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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:09:27 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:09:27 -0700 |
| commit | 70f695f1f30f140c243dda85b1138589140fa7f0 (patch) | |
| tree | 6aeb30fdd9e26322d1fef13b2c66378844d71bad /38066-h | |
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diff --git a/38066-h/38066-h.htm b/38066-h/38066-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8ffcfc --- /dev/null +++ b/38066-h/38066-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9326 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adventures of a Grain of Dust, by Hallam Hawksworth. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h1 { + margin-bottom: 2em; +} + + +h3 { + margin-top: 2em; +} + + +small { + font-size: 60%; +} + +big { + font-size: 140%; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +p.title { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + line-height: 1.4; + margin-bottom: 5em; +} + +.attr { + text-indent: 20em; +} + + + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: 75%; text-indent: 0em; + background-color: inherit; font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; + text-decoration: none; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + + +.caption { + text-align: center; + font-size: 80%; +} + +.ctext { + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: normal; 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+} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i6 { + display: block; + margin-left: 6em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i8 { + display: block; + margin-left: 8em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i10 { + display: block; + margin-left: 10em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.ind1 { + margin-top: 2em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of a Grain of Dust, by Hallam Hawksworth + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of a Grain of Dust + +Author: Hallam Hawksworth + +Release Date: November 20, 2011 [EBook #38066] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF A GRAIN OF DUST *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Cathy Maxam, Joseph Cooper and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<p class="title u">STRANGE ADVENTURES IN NATURE'S WONDERLANDS</p> + + +<h1>THE ADVENTURES<br /> +OF A GRAIN OF DUST</h1> + + +<p class="title"> +BY<br /> +<big>HALLAM HAWKSWORTH</big><br /> +</p> + +<p class="title"> +AUTHOR OF "THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PEBBLE" +</p> + +<p class="title"><big>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</big><br /> +<span>NEW YORK</span> <span style="margin-left: 5em;">CHICAGO</span> <span style="margin-left: 5em;">BOSTON</span> +</p> + + + +<p class="title"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1922, by</span><br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS +</p> + +<hr style="width: 35%;" /> + +<p class="title"> +Printed in the United States of America<br /> +C +</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/i004.jpg" alt="i004" /> +</div> + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h2>JUST A WORD</h2> + + +<p>I don't want you to think that I'm boasting, but I <i>do</i> +believe I'm one of the greatest travellers that ever was; +and if anybody, living or dead, has ever gone through with +more than I have I'd like to hear about it.</p> + +<p>Not that I've personally been in all the places or taken +part in all the things I tell in this book—I don't mean to +say that—but I do ask you to remember how long it is +possible for a grain of dust to last, and how many other +far-travelled and much-adventured dust grains it must +meet and mix with in the course of its life.</p> + +<p>The heart of the most enduring grains of dust is a little +particle of sand, the very hardest part of the original rock +fragment out of which it was made. That's what makes +even the finest mud seem gritty when it dries on your +feet. And the longer these sand grains last the harder +they get, as you may say; for it is the hardest part that +remains, of course, as the grain wears down. Moreover, +the smaller it gets the less it wears. If it happens to be +spending its time on the seashore, for example, the very +same kind of waves that buffet it about so, waves that, +farther down the beach hurl huge blocks of stone against +the cliffs and crack them to pieces, not only do not wear +away the sand grains, to speak of, but actually save them +from wear. The water between the grains protects them; +like little cushions. And the sand in the finer dust grains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> +carried by the wind is protected by the material that +gathers on its surface.</p> + +<p>Why, if a pebble of the size of a hickory-nut may be +ages and ages old—almost in the very form in which you +see it,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> think what the age of this long-enduring part of a +grain of dust must be.</p> + + +<p>Then remember what the ever-changing material on the +surface of these immortal grains is made of; the dust particles +of plants and animals, of buried Cęsars and still +older ancients, such as those early settlers of Chapter II.</p> + +<p>Finally, if what we call flesh and blood can think and +talk, why not a grain of dust? In fact, what is flesh and +blood but dust come back to life? Says the poet—and the +poets know:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The very dust that blows along the street<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once whispered to its love that life is sweet."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You see it's as likely a thing as could happen—this +whole story.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">The Grain of Dust.</span><br /> +<br /> +(Per H. H.) +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div> +<table + border="0" + cellpadding="4" + cellspacing="10" + width="90%" + summary="contents"> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">CHAPTER</td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">I.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><i>The Little Old Man of the Rock</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">1</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">II.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><i>Some Early Settlers and Their Bones</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">19</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">III.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><i>The Winds and the World's Work</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">37</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">IV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><i>The Bottom-Lands</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">55</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">V.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><i>What the Earth Owes to the Earthworm</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">75</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><i>The Little Farmers with Six Feet</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">92</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><i>Farmers with Four Feet</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">114</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><i>Water Farmers Who Help Make Land</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">137</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">IX.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><i>Farmers Who Wear Feathers</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">162</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">X.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><i>The Busy Fingers of the Roots</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">186</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><i>The Autumn Stores and the Long Winter Night</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">204</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><i>The Brotherhood of the Dust</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">225</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#INDEX"><i>Index</i></a></td> +<td class="tdr">247</td> +</tr> + +</table> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p>The author wishes to make special acknowledgment to the +following publishers for their courtesy in supplying illustrations:</p> + +<p>The Macmillan Company for the pictures from Tarr and +Martin's "College Physiography" on page <a href="#imagei251">239</a>; Darwin's +"Formation of Vegetable Mould" on page <a href="#imagei089">77</a>.</p> + +<p>D. Appleton and Company for the pictures from Gilbert and +Brigham's "Introduction to Physical Geography" on page <a href="#imagei106">94</a>; +"Picturesque America" on page <a href="#imagei255">243</a>.</p> + +<p>J. B. Lippincott Company for the pictures from Beard's +"American Boy's Book of Bugs, Butterflies, and Beetles" on +page <a href="#imagei241">229</a>; McCook's "Natural History of the Agricultural Ant of +Texas" on pages <a href="#imagei218">206</a> and <a href="#imagei225">213</a>.</p> + +<p><i>McClure's Magazine</i> for the pictures on pages <a href="#imagei161">149</a> +and <a href="#imagei169">157</a>.</p> + +<p>Scientific American Publishing Company for the picture from +"Scientific American Boy at School" on page <a href="#imagei239">227</a>.</p> + +<p>Harper and Brothers for the pictures from McCook's "Nature's +Craftsmen" on pages <a href="#imagei110">98</a>, <a href="#imagei117">105</a>, +<a href="#imagei121">109</a>, <a href="#imagei219">207</a>, and <a href="#imagei220">208</a>.</p> + +<p><i>Strand Magazine</i> for the pictures on pages <a href="#imagei177a">165</a>, +<a href="#imagei194">182</a>, and <a href="#imagei216">204</a>.</p> + +<p>Charles Scribner's Sons for the pictures from Yard's "Top +of the Continent" on page <a href="#imagei017">5</a>; "Country Life Reader" on pages +<a href="#imagei021">9</a>, <a href="#imagei076">64</a>, <a href="#imagei097a">85</a>, +<a href="#imagei126">114</a>, <a href="#imagei198">186</a>, and <a href="#imagei253">241</a>; +Osborn's "Men of the Old Stone +Age" on page <a href="#imagei045">33</a>. Hornaday's "American Natural History" on +pages <a href="#imagei128">116</a>, <a href="#imagei129">117</a>, <a href="#imagei131">119</a>, +<a href="#imagei135">123</a>, <a href="#imagei142">130</a>, <a href="#imagei156">144</a>, +and <a href="#imagei237">225</a>; Seton's "Life Histories +of Northern Animals" on pages <a href="#imagei135">123</a>, <a href="#imagei141">129</a>, +<a href="#imagei159">147</a>, and <a href="#imagei163">151</a>.</p> + +<p>Henry Holt and Company for the pictures from Beebe's +"The Bird, Its Form and Function" on page <a href="#imagei179">167</a>; Salisbury's +"Physiography" on pages <a href="#imagei067">55</a>, <a href="#imagei083">71</a>, +and <a href="#imagei179">167</a>.</p> + +<p>Carnegie Institution of Washington for the pictures on pages<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> +<a href="#imagei020">8</a> and <a href="#imagei081">69</a>.</p> + +<p>University of Nebraska for the picture on page <a href="#imagei049">37</a>.</p> + +<p>Columbia University Press for the picture from Wheeler's +"Ants and Their Structure" on page <a href="#imagei107">95</a>.</p> + +<p>Houghton Mifflin Company for the pictures from Sharp's +"Year Out of Doors" on page <a href="#imagei023">11</a>; "Riverside Natural History" +on page <a href="#imagei129">117</a>; Mill's "In the Beaver World" on pages +<a href="#imagei164">152</a> and <a href="#imagei165">153</a>.</p> + +<p>Ginn and Company for the pictures from Breasted's "Ancient +Times" on page <a href="#imagei079a">67</a>; "Agriculture for Beginners" +on page <a href="#imagei059">47</a>; +Bergen's "Foundation of Botany" on pages <a href="#imagei061">49</a>, +<a href="#imagei202">190</a>, and <a href="#imagei209">197</a>; +Bergen's "Elements of Botany" on pages <a href="#imagei205">193</a> +and <a href="#imagei207">195</a>; Beal's +"Seed Dispersal" on page <a href="#imagei063">51</a>.</p> + +<p>U. S. Geological Survey for the pictures on pages <a href="#imagei033">21</a>, +<a href="#imagei034">22</a>, <a href="#imagei035">23</a>, +<a href="#imagei042">30</a>, <a href="#imagei043">31</a>, and <a href="#imagei071">59</a>.</p> + +<p>New York Zoological Society for the pictures on pages <a href="#imagei157">145</a>, +<a href="#imagei171">159</a>, and <a href="#imagei228">216</a>.</p> + +<p><i>School Arts Magazine</i> for the picture on page <a href="#imagei233a">221</a>.</p> + +<p>U. S. Department of Agriculture for the pictures on pages +<a href="#imagei138">125</a> and <a href="#imagei201">189</a>.</p> + +<p>American Museum of Natural History for the pictures on +pages <a href="#imagei032">20</a>, <a href="#imagei036">24</a>, +<a href="#imagei038">26</a>, <a href="#imagei151">139</a>, and <a href="#imagei174">162</a>.</p> + +<p>Cassell and Company for the pictures from "Popular History +of Animals" on pages <a href="#imagei130">118</a>, <a href="#imagei189">177</a>, +<a href="#imagei191">179</a>, and <a href="#imagei229">217</a>; "Popular Science" +on page <a href="#imagei254">242</a>.</p> + +<p>Hutchinson for the pictures from "Marvels of the Universe" +on pages <a href="#imagei104">92</a>, <a href="#imagei113">101</a>, +<a href="#imagei115">103</a>, <a href="#imagei153">141</a>, <a href="#imagei181">169</a>, +and <a href="#imagei185">173</a>; "Marvels of Insect +Life" on page <a href="#imagei223">211</a>.</p> + +<p>The Dunham Company for the picture on page <a href="#imagei057">45</a>.</p> + +<p>International Harvester Company for the picture on page +<a href="#imagei211a">199</a>.</p> + +<p>Northern Pacific Railway for the pictures on pages <a href="#imagei247">235</a> and +<a href="#imagei249">237</a>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<blockquote><p>It will be understood, as stated in the preface, that, like +"The Strange Adventures of a Pebble," this is an autobiography. +In other words, it is the grain of dust itself that +tells the story of the life of the soil of which it is a part.</p></blockquote> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ADVENTURES<br /> +OF A GRAIN OF DUST</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class="center">(JANUARY)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">In truth you'll find it hard to say<br /></span> +<span class="i6">How it could ever have been young<br /></span> +<span class="i6">It looks so old and grey.<br /></span> +<p class="attr">—<i>Wordsworth.</i><br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE LITTLE OLD MAN OF THE ROCK</h3> + + +<p>Some say it was Leif Ericson, some say it was Columbus, +but <i>I</i> say it was The Little Old Man of the Rock.</p> + +<p>And I go further. I say he not only discovered America +but Europe, Asia, and Africa, and the islands of the sea. +I'll tell you why.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="I._HOW_LITTLE_MR._LICHEN_DISCOVERED_THE_WORLD" id="I._HOW_LITTLE_MR._LICHEN_DISCOVERED_THE_WORLD">I. How Little Mr. Lichen Discovered the World</a></span></h4> + +<p>As everybody knows, we must all eat to live, and how +could either Columbus or anybody else—except Mr. +Lichen—have done much discovering in a world where +there was nothing to eat? When the continents first rose +out of the sea<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> there wasn't anything to eat but rock. +Rock, to be sure, makes very good eating if you have the +stomach for it, as Mr. Lichen has. It contains sulphur,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +phosphorus, silica, potash, soda, iron, and other things +that plants are fond of, but ordinary plants can't get these +things out of the rock—let alone human beings and other +animals; and that's why Mr. Lichen had the first seat at +the table and always does.</p> + +<p>On bare granite boulders in the fields, on the rocky +ruins at the foot of mountains, and even on the mountain +tops themselves, on projecting rocks far above the snow +line, you find the lichens. On rock of every kind they +settle down and get to work. They never complain of the +climate—hot or cold, moist or dry. When the land goes +dry they simply knock off, and then when a little moisture +is to be had they're busy again. A little goes a long way +with members of the family who live in regions where +water is scarce. Indeed, most of them get along with +hardly any moisture at all. The very hardiest of them +are so small that a whole colony looks like a mere stain +upon the rock.</p> + +<p>While lichens are generally gray—they seem to have +been <i>born</i> old, these queer little men of the rock—you can +find some that are black, others bright yellow or cream-colored. +Others are pure white or of various rusty and +leaden shades. Some are of the color of little mice. To +make out any shapes in these tiny forms, you must look +very close; and if you have a hand lens you will be surprised +to find that this fairy-land of the lichens isn't so +drab as it seems to the naked eye. For there are flower +gardens—the tiny spore cups. Some of them are vivid +crimson and, standing out on a background of pure white, +they're very lovely. Some of the science people believe +the colors attract the minute insects that the lens shows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +wandering around in these fairy flower gardens. But just +what the insects can be there for nobody knows, since the +lichens are scattered, not by insects, but by the wind.</p> + +<p>As a rule lichens grow only in open, exposed places, +although some are like the violets—they enjoy the shade. +Some varieties grow on trees, some on the ground, others +on the bleached bones of animals in fields and wastes and +on the bones of whales cast up by the sea.</p> + +<p>Of course the whole country was awfully wild when the +continents first came out of the sea, but that just suited +Mr. Lichen, for there is one thing he can't stand, and that +is city life, with its smoke and bad air.</p> + +<p>"Why, one can't get one's breath!" he says.</p> + + +<h5>WHY THE LICHENS DISLIKE CITY LIFE</h5> + +<p>So, while you will not meet Mr. Lichen in cities—at +least, until after the people are all gone; that is to say, on +ruins of cities of the past—you will find him beautifying +the ancient walls of abbeys, old seats of learning like +Oxford, and the tombstones of the cities of the dead.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lichen always travels light. On the surface of the +lichens are what seem to be little grains of dust, and these +serve the purpose of seeds. A puff of wind will carry +away thousands of them, and so start new colonies in +lands remote.</p> + +<p>You see, the fact that he requires so little baggage must +have been a great advantage to Mr. Lichen in those early +days, when he had to discover not only America but all +the rest of the world map, spread out so wide and far. +You can just imagine how the grains of lichen dust, the +seed of the race, must have gone whirling across the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +with the winds.</p> + +<p>But if a breath of wind would carry them away so easily, +how could they <i>stay</i> on a rock, these tiny lichen travellers? +Especially as they have no roots? They have +curious rootlike fibres which absorb food by dissolving the +rock, and this dissolved rock, hardening, holds them on. +The fibres of lichens that grow on granite actually sink +into it by dissolving the mica and forcing their way between +the other kinds of particles in the rock that they +can't eat. Thus they help break it up.</p> + +<p>As we all know, little people are great eaters in proportion +to their size, but it is said the lichens are the heartiest +eaters in the world. They eat more mineral matter than +any other plant, and all plants are eaters of minerals.</p> + +<p>Yet, you'd wonder what they do with the food they eat—most +of them grow so slowly. A student of lichens +watched one of them on the tiled roof of his house in +France—one of the kind of lichens that look like plates of +gold—and in forty years he couldn't see that it had grown +a single bit, although he measured it carefully.</p> + + +<h5>HOW MR. LICHEN EATS UP STONES</h5> + +<p>But how could such feeble creatures, as they seem to be, +ever eat anything so hard as rock? Well, they couldn't if +it wasn't for one thing—they understand chemistry. At +least they carry with them, or know how to make, an +acid, and it's this acid which enables them to dissolve the +rock so that they can absorb it. The acid is in their fibres—what +answer for roots. And the dissolved rock not +only gives them their daily bread, but, as I said a moment +ago, holds them on. This use of acid is their way of eating; +chewing their food very fine, and mixing it with +saliva, as all of us young people are taught to do.</p> + +<p>The first and smallest of the lichen family spread and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +decay into a thin film of soil. This decay makes more +acid, just as decaying leaves do to-day—they learned it, +no doubt, from the lichens—and this acid of decay also +eats into the rock and makes more soil. (You see nature, +from the start, has been helping those that help themselves, +just as the old proverb has it.) Then, after the +first tiny lichens—mere grains of dust that have just begun +to feel the stir of life—come somewhat larger lichens which +can only live where there is a little soil to begin with. +These in turn die, which means a still deeper layer of soil, +still more acid of decay, and so on up to larger lichens and +later more ambitious plants. Then, on the soil made by +these successive generations of lichens, higher types of +plants—plants with true roots—get a foothold.</p> + +<p>Besides making soil themselves, the lichens help accumulate +soil by holding grains of rock broken up by their fibres +and loosened by the action of the heat and cold of day +and night and change of season. These little grains become +entangled in the larger lichens and are kept, many +of them, from being washed away by the heavy rains. So +held, they are in time crumbled into soil by the action of +the acids and by mixture with the products of plant decay. +To this day, go where you will, over the whole face +of the earth, and you'll find the lichens there ahead of you, +dressed in their sober suits, some gray as ashes, others +brown, but some are as yellow as gold; for even these +old people like a little color once in a while. As travellers +they beat all.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Their geographical range is more extended than that of any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +other class of plants."</p></blockquote> + +<p>That's how the learned lichenologists put it. For these +lichens, these humble little brothers of our dust, that many +of us never looked at twice on the stones of the field, or +the gray stumps and dead limbs in the wood, are so interesting +when you've really met them—been properly introduced—that +a whole science has grown up around them +called "lichenology." And exciting! You ought to hear +the hot discussions that lichenologists get into. You read, +for instance, that such and such a theory "was received +with a storm of opposition" (as most new theories are, +by the way, particularly if they are sound).</p> + +<p>But the tumults and the strifes of science, of politics, +or of wars don't disturb little old Mr. Lichen himself. +There on his rock he'll sit, overlooking the scenery and +watching life and the seasons come and go for 100, 200, +500 years, and more. For while they grow so slowly the +lichens make up for it by living to an extreme age.</p> + + +<h5>THE LICHENS AND THE ROMAN EMPIRE</h5> + +<p>Why, do you know that during the lifetime of certain +lichens that are still hale and hearty, not only a long line +of Cęsars might rise, flourish, die, and, with their clay, +stop holes to keep the wind away, as Mr. Shakespere put +it, but the vast Roman Empire could and did come into +being, move across the stage with its banners and trumpets +and glittering pomp and go back to the dust again.</p> + +<p>Some lichens, growing on the highest mountain ranges +of the world, are known to be more than 2,000 years old!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei017" name="imagei017"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i017.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE SEQUOIAS; THE SUNLIGHT AND THE SHADE</p> +<p class="ctext">Wonderful sunlight effect, isn't it? We are here in Sequoia National Park and those big +trees are sequoias, members of the pine-tree family.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="II._THE_MARCH_OF_THE_TREES" id="II._THE_MARCH_OF_THE_TREES">II. The March of the Trees</a></span></h4> + +<p>Of course I don't mean to say it takes any 2,000 years +for the average lichen to die and turn to dust. These +long-lived lichens are the Methuselahs of their race. Most +kinds die much younger, as time goes among the lichens, +and in a comparatively few years, a century say, after +their first settlement on the rock, the lichens have become +soil. All this time the heating of the rock by day and the +cooling off at night, the work of frost and the gases of the +rain and the air<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> have also helped to make more soil and +by and by there is enough for lichens of a larger growth; +and mosses begin to get a foothold. These, in turn, die +and, in decaying, make acids, as did the little lichens before +them, and this acid joins hands with all the other forces to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +work up the rock into soil. Presently there is enough +soil to let certain adventurers of the Weed family drop +in. The picking is very thin, to be sure, but some of these +Weed people have learned to put up with almost anything. +Don't suppose, however, that all weeds are alike +in this respect. Oh, dear, no! They come into new plant +communities just as the trees do, not haphazard, but according +to a certain more or less settled order. Some of +them, the adventurer type, will, it is true, settle down and +seem contented enough on land so poor that to quote the +witty Lady Townshend "you will only find here and there +a single blade of grass and two rabbits fighting for that"; +while other weeds will have nothing to do with soil that, +in their opinion, is not good enough for people of their +family connections.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei020" name="imagei020"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i020.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">EARLY SETTLERS IN THE DESERT</p> +<p class="ctext">Besides earning their own living under hard conditions, these sturdy pioneers of the desert +are preparing the way for plants of a higher kind, as the next two pictures will tell you.