodshed and rapine. Indomitable in their strength of wing, furnished with tremendous jaws, and possessed of acuteness of sight and rapidity of motion scarcely to be paralleled, there seems to be no escape from their ferocity, and terrible is the slaughter they effect amongst the insect legions they are appointed to destroy." It must not, however, be supposed from the above description that the dragon-flies are creatures that deserve to be killed. On the contrary, they are most serviceable to men, and destroy countless numbers of injurious flies and butterflies whose larvæ do damage to vegetation. "Well, papa," said Jack, "the boys in the village always kill them if they can catch them, and say they sting horses." I know that this is a popular tradition, inherited by the rural folks of our day from their great-great-grandmothers' grandmothers. Dragon-flies are often calledhorse stingers; in America they are sometimes calleddevil's darning-needles;in Scotland, I believe, they are known by the name offlying adders. Where is my net? I will try and catch a demoiselle. There! I have her, or I should rather sayhim, for these dark spots on the wings disclose the sex; the female has unspotted wings, and is of a rich green colour. "How splendidly it shines in the sun," said Willy; "nothing can exceed the beauty of its wings." Well, now you have looked at him closely and admired him, I will let him go again. Off he flies, none the worse for his temporary captivity. Now for my friend the trout, who would not take my fly an hour ago. Ah! I have got him the first throw; see how he jumps. Now, Willy, for the landing-net. Bravo! all safe, and a good fish too. Our sport is over for the day, and we must get ready to drive home. To-morrow, Willy, you may learn these lines from Thomson's 'Seasons:'
"When with his lively ray the potent sunHas pierced the stream and roused the finny race,Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair;Chief should the western breezes curling play,And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds.Just in the dubious point where with the poolIs mixed the trembling stream, or where it boilsAround the stone, or from the hollowed bankReverted plays in undulating flow,There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly;And as you lead it round in artful curveWith eye attentive mark the springing game,Straight as above the surface of the floodThey wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap,Then fix with gentle twitch, the barbed hook.Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank,And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some,With various hand proportioned to their force.If yet too young and easily deceived,A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod;Him, piteous of his youth, and the short spaceHe has enjoyed the vital light of heaven,Soft disengage, and back into the streamThe speckled captive throw. But should you lureFrom his dark haunt, beneath the tangled rootsOf pendent trees, the monarch of the brook,Behoves you then to ply your finest art.Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly;And oft attempts to seize it, but as oftThe dimpled water speaks his jealous fear.At last, while haply o'er the shaded sunPasses a cloud, he desperate takes the leap,With sullen plunge. At once he darts along,Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line;Then seeks the furthest ooze, the sheltering weed,The caverned bank, his old secure abode,And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool,Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand,That feels him still, yet to his furious courseGives way, you, now retiring, following nowAcross the stream, exhaust his idle rage;Till, floating broad upon his breathless side,And to his fate abandoned, to the shoreYou gaily drag your unresisting prize."
"When with his lively ray the potent sunHas pierced the stream and roused the finny race,Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair;Chief should the western breezes curling play,And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds.Just in the dubious point where with the poolIs mixed the trembling stream, or where it boilsAround the stone, or from the hollowed bankReverted plays in undulating flow,There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly;And as you lead it round in artful curveWith eye attentive mark the springing game,Straight as above the surface of the floodThey wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap,Then fix with gentle twitch, the barbed hook.Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank,And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some,With various hand proportioned to their force.If yet too young and easily deceived,A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod;Him, piteous of his youth, and the short spaceHe has enjoyed the vital light of heaven,Soft disengage, and back into the streamThe speckled captive throw. But should you lureFrom his dark haunt, beneath the tangled rootsOf pendent trees, the monarch of the brook,Behoves you then to ply your finest art.Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly;And oft attempts to seize it, but as oftThe dimpled water speaks his jealous fear.At last, while haply o'er the shaded sunPasses a cloud, he desperate takes the leap,With sullen plunge. At once he darts along,Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line;Then seeks the furthest ooze, the sheltering weed,The caverned bank, his old secure abode,And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool,Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand,That feels him still, yet to his furious courseGives way, you, now retiring, following nowAcross the stream, exhaust his idle rage;Till, floating broad upon his breathless side,And to his fate abandoned, to the shoreYou gaily drag your unresisting prize."
