THE BROOK AND ITS BANKS.
By the Rev.J. G. WOOD, M.A., Author of “The Handy Natural History.”
The bank-vole—A long-tailed field mouse—Its varied diet—Insect-eating—Robbing a moth-hunter—Treacles and their visitors—The voles as climbers—The water-shrew—Signification of its name—Habits of the water-shrew—Its activity and grace in the water—Teeth of the shrews—Structure of its ears—Mode of swimming—The flattened body—Colour of the water-shrew—Its food—The shrew and the rat—An unfounded accusation—Burrow of the water-shrew—Superstitions regarding the shrews—The shrew ash—Land-shrews—The shrew-mouse—Distinctive structures—Mortality among shrews—Killing shrews with shovels—The pigmy shrew—Our smallest mammal.
The bank-vole—A long-tailed field mouse—Its varied diet—Insect-eating—Robbing a moth-hunter—Treacles and their visitors—The voles as climbers—The water-shrew—Signification of its name—Habits of the water-shrew—Its activity and grace in the water—Teeth of the shrews—Structure of its ears—Mode of swimming—The flattened body—Colour of the water-shrew—Its food—The shrew and the rat—An unfounded accusation—Burrow of the water-shrew—Superstitions regarding the shrews—The shrew ash—Land-shrews—The shrew-mouse—Distinctive structures—Mortality among shrews—Killing shrews with shovels—The pigmy shrew—Our smallest mammal.
Asmight be expected from its name, theBANK-VOLE(Arvícola glaréolus) is to be sought upon the banks of our brook. As its tail is nearly as long as that of the common mouse, it is often called the “long-tailed field mouse,” and it may easily be distinguished from a true mouse which does inhabit the country by the shortness of its ears, the bluntness of its snout, and the white colour of its paws.
It has many of the habits of the campagnol, but its diet is more diversified, including insects, worms and snails, and it is accused of eating young birds.
A rather startling incident, showing its insect-eating proclivities, was witnessed by my son, Theodore Wood, some years ago.
In those days he was an enthusiastic lepidopterist, and was in the habit of going out at night “treacling” for moths. This process is simple in principle, though rather difficult in practice. Many moths are irresistibly attracted by the odour of treacle mixed with the newest and coarsest rum. The moth-hunter, therefore, mixes treacle and rum, and at night paints with the mixture the trunks of suitable trees. Attracted by the odour, the moths fly to the bait, swallow the sweet mixture greedily, and become so intoxicated that they either fall or can be picked off the tree with the fingers.
Now, the “treacler” has many enemies. Slugs of the most portentous dimensions descend from their hiding places in the tree, and absorb the treacle just as if they were so many hungry leeches fastening on a plump and thin-skinned patient. Toads sit in a row round the trunk of the tree, waiting to snap up any moth that falls. The bats soon learn the value of a treacled tree, and sweep rapidly by it, whipping off the pre-occupied moths as they pass by.
On one occasion my son caught sight of a bank-vole, which had climbed up the tree and was taking its share of the spoil.
All the voles are admirable climbers, as indeed is necessary, in order to enable them to gather the corn and fruit of the hawthorn and wild rose. Their paws grasp the corn stems or tree twigs as if they were hands like those of the monkey, and they run about the slender branches of the hedges and shrubs that line the banks like monkeys among the trees of their native forests.
Like the campagnol, they make globular nests of grass, which may be found among the herbage of the bank by those who know where and how to look for them.
Justas the ordinary farmer lumps together half-a-dozen species or so of small birds, under the comprehensive title of “sparrows,” so do most people consider that every animal which labours under the misfortune of being small in dimensions, brown in colour, and having a tail appended to its body, must be either a rat or a mouse, according to its size.
No one can be familiar with the banks of any brook without being acquainted with the pretty littleWATER-SHREWS, which, like their relatives of the land, are almost invariably considered as mice, although, as we shall presently see, they are not connected in any way with the creatures which they superficially resemble.
If the observer will pick out some spot where he can be tolerably screened, and where the water of the brook is clear and rather shallow, he will be very likely to come upon the water-shrew (Cróssopus fódiens). Both of these names are very appropriate. The first, or generic, name is of Greek origin (as all generic names ought to be), and signifies “fringe-footed.” The name is due to the fringe of stiff hairs with which the feet are edged. A similar fringe is found on the lower surface of the tail. As these fringes are white, they are very conspicuous. Their object will presently be seen.
The second, or specific, title is (as all specific titles ought to be) derived from the Latin, and refers to the habits of the species. It signifies a digger or burrower, and alludes to its custom of digging burrows in the banks of the brook in which it loves to disport itself, and where it obtains much of its food.