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>It has long been known that the character of soil may +be told, to a considerable degree, by the kind of weeds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +that grow on it. An old English writer pointed this out +in his quaint way some 200 years ago:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Ground which, though it bear not any extraordinary abundance +of grass yet will load itself with strong and lusty weeds, as +Hemlocks, Docks, Nettles and such like, is undoubtedly a most +rich and fruitful ground for any grain whatsoever."</p></blockquote> + +<p>But, he goes on to say:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"When you see the ground covered with Heath, Broom, Bracken, +Gorse and such like, they be most apparent signs of infinite great +barrenness. And, of these infertile places, you shall understand, +that it is the clay ground which for the most part brings forth the +Moss, the Broom, the Gorse and such like."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Wherever soil is coarse and bouldery the weeds also are +of a sturdy breed. In his long, delightful days among +the mountains Muir<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> tells us what a brave show the +thistles made in this new world of soil; how royal they +looked in their purple bloom, standing up head and shoulders +above the other plants, like Saul among the people.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei021" name="imagei021"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i021.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHAT THE DESERT PIONEERS DO FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS</p> +<p class="ctext">Only the sturdiest kinds of shrubs and weeds, such as you see in the desert, can earn their +keep in sandy soil, always thirsty, like that on the right. But the desert vegetation, dying +and decaying—it is then called "humus"—not only knits the soil together but absorbs +moisture and ammonia from the air and so helps grow good crops.</p> +</div></div> + + +<h5>HOW PLANT PEOPLE PAY THEIR TAXES</h5> + +<p>In all these plant republics each citizen must pay something +into the common treasury for its board and keep. +This fund not only meets "national expenses" during the +lifetime of the ones who pay these taxes, but it helps prepare +the land for the great citizens of the future—the +trees. In another hundred years—making two hundred +in all, after the arrival of the very first lichens—low shrubs +and bushes often find spots in these new communities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +where the soil is thick enough for their needs.</p> + +<p>It is very curious how members of the plant world, +growing side by side, seek their food at different depths, +and send out their roots accordingly. It reminds one of +the rigid class distinctions below stairs in a nobleman's +household where the chef has his meals in his own private +apartment, the kitchen maids in their quarters, the chauffeurs, +footman, under butler, and pantry boys in the servants' +hall.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei023" name="imagei023"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i023.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE LEADERS OF THE GRAND MARCH</p> + +</div></div> + + +<p>But most striking, it has always seemed to me, is the +settled order in which trees march into the land. Why +shouldn't the oaks come before the maples? Or the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +maples before the beeches? Or the beeches before the +pines? Why is it that, with the exception of a straggler +here and there, the first trees to climb the stony mountainsides +are the pines? Then close behind come such +trees as the poplars, and along the streams below, the +willows. Still farther down the valley are the beeches; +farther still the maples, and last of all the oaks.</p> + +<p>So it is they advance in a certain regular way, each in +its own place in the ranks. At first it seems as strange +as the coming of Birnam wood to Dunsinane that gave +poor Macbeth such a turn that time. But, after all, the +explanation is quite simple and no doubt you have guessed +it already.</p> + +<p>The reason such trees as the pines, poplars, and willows +come first is that the seeds are so light they are easily carried +by the winds and so reach new soil ahead of other trees +with winged seeds like the beeches and the maples; for, +although these seeds also travel on the wind, they are +much larger than the winged seeds of the pine and they +travel much more slowly and for shorter distances.</p> + +<p>Moreover, at the end of their first journey, having once +fallen to the ground, they are apt to stay. Then there is +no further advance, so far as these particular seeds are +concerned, until trees have sprung from them and they, in +turn, bear seeds. In the case of very light seeds, like those +of the pines, the wind not only carries them far beyond the +comparatively slow and heavy march of the beech and +the maple, but if they fall on rock with little or no soil +the next wind picks them up and carries them farther, so +that they may strike some other spot where there is soil +and perhaps a little network of grass and weeds to secure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +them until they can take root and so hold their own. It +is not only a great advantage to the pine seeds to be so +small, so far as getting ahead of other trees is concerned, +but it is an advantage in another way. Because they are +so small they require comparatively little soil to start +with, are more easily covered up, and so they soon begin +to sprout. The very winds that carry them up among +the mountain rocks are quite likely to cover them with +enough dust to start on, and I myself have helped raise +many a giant of the mountain forests in this way. It +is really wonderful how little soil a pine-tree can get along +with; if, say, its fortunes are cast on some mass of mountain +rock. Somehow it manages to get a living among the +cracks and at the same time to hold its own in the bitter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +struggle with the winds.</p> + +<p>"The pine trees," says Muir, "march up the sun-warmed +moraines in long hopeful files, taking the ground and establishing +themselves as soon as it is ready for them."</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei025" name="imagei025"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i025.jpg" alt="" /> + +<p class="atext"><i>From the painting by Rousseau in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.</i></p> +<p class="caption">THE EDGE OF THE WOODS</p> +<p class="ctext">Last of all come tramping along the sturdy old oaks.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>Last of all come tramping along the sturdy old oaks +and the nut-bearing trees. Their seeds are so heavy they +get little help from the winds, and then only in the most +violent storms. They must advance very slowly indeed, +with occasional help from absent-minded squirrels who +carry away and bury nuts and acorns and then forget +where they put them.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei027" name="imagei027"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i027.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW SQUIRRELS HELP OAKS TO MARCH</p> +<p class="ctext">Sometimes they bury acorns and forget just where. When frightened they often drop +them and run away.</p> +</div></div> + + + +<h5>ROUGH CITIZENS AMONG THE PIONEERS</h5> + +<p>The beginnings of a forest are stunted because the soil +is thin. Moreover, the company in which the trees find +themselves is very miscellaneous, like the population of +all pioneer communities—weeds, grasses, briers, shrubs. +High up on a mountainside you can find all these types of +vegetation. Pines growing clear to the snow line; farther +down the mountain, in crannies, sumach and elder bushes +with field daisies and goldenrod scattered among them; +while on the barren rocks are the lichens and the mosses.</p> + +<p>Not only do the citizens of the plant world follow a +certain fixed order in coming into new regions, but also in +giving place to one another. All plants of a higher order +can live only on the remains of those of a lower, and it is +most interesting to note the process by which each lower +form comes, does its work, passes on, and is replaced by a +superior type. The shrubs, which can only grow after +the weeds and grasses have made enough soil for them, at +length shade out these smaller pioneers. Haven't you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +often noticed, when picnicing in deep woods, that the +grasses and flowers are to be found only in the sunny +spaces, where there are no trees?</p> + +<p>But these thickets themselves, after a while, disappear, +and pines take their places. I am speaking now of the +growth of forests, where the soil-making has so far advanced +that forests are possible. The thickets, with their +good soil and the shade which keeps it damp, are just the +places for the pine seeds brought in by the wind to get a +foothold and sprout up. When they grow into big trees +they gather with their high branches so much of the sunshine +for themselves that little of it gets through to the +shrubs below, so these shrubs disappear, surviving only +in the sunny open spaces or along the borders of the wood.</p> + +<p>But now notice what happens to the pines. When the +trees become larger, the young pines that spring up beneath +their shade can't get enough sunshine, so, as the big +trees grow old and die, there are fewer and fewer young +pines to take their places. Now comes the turn of the +spruces. For spruces require more and better soil than +the pines and they don't mind a reasonable amount of +shade. So, as the woods grow thicker and shadier, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +pines gradually disappear and the spruces take their +places.</p> + +<p>At first, in the reign of the spruces, some of the old residents +begin to come back. A spruce forest, not being so +dense in the beginning as a pine forest, lets in a good deal +of sunlight, and you'll find scattered through its aisles +and byways gentians, bluebells, daisies, goldenrod.</p> + +<p>In course of time, however, the leaves and branches of +the spruces become so thick that hardly a sunbeam can +get through and you have a forest where noontime looks +like twilight; a forest of deep shade and silence with its +thick carpet of brown needles, and where all the shrubs +and grasses and flowers have disappeared, except in the +open spaces. It was in such a forest and in one of these +sunny glades, no doubt, that the knight the little girl +tells of in Tennyson:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"... while he past the dim lit woods<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Himself beheld three spirits mad with joy<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Come dashing down on a tall wayside flower<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That shook beneath them as the thistle shakes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">When three gray linnets wrangle for the seed."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h5><a name="HOW_NATURE_RESTORES_ABANDONED_FARMS" id="HOW_NATURE_RESTORES_ABANDONED_FARMS">HOW NATURE RESTORES ABANDONED FARMS</a></h5> + +<p>So it is that new lands pass from barren rock to forest, +and deep rich soil, and so it is that worn-out soils, the +result of reckless farming are finally restored. Hardly +any soil is too poor for some kind of a weed. These weeds +springing up, die and make soil that better kinds of weeds +can use. Later come a few woody plants. In the course +of fifteen or twenty years the soil is deep enough to support<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +trees; and in fifty years there is a young forest. At the +end of a century fine timber can be cut, the land cleared, +and the old place may be as good as new.</p> + +<p>But it's a long time to wait! It's a much better plan to +take care of the land in the first place.</p> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>One of the strangest things about Mr. Lichen, as you will see +by looking up the subject in any botany or encyclopędia, is that +he is really <i>two</i> people—two different plants that have grown into +partnership; and that one of the partners supplies water for the +firm while the other furnishes the food.</p> + +<p>The part of "him" that supplies the food is green, or blue-green, +and that is why it is able to do this. This idea that Mr. Lichen +is really two people was one of those that was "received with a +storm of opposition," but certain lichenologists actually took two +different kinds of plants, put them together and <i>made</i> a lichen +themselves, as you will see when you look the matter up.</p> + +<p>As to just who among these two kinds of plants shall go into +partnership—that usually depends on chance and the winds; although +in the case of some lichens, the parents determine upon +these partnerships, just as they often do in human relations.</p> + +<p>If you want to continue this interesting study and become +Learned Lichenologists, you will be interested to know that there +are a lot of things to be learned, including not only no end of delightful +names, such as <i>Endocarpon</i>, <i>Collema</i>, <i>Pertusaria</i>, not to +speak of <i>Xanthoria parietina</i>, and loads of others, but there are +still things unknown that <i>you</i> may be able some day to find out. +For instance, while they know that the two kinds of vegetation +that together make a lichen, feed and water each other, it's not +known exactly <i>how</i> they do it; although the "Britannica" article +has a picture showing the two partners in the very act of going +into partnership. The article in the "Americana" shows some +striking forms of lichens, and how nature from these very dawnings +of life begins to dream of beauty. You will be surprised at +the forms shown in the "Americana," they are either so graceful, +symmetrical, or picturesque. One of them looks like a very elaborate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +helmet decoration, or plume of a knight.</p> + +<p>This article also tells what an incredible number of species of +lichens there are—enough to make quite a good-sized town, if they +were all real people.</p> + +<p>It also tells why the orange and yellow lichens take to the shady +side of the rock; and something about how the lichens get those +remarkable decorations and sculpturings, and what the weather +has to do with it.</p> + +<p>There you will also get a probable explanation of the fact that +the manna which the Israelites found on the ground in the morning +appeared so suddenly.</p> + +<p>In the article in the "International" you will find another picture +of how the two partners—the fungus and the alga—make the +lichen, and you will learn that Mr. Lichen's name, like Mr. Lichen +himself, is centuries old; being the very name given him by the +Greeks, and afterward by the Romans.</p> + +<p>In the "Country Life Reader" there is an article on the soil that +has a very close relationship to the subject of the lichens and their +work. It tells, among other things, about the value of humus—decayed +leaves, grass, etc.—to the soil. It was the lichens, you +know, who <i>started</i> the humus-making business.</p> + +<p>The article in the reader on "Planting Time," by L. H. Bailey, +expresses the wonder we must all feel when we stop to think about +it, at the magic work of the soil in changing a little speck of a seed +into a plant.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p class="center">(FEBRUARY)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Behold a strange monster our wonder engages!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If dolphin or lizard your wit may defy.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Some thirty feet long, on the shore of Lyme-Regis<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With a saw for a jaw and a big staring eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A fish or a lizard? An Ichthyosaurus,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With a big goggle-eye and a very small brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And paddles like mill-wheels in chattering chorus<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Smiting tremendous the dread-sounding main.<br /></span> +<p class="right">—<i>Professor Blackie.</i><br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>SOME EARLY SETTLERS AND THEIR BONES</h3> + + +<p>But a farm where nothing but plants grow isn't much +of a farm. Every good farmer knows that nowadays, and +so he stocks his place with horses and cows and chickens +and things. Mother Nature understood this principle +from the beginning, and the plants and animals on her +farm have always got on well together.</p> + +<p>For one thing the plant and the animal each help the +other to get its breath. That is to say, plants, when they +take in the air, keep most of the carbon there is in it and +give back most of the oxygen, which is just what the +animal world wants; while the animals, when they breathe, +keep most of the oxygen and give back most of the carbon—just +the thing that plants grow on.</p> + +<p>But the service of the animals to the plants is very important +after they have stopped breathing altogether; +since their flesh and bones, like the dead bodies of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +plants, go back to enrich their common dust. The bones +and bodies and shells of members of the animal kingdom, +however, are far richer food for soils than is dead vegetation. +The shell creatures of the sea to which we owe our +wonderfully fertile limestone soils are—many of them—so +small that you can only make them out with a microscope; +while certain other contributors to our food-supply were +so big that one of them, walking down a country road, +would almost fill the road from fence to fence.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. Mr. Dinosaur and His Neighbors</span></h4> + + +<h5>A STRANGE FACE IN THE MEADOW</h5> + +<p>Now let's take a look at some of these +big fellows. How would you like to have +such a creature as the one at the right of +this page come ambling up to meet you at +the meadow gate of an evening when you went to milk the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +cows? Yet more than likely either this gentle animal, or +some of his kin, browsed over the very field where now the +cattle pasture, for he, too, was a grass-eater, and with an +appetite most hearty. If you kept him in a barn his stall +would have to be eighty feet long, and it would be necessary +to fill his rack with a ton of fodder every third day. +But, assuming there was a market for him in the shape +of steaks and roasts, you would be well repaid; for, in +prime condition, he weighed twenty tons.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei032" name="imagei032"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i032.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">IN THE LAND OF HIS FATHERS</p> +</div></div> + +<p>These monsters who ate grass, and other monsters who +ate them, and still other monsters who lived in the sea, +appeared comparatively late in the life of the world.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei033" name="imagei033"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i033.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">NO WONDER HE NEVER WORRIED!</p> +<p class="ctext">Quite aside from the fact that he had so little brain to worry with, it seems highly improbable +that the Stegosaurus ever felt any apprehension about attacks from the rear, in the +frequent military operations which distinguished the times in which he lived. In addition to +the horny plates down his back he had those horny spines which were swung by a tail some +ten feet long.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + + +<h5>TONS AND TONS OF ANCIENT BONES</h5> + +<p>It is only about 15,000,000 years ago, for example, that +the biggest of them all, the Dinosaurs, lived, while the +earth itself is now supposed to be some 100,000,000 years +old. Their numbers were enormous, and it is probable +there is not an acre of ground from the Atlantic to the +Pacific, and from Alaska to the tip end of South America +that has not been fertilized by their bones. In fact, of +certain species I have found the bones scattered all the +way from Oregon to Patagonia; so this must have been +their pasture.</p> + +<p>They were not only all over the land, but in the lakes +and in the great sea that once extended right through +North America from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic +Ocean. And they were along the shores of the sea and in +the swamps. The bones of the ancestors of the whale +were found in such quantities in some of the Southern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +States that they were used to build fences until it was +found they were much more valuable to enrich the fields +themselves.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei034" name="imagei034"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i034.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE HEAD OF HESPERORNIS</p> +<p class="ctext">"Then there was a great toothed, diving creature with wings. They've named him the +Hesperornis, which means 'western bird,' because the fossils of the best-known species +were found in the chalk-beds of Kansas."</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>In the great American inland sea of those days swam one +kind of fierce fish-lizard that took such big bites he had to +have a hinge in his jaw. Because of this hinge he could +open his mouth wider without putting anything out of +place, don't you see? He was called the Mesosaur. But +he never bit the Archelon, who was in his crowd, because +he couldn't. The Archelon was the king of turtles, and, +like all the turtle family, wore heavy armor. He was over +twelve feet long. And sharks—no end of them! A shark +at his best is bad enough, but the sharks of those days +were almost too terrible to think about. Such jaws! And +teeth like railroad spikes! Then there was a great toothed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +diving creature with wings. They've named him the "Hesperornis," +which means "western bird." He was given +the name because the fossils of the best-known species were +found in the chalk-beds of Kansas.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei035" name="imagei035"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i035.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">GREATEST OF ANCIENT FLYING MACHINES</p> +<p class="ctext">Mr. Pterodactyl, on his way to dinner, looked like this. He was the largest of all flying-machines +before the days of the Wright brothers. He would have measured—if there had +been anybody to measure him—twenty feet across the wings! Like the Hesperornis, he always +dined on fish.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Over the waters flew another bird-like, fish-like, bat-like +thing called the Pterodactyl. Look at his picture and you +will see how he got his nickname. It means "finger-toe." +He was the largest of all flying-machines until the days of +the Wright brothers. It was over twenty feet across his +wings, from tip to tip; and, like the Hesperornis, he always +had fish for dinner.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei036" name="imagei036"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i036.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A BIG "LITTLE FINGER" AND WHAT IT WAS FOR</p> +<p class="ctext">Mr. Pterodactyl means "finger toe." What is our little finger was the longest of his five +digits. It helped support and operate that big bat-like wing extending from his arms to his toes.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + + +<h5>THE EARLIEST RULERS OF THE SEA</h5> + +<p>The first monsters, like the first of almost everything +else, including the land itself, were in the sea.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> For a time +giant fish, armor-plated like a man-of-war, and with awful +appetites, just about ran everything. Then came the reign +of the sharks. Some of them had jaws that opened to the +height of a door—six feet or over. Next in succession, as +rulers of the sea, were the fish-lizards, of whom that hinge-jawed +Mesosaur was one. Of another of these fish-lizards a +famous teacher of Edinburgh University, Professor Blackie, +wrote that funny verse at the head of this chapter. The +bones of this particular specimen were found sticking out +of a cliff at Lyme-Regis, a popular watering-place in the +English Channel, by a pretty English girl who was strolling +along the beach.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei038" name="imagei038"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i038.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A FAMILY PARTY</p> +<p class="ctext">The imagination of the artist enables us to picture this family party—Mrs. Ichthyosaurus +and her children out for a stroll in prehistoric waters.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>The Ichthyosaurus, as Professor Blackie says in his +verse, was some thirty feet long, with a comparatively +large head—like an alligator's—set close to his body. +Another fish-lizard, well and unfavorably known by his +neighbors of the sea, was the Plesiosaurus. Instead of fins +he had big paddles resembling those of the seal. He was a +kind of side-wheeler, like the Mississippi River steamboats, +and he could go like everything! His neck was long and +he darted after the smaller creatures he lived on.</p> + + +<h5><a name="REIGN_OF_THE_LIZARD_FAMILY" id="REIGN_OF_THE_LIZARD_FAMILY">REIGN OF THE LIZARD FAMILY</a></h5> + +<p>But these queer fish seem to have just been getting ready +to land; for, by being lizards, they after a while managed it. +A lizard, you know, belongs to the reptile family, and out +of these sea reptiles there grew, in course of time, reptiles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +which lived, not in the sea but in the swamps along the sea. +These reptiles were the Dinosaurs, and they are related to +the Minosaurs and the Ichthyosaurus, and the rest of the +Saurs, as you can see by the family name; for "saur" means +lizard. Dinosaur means "terrible lizard." Don't you +think he looks it?</p> + +<p>Although some of these Dinosaurs were no larger than +chickens, others were by far the largest creatures that ever +were, on sea or land. Many of the biggest lived on grass,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +just like an old cow, while the flesh-eating Dinosaurs lived +on them. Some of these Dinosaurs went on all fours, while +others ran about on their hind legs, and when they stood +still, propped themselves up on their big, thick tails as do +kangaroos. The Camptosaurus, one of whose favorite resorts +was the land that is now Wyoming, was thirty feet +long. Another called the Brontosaurus, was sixty feet +long. The Atlantosaurus, one of the pioneers of Colorado, +measured eighty feet from the end of his nose to the end +of his tail, and all of them were built in proportion. The +Stegosaurus, also an early settler in Wyoming, had huge +bony plates, like ploughshares, sticking out all along his +back from the nape of his neck to the end of his tail. He +seems to have gone about looking quite ugly and humpbacked, +as our old cat does when she has words with the +dog.