There is some good advice here worth remembering; at any rate, persevere, persevere, and no doubt you will become in time
A MOST SUCCESSFUL ANGLER.A MOST SUCCESSFUL ANGLER.
"WE had many pleasant rambles last autumn," said Willy, "in search of fungi. How I wish the time was come when we could hunt for fungi again. Think of the woods at the bottom of the Wrekin, and those delightful fir plantations near Tibberton. Besides you know some kinds are so good broiled for breakfast. I often think of fungus-hunting. When shall we be able to go out hunting again?"
September and October are the best months, but we shall meet with fungi earlier. However, I will promise you a long day's ramble or two in search of fungi when the time comes. In the mean time let us keep our eyes open, and I dare say we shall even now, in the month of June, meet with a few interesting species. We will go into some of the meadows near home to-day, and I am much mistaken if we shall not be able to find St. George's mushroom. It is a very delicious fungus, and perfectly wholesome. I gathered a few specimens the other day, and now that the weather is warm, I doubt not we shall meet a good number; so, besides collecting bottles, we will take a basket, and Jack shall be the carrier. Now separateyourselves and search this pasture well. "Here are a lot of fungi growing in a ring," exclaimed May. Let me look. You have found what we wanted. This fungus is theAgaricus gambosus, or St. George's mushroom. See how closely the gills are set together; they are yellowish-white in colour; the top is thick and fleshy; the stem, too, is very thick. Few fungi, comparatively speaking, grow so early in the year, and you could not mistakegambosusfor any other kind. What? You think the smell rather strong. Well, I confess this fungus has a strong and not a very pleasant odour. Put what you have collected into the basket; you will find that the taste is better than the smell. Here are some specimens with the top cracked and split; these are a little older, but they are very good. We will put them with the rest. "Oh, papa," exclaimed Jack, "I was looking at that ash tree in the hedge, and I thought I saw a mouse run up the trunk." I suspect it was not a mouse, but a bird, called, from its habit of running up trees, the tree-creeper. Let us get a little nearer. I see I am right; there the little bird is, running rapidly up the tree; now he stops, as if examining the bark; now he is off again. How very like a mouse, to be sure! It is one of the smallest of our British birds, and, though common enough, is not very often seen, except by those who, caring for such things, use their eyes well. Now he has gone to the opposite side of the tree; off he goes again and explores another trunk. By means of its long curved claws and stiff forked tail-feathers, this prettily marked bird is enabled to climb with greatrapidity. It remains in this country all the year, and is more abundant in plantations and parks where there are plenty of trees. It makes its nest in a hollow tree, or on the inner side of the bark of a decayed one. The little bird lays many eggs, from six to nine, in the month of April; they are nearly white, with a few pinkish spots, generally at the larger end of the egg. It utters a few pleasing but feeble notes. The young ones are, as you may suppose, tiny little things. You should notice the curved pointed beak of this bird, and the stiff tail-feathers it presses against the tree as a fulcrum to aid it in its ascent.
TREE-CREEPER AND YOUNG.TREE-CREEPER AND YOUNG.
We will go into this adjoining field, which will soon be ready to mow. We will keep by the hedge—for it would not be right to trample down the tall grass—and gather a few grasses. Few people know more about grass than that it is good pasturage for cattle and sheep. Let us gather a lot, and take care, as far as we can, to gather only one kind each. How graceful and beautiful they are, and what difference there is amongst them; some have a stiff spike-like head of flowers, others have pretty drooping heads; some are harsh and rough to the touch, others soft as satin. Some, again, are of great value as pasturage and for making into hay; others are positively noxious weeds. You know the twitch or couch grass, that gives the farmer so much trouble; it is most rapid in its growth and difficult to kill; its underground creeping stems spread in all directions, and, if left to itself, would soon take sole possession of the whole soil. So the farmers are very careful to rake together all they can; theythen collect it in heaps and burn it. Here is the rough "cocksfoot grass," with its head or "panicle"as it is called, upright and tufted. Look at its large yellow stamens; it is a very productive species and enters largely into all hay-grass. Here is the common quaking grass, with its slender, smooth, spreading branches. See how the numerous little heads tremble with the slightest motion; we do not see much of it in these meadows. It is an exceedingly pretty grass, and often seen on the chimney-pieces of cottagers, but is by no means a valuable agricultural grass; on the contrary, it is a sign, when abundant, of poor land.