As with other creatures, absolute stillness and silence is required on the part of the observer before the water-shrew will even show itself. Though there may be plenty of the little animals within a few yards, not one will be visible. But in ten minutes or thereabouts the silence will reassure them, and they will make their appearance on the bank.
I have seen them playing with each other on the bank of a rivulet which at that time was so dried up by want of rain that the water was scarcely a foot in width. They were almost within reach of my hand, and could easily have killed one or two with a stick. But as I prefer watching the habits of animals to killing them, they continued their pretty and graceful evolutions undisturbed.
Being sociable little creatures, a single water-shrew is seldom seen, and, if the observer should detect one of the animals, he may be tolerably certain that it will presently be joined by others. They are as playful as kittens, and, in their way, quite as graceful, their lithe bodies and active limbs being able to assume as many varied attitudes as may be seen in a family of kittens at play.
They chase each other over the bank, pretend to fight fiercely, squeaking the while as if wounded to death, just as puppies will do when playing and making believe to be hurt. Then one will jump into the water, and dive, as if to escape, while one or two others will pop in after it, and chase it under water.
Indeed, on the occasion which I have just mentioned, the whole proceedings reminded me forcibly of the games in which the boy swimmers of Oxford were wont to indulge for the best part of a summer’s day.
One of our favourite games was for one to dive into the Cherwell (mostly from the top of a pollard willow), and then for the rest to dive after him, and try to catch him under water before he had swum a certain distance. We used to shriek in our sport quite as much, and as loudly in proportion to our size, as the water-shrew squeaks, and I cannot but think that if any being as much superior to man as man is to the shrew could have watched us, we should have amused him much in the same way that the shrew amuses us.
In his admirable work on the British mammals, Mr. Bell states that the water-shrew will dive into a shallow, rippling stream, and run over the stones, pushing its long snout under them, and turning them over, should they be small, for the sake of dislodging and capturing the fresh-water shrimp (Gammarus), and then carrying it off to the bank and eating it with an audible, crunching sound.
I have not personally observed the creature engaged in this sub-aquatic hunt, though I have often seen it dive, and have been near enough to note its singularly beautiful aspect as it wriggles its irregular way under the surface.
Air is largely entangled among the hairs of its body, the imprisoned bubbles looking justlike globules of shining silver. The water-spider, which is also a common though unsuspected inmate of the brook, is adorned in a similar manner when it dives.
No one can watch these pretty little creatures without being interested and amused. But amusement ought not to be our sole object in observing the inhabitants of a brook. Let us catch one of the animals and keep it long enough to examine it. There is little difficulty in capturing a water-shrew, as the little animals are so fearless when they think themselves unobserved that a small hand-net can easily be slipped over them in their gambols. We need not keep our captive long, and, after inspecting the characteristic fringe of the feet and tail, we will examine its head and jaws.
A mere glance at the head ought to tell us that it cannot be a mouse, no mouse having a long, pointed snout, which projects far beyond the lower jaw. On opening its mouth and examining its teeth, we not only see that it cannot be a mouse, but that it is not even a rodent. It is, in fact, much more nearly related to the hedgehog than to the mouse. All its teeth are sharply pointed, and the lower incisors project almost horizontally forwards. The animal must, therefore, be predacious in character, and a comparison with the structure of other animals shows that it belongs to the important though not very numerous group of the insectivora, or insect-eaters, of which the mole is the generally accepted type. There are, however, some systematic zoologists who hold that the shrews, and not the moles, ought to be the typical representatives of the insectivora. This, however, is a matter of opinion, and its discussion does not come within the scope of our present undertaking.
Before we release our captive, we will examine its ears.
These are small, as are those of all water-inhabiting mammals, but there is a peculiarity in their structure which is worthy of notice. They are furnished with three small valves, which, being made on the same principle as those of the heart, are closed by the pressure of the water as soon as the animal dives below the surface, and open by their own elasticity when it emerges.
Now, we will allow it to escape into the water, and take note of it as it swims away.
I have already casually referred to the irregular course which it pursues in swimming. This is due to the fact that the water-shrew drives itself along by alternate strokes with the fringed hind feet, so that its progress reminds the observer of that of a boat propelled by two unskilful rowers, who have not learned to keep time. Still, its pace is tolerably rapid, though it lacks the steady directness which characterises that of the water-vole.
Another remarkable point in its swimming is that the outstretched legs cause the skin of the flanks to be widened and flattened in a way that reminds the observer of the flying squirrel when passing through the air. Although in the water-shrew the skin is not nearly as much flattened as in the squirrel, it is expanded sufficiently to alter the shape of the creature in a notable manner.
Supposing the observer to be tolerably familiar with the terrestrial shrews, he must have been struck by the blackness of the fur of the back, and the contrasting whiteness of the under-surface. So strongly, indeed, is the contrast marked, that an exceptionally dark variety was long considered as a distinct species, and called the “oared shrew.”