</p> + +<p>After the swamps dried up and the lizards could no longer +make a living, came the reign of the mammals; including +the Mastodons and the Mammoths, marching in countless +herds, trumpeting through the forests.</p> + + +<h5>HOW SOME MONSTERS PLOUGHED THE FIELD</h5> + +<p>But besides what they did in the way of fertilizing the +land with their flesh and bones some of the mammals did +a good deal of ploughing. Among these early ploughmen +were the Mastodons and the Mammoths, and another +elephant-like creature with two tusks, that he wore, not +after the fashion among elephants to-day, but curving down +from his chin, somewhat like Uncle Sam's goatee. He used +these tusks, it is supposed, not only for self-defense, but for +grubbing up roots which he ate. If so, they must have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +been about as good ploughs as those crooked sticks that +were used by the early farmers among men, and that are +still in use among primitive peoples.</p> + + +<h5><a name="THE_ELEPHANT_FAMILY_AS_PLOUGHMEN" id="THE_ELEPHANT_FAMILY_AS_PLOUGHMEN">THE ELEPHANT FAMILY AS PLOUGHMEN</a></h5> + +<p>What makes it more likely that the creature with the +down-curving tusks stirred the soil with them is that his +cousins, the elephants of to-day, are themselves great +ploughmen. Elephants feed, not only on grass and the +tender shoots of trees, but on bulbs buried in the soil, which +they hunt out by their fine sense of smell. In digging these +bulbs they turn up whole acres of ground. Elephants also +do a great deal of ploughing by uprooting trees so as to +make it more convenient to get at their tender tops. Sir +Samuel Baker, the explorer, says the work done by a herd +of elephants in a mimosa forest in this way is very great +and that trees over four feet in circumference are uprooted. +In the case of the biggest trees several elephants work together, +some pulling the tree with their trunks, while others +dig under the roots with their tusks. To be sure, the mimosa-trees +have no tap roots, but tearing them out of the +ground is no small job, nevertheless. It takes strength and +it takes engineering.</p> + +<p>Another early ploughman was a bird, the Moa. The +Moa had no wings, but his muscular legs were simply +enormous, and so were his feet. New Zealand seems to +have been the headquarters of the Moas. There used to +be loads of them as shown by the huge deposits of their +bones. They are supposed to have been killed in countless +numbers during the Ice Ages in the Southern Hemisphere; +for there were Ice Ages in the Southern as well as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +the Northern Hemisphere. In one great morass in New +Zealand abounding in warm springs, bones of the Moas +were found in such countless numbers, layer upon layer, +that it is thought the big birds gathered at these springs +to keep warm during those great freezes.</p> + + +<h5><a name="THE_MILLSTONES_OF_THE_MOAS" id="THE_MILLSTONES_OF_THE_MOAS"></a>THE MILLSTONES OF THE MOAS</h5> + +<p>Besides the work they did with feet and bills you may +imagine how much nice fresh stone the Moas must have +ground up in their crops during the millions of years they +existed. It was a regular mill—the gizzard of a Moa—full +of pebbles as big as hickory nuts. Scattered about the +springs where their bones are found are little heaps of these +pebbles, each the contents of a gizzard. Like miniature +tumuli, they mark the spots where the bodies of the Moas +returned to dust.</p> + +<p>Perhaps some of those flesh-eating Dinosaurs did a little +ploughing once in a while, too; for one theory is that those +ridiculous little arms were used for scratching out a nest +for the eggs, just as the crocodiles and the alligators and +the turtles dig nests for their eggs to-day. For all these +animals, as did the Dinosaurs, belong to the reptile family, +and show the family trait of digging out nests for their +eggs.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei042" name="imagei042"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i042.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A PUZZLE PAGE FROM THE GREAT STONE BOOK</p> +<p class="ctext">Talk about your cut-out puzzles! Here is a specimen of the kind of puzzle Nature and the +course of things in the darkest ages of world history have cut out for the paleontologists. +It is a find of ancient bones in the asphalt deposits near Los Angeles.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Although the Dinosaurs roamed the swamps and lowlands +of all the ancient world, their favorite resort was the +territory now occupied by our Western States—judging +from the quantities of bones they left—while that old Mediterranean +Sea of ours was full of their kin, the sea-lizards. +Professor Marsh, of Yale, who was among the first explorers +of the graves of these monarchs of the past, says<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +that one day, while riding through a valley in the Rocky +Mountains, he saw the bones of no less than seven sea-lizards +staring at him from the cliffs. Yet, only here and +there by the wearing through of the rocks by flowing streams +has nature opened up these vast mausoleums, the mountains +and the cliffs. What enormous quantities of bones, +then, must still be buried there, what tons and tons must +have given their lime and phosphate to the soil. So you +see this story of old bones, even from a farming standpoint, +is no light matter.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a id="imagei043" name="imagei043"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i043.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW THE WISE MEN ANSWER THE PUZZLES</p> +<p class="ctext">By their marvellous skill and their knowledge of the mechanics of monster anatomy the +paleontologists fit one bone fragment to another, supply the missing parts in artificial material, +and behold! the monsters take their places in the long procession of the ages. There +has been nothing equal to it since the vision of the prophet in the Valley of Dry Bones. (Ezekiel +37:1-10.)</p> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="II_How_the_Monsters_Died_and_Returned_to_Dust" id="II_How_the_Monsters_Died_and_Returned_to_Dust"></a>II. How the Monsters Died and Returned to Dust</span></h4> + +<p>"But you said these monsters lived in the sea and in +swamps. Then how, in the name of common sense, did +their bones get up into the mountains?"</p> + + +<h5>WHEN THE INLAND SEA WENT DRY</h5> + +<p>Well, it's like this: As I said a while back, in the days of +the monster fish and the monster lizards, there was a great +sea reaching clear from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic +Ocean, and with swamps along the borders extending far +into lands that afterward became the Rocky Mountains.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +When the land began to rise, due to the shrinking of the +earth—a thing that has been going on ever since the earth +was born—the sea and the swamps went dry, and far to +the west the land wrinkled up into the Rocky Mountains. +In these layers of rock that made the mountains were the +bones of the monsters that had died when the rocks were +still mud, in the swamps and along the borders of the +inland sea.</p> + +<p>Not only did the land under the western portion of the +sea slowly rise until the waters were completely closed in +on the west, and the sea thus made that much narrower, +but the rise of the land on the south cut off connection with +the great salt ocean which surrounds the continents to-day. +So the salt-water fish, for lack of salt water, died, and with +them the monsters like the Ichthyosaurus that lived on the +salt-water fish that lived in this salt sea.</p> + +<p>But it wasn't alone that the seas grew narrower and +more shallow because of the elevation of the lands. The +mountains rising in the west, cut off the rain-laden winds +which blew from the Pacific in those days just as they do +now. Thus the seas dried up so much the faster. But +first, before the sea went entirely dry, its place was taken +by the lakes and swamps into which it shrivelled up. Low, +swampy land is just what reptiles like, so this was their +Golden Age, just as the previous time of the wide, deep +sea was the Golden Age of the big fish and the fish-lizards.</p> + +<p>Then, as the land still rose and the climate grew dryer, +the reptiles passed away, and in came the mammal family, +to which the cows and the horses and the cats and the +kittens, and all the rest of us, belong.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a id="imagei045" name="imagei045"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i045.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE TIGER WITH THE SABRE TEETH</p> +<p class="ctext">Tigers like this lived ages ago in both the Old World and the New. They had canine +teeth, curved like a sabre, in the upper jaw.)</p> +</div></div> + + +<h5>TOO MUCH BRAWN, TOO LITTLE BRAIN</h5> + +<p>Of course, even where they didn't die with their boots +on, so to speak, as so many of them did in those lawless +days, there came a time for each monster, in the order of +nature, when he drew his last breath. But what seems so +strange is that all these monsters—the biggest and strongest +of them—entirely disappeared and left no descendants!<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> +The whole of the mystery has not been unravelled yet, +even by the wise men of science, but still they have learned +a good deal. For one thing, they know that most of the +reptiles and the fish-lizards disappeared because so much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +of the land where they lived went dry. They had to get a +new boarding-place, and there wasn't any to get! Another +thing was that these big fellows, although they <i>were</i> so big, +and got along finely while everything was just so, had so +little brain they couldn't change their habits to meet new +conditions, as our closer and cleverer cousins, the mammals, +did. Why, do you know that one of these monsters, +who was twenty-five feet long if he was an inch, and twelve +feet high, had a brain no bigger than a man's fist? All the +monsters of those days were like that—tons of bone and +muscle, but a very small supply of brains.</p> + +<p>So when things went against them, they just had to +give up, and, like a queer dream, they faded away. But +their history makes one of the most interesting chapters +in the whole wonderful story of the dust.</p> + +<p>Of all the live stock that have fed on the great world-farm +and helped enrich it with their bones, these animals +were surely the strangest that ever were seen!</p> + + +<p class="center"><a name="HIDE_AND_SEEK_IN_THE_LIBRARY_34" id="HIDE_AND_SEEK_IN_THE_LIBRARY_34">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</a></p> + +<blockquote><p>"But since these monsters passed away many millions of years +ago, and all that is usually found is a piece of them here and there, +how do the men of science know so much about them—how they +looked, and how they ate, and how they treated one another?"</p> + +<p>That's a good question. It <i>does</i> seem strange. Why, to hear +them talk, you'd suppose these men, learned in ancient bones, had +actually <i>met</i> the monsters! And, speaking of meeting them, I +must tell you a little story. It's a good story and it will answer +your question.</p> + +<p>Baron Cuvier, one of the most famous of the paleontologists, +awoke from a deep sleep to see standing by his bed a strange, +hairy creature with horns and hoofs. And it said:</p> + +<p>"Cuvier! Cuvier! I have come to eat you!" But the baron,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +taking in the form of the monster at a glance, only laughed.</p> + +<p>"Horns and hoofs? You can't. You're a grain-eater!"</p> + +<p>See the point? The baron argued that because the monster +had horns and hoofs he must be a grain-eater; for all creatures with +both horns and hoofs are grain-eaters. This particular creature, +to be sure, was an eater of both meat and grain—being one of +Cuvier's students who was trying to play a trick on him. But the +principle holds good. The scientists, <i>knowing</i> one thing, <i>infer</i> +another. Because animals with both horns and hoofs eat no meat +Cuvier knew his visitor couldn't eat <i>him</i>, even if he'd been real +and not just made up.</p> + +<p>For another instance, take our queer old friend that Professor +Blackie wrote the funny rhyme about—the Ichthyosaurus "with a +saw for a jaw and a big staring eye." The scientists figure, just +from looking into the hollow socket where the eye used to be, that +he could see at night like a cat—and right through muddy water, +too; that he spent most of his time in shallows near the shore; +that it didn't make any difference to him whether a fish was near or +far, provided it wasn't too far, of course, for he could see it and catch +it, just the same. They also said—these learned men, after peering +into the dark hollow where that remarkable eye used to be—that Mr. +Ichthyosaurus spent a great deal of time diving and a great deal +of time with his homely face just above the surface of the water.</p> + +<p>Why they could reason all this from a hollow eye socket and +some bony, flexible plates around the outer edge of it, you will see +by referring to such books as "Animals of the Past," by F. A. +Lucas, director of the American Museum of Natural History; +"Creatures of Other Days" and "Extinct Monsters," by Hutchinson; +"Extinct Animals," by Lankester; "Mighty Animals," by +Mix; the chapter "When the World was Young," in Lang's "Red +Book of Animal Stories," and "Restoring Prehistoric Monsters" +in "Uncle Sam, Wonder Worker," by Du Puy.</p> + +<p>Here are some more conclusions they draw from certain facts. +See how near you can come to reasoning them out for yourself before +looking them up in the books that tell.</p> + +<p>Why it is supposed the Dinosaurs swam like Crocodiles. (Look +at the picture of Mr. I., and pay <i>particular</i> attention to his tail.)</p> + +<p>Why it is they say that the sea-lizards with long necks must +have had small heads.</p> + +<p>Why it is argued that because the Mesosaurus had a hinge in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +his jaw he must have had a big, loose, baggy throat.</p> + +<p>"Keeping Up the Soil," in "The Country Life Reader," deals +with the subject of the use of fertilizers on the farm—how easy it is +to waste them, how easy it is to save them, and how important it is +that they should be saved; while the article on "Acid Soils" tells +how the lime in the bones of the monsters has helped keep the soil +from getting "sour stomach," and also how they unlocked the +potash and phosphorus in the soil so that the plants could get at +them.</p></blockquote> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei049" name="imagei049"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i049.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">FERTILE FIELDS THAT RODE ON THE WIND</p> +<p class="ctext">The winds that now help grow the corn and wheat on these broad fields by carrying the +pollen from one plant to another, also brought the soil on which they grew. These are the +loess plains of Nebraska. There are 42,000 acres of them.</p> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p class="center">(MARCH)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">... the busy winds<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That kept no intervals of rest.<br /></span> +<p class="attr">—<i>Wordsworth.</i><br /></p> +<span class="i6">Except wind stands as never it stood<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Tis an ill wind turns none to good.<br /></span> +<p class="attr">—<i>Tusser.</i><br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE WINDS AND THE WORLD'S WORK</h3> + + +<p>That saying "idle as the winds" must have started in +the days when they didn't know; for if ever there was a +busy people, it's the Winds.</p> + +<p>Not only do they help plant the trees of the forest, sow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +the fields with grass and flowers, and water them with +rain, but they make and carry soil all over the world. +And, like everything else in Nature, they have a sense of +beauty and the picturesque. Rock, for example, weathered +away into dust by the help of the winds, as it is, takes on +all sorts of picturesque shapes. And, of course, the winds +love music; everybody knows that. Before we get through +with this chapter we're going to end a happy day outdoors +with a grand musical festival in the forest, with light refreshments—spice-laden +winds from the sea. There'll be +nobody there but the trees and the winds and John Muir +and us; all nice people.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. Such Clouds of Dust!</span></h4> + +<p>March leads the procession of the dusty months because +the warming up of the land, as the sun advances from the +south, brings the colder and heavier winds down from the +north. These winds seem to have a wrestling match with +the southern winds and with each other, and among them +they kick up a tremendous dust, because there's so much +of it lying around loose; for the snows have gone, and the +rainy season hasn't begun, and the fields are bare.</p> + + +<h5>ABOUT THE DUST WE GET IN OUR EYES</h5> + +<p>Most people think these March winds a great nuisance +because some of us dust grains are apt to get into their +eyes; but dust in the eye is only the right thing in the +wrong place. Just think of the amount of dust going +about in March that <i>doesn't</i> get into your eye; and how nice +and fine it is, and how mixed with all the magic stuff of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +different kinds of soil, thus brought together from everywhere.</p> + +<p>An English writer on farming says he thinks the fact +that English farms have done their work so well for so +many centuries is due, in no small degree, to the March +winds that have brought us world-travelled dust grains +from other parts of the globe.</p> + +<p>And the wind is a good friend to the good farmer, but +no friend to the poor one; for it carries away dust all nicely +ground from the fields of the farmer who doesn't protect +his soil and carries it to farmers who have wood lots and +good pastures and winter wheat, and leaves it there; for +woods and pastures and sown fields hold the soil they have, +as well as the fresh, new soil the winds bring to them.</p> + +<p>Most of the fine prairie soils in our Western States owe +not a little of their richness to wind-borne dust. In western +Missouri, southwestern Iowa, and southeastern Nebraska +are deep deposits of yellowish-brown soil, the gift +of the winds. And, my, what apples it raises! It is in +this soil that many of the best apple orchards of these +States are located. And now, of course, the apple-growers +see to it that this soil stays at home.</p> + +<p>But there's another kind of dust that deserves special +mention, and that's the kind of dust that comes from volcanoes. +Volcanoes make a very valuable kind of soil material, +often called "volcanic ash." It isn't ashes, really. +It's the very fine dust made by the explosion of the steam +in the rocks thrown out by the volcano. The pores of the +rocks, deep-buried in the earth, are filled with water, and +when these rocks get into a volcanic explosion, this water +turns to steam, and the steam not only blows out through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +the crater of the volcano, but the rocks themselves are +blown to dust. This dust the winds catch and distribute +far and wide. Sometimes the dust of a volcanic explosion +is carried around the world. In the eruption of Krakatoa, +in 1883, its dust was carried around the earth, not once +but many times. The progress of this dust was recorded +by the brilliant sunsets it caused. It is probable that +every place on the earth has dust brought by the wind +from every other place. So you see if you happen to be +a grain of dust yourself, and keep your eyes and ears open, +you can learn a lot, as I did, just from the other little dust +people you meet.</p> + + +<h5><a name="THE_WINDS_AND_VOLCANOES" id="THE_WINDS_AND_VOLCANOES"></a>THE WINDS AND VOLCANOES</h5> + +<p>But that isn't all of this business—this partnership—between +the volcanoes and the winds. Did anybody ever +tell you how the volcanoes help the winds to help the +plants to get their breath? It's curious. And more than +that, it's so important—this part of the work—that if it +weren't carried on in just the way it is, we'd all of us—all +the living world, plants and animals—soon mingle our +dust with that of the early settlers we read about in the +last chapter. In other words, all the <i>plant</i> world would +die for lack of fresh air and all the <i>animal</i> world would +die for lack of fresh vegetables. So they say!</p> + +<p>According to that fine system—the breath exchange between +the people of the plant and animal kingdoms—the +plants breathe in the carbon gas that the animals breathe +out; you remember about that. But the amount of carbon +gas in the air is never very large, and if there were no +other supply to draw on except the breath of animals and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +the release of this same gas when the plants themselves +decay, we'd very soon run out.</p> + +<p>Now this needed additional supply comes from the volcanoes. +Every time a volcano goes off—and they're always +going off somewhere along the world's great firing-line—it +throws out great quantities of this gas, and this also the +winds distribute widely and mix through the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>And another thing: This carbon in the air helps crumble +up the rocks already made, and it enters into the manufacture +of the limestone in the rock mills of the sea. This +limestone will make just as rich soil for the farmers of the +future as the limestones of other ages have made for the +famous Blue-Grass region of Kentucky, for example.</p> + +<p>All of which only goes to show how first unpleasant impressions +about people and things are often wrong. A +"dusty March day," you see, isn't just a dusty March +day. It's quite an affair!</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">II. The Dust Mills of the Wind</span></h4> + +<p>But wind is not alone a carrier for other dust-makers; +it has dust mills of its own. The greatest of these mills are +away off among the mountains and in desert lands, but +after making it in these distant factories the winds carry +much of this fresh new soil material to lands of orchard and +pasture and growing grain.</p> + +<p>Not long ago two of the professors at the University of +Wisconsin found a good illustration of what an immense +amount of soil is distributed in this way, and what long +distances it travels. Among the weather freaks of a March +day was a fall of colored snow that, it was found, covered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +an area of 100,000 square miles, probably more. The color +on the snow was made by dust blown clear from the dry +plains of the Southwestern States, a thousand miles away. +The whole of this dust amounted to at least a million tons; +and may even have amounted to hundreds of millions of +tons, so the professors think.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei054" name="imagei054"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i054.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">TYPES OF NATURE'S SCREW PROPELLERS</p> +<p class="ctext">You can see for yourself (from the picture on the left) that long before man ever thought +of driving his ships through the water with screw propellers or pulling his flying machines +through the air by the whirligigs on the end of their noses, some flying seeds, such as those +of the ash here, had screw propellers of their own. And do you know that Nature also employs +the propeller principle, not only in the operation of the wings of birds but in the wing +feathers themselves? The two pictures on the right show the action of the wing and the wing +feathers when a bird is in flight.</p> +</div></div> + + + +<h5>LITTLE MILLSTONES IN BIG BUSINESS</h5> + +<p>For grinding rocks to get out ore, or for making cement +in cement mills, men use big machines, somewhat on the +style of a coffee-mill. These machines are called "crushers."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +The winds, in their enormous business of soil-grinding, +however, stick to the idea you see so much in Nature, +that of using <i>little</i> things to do <i>big</i> tasks; as in digging +canyons and river beds, and spreading out vast alluvial +plains by using raindrops made up into rivers; in working +the wonders of the Ice Ages with snowflakes; and building +the bones and bodies of those big early settlers, and of all +animal life, and the giant trees of the forest out of little +cells. For, what do you suppose the winds take for millstones +in grinding down the mountains into dust? Little +grains of sand!</p> + +<p>And with the help of the sun and Jack Frost it makes +these fairy millstones for itself. The outside of a big rock +grows bigger under the warm sun, in the daytime, and then +when the sun goes down and the rock cools off it shrinks, +and this spreading and shrinking movement keeps cracking +up and chipping off pieces of rock of various sizes. Up +on the mountain tops, among the peaks, the change of +temperature between night and day is very great, and even +in midsummer you can always hear a rattling of stones at +sunrise. The heat of the rising sun warms and expands +the rock, and so loosens the pieces that Jack Frost has +pried off with his ice wedges during the night.</p> + +<p>Then also during periods of alternate freezing and thawing +in Spring and Fall, the rock is slivered up. These +changes in the weather as between one day and another +are due to the winds. In January and February, for example, +thaws and freezes are common. When the winds blow +from the south, the snow melts, water runs into cracks in +the rock and fills their pores; then a shift of the winds to +the north, a freeze, and the water in the crevices and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +pores turns to ice, expands, and breaks off more rock.</p> + +<p>And what muscles Jack has! Freezing water exerts a +pressure of 138 tons to the square foot; so there's no holding +out against him once he gets his ice wedges in a good +crack. He sends huge blocks tumbling down the mountainside. +The larger blocks, striking against one another, +break off smaller fragments. The smallest fragments the +wind seizes. Others are washed down by the rains. The +largest, carried away by mountain torrents, bump together +as they thunder along, and so break off more fragments +and grind them so small that the wind can pick them up +along the banks when the torrents shrink, or in their beds +when these sudden streams go dry.