PANICLE OF GRASS.PANICLE OF GRASS.
Here we have the smooth-stalked meadow grass, and here is the hedge wood-melic grass, with its slightly drooping panicle, and spikelets on long slender footstalks. Here is the soft meadow grass; feel how smooth its panicle is; this, the oat-like grass. "What is that very tall grass," asked Willy, "that often grows near the water? It is much taller than you are, and has a rich brown drooping head." You mean the common reed-grass, no doubt; it is not yet in flower, but you will see it in August and September. It is a magnificent grass, though not of much use to the farmer. The little birds find shelter amongst its stems, and the reed-warbler often chooses them as pillars whereon to support its nest. Then you must not forget another tall and handsome grass, often found on the banks of rivers and lakes, called the reed-canary grass; it flowers about the middle of July. You know the ribbon-grass, in the garden, with its leaves striped with green and white, varying immensely in the width of its bands, so that you can never find two leaves exactly alike. "Yes, indeed, papa," said May, "Iknow it well; you know we always put some with the flowers we gather for the drawing-room table." Well, this is only a cultivated variety of the reed-canary grass; and I have sometimes let a cluster of the ribbon-grass run wild as it were, and then the leaves turn to one uniform green. The reed-meadow grass is another tall and handsome kind; this cattle are very fond of; it is sweet to the taste and grows in damp situations. "You sometimes see," said May, "a very beautiful and curious grass, with long yellow feathery tails, amongst the ornaments in rooms." That is the "feather-grass;" it is a very rare grass, and has been seldom found wild in this country. The long yellow tails are the awns, which resemble delicate feathers. Here is the sweet-scented vernal grass; taste and see how pleasant it is; it is the grass which, perhaps more than any other, gives that charming odour to the hayfields. "There is a clear pond in yonder corner of the field, let us go there and see what we can find," said Willy. All right. It is a very likely pond for many interesting creatures; but let us first look at the plants that grow round or in it. There are a few sedges here and there—a pretty order of plants; at present you must be content with making yourselves acquainted with their general form. Take care how you gather them, for the leaves and stems of some kinds are very rough, and if you draw them quickly through your hand you may cut it rather sorely. "Oh! do come here, papa," said May; "here is quite a new flower to me; is it not a beauty?" Indeed, it is a lovely plant; it is the buckbean or marshtrefoil,and generally grows in some boggy spot, such as this. Look at the three green leaflets, like those of the common bean—hence one of the names of the plant. Look again at the clusters of blossoms; some are not fully out, and are of a lovely rose colour; others are quite out, and the flowers covered with a white silken fringe. Bite a bit, and taste how bitter it is; people often gather the roots and use them as a tonic medicine. I think in some countries, as in Norway and in Germany, the leaves have been used in the place of hops for brewing beer; about a couple of ounces being equal to a couple of pounds of hops. The late Sir William Hooker found the buckbean very plentiful in Iceland, and says that where it occurs it is of great use to travellers over the morasses, for they are aware that the thickly entangled roots make a safe bed under the soft morass for them to pass over. Here is hairy mint, nearly a foot high; do you dislike the smell? I think it pleasant myself; it is not yet in flower, but will be so in about six weeks' time. Holloa! Jack, what's the matter? "I have only tumbled down, papa, amongst these nasty nettles, and got stung rather sharply." That is interesting. Do you know how it is that nettles sting? "Oh, papa," said Jack, pitifully, "you are like the man in the fable who was giving a lecture to the drowning boy; the boy asked him to get him first of all out of the water, and to give him the lecture afterwards. Now, you should first tell me how to cure these nettle stings, and I would then be more inclined to learn how it is that nettles sting."
NETTLE.NETTLE.