Like the insectivora in general, the water-shrew is not at all particular in its diet, providing it be of an animal nature. As most of us know, the hedgehog, although its normal food consists of insects, snails, and the like, will feed on frogs, toads, mice, and even snakes and blindworms. So will the water-shrew, if it can be fortunate enough to find the dead bodies of any of these creatures, for it is not sufficiently powerful to kill them for itself.
In Mr. Bell’s work, to which reference has already been made, there is an interesting notice of the carnivorous habits of the water-shrew.
An ordinary rat had been caught and killed in a steel trap, and upon the body of the rat was perched a little black creature, which proved on examination to be a water-shrew, which was trying to make a meal upon the rat. It had already bored a hole in the side of the rat, and was so absorbed in its task that it suffered itself to be touched with a stick without being alarmed.
This little animal does not restrict itself to the neighbourhood of water, but is often found at some distance inland. It has been accused, and I believe with justice, of devouring the eggs of river fish, a crime which, as I have already mentioned, is wrongly attributed to the water-vole.
Although we may see the water-shrew swim away and disappear below the surface of the water, we may watch in vain for its reappearance. As is done by the duckbill of Australia, the animal always makes several entrances to its burrow, one of them being on the side of the bank, below the surface of the water. It can, therefore, enter or leave the brook without being observed.
All the shrews, whether of the land or water, were at one time the objects of universal dread, and even the toad and blindworm could scarcely be more feared.
As one old writer remarks, in his sweeping condemnation of the animal, “It beareth a cruel minde, desiring to hurt anything, neither is there any creature that it loveth, or it loveth him, because it is feared of all.”
It was held to be the special foe of cattle, biting their hoofs while in the stall and running over their bodies as they lay chewing the cud in the field. A cow over which a shrew had run was said to be “shrew-struck,” and to fall straightway into a sort of consumption, accompanied with swellings of the skin.
The disease, being caused by the shrew, could only be cured by the shrew, the usual mode of treatment being to burn the animal alive and rub the cow with the ashes. As, however, a shrew might not always be at hand when a cow was taken ill, the ingenuity of our forefathers devised a plan of having essence of shrew always within reach.
A shrew was caught alive, and a hole bored into the trunk of an ash tree. The shrew, which must be still living, was put into the hole, the entrance to which was then closed with a wooden plug. As the body of the shrew decayed, its virtues were supposed to be absorbed into the tree, so that a branch of a “shrew ash,” or even a few leaves, were supposed to be an effectual cure if laid upon the suffering animal.
The tail of a shrew, when burned and powdered, was considered as a certain remedy for the bite of a dog; only the tail must be cut from a living shrew.
I have already made casual mention of the shrews of the land.
Two species of land-shrews are recognised as inhabitants of England. One is the commonSHREW, orSHREW-MOUSE(Sorex vulgáris), which for a long time was thought to be identical with the water-shrew. The fringed feet and tail, however, afford sufficient indications that it is a distinct species.
Towards the end of autumn there seems to be quite a mortality among the shrews, their bodies being plentifully strewn about the roadways and paths across fields. Why this should be so no one can tell, though many conjectures have been offered, one absurd theory being that man and the shrew are so antagonistic to each other, that when a shrew tries to cross a pathway made and used by man it dies from sheer antipathy.
This fact was known to Pliny, and Topsel, the old writer who has already been quoted, is of opinion that when a shrew dies in a cart-rut, the finder should not fail to secure so valuable a prize.
“The shrew which by falling by chance into a cart road or track doth die upon the same, being burned and afterwards beaten or dissolved into dust, and mingled with goose-grease, being rubbed or anointed upon those who are troubled with the swelling coming by the cause of some inflammation, doth bring into them a wonderful and most admirable cure and remedy.”
The same author mentions its predacious habits, and states that it is especially fond of the putrid flesh of the raven, the French using it as a bait, and killing numbers of shrews as they are feasting on the dead bird. He is especially careful to mention that the deluded shrews are killed with shovels.
The third species of British shrew is thePIGMY-SHREW(Sorex pygmæus), which is even smaller than the harvest mouse, and is the smallest of all the British mammals.
I have mentioned the three species, because until quite recently much confusion reigned concerning them and their habits, and much difficulty has been found in disentangling them.
For example, no distinction had been recognised between the common shrew and the water-shrew, while the pigmy-shrew was thought to be the young of the common or erd-shrew, and an exceptionally large specimen of the water-shrew was supposed to be a separate species, and distinguished by the name of oared-shrew.
So, by means of carrying out our study of the water-shrew we have not only found much that is interesting and amusing, but have added something to our knowledge of animal physiology.
(To be continued.)
NEST OF THE CAMPAGNOL.
NEST OF THE CAMPAGNOL.
NEST OF THE CAMPAGNOL.