</p> + + +<h5>RUNNING WATER AND THE WINDS</h5> + +<p>In changing rock into soil, running water and the winds +each have an advantage over the other. Water weighs +a great deal more than air—over 800 times as much—and +so grinds faster with its tools of pebbles and sand. The +winds, on the other hand, get over a great deal more territory, +and they, like the lichens, understand chemistry. +Two of the gases they always carry right with them—carbon +dioxide and oxygen—help decay the rocks.</p> + +<p>As I said, the winds do most work in dry and desert regions, +but when you remember that over a fifth of the +globe is just that—dry as a bone most of the time—you +see this is a great field. It has been so from the beginning, +for it is thought probable that there was always about the +same proportion of desert lands. Night and day the winds +have been busy through all these ages. Dust is carried +up by ascending air currents. Then the same force that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +keeps the earth in its orbit—gravity—pulls down on a +grain of dust. But its fall is checked by the friction of +the air. You see there's a lot of mechanics involved in +moving a grain of dust; and Nature goes about it as if it +were the most serious business in the world; handles every +grain as if the future of the universe depended on it. In +the case of sand or coarse dust, unless the winds are very +strong, gravity soon gets the best of it, and down the dust +grain comes to the ground again; then up with another +current, then down again—carried far by stiff breezes, +only a short distance by puffs—a kind of hop, skip, and +jump. But fine dust getting a good lift into the upper currents +at the start may stay in the air for weeks.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei057" name="imagei057"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i057.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>Courtesy of The Dunham Company.</i></p> +<p class="caption">TO KEEP MOISTURE AND SOIL AT HOME</p> +<p class="ctext">In the broad fields of the West, where "dry-farming" is practised, they have these huge +machines. They are called "Cultipackers." They are cultivators with big, broad-brimmed +wheels that pack the surface of the soil after the blades of the cultivator have stirred it. +This not only prevents the moisture in the soil from evaporating as fast as it would otherwise +do, but keeps the winds from carrying away the soil itself.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>In very wild wind-storms it has been figured out that +there may be as much as 126,000 tons of dust per cubic +mile; several good farms in the air at once, over every +square mile of the earth below!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="III_The_Storm_Ploughs_of_the_Wind" id="III_The_Storm_Ploughs_of_the_Wind"></a>III. The Storm Ploughs of the Wind</span></h4> + + +<h5>TWO KINDS OF WOODEN PLOUGHS</h5> + +<p>They use wooden ploughs, these winds, just as primitive +man did, and as primitive peoples do now; but not quite +in the same way, and the ploughing they do is much +better. For man's wooden plough is a crooked stick made +from the branches of a tree while the winds use the whole +tree—roots and all, and both on mountainsides and on +level lands the amount of ploughing they do is immense.</p> + +<p>Almost all forests are liable to occasional hurricanes +which lay the trees over thousands of acres in one immense +swath. A large number of these trees, owing to their +strong trunks, do not break off but uproot, lifting great +sheets of earth. Soon, by the action of its own weight and +the elements, this soil falls back. The depth to which this +natural ploughing is done depends, of course, on the character +of the tree, but as it is the older and larger trees that +are most likely to be overturned, since they spread more +surface to the wind, the ploughing is much deeper than +men do with ordinary ploughs.</p> + +<p>The result is that new unused soil is constantly being +brought to the surface; and not only this, but air is introduced +into the soil far below the point reached by ordinary +ploughing. The soil needs air just as we do; for the air +hurries the decay of the soil and its preparation for the +uses of the plant. The immediate purpose of ploughing +is to loosen the soil so that the roots of the plants can get +their food and air more easily. It also helps to keep the +fields fertile by exposing the lower soil to more rapid decay.</p> + +<p>But here's the trouble: While the ordinary plough introduces +air into the soil for a few inches from the surface,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +the subsoil, which is very important to the prosperity of +the plant, is practically left out of it, so far as getting needed +fresh air is concerned. The long roots of the trees that, +among other things opened for it channels to the air, are +gone. The burrowing animals that used to loosen up the +earth, man has driven away. More than that, the foot of +the plough which has to press heavily on the subsoil in +order to turn the furrow, smears and compacts the earth +into a hard layer, which shuts out the air, and also—to a +certain extent—the water from the lower levels.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei059" name="imagei059"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i059.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW THE SOIL GETS ITS BREATH</p> +<p class="ctext">Plants must have air to breathe, both above and below the soil, and the microscope is showing +us here how a sandy loam allows the air to reach the roots.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>In mountain regions these "storm ploughs," as we may +call them, not only help to renew and prepare the soil in +the valleys, but are a part of the machinery of delivery of +new soil from mountain to valley. When trees on the +mountainside are overturned, they not only bring up the +soil, which the mountain rains quickly carry to the valleys, +but the roots having penetrated—as they always do—into +the crevices of the rocks, bring up stones already partly +decayed by the acids of the roots. These stones, as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +roots die, decay and so release their hold, and also go +tumbling down toward the valley.</p> + +<p>Consider how much of this storm-ploughing must be +done in the forests of the world in a single year, and that +this has been going on ever since trees grew big on the +face of the earth. In a storm in the woods of California, +Muir heard trees falling at the rate of one every two or +three minutes. And, as I said, it is precisely the trees that +can do the most ploughing—the older and larger trees—that +are most apt to go down before the wind. Younger +trees will bend while older and stiffer trees hold on to the +last. Before a mountain gale, pines, six feet in diameter, +will bend like grass. But when the roots, long and strong +as they are, can no longer resist the prying of the mighty +lever—the trunk with its limbs and branches—swaying in +the winds, down go the old giants with crashes that shake +the hills. After a violent gale the ground is covered thick +with fallen trunks<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> that lie crossed like storm-lodged wheat.</p> + +<p>There are two trees, however, Muir says, that are never +blown down so long as they continue in good health. These +are the juniper and dwarf pine of the summit peaks.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Their stout, crooked roots grip the storm-beaten ledges like +eagle's claws, while their lithe, cord-like branches bend round +completely, offering but slight holds for winds, however violent."</p></blockquote> + + +<h5>AT THE STORM FESTIVAL WITH MR. MUIR</h5> + +<p>Trees were among Muir's best friends, and he spent a +large part of his life chumming with them. What do you +think that man did once? He was always doing such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +things. He climbed a tree in a terrific gale so that he +could see right into the heart of the storm and watch +everything that was going on. Just hear him tell about it:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"After cautiously casting about I made choice of the tallest of +a group of Douglas spruces that were growing close together like +a tuft of grass, no one of which seemed likely to fall unless the rest +fell with it. Being accustomed to climb trees in making botanical +studies, I experienced no difficulty in reaching the top of this one, +and never before did I enjoy so noble an exhilaration of motion."</p></blockquote> + +<p>And such odors! These winds had come all the way +from the sea, over beds of flowers in the mountain meadows +of the Sierras; then across the plains and up the foot-hills +and into the piny woods "with all the varied incense +gathered by the way."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei061" name="imagei061"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i061.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THREE KINDS OF SEED THAT THE WIND SHAKES FREE</p> +<p class="ctext">Here are three kinds of seed adapted for dispersal by the shaking action of the wind.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>Though comparatively young, these trees—the one Mr. +Muir climbed into and its neighbors—were about 100 feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +high, and "their lithe, brushy tops were rocking and swirling +in wild ecstasy." In its greatest sweeps the top of +Muir's tree described an arc of from twenty to thirty degrees, +but he felt sure it wouldn't break, and so he proceeded +to take in the great storm show.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Now my eye roved over the piny hills and dales as over fields +of waving grain, and felt the light running in ripples across the +valleys from ridge to ridge, as the shining foliage was stirred by +the waves of air. Oftentimes these waves of reflected light would +break up suddenly into a kind of beaten foam and finally disappear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +on some hillside, like sea waves on a shelving shore."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This was his impression of the forest as a whole, a dark +green sea of tossing waves. But if we study trees as long +and lovingly as Muir did, we can pick out the different +members of the family a mile away—even several miles +away—by their gestures, their style of grave and graceful +dancing in the wind.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei062" name="imagei062"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i062.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">TYPES OF FLYING MACHINE</p> +<p class="ctext">Here is the type of flying machine that carries men. On the opposite page is the kind +that carries the dandelion seeds.</p> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei063" name="imagei063"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i063.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE DANDELION-SEED FLYING MACHINE</p> +<p class="ctext">The dandelion on the left shows how the seeds are kept in the "hangar" at night and on +rainy days, shut up tight to prevent them from getting wet with rain or dew and so made +unfit for flying.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Muir especially mentions the sugar-pines as interpreting +that storm to him. They seemed to be roused by the +wildest bursts of the wind music to a "passionate exhilaration," +as if saying "<i>Oh</i>, what a glorious day this is!"</p> + +<p>This was the picture part of it—the glorious moving-picture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +show. Now listen to some of the music:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The sounds of the storm corresponded gloriously with the wild +exuberance of light and motion. The profound bass of the naked +branches and boles booming like waterfalls, the quick, tense vibrations +of the pine-needles, now rising to a shrill, whistling hiss, now +falling to a silky murmur. The rustling of laurel groves in the +dells, and the keen metallic click of leaf on leaf—all this was heard +in easy analysis when the attention was calmly bent.</p> + +<p>"Even when the grand anthem had swelled to its highest pitch I +could distinctly hear the varying tones of individual trees—spruce, +fir, pine, and oak—and even the infinitely gentle rustle of the +withered grasses at my feet."</p></blockquote> + +<p>When the winds began to fall and the sky to clear, Muir +climbed down and made his way back home.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The storm tones died away, and turning toward the east I +beheld the countless hosts of the forests hushed and tranquil, +towering above one another on the slopes of the hills like a devout +audience. The setting sun filled them with amber light, and +seemed to say while they listened:</p> + +<p class="center"> +"'My peace I give unto you.'"<br /> +</p></blockquote> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>Did you know that the ash and maple seeds actually have screw +propellers, like a ship, so that they can ride on the wind? Pettigrew's +great work, "Design in Nature," makes this very plain, +both in word and picture.</p> + +<p>In what way does the wind help to <i>produce</i> the seed of grasses +as well as carry and plant them? (Any encyclopędia or botany +will tell you how plants are fertilized.)</p> + +<p>How could a tempest that blew down a tree help its seeds to get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +a start? Wallace, in his "World of Life," says that on a full-grown +oak or beech there may be 100,000 seeds that are thus given a +better chance of life.</p> + +<p>Speaking of "wind ploughs," what is the object of ploughing +anyway? The article on preparing the seed bed in "The Country +Life Reader" tells about what ploughing means to the soil and also:</p> + +<p>Why good soil takes up more room than poor.</p> + +<p>Why it is a good thing to plough deep, but a bad thing, if you +don't do it just right.</p> + +<p>And farther on there is a most inspiring poem about the history +of the plough from the days of early Egypt to the present. It +begins like this:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"From Egypt behind my oxen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With their stately step and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Northward and east and west I went,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the desert and the snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down through the centuries, one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Turning the clod to the shower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till there's never a land beneath the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But has blossomed behind my power."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The deserts have helped to make western China fertile. How +did they do it? (Look at your geography map and remember that +the prevailing winds of the world are westerly.)</p> + +<p>You'll find many interesting things about the winds and the soil +in Keffer's "Nature Studies on the Farm" and Shaler's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18562">Outlines of Earth's History</a>." Shaler's "Man and the Earth" says a single +gale may blow away more soil from an unprotected field than could +be made in a geological age, and an hour's rain may carry off more +than would pass away in a thousand years if the land were in its +natural state. He also tells what to do to prevent the best part +of ploughed fields from being carried off by the wind.</p> + +<p>Have you any idea how far seed may be carried by a hurricane? +Wallace, in his "Darwinism" deals with this question, and it's +very important in the story of the earth. Beal's admirably written +and illustrated little book on "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26158">Seed Dispersal</a>." tells a world of +interesting things about the wind as a sower. For instance:</p> + +<p>How pigweed seeds are built so that wind can help them toboggan +on snow or float on water;</p> + +<p>How wind and water work together in the distribution of seeds;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>About seeds that ride in an ice-boat;</p> + +<p>About the monoplane of the basswood;</p> + +<p>About the "flail" of the buttonwood, and how the wind helps +it to whip out the seeds; and how the seeds then open their parachutes.</p> + +<p>Dandelions go through quite a remarkable process in preparing +for flight. I wonder if you have ever noticed it. Before the seeds +get ripe Mother Dandelion blankets them at night and puts a rain-cloak +on them on rainy days, and just won't let them get out, as +shown on page 51. And do you know how she opens the flowers +for the bees on sunshiny days?</p> + +<p>There is no island, no matter how remote, that isn't supplied +with insects. How do you suppose they get there? You may be +sure the wind has something to do with it or I wouldn't mention +the subject at the end of this chapter. (Wallace: "Darwinism.")</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei067" name="imagei067"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i067.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE WEST WINDS AND THE RAINS</p> +<p class="ctext">On the western slopes of this mountain the trees, with the help of the winds and the rain, +climb to the very summit, while the other side of the mountain remains only a barren rock. +The moisture-laden winds from the west glide up the slope, the air expands as it rises, the +expansion cools it and down comes the rain! But the eastern slope gets little or none of it.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p class="center">(APRIL)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">The higher Nilus swells<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The more it promises; as it ebbs, the seedsman<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And shortly comes the harvest.<br /></span> +<p class="right">—<i>Shakespere</i>: "<i>Antony and Cleopatra.</i>"<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE BOTTOM-LANDS</h3> + + +<p>All that wind was bound to blow up rain. I said so at +the time. And, sure enough, here it is; right where we +want it, at the beginning of April, a month famous for its +rains.</p> + +<p>The work of the rains is going to make one of the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +interesting chapters in the long story of the dust. At least +I hope so. But don't think I intend to tell it all. Why, +it would make a whole book in itself. But you can believe +every single thing I do tell, no matter how it makes +you open your eyes; for, if I've helped it rain once I've +helped it rain a million times!</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="I._THE_MARCH_DUST_AND_THE_APRIL_RAINS" id="I._THE_MARCH_DUST_AND_THE_APRIL_RAINS">I. The March Dust and the April Rains</a></span></h4> + + +<h5>HOW RAIN GOES UP BEFORE IT COMES DOWN</h5> + +<p>It's this way: You remember how you can "see your +breath," as we say, on a cold morning? Well, that's because +the moisture in your breath is condensed by the cold. +Now as the waters of the earth—the seas, lakes, rivers, +ponds, and so on—are warmed by the sun, the air above +them is filled with moisture, for the heating of the air +causes it to expand and draw in moisture from the water +like a sponge. Expansion makes it lighter also, and it +rises. Rising, it turns cooler, and the moisture condenses +and comes down as rain. Mountains usually have clouds +around them because moist air striking the mountainside +is driven up the slope, cooling as it rises. So rain and snow +fall often in mountain regions, and that's why so many +rivers rise in mountains. The moist air is also condensed +when it meets other and cooler air currents. But right +here is where the work of the dust comes in. For to make +rain you've got to have clouds, and clouds are due to this +moisture collecting around the little particles of dust of +which the air is full. When these little motes of matter +become cooler than the air that touches them the moisture +in the air condenses into a film of water around them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +Fairy worlds with fairy oceans floating in the sky!</p> + +<p>Each of these baby worlds is falling toward the big +world below. But very slowly; only a few feet a day, so +that even if nothing happened it might be months—yes, +years—before it would come to the ground, even in still +air. But when air is very thick with moisture the water +films on these dust particles grow rapidly, and thus increasing +in weight, they fall faster and faster, and finally +strike the earth as raindrops.</p> + +<p>But here's another thing that helps. On the way down +two or more raindrops, falling in with each other, will go +into partnership—melt into one—and then they hurry +down so much the faster. That's why the sky grows darker +and darker just before a rain, and why the lower part of a +rain-cloud is the darkest: the little raindrops are forming +into bigger raindrops as they fall.</p> + + +<h5><a name="THE_LITTLE_ARTISTS_THAT_SHAPE_THE_CLOUDS" id="THE_LITTLE_ARTISTS_THAT_SHAPE_THE_CLOUDS">THE LITTLE ARTISTS THAT SHAPE THE CLOUDS</a></h5> + +<p>But the shapes of clouds are supposed to be due to another +thing, the mysterious force we call electricity, and +that other mysterious force we call gravity. Just as the +worlds attract each other by gravity so these raindrops—or +dust grains growing into raindrops—are drawn toward +one another. Here's where Electricity steps in. These +rain particles are full of electricity and when two of these +electrified particles meet in the air—unless they strike one +another in falling, in which case, as I said a moment ago, +they blend into one—they get very close together and yet +keep dancing around one another without touching! It +is this dancing about that makes all those strange and +beautiful and ever-changing forms in the vast picture-gallery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +of the sky.</p> + +<p>Of course the wind currents help to change these shapes, +but I'm talking about the original designs.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">II. The Raindrops and the River Mills</span></h4> + +<p>So much for the dust that helps make raindrops; now +for the raindrops that help make dust. This the raindrops +do in several ways. Falling on big rocks or decaying pebbles, +for example, they pound loose with their patter, +patter, patter, any little bits of soil and grains of sand that +have been made by the other soil makers—the sun, the +wind, the lichens, the chemists of the air, and so on. This +soil and these sand particles, if there is already any depth +of earth there, they carry down into the ground. Some +of this soil, with various stops and mixings with other +soils on the way, finally reaches the sea, where it helps to +make the rich limestone soils for the Kentuckies of millenniums +yet to be, by supplying food for sea creatures and +lime for their shells. For these shells become limestone +when the shell-fish are through with them. Mother Nature, +in addition to feeding her big, hungry families of +to-day in the plant and animal world, is always laying by +something for the future. But before it gets back to the +sea, by far the greatest part of the ground-up soil the rivers +carry is spread out in the lowlands in those "alluvial +plains" your geography tells about and that make a large +proportion of the fertile farms of the world. If the raindrops +fall on comparatively barren rock—in the mountains, +say—they carry some of this fresh soil to the mountain valleys +below, and some of it they may spread in bottom-lands +a thousand miles away, where the new soil helps feed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +the plants. The sand grains in it not only help the soil to +get its breath by making little air spaces, but these sand +grains themselves slowly decay and so make more soil.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei071" name="imagei071"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i071.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHAT IRRIGATION DOES FOR DESERTS</p> +<p class="ctext">It is such land as this, in the arid regions of the West, that irrigation converts from a +desert to a garden of abundance. The soil is rich in all the substances that plant life needs.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>But it isn't alone that they carry away the soil already +made and bury the sand grains. Some of the raindrops +soak into cracks in stones and dissolve the material that +binds the rock particles together, and so get them ready +to give way under the fairy hammers of the next shower +that comes along.</p> + +<p>After Nature finally gets an original waste of barren +rock all nicely set with grass and flowers and trees and +things, the raindrops help to make soil in still another way. +Soaking through the decaying leaves, they pick up acids +which are just the thing for eating into rock and crumbling +it into soil. To be sure, the water soaking into the soil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +and coming out of springs carries some plant food away +with it; but it takes it to lands farther down the river valleys, +and more than makes up for what it carries away by +the new soil made by its acids from the rocks, as it soaks +into their pores and runs among the cracks.</p> + + +<h5><a name="HOW_RAINDROPS_MANAGE_TO_GRIND_UP_THE_ROCKS" id="HOW_RAINDROPS_MANAGE_TO_GRIND_UP_THE_ROCKS">HOW RAINDROPS MANAGE TO GRIND UP THE ROCKS</a></h5> + +<p>Moreover, raindrops actually grind up rocks. In order +to do this a lot of raindrops have to get together, to be +sure, and become rivers; but after all it's the raindrops +that do it. There'd never be any rivers if it weren't for +the rains and, of course, the snows.</p> + +<p>Well, anyhow, the rivers, besides running other people's +mills, have mills of their own; and millstones. Most of +these stones originally came from mountains and were +brought into the milling business by mountain streams, +with the help of Jack Frost. For the frost not only pries +stones from the mountains and so sends them tumbling +down the slopes, but it keeps edging them along and edging +them along, farther down, after they have fallen. You'd +hardly think that, would you? Yet it's simple enough. +The water in the pores of the rock expands when it freezes +and that makes the whole rock expand, for the time being. +Then when the frozen water in the rock pores thaws out, +the rock contracts, and this spreading out and pulling together, +small as it is, causes the rock to keep hitching along +down the incline; oh, say a fraction of an inch a year. +But still, in the course of the ages, these inches foot up, +and after a while this tortoise-like gait lands the stone—lands +tens of thousands of such stones—in the beds of the +mountain torrents that run along at the bottom of these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +inclines. There they get ground together and so grind +out more soil material, particularly when the floods are on, +with the melting of the snows in spring and the falling of +the heavy and frequent rains.