The pain will soon pass off, and I do not know thatthere is any remedy. When at school, I was told to rub the stung part over with a dock leaf, but I do not think this ever did it any good. Now, I want you to pay particular attention; you know what we call "the dead nettle"—I mean what plant I allude to; there is the red, white, and yellow so-called dead nettles; you remember the shape of the flowers of these three kinds. Look at the flowers of the real stinging nettles; are theynot extremely unlike? You see the small green flowers in long branched clusters; how different from the lip-shaped flower of the dead nettles.
DEAD NETTLE.DEAD NETTLE.
There is some general resemblance, however, between the real nettles and the so-called dead nettles; the leaves for instance of the white dead nettle are very like those of the stinger. The dead nettles, however, are not at all related to the true nettle, and belong to quite a different family called the Labiate tribe, from the Latin wordLabium, "a lip", in allusion to the form of the corolla. Is the pain better, now, Jacko? "Yes, it is getting less severe; look what large white lumps havearisen on the back of my hand." The sting of the nettle is a very curious and interesting object under the microscope. It consists of a hollow tube with a glandular organ at the bottom of it, in which is contained an acrid fluid very irritating to the skin;the fine point of the sting or hair pierces the skin, and the pressure forces up the fluid from the bottom of the hair, which is then conveyed into the wound by a point at the top of the sting.
LABIATE PLANT. a. Stamens. b. Corolla. c. Calyx.LABIATE PLANT.a. Stamens.b. Corolla.c. Calyx.
STING OF NETTLE, MAGNIFIED.STING OF NETTLE, MAGNIFIED.
The nettles of foreign countries have much greater poisonous properties. The effects of incautiously handling some East Indian species are terrible. The first pain is compared with the pain inflicted by a red-hot iron; this increases and continues for days. A French botanist was once stung by one of these nettles in the Botanical Gardens of Calcutta; he says the pain so affected the lower part of his face that he feared lock-jaw. He did not get rid of the pain till nine days had expired. Dr. Hooker saw gigantic nettles in Nepal, one was a shrubby species growing fifteen feet high, called by the nativesmealum-ma. They had so great a dread of it that Dr. Hooker could hardly persuade them to help him to cut it down. He gathered several specimens without allowing any part to touch his skin, but the "scentless effluvium" was so powerful as to cause unpleasant effects for the rest of the day. "The sting produces violent inflammation, and to punish a child withmealum-mais the severest Lepcha threat." Then there is the nettle of Timor, ordevils-leaf, the sting of which sometimes produces fatal effects. Tree-nettles in Australia are occasionally found as much as twenty-five feet in circumference. There are three species of stinging nettles in this country, the great nettle, the small nettle, and the Roman nettle; the first two are very common, the last very rare indeed. There is a curious story told of the introduction of this lastspecies into this country. You may believe as much as you please of it. It is said that before the Romans under Julius Cæsar thought it prudent to come to England—of the coldness of which they had heard a good deal—they procured some seeds of the Roman nettle, intending to sow them when they landed in this country; so when they landed at Romney, in Kent, they sowed the seeds. "And what use, papa," asked Willy, "would nettles be to them during the cold weather in England?" Well, they meant to nettle themselves, and so chafe their skins so as to enable them to bear the cold better. And tough skins they must have had, for the poison of the Roman nettle is much more severe than that of the two common species. Camden, I believe, tells the story; as I said, you may believe it or not. Do you see that tortoiseshell butterfly hovering near the nettles? Its larva was a greenish-black caterpillar with yellow stripes, and it lived, when in that state, entirely on the leaves of the nettle; the larvæ also of other kinds of butterflies feed on this plant, as the admiral butterfly, and the peacock butterfly. I have eaten the young shoots of the common nettles in the spring of the year; they do not make a bad substitute for spinach.
LARVA, CHRYSALIS, AND INSECT OF THE SMALL TORTOISE-SHELL BUTTERFLY. (Vanessa urticæ.)LARVA, CHRYSALIS, AND INSECT OF THE SMALL TORTOISE-SHELL BUTTERFLY. (Vanessa urticæ.)
How prettily the yellow flags skirt the pool; there, you see, is the common branched bur-reed, with its sword-like leaves and round heads of flowers; a little way in the pool is the pretty arrowhead with its large conspicuous arrow-shaped leaves and flesh-coloured flowers, both leaves and flowers standing several inchesout of the water. In the water, too, I see the brownleaves of the perfoliate pondweed; they are almost transparent, and look when dry something like gold-beater's skin. I see also the cylindrical tufts of the horn-wort with its bristle-like leaves often several times forked. It grows entirely under the water. See also a few rose-coloured spikes of the amphibious persicaria.
YOUNG CRISTATELLA, MAGNIFIED.YOUNG CRISTATELLA, MAGNIFIED.
Such are some of the most conspicuous plants near our pond. It looks likely to contain some fresh-water polyzoa, than which there are few more beautiful tenants of the water. Here is a young one on this leaf of persicaria; do you see it? I put it into my bottle. Now look, it has lately been hatched from that round egg with curious hooks around its margin. It is calledCristatella. At present there are only three individuals in the outer heart-shaped covering, but additional ones will bud out of these three, and others from these last, till the whole colony may number as many as sixty individuals, being then fully an inch long; the mouth of each is placed between the tentacles, which have upon them,running down each side, a great number of very minute hairs orcilia, to which, you may remember, I have alluded before. The colour of the colony is yellowish white, sometimes brownish white. It is a most exquisite little animal, or rather colony of animals; for, though there are several creatures in one house, as it were, each is separate and independent of its neighbour. You will often find other forms of polyzoa in clear ponds and mill-pools; sometimes you would suppose you were looking at a mass of sponge, as in the case ofAlcyonella, or the creeping root of some weed, as inPlumatellaandFredericella; but when the sponge-like mass or rootlets are placed in water you will observe numbers of little animals to show their heads and tentacles above the mass or from the little holes in the creeping rootlets. Ah! what have we here? Do you see those long narrow ribbons of floating grass about a yard from us? Do you notice some of the ribbons to be bent and folded here and there? Between each fold we shall find an egg of a newt. Let me get this bit of grass ribbon. There, I unfold it where it is creased, and you see a transparent glairy substance, within which is a round yellowish egg. Here again is another. The leaves of persicaria, also, are often selected by the female newt for the purpose of depositing her eggs. Here you see is a leaf folded up; between the folds is another newt's egg. I have never seen the newt in the act of laying her eggs, but, I believe, it may readily be observed by placing a female newt any time during the months of May and June in a vessel of water with some leaves of persicaria. Mr. Bell says, "The manner inwhich the eggs are deposited is very interesting and curious. The female, selecting some leaf of an aquatic plant, sits as it were upon its edge, and folding it by means of her two hind feet, deposits a single egg in the duplicature of the folded part of the leaf, which is thereby glued most securely together, and the egg is thus effectually protected from injury. As soon as the female has in this way deposited a single egg, she quits the leaf, and after the lapse of a short time seeks another, there to place another egg." The eggs undergo various changes, and the animal, at an early part of its life, has a pair of delicate organs on each side of the neck; these are rudimentary gills, by means of which the little creature breathes. In its very early condition these gills are simple lobes; I ought to say that the first pair of lobes serve the purpose of holders by which the little creature attaches itself to leaves and other things. But when it is about three weeks old the gills have many leaf-like divisions, and look like beautiful feathered fringes. The circulation of blood in these gills may be readily seen under the microscope, and will be surveyed with the greatest delight. By-and-bye the animal buds out its four legs and looses the gills; they do not drop off, but become absorbed; hitherto it has carried on its respiration or breathing by means of these gills, but how does it breathe now that it has lost them? The lungs in the inside of the body have been gradually growing larger and fit for breathing the atmospheric air; for newts, when arrived at their full or perfect state, are, you know, chiefly terrestrial creatures, and breathe by means of theirlungs. When young they are in a fish state, and breathe the air contained in the water exactly as fish do. If you will look at a pond where newts abound, you will see the old ones constantly coming to the top of the water, gulping down a mouthful of air and then returning to the bottom. Full-grown newts do not frequent the water excepting for the sake of laying their eggs. The young ones are ready for leaving the water in the autumn, but I have often obtained young newts with their gills fully developed in the depth of winter. Probably these had been hatched late in the summer and had not time to grow their lungs, so had to keep to their gills and lead the life of a fish during the winter.