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei073" name="imagei073"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i073.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AN OLD RIVER MILL</p> +<p class="ctext">It used to do a lot of business—this old river mill. Its grist was ground-up rock that +helped make fine farming land in the bottoms along the river's course. Such mills, called +"pot holes," are found in the rocky floors of rapid streams, where the eddying current or the +water of a waterfall wears depressions in the bed. Into these depressions stones are washed, +and then by the whirl of the flowing water kept going round and round, grinding themselves +away and grinding out the sides and bottom of the mill.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>Another curious thing is how the river mills help themselves +to new millstones when they need them. If a river +hasn't enough for its work, it has a way of drawing on its +banks for more. Whenever the stones in its bed get scarce, +so that it can make comparatively little new soil—having +so few stones to grind together—it proceeds to dig its own +bed deeper, since this bed is no longer protected by a +rock pavement in the bottom. This, of course, deepens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +its channel, and so adds to the steepness of the slope of its +banks. Then, owing to this increase in the incline of the +slope, more rocks tumble in, and the "milling business" +picks up again.</p> + + +<h5>THE GOVERNOR IN THE RIVER MILL</h5> + +<p>But there may be too much of a good thing; the rocks +may come in faster than the river mill can take care of +them. Then the river bottom becomes so completely +paved over that the channel stops wearing down at all, +to speak of, and the river remains at the same level until +the rains and the wind and other workers have worn the +banks down and lessened the incline. Then, with fewer +and fewer fresh stones tumbling in, the river gets a chance +to catch up with its work.</p> + +<p>It is this ground-up rock stuff of the mountain river +mills, made by the grinding of the running streams all the +way down, that has helped form the rich bottom-lands of +the Mississippi Valley. For uncounted ages, the water of +the Mississippi and its tributaries have been at work, and +by the time you get down into southern Louisiana you come +to the delta where this rich soil has been piled up for more +than 1,000 feet above the bottom of the old Mediterranean +Sea, that used to reach north and south across the country.</p> + +<p>You remember the lines, don't you:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Little drops of water, little grains of sand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make the mighty ocean and the pleasant land."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Well, this is how they do it; all this that I've been telling +you.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei075" name="imagei075"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i075.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>Courtesy of the Scientific American.</i></p> +<p class="caption">THOUSANDS OF FARMS POURED INTO THE GULF</p> +<p class="ctext">The Father of Waters is a good farmer in some respects but needs training in others. The +Mississippi's floods, like those of Father Nile, enrich the bottom lands, but the river is apt +to break all bounds and do a lot of damage. Moreover, every year it carries away thousands +of acres of good soil and pours it into the Gulf. How to teach the Mississippi to work in +harness, as the Nile has been taught to do in recent years, is one of the problems which will +require all of Uncle Sam's ingenuity and skill to solve. A good deal of the yearly waste could +be prevented, however, by the various means employed by good farmers.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">III. How the Rivers Act as Bankers for the +Farmers and the Sea</span></h4> + +<p>We speak of river banks and the kind of banks that +handle those promissory notes our arithmetics tell about +as if they were entirely different; and so they are, I suppose, +if one just looks at the surface of the thing. But if +we dig into the subject a little we shall see that they are +much alike in the fact that one of the principal businesses +of both kinds of banks is to make loans at interest. Men's +banks loan money, to be sure, while the river banks loan +pebbles, but if it were not for these pebble loans there +would be a mighty sight less money for the banks to loan, +or the farmer to borrow; and the way both banks do business +ought to be a good lesson to certain farmers I know, +who seem to think they can always be cashing checks on +their banks—the farm lands—by hauling away the crops<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +without ever putting anything back.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei076" name="imagei076"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i076.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHERE THE RIVERS ACT AS BANKERS</p> +<p class="ctext">Here is a fine piece of bottom land, one of those "banks" where the rivers keep "checking +accounts" for the farmers and the sea; using pebbles for currency, as explained in this chapter.</p> +</div></div> + + +<h5>HOW THE RIVERS PLACE PEBBLES ON DEPOSIT</h5> + +<p>The rivers make loans to the soil by depositing pebbles +in the broad bottom-lands along their banks, and then +draw interest by carrying along to other lands, from +time to time, some of the fine rich soil these pebbles help +make by their decay. And the river does this in regular +banking style, "checking out" the pebbles from time to +time, and then depositing other pebbles in their places. +Take the banks and bottom-lands of the Mississippi River, +for example. It has been estimated that it requires about +40,000 years for a pebble to make the journey to the Gulf +from the mountains of a tributary stream where it was +first broken from the rock as a sharp fragment.</p> + +<p>The first part of the journey in the mountains is over +steep down grades, and so is comparatively fast, but as the +river gets farther from the mountains, the slope of its bed +becomes less and less, the onward movement is slower and +slower, and more of the pebbles stop to rest. In times of +flood they are carried far away from the regular channel +and spread over the wide flood-plain of the river. Then, +as the flood goes down, they are left buried there under a +coating of mud. So buried, they decay and enrich the soil. +Then the next flood that comes along sweeps the pebbles +with it—checks them out of the bank—but at the same +time carries away not only some of the soil richness which +these pebbles helped to make but the soil material made +by the decay of the vegetation these pebbles thus helped +to grow, such as the roots and blades of wheat and corn +and stubble and chaff left in the fields. That's the interest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +on the loan. Then, when the flood subsides, the pebbles +are again deposited farther along in the river's course, +but meanwhile the same flood has brought fresh deposits +of pebbles from up-stream, and these are left in place of +those taken away.</p> + + +<h5>RIVER BANKING AND HUMAN CIVILIZATION</h5> + +<p>This banking business has been going on for ages and +is a very important part of the history of civilization. +Here and there along the sides of the older and larger river +valleys are found the remains of ancient plains. These +plains are now, many of them, quite a distance above the +level of the stream. This means that they were at one +time the bottom-lands of that same stream, but the stream, +as it dug deeper and deeper into its bed, grew narrower, +and so abandoned its old flood-plains. As savage man +gradually settled down and took to farming, he found these +bottom-lands, with their rich, mellow soil, just the thing +for his crooked-sticks and stone hoes—the only kinds of +ploughs and hoes there were in those days. With such +crude farming tools he couldn't have managed to scratch +a living on any other kind of soil. When the river floods +came along, all these crooked-stick farmers had to do was +to keep out of the way until the floods went down, and +there were their fields all fertilized for them, as good as +new, and they could go on for thousands of years working +the same fields without ever bothering their heads as to +whether they needed any lime or potash or nitrogen, or +anything; for they didn't. The river floods attended to +all that.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei079a" name="imagei079a"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i079a.jpg" alt="" /><br /> + +<a id="imagei079b" name="imagei079b"></a> +<img src="images/i079b.jpg" alt="FATHER NILE AND THE MAKING OF EGYPT" +title="FATHER NILE AND THE MAKING OF EGYPT" /> +<p class="caption">FATHER NILE AND THE MAKING OF EGYPT</p> +<p class="ctext">"Egypt," said Herodotus, "is the gift of the Nile"; and it is true so far as her fertile lands +are concerned. The ancients attributed the annual floods to the god of the Nile, as shown +in that statue of Father Nile in the Vatican. Below is a threshing scene in Egypt painted +by Gerome. The last picture, from a carving in the tomb of an Egyptian noble, shows how +they ploughed and sowed in the Pyramid age.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>So, in course of time, civilizations such as those of Egypt +and India and Persia grew up, and in further course of +time these civilizations spread into Europe, and finally to +the New World.</p> + + +<h5>HOW RIVER BANKS GO BANKRUPT</h5> + +<p>Now all this is very well, this leaving it to Nature to fertilize +the fields, where everything is just right for it, as it +is along the Nile, but in most lands it won't do it all. +The trouble is that, in raising the grain foods, the ground +must be kept free of grass and weeds, and well ploughed +during the rainy season. But the same rains that water +the fields wash more or less good soil into the streams; +much more than Nature alone can put back. For instance, +down in Italy where, if the old forests were still there, the +rains wouldn't wash away more than a foot of soil in 5,000 +years, this soil is being carried into the Po, and by the +Po emptied into the sea so fast—a foot in less than 1,000 +years—that if you visit Italy to-day, say, and then go back +in ten years, you'll see bare rocks on many a hillside that +is now clothed in green. On such rocks the soil is already +thin, and in ten years more it is all gone; all washed +away! This thing is going on all around the shores of the +Mediterranean. You are constantly coming on sections +of country that used to be covered with great forests and +prosperous farming communities where the soil has vanished, +and many stretches of barren, rocky land where +hardly a weed can find a foothold.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei081" name="imagei081"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i081.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHAT HAPPENS TO THE LAND WHEN THE TREES ARE GONE</p> +<p class="ctext">Could anything be more desolate? You can see from this example how vital to our +national life is the forest conservation work of our government. Trees, by the network of +their roots, keep the soil from washing away, retain moisture by their shade, and absorb the +water of the rains and the melting snows so that it reaches the rivers and the creeks gradually. +But when the trees are gone the water, unchecked, rushes down the slopes in floods, +washing away the precious soil and leaving them as barren as a desert.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>"But, what are you going to do about it?" you say. "You +can't change the slope of the hills, can you? And the farmer +has <i>got</i> to plough his land—you just said so yourself."</p> + +<p>Yes, he's got to plough his land, to be sure; but so has +he got to have pasture for his live stock. If he hasn't any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +live stock, that just shows what kind of a farmer he is. +Every farmer ought to have live stock. Corn always brings +a great deal more when it goes to market "on four feet," +as the saying is; and, besides, the live stock give back to +the fields, in the shape of manure, a large part of what they +eat. Now, if you have live stock you must have pasture, +and all land with a slope of more than one foot in thirty +should be used partly for pasture and partly to grow wood +for the kitchen stove, and hickory-nuts and walnuts for +winter firesides. Although the land slopes, the mat made +by the grass roots will keep it from washing away.</p> + +<p>"But suppose you lived where there wasn't any land<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +to speak of that didn't tip up; in New England, say—what +would you do then?"</p> + +<p>Leave the upper part of the slopes in the woods. Then +the water that carries off the soil will not run entirely +away, as it does in ploughed fields, but will creep down +slowly, and, charged with the decay of the woods, help +fertilize the lower lands and change the rocks beneath +them into soil—the acids from the decaying vegetable +matter eating into them.</p> + +<p>"But still," you say, "there are farm lands that must be +ploughed even if they do wash away; they're all the land +a man has, sometimes. What then?"</p> + +<p>Plough deep. Then the soil soaks up more of the rain +and lets the water pass away in clear springs. This not +only saves soil but, as we have just said, helps to decompose +the subsoil and the bed rock.</p> + +<p>Then there's another thing that good farmers do in such +cases. They plough ditches along the hillside leading by a +gentle slope to the natural watercourses; so the water of +the rains, instead of going down the hills with a rush, and +going faster the farther it runs—like a boy on a toboggan—is +caught and checked in these sloping ditches, and much +of the soil it contains deposited before it reaches the streams.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei083" name="imagei083"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i083.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW THE FRENCH PROTECT THEIR HILLSIDE FARMS</p> +<p class="ctext">This is how the French peasant keeps the mountain torrents from carrying off his precious +soil.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>The best way of all, of course, is to build terraces, as +they do in the thickly settled parts of Europe. But this +is only profitable for the more valuable crops and not for +ordinary grains.</p> + + +<h5>SUCH SPENDTHRIFTS OF GOD'S GOOD SOIL!</h5> + +<p>My, but it's a shame the way we've wasted soil in this +country. What spendthrifts! To start with—when the +country was first settled—there seemed no end to the fine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +land, and every one could have a good farm for the asking. +All he had to do was to make his wants known to Uncle +Sam and then go out and help himself. What happened +then? Why, what always happens? Easy come, easy +go. These pioneer farmers worked their farms for all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +there was in them; didn't bother, many of them, even to +haul the barn manure into the fields. Then when the old +farm was exhausted they moved off to new lands and did +the same thing over again.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei084" name="imagei084"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i084.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A HOME IN THE DESERT</p> +<p class="ctext">Doesn't look much like a home in the desert, does it? But it is—a lovely home in what +the old geographies called "The Great American Desert." In the Sahara oases are few and +far between, but modern irrigation engineering makes oases to order—thousands and thousands +of acres of them!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>They ploughed on steep hillsides; they allowed gulches +to form, as they will quickly do on sloping ploughed land, +if you don't watch out; they cut away the timber. It's +easy in a hill country like the eastern part of the United +States to have all the good top-soil washed away in twenty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +years after the forests have been destroyed; the good soil +that it probably took 2,000 years to make.</p> + +<p>Doctor Shaler<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> estimated that in the States south of +the Ohio and the James Rivers more than 8,000 square +miles of originally fertile land had, by this shiftless and +thoughtless way of doing things, been put into such a +state that it wouldn't grow anything; and over 1,500 +square miles of this, actually worn down to the subsoil, +and even to the bed rock, so that it may never be profitable +to farm again—at least not in our time—no matter what +they do!</p> + +<p>I knew a farmer with a small son to whom he intended +to leave the farm when he grew up, who did things like +that for twenty years. By the time the little boy was old +enough to vote, there was no farm to leave; all the good +part of it was gone.</p> + +<p>Serious thing for that little boy, wasn't it?</p> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>What have burrowing animals to do with the drainage system of +the land? (Keffer's "Nature Studies on the Farm.")</p> + +<p>How do angleworms help drain the soil?</p> + +<p>How do the forests help make good use of the rain that falls, not +only for themselves but for the rest of us?</p> + +<p>How do the rains help to warm the ground in the spring? The +heat they carry into the soil is produced in two ways. The book +mentioned above tells of one of these ways, and Russell's little book, +"The Story of the Soil," tells of another.</p> + +<p>Beale's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26158">Seed Dispersal</a>." tells how the raindrops (working together, +of course) help plant maple, elm, sycamore, willow, and +other trees that grow by the waterside, to scatter their seeds.</p> + +<p>You'd be surprised what a series of adventures the seeds of a +bladderwort have before they get planted on some new shore, after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +having left the parent shrub. First, they float down-stream, as +you know, but when autumn comes on, what do you suppose they +do? They go to bed. Where? Right in the bottom of the +stream. Then how do they ever get up and get planted on the +shore? Well, you just look it up in that Beale book and see.</p> + +<p>Do you know how the rains help to get the mineral food up into +the plant?</p> + +<p>And why swamps are such poor producers?</p> + +<p>And how the sun acts as a pump for the plant world?</p> + +<p>You will find answers to all these questions in Shaler's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18562">Outlines of Earth's History</a>." +and in your books on botany and agriculture.</p> + +<p>Russell's book on the soil tells how the ancient Gauls and Britons +used to fertilize their land with marl, and how the tides help to fertilize +England. It's just the reverse of the way Father Nile looks +after Egypt, as you will see.</p> + +<p>If you want to read an interesting description of the difficulties +of farming on wet lands, you will find it in this meaty little book.</p> + +<p>If you don't know how serious a thing it is to let gullies form in +land, look it up in Shaler's "Man and the Earth" and you will +see.</p> + +<p>How do you suppose deserts that get so little rain themselves +could <i>help make it rain</i> in other places? For example, the desert of +Thibet is the chief cause of the monsoon rains that do so much for +India. That part of your geography that explains the circulation +of the air will help you figure this out; particularly with a map +under your eye that shows the relative location of the desert and +the Indian Ocean, over which the monsoon winds blow.</p></blockquote> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei087" name="imagei087"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i087.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AN EXAMPLE OF MAN'S DEBT TO THE EARTHWORM</p> +<p class="ctext">Much of the earth's Maytime bloom and beauty is due to the labor of our humble little +brother of the dust, the earthworm; a striking fact which was never recognized until the +great Charles Darwin looked into the matter and wrote a book about him. This picture by +Millet is called "Springtime" and hangs in the Louvre, in Paris.</p> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p class="center">(MAY)</p> + +<blockquote><p>It may be doubted whether there are many other animals +which have played so important a part in the history of the +world as these lowly organized creatures.</p> + +<p class="right"> +—<i>Darwin</i>: "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2355"><i>The Formation of Vegetable Mould.</i></a>."<br /> +</p></blockquote> + +<h3>WHAT THE EARTH OWES TO THE EARTHWORM</h3> + + +<p>Suppose father had a hired hand who would plough his +fields, fertilize them at his own expense, build his own +house, board himself, and for all this ask only the privilege +of living on the place, studying Botany, Geology, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +Geometry, and enjoying the scenery.</p> + +<p>"Where can I get a man like that?" I imagine father +saying.</p> + +<p>"You've got him now," you might reply. "He's already +working for you—thousands of him, and has been working +for you—millions of him—for thousands and millions +of years."</p> + +<p>We have all known him well from boyhood by several +names—angleworm, fishworm, earthworm. He also, as +you will find in the dictionary, has a nice long Latin title. +And it is particularly fitting that his name should be so +associated with antiquity, since he belongs to one of the +oldest families in the world; a family far older than the +Roman Empire itself, which his people long ago helped +grind back into the dust from which it came.</p> + +<p>And, speaking of Romans, every few years Mr. Earthworm +does what Julius Cęsar did, captures the whole of +England—all the best parts of it—and then, unlike Cęsar, +gives it back to the English, made over again, better than +it was before, as you will see.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. The Cities of Worms</span></h4> + +<p>If you happen to be a high school boy you, of course, +know about a certain city of Worms and what great things +took place there once upon a time, but there are many +cities of worms on any good farm, and each has more inhabitants +than the famous city of Worms of history—something +like 25,000 to the acre; and, in garden soil, +50,000!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei089" name="imagei089"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i089.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">ANOTHER "CATHEDRAL OF WORMS"</p> +<p class="ctext">In the story of the Reformation in your history you will read of a certain Cathedral of +Worms and what took place there once upon a time. Here is a "cathedral of worms" as +interesting to the student of nature as that famous edifice is to the historian and the architect. +It is the tower-like casting of a big earthworm and was found in the Botanic Garden +at Calcutta. The picture is "life-size."</p> +</div></div> + + + +<p>Did you ever notice how big boulders in a field are frequently +sunk into the ground as if dropped from a great +height? It is the earthworms that help sink them in the +course of their soil-making. They like the moist shelter +of the stones and burrow under them. Finally the weight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +of the stones crushes the burrows, and so the stones sink +down.</p> + + +<h5>PIONEER LIFE AMONG THE EARTHWORMS</h5> + +<p>Poor soil, as every boy knows, is a poor place to look +for fishworms. But you have noticed that the mounds +the worm throws up on such soil are larger than those on +rich soil. The reason is that the soil, being less nutritious, +the worm must eat more of it and, in so doing, pulverizes +and fertilizes it. But a menu of earth alone not being to +the earthworm's liking, undesirable regions have fewer of +these farmers working underground; and this, for the +same reason that these regions are sparsely settled on the +surface—it is so hard to make a living.</p> + +<p>So the earthworms may be said to have a decided taste +in landscape. They don't care for desert scenery like +Gerome's picture of the lion's big front yard,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> but they +are very fond of orchards where the soil is rich and leaves +are plenty. The pathways artists are fond of putting in +landscapes would also probably attract the eyes of earthworms—if +they had any, for the worms prefer soil a little +packed, as it is in pathways, because it makes more substantial +burrows. And, singularly enough, the worms also +like most the very thing that the artist emphasizes to lead +the eye into his picture—the border lines that <i>define</i> the +path. It is along the edges of a pathway that you find +most worms.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figborder"> +<div> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="4" summary="illustrations"> + +<tr> +<td> +<a id="imagei091a" name="imagei091a"></a> +<img src="images/i091a.jpg" alt="" /> +</td> + +<td> +<a id="imagei091b" name="imagei091b"></a> +<img src="images/i091b.jpg" alt="" /> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> +<p class="atext"><i>Painted by F. O. Sylvester.</i></p> +</td> + +<td> +<p class="atext"><i>Painted by Westman.</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table></div> + +<p class="caption">THE EARTHWORM'S TASTE IN SCENERY</p> +<p class="ctext">Two features common to both these pictures—the trees and the pathways—appeal to +earthworms as well as artists, for reasons you have learned in this chapter.</p> +</div> + + + +<p>The earthworm, in addition to working over and fertilizing +the soil already made, actually helps make soil out of +rock. He does this in two ways: (1) With acids—for, like +the Little Old Man of the Rock, he is a chemist; (2) by +grinding up rock in a little mill he always carries with +him.</p> + + +<h5>HOW THE EARTHWORM COOKS HIS MEALS</h5> + +<p>The earthworm's favorite diet is leaves and he has a +way of cooking them. It is not quite like our way of cooking +beet or dandelion leaves, but it answers the same purpose—it +partially digests them. In glands, in his "mouth,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +he secretes a fluid which, like our saliva, contains an alkali. +But the earthworm's alkaline solution is much stronger, +and when he covers a fresh green leaf with it—as he is +usually obliged to do in Summer when there are so few +stale vegetables, the kind he prefers, in his market—the +leaf quickly turns brown and becomes as soft as a boiled +cabbage.