"People often call newts 'askers,' papa," said Willy, "and the lads of the village always kill them when they catch them; they say their bite is poisonous." I am sorry to say they do; but it is an error to suppose their bite is poisonous. You have yourself handled many specimens, and I am sure you never saw one attempt to bite. I do not believe their small teeth and weak jaws could pierce the skin. Four species of newts have been described as occurring in this country—the two common kinds are the smooth newt and the warty newt. I think I once found the palmated newt near Eyton; the male of this species is distinguished from other newts by having the hind legs webbed and by a thin filament or thread at the end of the tail.
DONACIA. a, b. Larvæ, nat. size. c. Cocoons on root, nat. size. d. Beetle, slightly magnified, e. Head of larva.DONACIA.a, b. Larvæ, nat. size. c. Cocoons on root, nat. size.d. Beetle, slightly magnified, e. Head of larva.
"What is this, papa," said Jack, "that I have found sticking to the roots of this water-weed; they look like the eggs of some creature?" They are not eggs, but the cocoons of a very common but pretty beetle calledDonacia. See, I will slit one open with my penknife. There is the little animal inside, a white, fat, maggoty thing; it has two curious hooks at the end of the tail, it has only just framed its cell, and is about to change from the larval to the pupal state. Here you see are other maggots among the roots; they have not yet made a cocoon. I will open some more; here is one in its pupal condition. Here is another almost ready to come out as a beetle. TheDonaciahave all a metallic appearance and very beautiful they are, whether blue, red, copper, or purple; the under side is covered with a fine silky down. They are found in great numbers on water-weeds, and being very sluggish arereadily caught or picked off the plants they frequent with the hand. Do you notice those small, flat, brown or black dabs so common on almost any water-weed you pluck up? These are planarian worms, and though not of prepossessing appearance generally, are extremely interesting animals to study. These large, reddish, oval or round cocoons are the eggs of the planariæ. Here is one of the largest of the family. It is of a milk-white colour, beautifully marked with delicate tree-like branches; sometimes this species (Planaria lactea) is of a light pink colour. The mouth is not situated where mouths usually are, in the fore part of the body, but almost in the centre. See, I will place this white planaria on my hand; do you notice that it protrudes something you might perhaps say was its tongue? It is not its tongue, however; it is a tubular proboscis, and is very strong and muscular, and unlike the soft body of the animal. By means of this proboscis the creature is enabled to pierce the bodies of other creatures and to suck out their juices. I have kept planariæ under observation, and seen them drive this proboscis through each other. These black and brown dabs often feed upon the milky planariæ. They are something like the hydræ in their power of producing lost portions of their bodies. Cut them in two or more pieces, each piece will grow into a perfect planaria again. These you see do not swim but crawl, or glide over the surface of plants in the water. Some kinds, however, different from these, are able to swim well. We have had a long and successful hunt to-day. Let us go.
THIS morning, before we started for our walk, we went to look at a hedgehog which had been brought to us the preceding day. We discovered that the animal, in the course of the night, had crept into a bag with a quantity of bran in it, and that there were four little ones with her. There they were as snug as possible, the mother and little urchins! Very curious little animals too these young hedgehogs. The spines or prickles were nearly white and soft, and were not spread over the whole body, but arranged in rows down it. The appearance was that of a plucked duckling when it is what is called "penny." They were perfectly blind, and the passage of the ear was quite closed; they uttered faint, puppy-like cries. I was desirous to try and rear them; but I had grave doubts about the old one, for those who have attempted to rear young hedgehogs have generally found that the mother ate her offspring. We removed her, young and all, to another place, giving them plenty of straw and supplying bread and milk for the old one. Buffon, amongst others, relates "that he had repeatedly placed the mother with the young in a place of confinement; but that, instead of suckling them, she invariably killedand devoured them, notwithstanding that she was provided with plenty of food."
However, we determined to give our young urchins a chance, and hoped the mother hedgehog would be favorably disposed towards her offspring; so we now left her undisturbed. Willy wished to know whether hedgehogs were injurious creatures, for "you know, papa," he said, "that country lads and gamekeepers always kill them whenever they have a chance." I am convinced that hedgehogs do much more good than harm, by the destruction they cause to insects, slugs, snails, field-mice, and other pests of the farm. There is a foolish idea in the minds of the uneducated that these animals suck cows. You have only to laugh at such an absurdity; but I doubt you will scarcely ever succeed in persuading such people that the idea is a ridiculous one, and utterly unsupported by fact. Hedgehogs will undoubtedly destroy eggs, and one can understand why gamekeepers wage war against them, fearing for the safety of the eggs or young birds of their favorite partridges or pheasants. This is natural. I suspect, however, that hedgehogs seldom molest the nests, and that the injury they do in this respect is very small. "But you know, papa," said Jack, "that they will eat young birds. Do you not remember the dead sparrow we once gave to a hedgehog, and how furiously he went at it, and how soon he ate it all up except the feathers." "Yes," added Willy, "and do you not also remember our putting a toad in the same box with a hedgehog? Oh! how angry he seemed, and how savagely he shook the unfortunate toad! He did not,however, seem to like the flavour, and soon gave up the fight." Hedgehogs will certainly destroy young birds; but we must remember to set the good any animal does against the harm, and strike the balance; and, as I said, I suspect in this case the good will largely preponderate. Hedgehogs are extremely fond of beetles; they seize on them with great earnestness, and crack them with as much delight as you lads crack nuts. Hedgehogs are sometimes kept in houses for the purpose of eating the cockroaches so often abounding in kitchens. Snakes are also devoured by hedgehogs. The late Professor Buckland, having occasion to suspect that hedgehogs sometimes preyed on snakes, "procured a common snake and also a hedgehog, and put them in a box together. Whether or not the latter recognised its enemy was not apparent; it did not dart from the hedgehog, but kept creeping gently round the box. The hedgehog was rolled up, and did not appear to see the snake. The professor then laid the hedgehog on the snake, with that part of the ball where the head and tail meet downwards, and touching it. The snake proceeded to crawl; the hedgehog started, opened slightly, and seeing what was under it gave the snake a hard bite, and instantly rolled itself up again. It soon opened a second, and again a third time, repeating the bite. This done, the hedgehog stood by the snake's side, and passed the whole body of the snake successively through its jaws, cracking it, and breaking the bones at intervals of half an inch or more, by which operation the snake was rendered motionless. The hedgehog then placed itself at the tip of the snake'stail, and began to eat upwards, as one would eat a radish, without intermission, but slowly, till half of the snake was devoured. The following morning the remaining half was also completely eaten up." When rather young these animals make very interesting pets; they soon become tame, and will allow you to stroke their cheeks. You remember our placing a hedgehog on the study table, and seeing how it got off on to the ground. It came to the edge, and threw itself off, coiling up its body partly as it fell; the elastic nature of its prickly covering enabling it to bear the shock of the fall without the slightest inconvenience.
GREAT GREY SHRIKE, OR BUTCHER BIRD, WITH ITS VICTIMS—SHREWS AND BLUE TITMOUSE.GREAT GREY SHRIKE, OR BUTCHER BIRD, WITH ITS VICTIMS—SHREWS AND BLUE TITMOUSE.