</p> + +<p>Of course, there are always dead leaves in the woods, +and these, which even the cow with her fine digestive outfit +cannot handle, are a delight to the earthworm; for he +also has a much larger supply of pancreatic juice than the +higher animals, and this takes care of the leaves after he +has swallowed them. He swallows bit by bit; just like a +nice little boy who has been taught not to bolt his food.</p> + +<p>The acids in the earthworm's "stomach," acting on the +leaves, help make other acids which remain in the soil after +it has passed through the earthworm's body and help dissolve +those fine grains of sand which make your bare feet +so gritty when mud dries on them. And, not only that, +but this coating of soil lying upon the bed rock hastens +its decay; for the earthworm's burrow runs down four to +six feet, sometimes farther.</p> + +<p>Besides the soil he thus grinds up and fertilizes so well +with leaf-mould—what your text-book on agriculture calls +"humus"—the earthworm does a lot of useful grinding +in connection with the building of his house. He begins, +as we do, by digging the cellar; but there he stops, for <i>his</i> +house is <i>all</i> cellar! He makes it in two ways: (1) By +pushing aside the earth as he advances; (2) by swallowing +earth and passing it through his body, thus making the +little mounds you see on the surface.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<h5>THE EARTHWORM SYSTEM AT PANAMA</h5> + +<p>A principle similar to his swallowing operations is frequently +employed in engineering; as in making the Panama +Canal, where dredging machinery dug out swamps and +pumped the mud through a tube into other swamps to +fill them up and help get rid of the mosquitoes.</p> + +<p>In pushing the earth away the worm uses the principle +of the wedge, stretching out his "nose"—as you have often +seen him do when crawling—and poking it into the crevices +in the ground; much as the wheat roots poke <i>their</i> little +noses through the fertile soil the earthworm makes.</p> + +<p>And, as in human engineering and the work of the ant, +the earthworm doesn't throw the dirt around carelessly. +He casts it out, first on one side and then on the other; +using his tail to spread it about neatly.</p> + + +<h5>THE TILING IN THE EARTHWORM'S HOUSE</h5> + +<p>The walls of the earthworm's house are plastered, too. +At first they are made a little larger than his body. Then +he coats them with earth, ground very fine, like the clay +for making our cups and saucers, and for making the beautiful +white tiling on the walls at the stations of a city subway. +When this earthworm "porcelain" dries it forms a +lining, hard and smooth, which keeps the earthworm's +tender body from being scratched as he moves up and +down his long hallway. It also enables him to travel +faster because it is smooth, and it strengthens the walls.</p> + +<p>The burrows which run far down into the ground, as +all finally do toward Autumn, end in a little chamber. Into +this tiny bedroom the worm retires during the hot, dry +days of August and there he spends the Winter—usually +with several companions, all sound asleep, packed together<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +for warmth.</p> + + +<h5>AND RUGS ON THE FLOORS!</h5> + +<p>Sometimes the Summer and Winter residences are quite +ambitious, several burrows opening into one large chamber +and each tunnel having two, sometimes three, chambers +of its own—like a fashionable apartment with its main +reception-room, and still more like the central sitting-rooms +in Greek and Roman palaces. And the earthworm seems +even to have some idea of mosaics, for it is the general practice +to pave these chambers with little pebbles about the +size of a mustard-seed. This is to help keep the worm's +body from the cold ground. In addition to the mosaic +floors the earthworms have rugs with lovely leaf patterns +like the Oriental rugs that are so highly prized; and, as in +the case of genuine Oriental rugs, no two patterns are alike. +These rugs are leaves which the earthworm drags into his +burrow, not for food but for house furnishing. When used +for house furnishing they are placed in the entrance-hall; +that is to say, they are used to coat the mouth of the burrow +to prevent the worm's body from coming in contact +with the ground. The mouth of the burrow, of course, is +just where it is coldest at night in the Summer, the time +of year when the earthworm spends a great deal of his +time in the front of his house. The surface of the earth, +you know, cools very rapidly after sunset and the dew on +the grass in the morning is so cold it makes your bare feet +ache. The worm requires damp earth around him because +he breathes through his skin and must keep it moist, but +at the same time he is sensitive to cold.</p> + +<p>And to drafts. Ugh!</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<h5>PEBBLE-FORT DEFENSES AGAINST THE FOE</h5> + +<p>So he is very careful to keep the front door closed. This +he does by stopping it up with leaves, leaf stems, and sticks. +He also protects the door with little heaps of smooth round +pebbles; but these pebbles are of a larger size than those +he uses for paving the floor of his chamber. Besides helping +to keep out drafts these pebbles serve another purpose. +As our ancestors, the cave-builders, barred the door with +boulders to keep out bears and other unwelcome callers, +so the earthworms are protected by the pebbles, to a certain +extent, from one of their enemies—the thousand-legged +worm. Because of these little forts, the earthworms +can remain with more safety near the doorway and enjoy +the warmth of the morning sun. (So we might have reproduced +Corot's "Morning" as a kind of landscape the +earthworm enjoys!)</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">II. The Mind of the Earthworm</span></h4> + +<p>From all of which you can see the earthworm, for what +small schooling he gets, is a very bright boy! If we were +as bright, according to our opportunities, we would probably +have answered long ago such puzzles as the question +whether there is really anybody at home in Mars, how to +keep stored eggs from tasting of the shell, and other great +scientific problems of our day.</p> + + +<h5>WHERE MR. EARTHWORM KEEPS HIS BRAIN</h5> + +<p>Just as we have little brains in the tips of our fingers, +the earthworms have brains in the ends of their "noses." +They have neither eyes nor ears, but, like that wonderful +girl, Helen Keller, they make up for the lack of these senses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +to a remarkable degree, by the development of the sense +of touch. They acquire quite a little knowledge of Botany, +for example. They not only know that leaves are good to +eat, but they know which is the "petiole" and which is the +"base." They always drag leaves into their burrows by +the smallest ends, because this makes it easier to get them +through the door. And it is not by mere instinct that they +do this. Supply worms with leaves of different form from +those which grow in the region where they live, and they +will experiment with them until they find just the best +way in which to pull them into the burrows. After that +they will always take hold of them so, without further +experiment. That is the majority of them will do this; for +earthworms are like other little people—all of them are not +equally ambitious or studious.</p> + +<p>And the earthworm also knows something about Geometry. +Cut paper into little triangles of various shapes and +pretend to the worms that they are leaves by scattering +them near the mouths of the burrows. Then remove the +leaves with which the burrows are stopped. The worms +will pull in the slips to close the door and they will—most +of them—take hold by the apex of the triangle because +that is the narrowest point.</p> + + +<h5>THE EARTHWORM'S TASTE IN MUSIC</h5> + +<p>So you see the earthworm is a very cultivated country +gentleman with his knowledge of Botany and Geometry, +and his taste for landscape. But this is not all. He also +has opinions about music. There are certain notes that +apparently get on his nerves. Put worms in good soil in +a flower-pot, and some evening when they are lying outside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +their burrows set the pot on the piano and strike the +note C in the bass clef. Instantly they will pull themselves +into their burrows. They will do the same thing at the +sound of G above the line in the treble clef. Although they +cannot hear, they are sensitive to vibrations, and these +are carried from the sounding-board of the piano into the +pot. They are less sensitive when the pot itself is tapped. +The music seems to go right through them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<h5>WHY THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE WORM</h5> + +<p>Except in rainy weather worms ordinarily come out of +their burrows only at night. By early morning they have +withdrawn into their holes and lie with their noses close +to the surface to get the warmth of the morning sun. Then +the early bird gets <i>them</i>! The reason a robin cocks his +head in such a funny way—like a lord with a monocle—just +before he captures a worm, is not because he is <i>listening</i>, +as many people think; for the worm isn't saying a +word and he isn't moving, and wouldn't make a bit of noise +if he did move. The robin's eyes are on each side of his +head and not in the middle of his face like ours, so he must +turn his head in order to bring his eye in line with the hole +where he sees the tip of Mr. Earthworm's nose.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei097a" name="imagei097a"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i097a.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THREE EARLY BIRDS. FIND THE THIRD</p> +<p class="ctext">Don't they look happy—these two tow-heads? They are evidently going fishing in the +early morning. Another early bird—several of him—that we are saying a good deal about +in these pages is to be found in the can. Still another, the one at the bottom of the page, is +taking advantage of the earthworm's family habit of warming his "nose" in the early sun +rays.</p> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei097b" name="imagei097b"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i097b.jpg" alt=""/> + +</div></div> + + + +<p>And many people also believe that earthworms come +down with the rain. Even park policemen believe it. At +least, one said to me, in Central Park:</p> + +<p>"In dhry spells ye won't see wan. But let there come a +little shower an' th' walks and the dhrives will be covered +wid them; like the fairy stones that fall wid the rain in +the ould counthry."</p> + + +<h5>DO EARTHWORMS COME DOWN WITH THE RAIN?</h5> + +<p>The reason you see so many worms after a rain is that +earthworms like moisture, and the rain seems to make them +feel particularly good and breed a spirit of adventure. So +out of their holes and away they go! A rain is their shower-bath; +and you know how a shower-bath makes you feel. +The mornings when the earthworms are apt to be thickest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +are those following a comparatively light rain in early +Spring when the worms have recently awakened from their +long Winter nap. With the beginning of the rainy season +in the Fall, the worms also do a good deal of travelling +into foreign lands, but in both Spring and Fall you will +usually find more worms after a light shower than after +a long, heavy downpour. If the worms were drowned out +it would be the other way around, don't you see?</p> + +<p>To be sure, you will often find dead worms in shallow +pools by the roadside; particularly after Autumn rains. +These are sick worms and the chill was too much for them. +But it's remarkable how low a temperature a good husky +angleworm can stand. A professor in the University of +Chicago, near which I live, tells me he has often found the +ground in the neighboring park covered with worms after +November rains when his hands, and those of the students +who were helping him gather them for study, were numb +with the cold.</p> + +<p>And how much work do you suppose these farmers do +in grinding up and fertilizing the soil? In many parts of +England the whole of the best land—the vegetable mould—passes +through their bodies every few years, and they +are doing similar work all over the world.</p> + +<p>They not only fertilize the earth by mixing it with the +leaves they eat and those that decay in their burrows, +but their castings help to bury fallen leaves and twigs and +dead insects, and they also bring up lower soil to the surface, +thus increasing its fertility. And by loosening the +soil they let in more air. Remember that roots, like people, +must have air.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> +<h4><span class="smcap">III. The Mill of the Earthworm</span></h4> + +<p>For the grinding up of the earth and the leaves, the +earthworm has, as I have already said, a little mill that +he always carries with him. Do you know what a gold +mill is? Well, a gold mill is a mill that grinds up rock and +so grinds out the gold. The earthworm's mill, in a manner +of speaking, also grinds out gold, for it grinds the little +particles of stone in the soil, and this soil grows fields of +golden grain.</p> + +<p>The earthworm's mill is his gizzard. This gizzard is +made and works very much like the gizzard of the chicken. +And like the chicken the earthworm swallows little stones +to help his digestion. So these stones, too, are ground into +soil.</p> + +<p>Like the chicken's gizzard the gizzard of the earthworm +is lined with a thick, tough membrane, and it has muscles—such +muscles! There are two sets of these muscles and +they cross each other somewhat like the warp and woof of +the cloth in your clothes. The muscles that run lengthwise +are not so very strong, for all they have to do is to +help the earthworm swallow, but the muscles that run +around the gizzard are wonderfully strong. They are about +ten times as thick as the other muscles. One of Mr. Earthworm's +French biographers<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> calls these muscles "veritable +armatures"; that is, freely translated, "veritable hoops of +steel."</p> + +<p>I said, in the second paragraph above this, that worms +swallow grains of sand and stones to help their digestions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +as chickens do. But the earthworm saves time, for he +takes the stones with his meals; just as some Englishmen, +fat old squires, when they get along in years, or for any +other reason are a little weak in their digestive regions—keep +pepsin on the table with the pepper and salt.</p> + +<p>And—believe it or not—the earthworm actually makes +his <i>own</i> millstones sometimes! The chalk in the chalky +fluid of the glands that help him digest his meals frequently +hardens into little grains in grinding the food. It's almost +as if the saliva in our mouths, in addition to acting directly +on the food, also made a new set of teeth for us!</p> + +<p>Suppose we had a stomach like the earthworm, wouldn't +it be fun? We could digest the biggest dinners at Thanksgiving +and Christmas and picnics and birthdays. We +could even eat apples without waiting for them to get quite +ripe. Haven't you done it to your sorrow? And no +stomachache and no mince-pie nightmares!</p> + + +<h5>WHY THE EARTHWORM NEVER HAS NIGHTMARES</h5> + +<p>By the way, the earthworm, although he has his troubles +like the rest of us, never <i>has</i> nightmares. For one thing +he has that stomach<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> and—a still better reason, perhaps—he +never sleeps at night. Like the moths and the bats and +the burglars and members of Parliament, he makes night +his busy day.</p> + +<p>And, in other ways, while he is so much like the rest of +us worms of the dust, his life differs from that of most +people. For instance, he not only works by night while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +we work by day, and works underground while we work +on top, but he takes his vacation in the Winter while we +take ours in Summer. In that respect Mr. Earthworm is +like the millionaires at Palm Beach; for in Winter he, too, +goes in the direction we call south on the map—that is +to say <i>down</i>.</p> + +<p>But, as you say, it takes all kinds of people to make a +world; including earthworms and millionaires!</p> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>Who was that in Mother Goose that went a-fishing "for to catch +a whale"? Anyhow, there are fishworms so big that one might +suppose they were made for catching whales. How long do you +suppose they are, these big fishworms? A foot?</p> + +<p>Pshaw! We have fishworms of our own a foot long. Two feet? +More. Three feet? More. You look it up in the article on the +earthworm in the "Britannica."</p> + +<p>And how many kinds of earthworms do you suppose there are? +You will be surprised to learn.</p> + +<p>Also, you will find that the earthworms have relatives who live +in the water all the time.</p> + +<p>The article in the "International" tells why these modest neighbors +of ours don't come to the surface in the daytime. That will +be an interesting thing to know. Don't you think so?</p> + +<p>And did you ever count an earthworm's rings? Other scientists +have. (All live boys and girls are scientists; they want to +<i>know</i>.) Try counting the rings of an earthworm and then compare +your figures with those given in the article in the "International."</p> + +<p>How many hearts do you suppose an earthworm has? You will +find in the "International's" article they have a good many of +what are sometimes called "hearts," and how different the earthworm's +circulation system is from ours.</p> + +<p>Does our saliva do for us anything like what it does for the earthworm; +and our pancreatic juice?</p> + +<p>Compare the earthworm's method of digging his subway with +that of the armadillo. How do they differ in the way of using their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +noses?</p> + +<p>Do you know how men dig subways; like those under New York +City and Boston, for instance? Books that tell about this phase +of human engineering and tell it in a very interesting way are "On +the Battle-front of Engineering" ("New York's Culebra Cut") +and "Romance of Modern Engineering" ("City Railways"), +"Travelers and Traveling" ("How Elevated Roads and Subways +Are Built").</p> + +<p>Speaking of the earthworm's wedge and how he uses it, do you +know that all of man's complicated machinery is the result of only +a few simple mechanical principles combined; and that the wedge +is one of the most important? Look up "<i>wedge</i>," "<i>machine</i>," +"<i>simple machine</i>," etc., in the dictionary or encyclopędia.</p> + +<p>How does the earthworm's method of pushing his way in the +world with the end of his nose compare with the way a root works +along in the ground? (See <a href="#CHAPTER_X">Chapter X</a>.)</p> + +<p>The earthworm's neat way of disposing of the dirt he casts out reminds +me of how the beaver handles dirt when he builds a canal, +and the way of the ants in digging their underground homes. +(Chapters <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a> and <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a>.)</p> + +<p>We have little brains in our finger-tips just as the earthworm +has on the end of his nose. How much do you know about the +little brains scattered through our bodies (<i>Ganglia</i>)?</p> + +<p>You see the simple earthworm is the A, B, C of a lot of things; +and even Mr. Darwin's famous book doesn't contain all there is to +be learned about him in books and in personal interviews with Mr. +Earthworm himself. A farm boy to whom the writer read the +story of the earthworm, when asked how he thought the worm +could turn in his burrow when it fits him so closely, said, "Why, +he turns around in that little room at the end of the hall," thereby +solving, as I think, a problem that puzzled Mr. Darwin, and which +he left unsolved.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei104" name="imagei104"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i104.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SINFUL TACTICS OF A SACRED BEETLE</p> +<p class="ctext">The beetle pushing backward is the owner of the ball and is on his way—as he thinks—to +his burrow. The other is altering the direction toward his own burrow. Fabre's book on +the Sacred Beetle—the tumblebug of our fields and roadways—tells how the thing came out.</p> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p class="center">(JUNE)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">Go to the ant, thou sluggard;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Consider her ways, and be wise.<br /></span> + +<p class="attr">—<i>Proverbs</i> 6:6.<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE LITTLE FARMERS WITH SIX FEET</h3> + + +<p>I don't believe I've ever heard anybody say anything +against an angleworm; although not many people, even to +this day, I'll be bound, realize what a useful citizen the +angleworm is.</p> + +<p>But now we come to a class of farmers that, as a class,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +are positively disliked; farmers that nobody has a good +word for, that nobody wants for neighbors. The charge +against them is that, like the man in the Bible, they are +always reaping where they have not sown; always helping +themselves to other people's crops—bushels of wheat, +bushels of rye, tons of cotton, loads of hay and apples and +peaches and plums; and nice garden vegetables; and even +the trees in the wood lot. It is estimated, for instance, +that the chinch-bug helps himself every year to $30,000,000 +worth of Uncle Sam's grain; while other insects make away +with 10 per cent of his hay crop, 20 per cent of mother's +garden vegetables, $10,000,000 worth of father's tobacco; +and the Hessian fly sees to it that between 10 and 25 per +cent of the farmer's wheat never gets to mill.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and sometimes it's 50-50 between the farmer and +the fly," said the high school boy, who often spends his +vacation with a country cousin.</p> + +<p>Then there are insects that injure and destroy forest +trees because they like to eat the leaves or the wood itself; +and some 300 kinds of insects that make themselves free +with other people's orchards.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. Considering the Ant</span></h4> + +<p>But, as I said a few moments ago, it takes all sorts of +people to make a world; and as there are good and bad +citizens among men, so there are good and bad among +insects. Indeed there are so many useful insects that help +make or fertilize the soil by grinding up earth and burying +things in it, that even this chapter, which is rather long, as +you see, can't begin to tell about all of them. So suppose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +we give our space to a few by way of example, and then +look up others in other books in the library.</p> + + +<h5><a name="AMOUNT_OF_WORK_DONE_BY_ANTS" id="AMOUNT_OF_WORK_DONE_BY_ANTS"></a>AMOUNT OF WORK DONE BY ANTS</h5> + +<p>First of all let us consider the ways of the ant (as the +Bible tells us to). The ant's work may be said to take up +where the earthworm leaves off. Mr. Earthworm, as we +have seen, is a little fastidious about the kind of land he +tills. Among other things, he is inclined to avoid sandy +soil, while the ants will be found piling up their pretty +cones of sand or clay as well as of black earth. And in +some soils the ants do more important work than the worm +that helped make Mr. Darwin famous. In the course of a +single year they may bring fresh soil to the surface to the +average depth of a quarter of an inch over many square +miles. This not only helps to keep the farmer's fields fertile +by adding fresh, unused earth, but enriches them by +burying the vegetation—such as leaves and twigs and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +branches broken from dead trees by storms—so that it decays. +This burying of vegetation is the very thing the +good farmer does when he spreads his fields with manure +from the barnyard, or when he ploughs under the stubble.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei106" name="imagei106"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i106.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A HEAP OF GRIST FROM AN ANT SOIL MILL</p> +<p class="ctext">Something of an ant-hill, isn't it? It is a foot high and measures nearly three feet across. +You will find such ant hills in the Arkansas Valley in Colorado, where the photograph of +this one was taken.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>Ants are very glad to do this for the farmer because it +isn't any extra trouble for them. Their little heaps of +fresh earth are thrown out in connection with the building +of their homes. The mining ants dig galleries in clay, building +pillars to support the work and covering them with +thatches of grass. The red and yellow field ants are the +masons. They first raise pillars and then construct arches +between them, covering these arches with the loose piles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +of soil which we know as ant-hills. The carpenter-ants +bore their cells in the dead limbs of trees, and the wood +dust they make from them hurries on the process of returning +these dead limbs to the soil. One kind of carpenter-ant +covers its walls with a mixture of sawdust, earth, and +spiders' webs. An ant in Australia builds its home of leaves +fastened together with a kind of saliva. One kind of ant, +whose calling card among scientific people is Formica +fusca,<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> adds new stories to old houses as the colony grows; +much as in the growth of cities and hamlets the buildings +grow taller with the growth of the town. Just as men do, +such ants first build the side walls and then the ceilings. +As if these ants are working under contract and must get +their job done by a certain time, two groups are employed +on the ceiling at the same time, each group working toward +the other from the opposite wall and meeting in the middle.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei107" name="imagei107"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i107.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE DESERTED VILLAGE UNDER THE STONE</p> +<p class="ctext">If Oliver Goldsmith had been as much interested in ants as was the French "Homer of +the insect," Henri Fabre, he might have written of another kind of "Deserted Village," its +"desert walks" and its "mouldering walls." This is a deserted village of ants. The little +citizens that built it lived under a stone. When the stone was lifted it took the entire roof +off the place.</p> +</div></div> + + + +<h5>THE ANT WHO DIDN'T KNOW HIS TRADE</h5> + +<p>As you may suppose, this is real architectural engineering +and no place for amateurs. I once saw a foolish worker +starting a roof from the top of one of the side walls without +paying any attention to the fact that the other wall was +much higher. The result was he struck the middle of it, +instead of joining it at the top. Another ant passing, possibly +the supervising architect, saw what was going to +happen. So what does he do but stop and tear down the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +other's work and build the ceiling over again!</p> + +<p>"There! <i>That's</i> the way to put in a ceiling," he seemed +to say. "For goodness sake, where <i>did</i> you learn your +trade?"</p> + +<p>Huber, the famous student of ants, saw two of these +wonderful insects do the very same thing.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the situation is such that it is necessary to +build a very wide ceiling, so wide that it would fall of its +own weight unless supported in some way. Then what +would you do; that is, if <i>you</i> were an ant?</p> + +<p>"Why, I'd put up pillars to hold it."</p> + +<p>That's exactly what the ants do; they put up pillars; +but instead of using steel beams, as men do in this day of +steel, the ant architects make pillars of clay—build them +up with pellets, little clay bricks which they shape with +their mandibles—their jaws.</p> + +<p>But the ants seem to have some of the methods of steel +construction, too; the use of girders and things. Ebrard, +a French student of ants, tells how, when a certain roof +threatened to fall, some Sir Christopher Wren of the ant +world used a blade of grass as a girder, just as Sir Christopher +in his day put in girders to support the roof of Saint +Paul's Cathedral, and as men use steel girders to-day. The +ant fastened a little mass of earth on the end of a grass +stalk growing near to bend it over; then gnawed it a little +at the bottom to make it bend still more, and finally fixed +it with mud pellets into the roof.</p> + +<p>But here's something that will make you smile! You +have heard about the lazy man down in Arkansas with +the hole in his roof? You remember he never mended it +in dry weather because it didn't need it, and when it rained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +he <i>couldn't</i> mend it on account of the rain!</p> + + +<h5>RAINY-DAY WORK IN THE ANT WORLD</h5> + +<p>Well, these <i>Formica fusca</i> folks are as different from +that Arkansas man as anything you could imagine. First +of all, being ants, they are anything but lazy; secondly, +they never put off needed work on their roofs on account +of rain. In fact, they <i>choose</i> the first wet day to do it. As +soon as the rain begins they build up a thick terrace on +the roof of the old dwelling, carrying in their jaws little +piles of finely ground earth which they spread out with +their hind legs. Then, by hollowing out this roof, they turn +it into a new story. Last of all they put on the ceiling. +You see the rain helps them in mixing their clay. +There are ants that build up vaulted viaducts or covered +ways, and they use clay for that.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> +They make the clay by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +mixing earth with saliva. Some of these viaducts reach out +from the house—the ants' house—to their "cow" pasture.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei110" name="imagei110"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i110.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AN ANT CARRYING ONE OF HER COWS</p> +</div></div> + +<p>You know about how ants keep cows, little bugs called +aphids? The aphids feed on plants, and the clay viaducts +protect the ants from their enemies and from the sun in +going to and from the pasture; for this particular family +of ants doesn't like the sun. They make clay sheds for their +cattle, too. Here and there along the clay viaduct are large +roomy spaces, cow-sheds, so to speak—where the little +honey cows gather when they aren't feeding. Another +kind of ant builds earth huts around its cow pastures. The +large red ants (<i>F. rufa</i>), sometimes called "horse ants," +build hills as large as small haycocks.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">II. The Termites and their Towers of Babel</span></h4> + +<p>But speaking of big buildings, did you ever hear of a +skyscraper a mile high? Well the home of the six-footed +farmer I am going to tell you about now is as much taller +than he is as a mile-high skyscraper would be taller than +a man. The remarkable little creatures that build these +skyscrapers are called "termites." Termites are also +known as "white ants." This seems funny when we know +that they are neither "ants" nor are they white. The +young of the workers are white, to be sure, but the grown-ups +are of various colors, and never milky white as they +are when young. The termites were first called "white +ants" in books of travel because the termites the travellers +saw were the young people.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<h5><a name="HOW_TERMITES_ARE_LIKE_THE_ANTS" id="HOW_TERMITES_ARE_LIKE_THE_ANTS"></a>HOW TERMITES ARE LIKE THE ANTS</h5> + +<p>The termites are really closer relatives of dragon-flies, +cockroaches, and crickets than of the ants, but they do look +a great deal like an ant, and they have many of the ways +of the ants. As in the case of ants, all the members of one +community are the children of one queen. The king lives +with the queen in a private apartment. Sometimes—as +with human royalties—the king and queen will have separate +residences, but the termite royalties always live in the +same house with their people; they are very democratic.</p> + +<p>Some kinds of termites live in rotten trees, which they +tunnel into, and that is their contribution to soil-making; +while others build great, big solid houses of earth and +fibres, mixed. These houses are called "termitariums," +and are six, eight, ten, even twenty-five feet high; fully 1,000 +times the length of the worker. Think of a man five feet +high, and then multiply by 1,000, and you see you have +got nearly a mile!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei113" name="imagei113"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i113.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SKYSCRAPERS A MILE HIGH</p> +<p class="ctext">"Some kinds of termites build great, solid houses of earth and fibres mixed. These houses +are six, eight, ten, even twenty-five feet high, fully one thousand times the length of the +worker. Think of a man five feet high and then multiply by one thousand, and you see you +have got nearly a mile."</p> +</div></div> + +<p>These termite skyscrapers aren't much to look at on the +outside, but inside they're just fine; they have everything +the most particular ant could want. For instance, the +termites are right up-to-date in their ideas about fresh air, +their houses being well ventilated through windows left in +the walls for that purpose. You can see the importance +of this fresh-air system when you know there are thousands +of termites under the same roof. They also have a sewage +system for carrying off the water of the rains. And a fine +piece of mechanical engineering the building of it is, too; +for these "water-pipes" are the underground passages hollowed +out in getting the clay to build the homes. The termites +build their homes with one hand and dig the sewer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +with the other, so to speak.</p> + + +<h5>THE THERMOSTATS FOR THE NURSERIES</h5> + +<p>The termitarium has as many rooms in it as a big hotel—oh, +I don't know <i>how</i> many—and they are all built +around the chambers of the king and queen. Next to the +royal apartments are the pantries, a lot of them, and they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +are all stored with food. In the upper part of the termitarium +are the nurseries—many nurseries—for no one +nursery could care for any such numbers of babies as the +queen has. Between the nursery and the roof is an air-space, +and there are also air-spaces on the sides and beneath. +The nursery thus being surrounded by air, the eggs and, +when they come along, the babies are protected from +changes of temperature. It's the same principle that's +employed in making refrigerators and thermos bottles. +The rooms in which the eggs are kept are divided by walls +made of fragments of wood and gum glued together. This +mixture is a bad conductor<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> of heat or cold. And so the +eggs are kept at an even temperature.</p> + +<p>While we cannot see any of the termite skyscrapers in +the United States, because we have none of the species of +termites that build them, we can see a member of the termite +family. This is the common white ant that digs +into joists of houses. On the outside of these same joists, +and up in the attics of old farmhouses, if there happens to +be a broken window-pane, or some other hole through +which she can get in, you can see the nest of another +tiller of the soil, the wasp. The mason-wasps or mud +daubers are the most common. You will find their nests +on the rafters of the barn when you go to throw down hay, +or when you go into the corn-crib. They have all sorts of +fancies—these wasps—about their clay homes and where +to build them. Some build on the walls and some in the +corners of rafters, others prefer outdoor life. Some want +to live alone, others like society. What are known as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +"social" wasps sometimes build their nests in tiny hollows +that they dig in the ground; others fasten their nests to the +boughs of trees. The work of these wasps, from the farming +standpoint, is useful not alone in grinding the soil, but +helping to supply it with humus; for their nests are made of +wood fibre, which they tear with their mandibles from gateposts, +rail fences, and the bark of trees.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei115" name="imagei115"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i115.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">NESTS OF MASON-WASPS</p> +</div></div> + +<p>The carpenter-wasp is both a wood-worker and a clay-worker. +He cuts tubular nests in wood and divides them +by partitions. We think we're pretty smart, we humans, +because we are always picking up ideas, but here's a +creature, no bigger than the end of your finger, who has +picked up an idea from the carpenter-bee, grafted it on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +native trade of clay-worker, and made himself as nice and +cosey a country place as you'd want to see!</p> + + +<h5><a name="ABOUT_THE_WASP_THE_FOX_AND_THE_BUMBLEBEE" id="ABOUT_THE_WASP_THE_FOX_AND_THE_BUMBLEBEE">ABOUT THE WASP, THE FOX, AND THE BUMBLEBEE</a></h5> + +<p>Here's another example of the same thing, this spreading +of good ideas among the neighbors. It's about the fox, +the digger-wasps, and the bumblebee. The fox can dig +his own burrow when he has to, but if he finds somebody +else's that he can use, he just helps himself—provided, of +course, the owner isn't Brer Bear, or some other big fellow +that Brer Fox doesn't care to have any words with. In the +same way the digger-wasps make their own little burrows +if they are obliged to, but prefer to help themselves to ones +they find already made, although they don't drive anybody +else out. They simply take possession of holes left by field-mice. +The bumblebee does the same thing. The bumblebee +digs a hole a foot or more deep, carpets it with leaves, +and lines it with wax. Leading up to the home is a long, +winding tunnel. As Bumblebeeville grows bigger there +may be two or three hundred bees in one nest. As the +bumblebee babies keep coming and coming, the burrow +has to be dug bigger and bigger, to take care of them.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="III_The_House_that_Mrs_Mason_Built" id="III_The_House_that_Mrs_Mason_Built"></a>III. The House that Mrs. Mason Built</span></h4> + +<p>But the greatest of bee workers in the soil is the mason-bee. +You can get an idea of what a useful citizen the +mason-bee is when I tell you that one of the little villages +of one species sometimes contains enough clay to make a +good load for a team of oxen. Yet for all that, they might +have gone on with their work for years and years to come—just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +as they have for ages in the past—and people +wouldn't have thought much about it, if it hadn't been for +some boys.</p> + +<p>One time, in a village in southern France, a school-teacher, +who was getting on in years, took his small class of +farmer boys outdoors to study surveying—setting up stakes +and things, you know, the way George Washington used +to do. It's a stony, barren land—this part of France—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +the fields are covered with pebbles. The teacher noticed +that often when he sent a boy to plant a stake, he would +stoop every once in a while, pick up a pebble and <i>stick a +straw into it</i>! That's what it looked like! Then he would +suck the straw.</p> + +<p>Well, to make a long story short,<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> these pebbles had on +them the little clay cells of the mason-bee. Mrs. Mason-Bee +fills these cells with honey, lays an egg in the honey, +and when the babies come along—don't you see? In other +words, Mother Bee not only puts up their lunch for them, +but puts them right into the lunch! This makes it convenient +all around; for, like almost all insect mothers, Mrs. +Mason-Bee is never there after the babies come.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei117" name="imagei117"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i117.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MASON-BEE CELLS AMONG THE ROCKS</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>There were so many of these pebbles scattered over the +plain, and the bees that were building new homes or repairing +old ones flew so straight and so fast between the +pebbles and a near-by road that "they looked like trails +of smoke," as Fabre expresses it.</p> + +<p>Now, you may well wonder why the bees flew clear over +to that road to get dirt to build their nests when there +was plenty of loose earth right at their own door-steps; +right around the pebbles themselves. Isn't that queer?</p> + +<p>Well, here's something that sounds stranger still. Mrs. +Mason-Bee takes those extra trips because a roadway is +so much harder to dig in! It's not because she needs the +exercise, goodness knows—this busy Mrs. Mason-Bee—but +because the hard earth of the roadway makes the +strongest homes; that is, when she finally gets it dug out +and worked up. And here's another thing that will seem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +odd at first; although the soil she thus works over must +be dampened before she can plaster it into the walls of +her home, she just won't use damp soil to begin with. +Nothing will do her but dust, and dust that she herself +scrapes from the roadway. The reason of this is that the +moisture already in the soil will not answer at all. She +has got to knead the soil carefully and thoroughly with +saliva, which acts as a kind of mortar. This saliva, of +course, she supplies.</p> + +<p>And the dust she works with must be as fine as powder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +and as dry as a bone. Then it absorbs the saliva, and when +it dries it is almost like stone. In fact it's a kind of +cement, like that men use for sidewalks and for buildings +and bridges.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei119" name="imagei119"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i119.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>Copyright by Brown Brothers.</i></p> +<p class="caption">FABRE STUDYING THE MASON-BEE</p> +</div></div> + +<p>But this wonderful old teacher and his boys<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> found +that even this isn't all this little house-builder and house-keeper +has to think of. She must have dust that is really +ground-up stone! So she digs in the roadway where the +bits of stone in this stony soil have been ground to powder +and then packed hard by the wheels of the farmer's cart +and by the hoofs of horses and oxen drawing their heavy +loads. But what did Mrs. M. B. do for ground-up stone +in the long ages before man came along with his carts? +Mr. Earl Reed, who, beside being the distinguished etcher +of "The Dunes," is a close observer of nature in general, +tells me he has often seen a mason-bee gathering the +pulverized stone at the base of cliffs. Evidently the mills +of the wind and rain, that we have read of in previous +chapters, had Mrs. B's wants in mind too.</p> + + +<h5>BEING A MASON-BEE FOR A LITTLE WHILE</h5> + +<p>Now, just to show you one more thing about Mrs. +Mason-Bee as a house-builder—how clever she is—let's try +something right here. Let's suppose ourselves—yourself +and myself—Mrs. Mason-Bees. We have got a home to +build for some baby mason-bees that will be along by and +by. Say we already know that we must use this stone +dust of the roadway, and that we must make our mortar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +not with <i>water</i> but with <i>saliva</i>. Here's the <i>next</i> problem:</p> + +<p>Shall the mixing be done where the building is going up +over there? That's the way human masons do it. But +Mrs. Mason-Bee evidently thinks otherwise, for at the +very time she is prying up those atoms of dust with so +much energy, you notice she is doing her mixing. She +rolls and kneads her mortar until she has it in the shape of +a ball as big as she can possibly carry. Then "buz-z-z-z!" +Away she goes, straight as an arrow, back home, and the +mortar is spread where it is needed.</p> + +<p>You see, after all, this is the best way. If she didn't +turn the dust into mortar before she started, so a good-sized +lump of it would stick together, she couldn't carry +much of it at a time, and it would be forever and a day before +she could get her house built. As it is, the pellets she +carries are of the size of small shot; a pretty big load, let me +tell you, for a little body no bigger than Mrs. Mason-Bee.</p> + +<p>And remember, this goes on all day long from sunrise +to sunset. Without a moment's rest, she adds her pellets +to the growing walls and then back she goes to the precise +spot where she has found the building material that best +suits her needs.</p> + +<p>In building a nest, the mason-bee, in going to and fro, +day after day, travels, on the average, about 275 miles; +half the distance across the widest part of France. All in +about five or six weeks, she does this. Then her work is +over. She retires to some quiet place under the stones, +and dies. As I said, she never sees the babies she has done +so much for.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei121" name="imagei121"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i121.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SURFACE MOUNDS OF THE MASON-ANT</p> +<p class="ctext">There are mason-ants as well as mason-bees. This illustration shows the works thrown up +by some mason-ants that Dr. McCook found in a garden path one morning in May.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>And although they are so stoutly built, the houses of +the mason-bees, like those "cloud-capped towers and gorgeous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +palaces" that Shakespere speaks of, finally go back +to the dust. But while one of these little mothers is building +a new home or repairing an old one left by a mother of +the previous year, you would suppose the fate of the world +hung on it; as indeed the fate of the world of mason-bees +does.</p> + +<p>Scrape! Scrape! Scrape! With the tips of those little +jaws, her mandibles, she makes the stony dust.</p> + +<p>Rake! Rake! Rake! With her front feet she gathers +and mixes it with the saliva from her mouth.</p> + +<p>How eager and excited she gets, how wrapped up in +her work as she digs away in the hard-packed mass in the +tracks of the roadway! Passing horses and oxen, and the +French peasants with their wooden shoes, are almost on +her before she will budge. And even then she only flits +aside until the danger has passed. Then down she drops +and at it again!</p> + +<p>But sometimes, the boys and the teacher found, she +starts to move too late—so absorbed is she, it would seem, +in the thought of that tiny little home over there among +the pebbles.</p> + +<p>Poor little lady!</p> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>Perhaps nothing in nature is more wonderful than an insect; +particularly when you consider that he <i>is</i> only an insect! So, of +course, whole libraries have been written about insects. Here are +a few of the most interesting books dealing with the subject: +Beard's "Boy's Book of Bugs, Butterflies and Beetles"; Comstock's +"Ways of the Six-Footed"; Crading's "Our Insect Friends and +Foes"; Doubleday's "Nature's Garden"; Du Puy's "Trading Bugs +with the Nations." This about trading bugs is an article in "Uncle +Sam: Wonder Worker," and tells how Uncle Sam "swaps" with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +other nations to get rid of injurious insects and bring in useful ones.</p> + +<p>Grant Allen's "Sextons and Scavengers" ("Nature's Work Shop") +tells many curious things about the sexton beetles; how, by tasting +bad, they keep birds and things from eating them; why you will +always find an even number—never an <i>odd</i> number—of sextons at +work together; what they use for spades in their digging; why male +sextons bury their wives alive, and why there is reason to believe +that these weird little insects have a sense of beauty and of music.</p> + +<p>The same essay tells about the sacred beetle of the Egyptians, +the insect that we know as the "tumblebug"; why first the Egyptians +and then the Greeks regarded this bug as sacred; and why +men and women wear imitation beetles for brooches and watch-charms +to-day.</p> + +<p>But the greatest work on this famous beetle has been written by +the famous French observer Fabre, "The Homer of the Insect." +You will find this book, "The Sacred Beetle," in any good public +library. Among other things Fabre gives a very minute description +of the variety of tools used by the beetle; tells how two beetles +roll a ball;<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> how they dig their holes; how they "play possum," +and then (I'm almost ashamed to tell this) rob their partners! +How they wipe the dust out of their eyes; about a tumblebug's +wheelbarrow; why their underground burrows sometimes have +winding ways; why there are fewer beetles in hard times; about +their autumn gaieties; their value as weather-prophets, and how +Fabre's little son Paul helped him in writing his great book.</p> + +<p>Allen's essay, "The Day of the Canker Worm" in "Nature's +Work Shop," tells many interesting things about the Cicada, the +locust that only comes once in seventeen years;<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> about Lady +Locust's saw (it looks like a cut-out puzzle); about the clay galleries +the locusts build when they come up out of the ground; how many +times they have to put on new dresses before they finally look like +locusts; why, at one stage of the process, they look like ghosts, +and how they blow up their wings as you do a bicycle tire.</p> + +<p>(Fabre's book on the sacred beetle also deals, incidentally, with +the Cicada.)</p> + +<p>Often one thing is named after another from a merely fanciful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +resemblance, as, for instance, the "sea horse." But the mole +cricket really seems to have been patterned on the mole; either that, +or both the four-legged and the six-legged moles were patterned +after something <i>else</i>. Mole crickets are very useful little people +to know. You should see how they protect their nest-eggs from +the weather and how and why they move their nests up and down +with the change of the seasons.</p> + +<p>What good to the soil do the insects do that eat up dead-wood? +Scott Elliott, in his "Romance of Plant Life," deals with this subject.</p> + +<p>The mining bees are very interesting, and some of these days, +perhaps millions of years hence, they will be still more interesting, +for they are learning to work together, although not to the extent +that the bees and ants do. Working together seems to develop +the brains of insects just as it does human beings. Thomson's +"Biology of the Seasons" tells how the mining bees are learning +"team-work."</p> + +<p>The tarantula spider is a relation of the six-footed farmers, you +should know, although he is not an insect himself. In "Animal +Arts and Crafts" in the "Romance of Science" series you will find +how, in his digging, he makes little pellets of earth, wraps them up +in silk, and then shoots them away, somewhat as a boy shoots a +marble.</p> + +<p>The same book tells why the trap-door spider usually builds on +a slope. It also tells why she puts on the front door soon after +beginning her house. (This looks funny, but you wouldn't think +it was so funny if <i>you</i> were a trap-door spider and you had a certain +party for a neighbor, as you will agree when you look it up.)</p> + +<p>The door, by the way, has a peculiar edge to make it fit tight. +What kind of an edge would <i>you</i> put on a door to make it fit tight? +(Look at the stopper in the vinegar-cruet and see if it will give +you an idea.)</p> + +<p>This book also tells about a certain wasp that makes pottery +and gets her clay from the very same bank that certain other people +depend on for <i>their</i> potter's clay. This wasp sings at her work +and has three different songs for different parts of the work.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei126" name="imagei126"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i126.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE FIELD MOUSE AND THE FARMER</p> +<p class="ctext">When we remember how much soil the field mouse worked over, and so made better, long +before man's time on earth—to say nothing of what the mice have done since—doesn't it give +an added and deeper meaning to the lines of Burns?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="ctext"><span class="i0">"I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What then? Poor beastie, thou maun live."<br /></span></p> +</div></div> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p class="center">(JULY)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Well said, old mole! Canst work i' the earth so fast?<br /></span> +<p class="right">—<i>Shakespere</i>: "<i>Hamlet.</i>"<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>FARMERS WITH FOUR FEET</h3> + + +<p>Before we start this chapter—it's going to be about +the farmers with four feet, you see—I want to say something, +and that's this: <i>Don't let anybody tell you moles eat +roots.</i> They don't! They eat the cutworms that do eat +the roots. Haven't I been in mole runs often enough to +know! Of course, the moles do cut a root here and there +occasionally when it happens to be in the way, as they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +tunnel along, but what does that amount to?