Let us go on the moors again, and watch the coots and water-hens in the reedy pools near the aqueduct. Do you see that great tit on a branch of this poplar? He is actually at work doing a bit of butchery on a small warbler. See how he is beating the poor little fellow on the head; he wants to get at his brains. "Are there not birds called butcher-birds?" asked Willy, "that fix their victims on thorns, and then peck off their flesh? Shall we see any of them?" There are three kinds of butcher-birds that have been known to come to this country. Two kinds are very uncommon, and we are not likely to meet with any of them in our walks. I may as well, however, tell you something about them; but, as I have no personal knowledge of the habits of any of the species, I must get my information from other sources. The great grey shrike, the red-backed shrike, and the woodchat shrike, are the three species of the family occurring in Great Britain; the red-backed shrike is the only tolerably common one,arriving in this country late in April, and quitting it in September. Mr. John Shaw tells me this bird visits the quarry grounds at Shrewsbury every spring, and an early riser, if he goes there, can see these birds readily. Mr. Yarrell says that the great grey shrike is only an occasional visitor to this country, and is generally obtained between autumn and spring. Its food consists of mice, shrews, small birds, frogs, lizards, and large insects. "After having killed its prey, it fixes the body in a forked branch, or upon a sharp thorn, the more readily to pull off small pieces from it." The following remarks are by a gentleman who had one of these birds in confinement:—"An old bird of this species," he says, "taken near Norwich in October, 1835, lived in my possession twelve months. It became very tame, and would readily take its food from my hands. When a bird was given it, it invariably broke the skull, and generally ate the head first. It sometimes held the bird in its claws, and pulled it to pieces in the manner of hawks, but seemed to prefer forcing part of it through the wires, then pulling at it. It always hung what it could not eat up on the sides of the cage. It would often eat three small birds in a day. In the spring it was very noisy, one of its notes a little resembling the cry of the kestrel." It is a cunning as well as a bold bird. It is said that by imitating the notes of some of the smaller birds it calls them near it, and then pounces upon some deluded victim. The shrike is used by falconers abroad for trapping falcons; "it is fastened to the ground, and by screaming loudly gives notice to the falconer, who is concealed, of the approach of ahawk." You will notice in any picture of a shrike how admirably adapted is its curved beak for butchering purposes. The red-backed shrike "frequents the sides of woods and high hedgerows, generally in pairs, and may frequently be seen perched on the uppermost branch of an isolated bush, on the look out for prey. The males occasionally make a chirping noise, not unlike the note of the sparrow." It also imitates the voice of small birds. Mr. Yarrell says "the food of the red-backed shrike is mice, and probably shrews, small birds, and various insects, particularly the common May-chaffer. Its inclination to attack and its power to destroy little birds has been doubted; but it has been seen to kill a bird as large as a finch, and is not unfrequently caught in the clap-nets of London bird-catchers, having struck at their decoy-birds;" and Mr. Hewitson says—"Seeing a red-backed shrike busy in a hedge, I found, upon approaching it, a small bird, upon which it had been operating, firmly fixed upon a blunt thorn; its head was torn off, and the body entirely plucked."
"What an amazing quantity of little lady-bird beetles there are on this hedge-bank," said May. "The ground is almost red with them." Yes, it is a very common, but very pretty species. You see there are seven black spots on its red wing-covers, three on each, arranged triangularly, and one at the top of the wing-covers, just at the point where they meet. "Are these insects injurious, papa?" asked Willy; "you say there are so many insects that are. I do hope the little lady-birds do no mischief." I am happy, then,to tell you that they are as useful as they are pretty. You all know what are called plant-lice, those nasty green or black flies called Aphides, which cover the leaves or branches of so many trees and flowers, and do most terrible mischief. Well, the lady-birds, both when they are larvæ and when they are beetles, eat these pests, and help to keep their devastating swarms in check. I have frequently seen an aphis in the mouth of a lady-bird; and the larva, a curious six-footed grub, about the third of an inch long, which you may often see late in the summer and the autumn, is still more fond of aphis food. Mr. Curtis says two lady-birds cleared two geranium plants of aphides in twenty-four hours. The species we are looking at is the "seven-spotted lady-bird;" there is another very common kind, whose scarlet wing-cases have one black spot on the centre of each. This species is subject to considerable variety; it is called the "two-spotted lady-bird." There is another you may often find; it is small and yellow, with eleven spots on each wing-cover. This is called the "twenty-two-spotted lady-bird;" it is an elegant little creature. It is interesting to note how the observation of some particular animal has led naturalists to the choice of their favorite study. Mr. Gould tells us that his first inclination to the study of birds arose from his father having once lifted him up to peep into a hedge-warbler's nest. His admiration for the beautiful blue eggs led him to devote his time to ornithology, or the study of birds. If I remember rightly, Kirby's mind was directed to the study of insects by noticing the wonderful vitality shown by alittle lady-bird beetle, which, after having been immersed twenty-four hours in spirits of wine, on being taken out actually flew away. "What is the meaning," asked Mary, "of the nursery rhyme about the lady-bird?