</p> + +<p>Why, in France they put Mr. Mole in vineyards—on +purpose! He's one of the regular hands about the place, +just like the hired man.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="I._MR._MOLE_AND_HIS_RELATIONS" id="I._MR._MOLE_AND_HIS_RELATIONS">I. Mr. Mole and His Relations</a></span></h4> + +<p>Moles do a lot of good work for the farmer. Not only +were they ploughing and ploughing and ploughing the +soil—over and over again—thousands of centuries before +man came along to plant seed in it, but they are all the +time eating, among other things, destructive worms and +insects in the soil. They work all over the world, that is +to say, in the upper half of it—the Northern Hemisphere; +and there's where the biggest half of the land is, if I haven't +forgotten my geography.</p> + + +<h5><a name="WONDERFUL_LITTLE_MACHINES_ON_FOUR_LEGS" id="WONDERFUL_LITTLE_MACHINES_ON_FOUR_LEGS"></a>WONDERFUL LITTLE MACHINES ON FOUR LEGS</h5> + +<p>Closely related to the moles are the shrews—quaint +little mouse-like creatures with long, pointed heads and +noses that they can twist about almost any way in hunting +their meals and finding out other things in this big +world that concern them. On these funny, long noses +they have whiskers like a pussy-cat; and that helps, too, +when you want to keep posted on what's going on around +you. Like the moles the shrews are found all over the +Northern Hemisphere. What is known as the "long-tailed +shrew," is the very smallest of our relations among the +mammalia. Why, they're no bigger than the end of a +man's little finger; and the smallest watch <i>I</i> ever heard +of was a good deal bigger than that. Yet, inside these wee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +bodies is as much machinery as it takes to run any other +mammal—an elephant, say.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei128" name="imagei128"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i128.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE COMMON AND THE SHORT-TAILED SHREW</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>The shrews get around very fast, considering their size; +and they're on the go all the time. I never saw such busy-bodies; +nosing about in the old leaves and dead grass and +under logs and boring into loose loam, punky wood, decayed +stumps—anywhere you'd be likely to find a worm, +a grub, a beetle, or a slug. Hard workers, these shrews, +but <i>so</i> quarrelsome! When two Mr. Shrews meet there's +pretty sure to be trouble. They're regular little swashbucklers +among themselves; and—the queerest thing, +until you know why—they don't seem to be afraid even +of cats. Fancy telling Cousin Mouse that! But it isn't +because the shrews <i>wouldn't</i> be afraid if the cats got after +them, but because cats always let shrews alone. They +don't taste good!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei129" name="imagei129"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i129.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE CILIATED SHREW</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>Shrews are so nimble on their tiny feet and so quick of +hearing, they are very hard to catch. And please don't +try! You simply <i>can't</i> tame them, and in spite of the fact<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +they're so fierce and bold at home—among their own kind—they're +easily frightened to death. A shock of fear and +that wonderful little heart engine of theirs stops short—never +to go again.</p> + + +<h5><a name="MR_MOLES_PAWS_AND_HOW_HE_WORKS_THEM" id="MR_MOLES_PAWS_AND_HOW_HE_WORKS_THEM">MR. MOLE'S PAWS AND HOW HE WORKS THEM</a></h5> + +<p>But while the shrews can get around so much faster +above ground the moles are the most remarkable travellers +<i>under</i> ground. The mole's paws, you notice, are turned +outward, as one's hands are when swimming. In fact he +does almost swim through the soft, loose soil—so fast +does he move along! His two shovels, with the muscles +that work them, weigh as much as all the rest of his body. +Why, he has a chest like an athlete! He pierces the soil +with his muzzle and then clears it away with his paws. +His skull is shaped like a wedge. He has a strong, boring +snout and a smooth, round body.</p> + +<p>This snout, by the way, has a bone near the tip. You +see how handy that would come in, don't you? At the +same time, although it's so hard—this snout of his—it's +very sensitive, like the fingers of the blind; for Mr. Mole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +must always be feeling his way along in the dark, you +know.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei130" name="imagei130"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i130.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SECTION OF MR. MOLE'S CASTLE</p> +<p class="ctext">This is a cross-section of a mole-hill, showing the central chamber and the rooms leading +into it.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>The kind of moles you find in Europe live in what seem +to be little earthen fortresses, and the tops, sticking above +ground, make hillocks. In each of these little forts there +is a central chamber; then outside of this, running all the +way around, are two galleries, one above the other. The +upper gallery has several openings into the central chamber. +The galleries are connected by two straight up-and-down +shafts. From the lower galleries several passages, +usually from eight to ten, lead away to where the moles go +out to feed; and if there is a body of water near by—a pond +or a creek, say—there's a special tunnel leading to that.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mole works hard and he sleeps hard. The big middle +room in his home is the bedchamber of Mr. Mole and +his family. Usually he sleeps soundly all night, but occasionally, +on fine Summer nights, he comes out and enjoys +the air.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei131" name="imagei131"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i131.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE COMMON AND THE STAR-NOSED MOLE</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>You'd think he'd get awfully dirty, wouldn't you, +boring his way along in the ground all the time? But he +doesn't. His hair is always as spick and span as if he'd +just come out of the barber-shop. Do you know why? +It's because he wears his hair pompadoured. It grows +straight out from the skin. So you see he can go backward +and forward—as he is obliged to do constantly in +the day's work—without mussing it up at all. If it lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +down, like yours or like pussy-cat's, it would get into an +<i>awful</i> mess! In France the children call Mr. Mole "The +Little Gentleman in the Velvet Coat."</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="II_Four-Footed_Farmers_That_Wear_Armor" id="II_Four-Footed_Farmers_That_Wear_Armor"></a>II. Four-Footed Farmers That Wear Armor</span></h4> + +<p>But, speaking of coats, I want to introduce you to a +still more rapid worker in the soil, who wears a coat of mail. +He is called the armadillo. There used to be a species of +armadillo in western Texas. Whether there are any there +still I don't know,<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> but go on down to South America and +you'll find all you want. The woods are full of them, and +so are those vast prairies—the pampas. The plates in +the armadillo's coat of mail are not made of steel, of course, +but of bone. These bony plates are each separate from +the other on most of his body but made into solid bucklers +over the shoulders and the hips. The armadillos have +very short, stout legs and very long, strong claws, and +how they can dig! They can dig fast in any kind of soil, +but in the loose soil of the pampas they dig so fast that if +you happen to catch sight of one when out riding and he +sees <i>you</i>, you'll have to start toward him with your horse +on the run if you want to see anything more of him. Before +you can get to him and throw yourself from the saddle, +he'll have buried himself in the ground. And you +can't catch him; not even if you have a spade and dig +away with all your might. He'll dig ahead of you, faster—a +good deal faster—than you can follow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + + +<h5><a name="MR_ARMADILLOS_REMARKABLE_NOSE_DRILL" id="MR_ARMADILLOS_REMARKABLE_NOSE_DRILL">MR. ARMADILLO'S REMARKABLE NOSE DRILL</a></h5> + +<p>For all he looks so knightly, so far as his armor is concerned, +the armadillo is timid, peaceful, and never looking +for trouble with anybody, but once aroused fights fiercely +and does much damage with his long hooked claws. His +chief diet is ants. These he finds with his nose. He locates +them by scent and then bores in after them. You'd think +he'd twist it off, that long nose of his; he turns it first one +way and then the other, like a gimlet. And so fast!</p> + +<p>The armadillo dislikes snakes as much as all true knights +disliked dragons. That is, he doesn't like them socially; +although he's quite fond of them as a variation in diet. +He'll leap on a snake, paying not the slightest attention to +his attempts to bite through that coat of mail, and tear +him into bits and eat him.</p> + +<p>Another armored knight that eats snakes and that other +animals seldom eat—much as they'd like to—is the hedgehog. +If you were a fox, instead of a boy or girl, I wouldn't +have to tell you about how hard it is to serve hedgehog +at the family table. One of the earliest things a little fox +learns in countries where there are hedgehogs is to let the +hedgehog alone.</p> + +<p>"Hedgehogs would be very nice—to eat, I mean—if they +weren't so ugly about not wanting to be eaten."</p> + +<p>We can imagine Mamma Fox saying that to the children. +Then she goes on:</p> + +<p>"The whole ten inches of a hedgehog—he's about that +long—are covered with short, stiff, sharp, gray spines. +He's easy to catch—just ambles along, hardly lifting his +short legs from the ground. And he goes about at night—just +when we foxes are out marketing. That would be so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +handy, don't you see; but the trouble is about those nasty +spines of his. Try to catch him and he rolls up into a ball +with all his spines—they're sharp as needles—sticking out +everywhere, and every which way. And—well, you simply +can't get at him, that's all. So just don't have anything +to do with him. It's only a waste of time."</p> + +<p>Hedgehogs live in hedges and thickets and in narrow +gulches covered with bushes. They do their share of +ploughing when nosing about with their pig-like snouts for +slugs, snails, and insects, and when they dig places for +their home nests. These homes they line with moss, +grass, and leaves, and in them spend the long Winter, indifferent +to the tempests and the cold.</p> + +<p>But there's another place to look for hedgehogs, and you +never would guess! In people's kitchens. If you ever go +to England you'll find them in many country homes, helping +with the work. They're great on cockroaches, and +they're perfectly safe from the cat and the dog. Both +Puss and Towser know all about those spines, just as well +as Mrs. Fox does.</p> + +<p>When they've eaten all the cockroaches, give them some +cooked vegetables, porridge, or bread and milk, and they'll +be perfectly content. They're easy to tame and get very +friendly.</p> + +<p>In the wild state, besides the insects and things I mentioned, +they eat snakes; and poison snakes, too! The +poison never seems to bother them at all. Their table +manners are interesting, also, when it comes to eating +snakes. They always begin at the tail.<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> They'd no more +think of eating a snake any other way than one would of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +picking up the wrong fork at a formal dinner.</p> + + +<h5>UNDER THE HEDGEHOG'S WATER-PROOF ROOF</h5> + +<p>That's one of the things about good manners Mamma +Hedgehog teaches the babies, I suppose. Of these she has +from two to four, and she makes a curious nest especially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +for them; a nest with a roof on it that sheds rain like any +other roof. Just as it is with puppies and kittens, the +babies are born blind; and not only that, but they can't +hear at first, either. While they are young their spines—I +don't mean their back-bones, but their other spines—are +soft, but they become hard as the babies grow and open +their eyes and ears on the world. The muscles on their +backs get very thick and strong, so that when they don't +want to have anything to do with anybody—say a fox, or +a dog, or a weasel—they just pull the proper muscle +strings and tie themselves up into a kind of bag made of +their own needle-cushion skins, with the needles all sticking +out, point up!</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="III_A_Visit_to_Some_Farm_Villages" id="III_A_Visit_to_Some_Farm_Villages"></a>III. A Visit to Some Farm Villages</span></h4> + + +<h5>TWELVE LITTLE MARMOTS ALL IN ONE BED</h5> + +<p>Next I'd like you to visit with me certain other farmers +who remind us of the Middle Ages also; not because they +wear armor, like the armadillos and the hedgehogs and the +lords of castles, but because they live in farm villages as +the farmer peasants used to do around the castles of the +lords. Moreover, one reason they live together in this way +is for protection—just as it was with the peasants—only +among these little democrats there's no overlord business; +each one's home is his castle. Another reason for this village +arrangement is that it's such a sociable way to live; +and they're great society people, these farm villagers. The +marmots, for example, the largest and heaviest of the +squirrel family, just love company. In their mountain +country—they're mountain people, the marmots—they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +play together, work together, and during the long, cold +night of Winter snuggle together in their burrows. Their +burrows are close by each other among the rocks. They +have both Summer and Winter residences. In Summer +they go away up in the mountains, hollow out their burrows +and raise their babies. When the snows of late +Autumn send them down the mountainsides, twelve or +fifteen of them, all working together, pitch in and make +a tunnel in the soil among the rocks, enlarging it at the +end into a big room. Next they put in a good pile of dry +hay, carefully close the front door and lock it up with +stones caulked with grass and moss. Then they all cuddle +down together, as snug as you please, and stay there until +Spring.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei135" name="imagei135"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i135.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HIGHWAYS OF GROUND-SQUIRREL TOWN</p> +<p class="ctext">Almost as crooked as the streets of London town, aren't they? And as hard to find one's +way about in—unless, of course, one were a ground-squirrel. This is the burrow of a Richardson +ground-squirrel sketched by Thompson Seton, near Whitewater, Manitoba.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Another member of the marmot family who is very fond +of good company is the prairie-dog. There may be thousands +in a prairie-dog town. Each little prairie-dog home +has in front of it a mound something like an Eskimo's hut. +The prairie-dogs make these mounds in digging out their +burrows. They pile the dirt right at the front door. This +may not look neat to us, but you'll see it's just the thing—this +dirt pile—when you know what the prairie-dog does +with it. He uses it as a watch-tower.</p> + +<p>When, from this watch-tower, he spies certain people he +doesn't want to meet, you ought to see how quickly he can +make for his front door and into the house! The times are +still lawless where the prairie-dog lives, and he has to be +on the lookout all the while for coyotes, for foxes, for +badgers, for the black-footed ferret and the old gray wolf; +to say nothing of hawks and brown owls.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<h5><a name="SUCH_NEAT_CHAMBERMAIDS" id="SUCH_NEAT_CHAMBERMAIDS"></a>SUCH NEAT CHAMBERMAIDS!</h5> + +<p>The prairie-dogs like sandy or gravelly soil for their +homes, and in making them they do a lot of ploughing. +And besides they supply this same soil with a great deal of +humus—the grass that they use for bedding. They're very +particular about changing their beds every day; always +clearing out the old bedding and putting in new. They do +this along about sundown. You can see them do it right +in New York City, for there is a flourishing colony of them +at the zoo.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei138" name="imagei138"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i138.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THIS MUST BE A PLEASANT DAY</p> +<p class="ctext">In nice weather the Prairie Dog's front door stands wide open like this, but before a rain +he stuffs it tight with grass because, when it <i>does</i> rain in the arid regions where he lives, it +comes down in bucketfuls!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Prairie-Dog is about a foot long and as fat as butter. +The reason he's called a dog isn't because he is a dog or +even looks like one, but because he has a sharp little bark +like a very much excited puppy. He thinks he sees something +suspicious: "Yap! Yap!"</p> + +<p>Or he spies a neighbor down the street: "Yap! Yap!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +Hello, neighbor! Looks like another fine day, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yap! Yap!" says neighbor. (This "yap" passes for +"yes," no doubt—although it isn't quite the way Mr. +Webster would say it, perhaps.)</p> + +<p>Then maybe a neighbor from away over on the avenue, +that he hasn't seen for some time, comes calling—as they're +always doing, these neighborly little chaps. Then it's:</p> + +<p>"Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Why, how <i>are</i> you? And +what have you been doing? And how are the little folks?"</p> + +<p>And so it goes, all day long.</p> + +<p>The prairie-dog's native home is on our Western plains, +but he has a cousin away off in South America—although +he may never have heard of him—called the viscacha.</p> + +<p>The viscachas live on the great grassy plains of the La +Plata in colonies of twenty or more, in villages of deep-chambered +burrows with large pit-like entrances grouped +close together; so close, in fact, that the whole village makes +one large irregular mound, thirty to forty feet in diameter +and two to three feet high. These villages being on the +level prairie, the viscachas are careful to build them high +enough so that floods will not reach them. They make a +clear space all around the town. In doing this these little +people seem to have two purposes: (1) To make it more +difficult for enemies to slip up on them unnoticed, and +(2) to furnish a kind of athletic field for the community; +for it is in these open spaces that they have their foot-races, +wrestling matches, and the like.</p> + +<p>If you ever happen down their way, the first thing that +will strike you is the enormous size of the entrances to the +central burrows. You'd think somebody as big as a bear +lived in them. The entrance is four to six feet across and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +deep enough for a tall man to stand in up to the waist.</p> + +<p>Like our prairie-dogs, the viscachas are very sociable, +and little paths, the result of neighborly calls, lead from +one village to another. They are neighborly indeed; and +in the Bible sense. Of course, they like to get together of +an evening and talk things over and gossip and all that, +but that isn't the end of it. To take an instance: These +South American prairie-dogs, like our prairie-dogs up +North, are not popular with the cattlemen; and the cattlemen, +to get rid of them, bury whole villages with earth. +Then neighbors from distant burrows come—just as soon +as the cattlemen go away—and dig them out!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei141" name="imagei141"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i141.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MR. P. GOPHER AS THE MASTER PLOUGHMAN</p> +<p class="ctext">Thompson Seton calls the pocket-gopher "the master ploughman of the West," and this is +how he illustrates the extent of his labors.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Another ploughman besides the prairie-dog and the +viscacha, who isn't popular with farmers—although +Thompson Seton calls him "The Master Ploughman of +the West"—is the pocket-gopher. He has farmed it from +Canada to Texas, all through the fertile Mississippi Valley. +The reason he has that queer expression on his face—you +couldn't help noticing it—is that each cheek has a big outside +pocket in it; and, like the big pockets in a small boy's +trousers, they're there for business. On each forefoot he +has a set of long claws; and dig, you should see him! He's +a regular little steam-shovel. He sinks his burrow below +the frost-line and into this, stuffed in his two pockets, he +carries food to eat when he wakes up during the following +Spring, before earth's harvests are ripe.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei142" name="imagei142"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i142.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">POCKETS OF THE POCKET-MOUSE</p> + +</div></div> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="IV._THE_HOME_OF_THE_RED_FOX" id="IV._THE_HOME_OF_THE_RED_FOX">IV. The Home of the Red Fox</a></span></h4> + +<p>Another country gentleman, not as popular with his +neighbors, I must say, as he might be, but whose people, +in the course of the ages, have done a good deal of ploughing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +is Brer Fox. I mean particularly the red fox, for the +gray fox usually lives in hollow trees or in ready-made +houses among the rocks of the mountainside.</p> + + +<h5>THE THREE ROOMS IN THE FOX HOUSE</h5> + +<p>The red fox is the cunningest of his tribe. One of the +ways he shows his cunning—and also his lack of conscience, +in dealings outside the fox family—is in his way of getting +a home. Whenever he can find a burrow of a badger, for +example, he drives the badger out and then enlarges the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +place to suit his own needs. For Mr. Fox's residence is +quite an affair. Usually it has three rooms; the front +room where either Mr. or Mrs. Fox—depending on which +is going marketing—stops and looks about to see if the +coast is clear; back of that the storeroom for food, and +behind this the family bedroom and nursery.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Fox are among +the thriftiest folks I know. +They not only provide for to-day, +but for to-morrow and +the day after. For example, +when Mr. Fox visits a poultry-yard, +he doesn't simply carry +off enough for one meal. He +keeps catching and carrying +off chickens, ducks, or geese—whatever +comes handy—all +night; working clear up to +daybreak. And the fresh meat +he thus gets for the family +table he buries—each fowl in a separate place—not so very +far away from the poultry-yard. Then later he comes and +gets this buried treasure and takes it home to be shared +with mother and the babies.</p> + +<p>Of these babies there are from three to five. Young +foxes are very playful and think there's no such sport as +chasing each other about in the sunshine, while mother +sits in the doorway keeping an eye out for possible danger +and watching their antics with a complacent smile, as much +as to say: "<i>Aren't</i> they the little dears!"</p> + +<p>If just one little fox wants to play while his brothers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +and sisters want to sleep—and that sometimes happens—he +goes off by himself and chases his own tail around, just +like a kitten.</p> + +<p>Little foxes are very nice and polite that way.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei143" name="imagei143"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i143.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE KANGAROO RAT AND THE POCKET-MOUSE</p> +<p class="ctext">The kangaroo rat and the pocket-mouse live in the arid regions of the United States. Both +have pockets in their cheeks, but the mouse is named for his pockets and the rat for his long +kangaroo hind legs.</p> +</div></div> + + +<h4>V. <span class="smcap"><a name="Work_and_Play_in_Chipmunkville" id="Work_and_Play_in_Chipmunkville"> +Work and Play in Chipmunkville</a></span></h4> + +<p>It isn't often one gets a chance to see little foxes at play, +except occasionally in the big city zoos, for foxes are now +so scarce; and, besides, their papas and mammas in the +wild state are suspicious of human spectators, but there +are certain nimble four-legged babies to be found all over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +the country that play in much the same way.</p> + +<p>If, along in July, you should see a certain little body in +a lovely striped suit chasing another little body in a +striped suit, exactly like it, along the old rail fence or +over the boulder wall or across the meadow, ten to one, +it will be two baby chipmunks playing tag. When one +bites the other's tail—they're always trying to do that in +these tag games—it means he's "it," I think. In fact, I'm +quite sure, for always, when one little Mr. Chipmunk bites +another little Mr. Chipmunk on the tail, little Mr. Chipmunk +No. 2 turns right around and chases little Mr. Chipmunk +No. 1, and tries to bite <i>his</i> tail.</p> + +<p>They keep this up on sunshiny days all through July and +along into early August. Then the serious business of life +begins. They sober down, these chipmunk children—they +were only born last May—and learn to make homes for +themselves. You never would think the way they love +the sunshine that the homes of all the chipmunks are under +the ground, and as dark as can be. But they are. You +notice the chipmunks have rather large feet, considering +what dainty little creatures they are. These feet, like the +feet of the mole, are for digging. The chipmunk digs deep +under the roots of trees and stone walls, if there happens +to be either handy by, but, so far as I've seen, he's quite +contented to make his burrows in the open meadows. The +round nest at the end of the burrow is lined with fine grass. +It has two entrances, one right opposite the other, like +front and back doors. Sometimes there are as many as +three doors; four, maybe, in case of a chipmunk of a particularly +nervous disposition. All chipmunks are easily +frightened and dive into their holes, quick as a wink, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +there's any danger; and often when there's really nothing +to be scared at at all.</p> + + +<h5><a name="WHEN_THOSE_EXTRA_DOORS_COME_HANDY" id="WHEN_THOSE_EXTRA_DOORS_COME_HANDY">WHEN THOSE EXTRA DOORS COME HANDY</a></h5> + +<p>But you can't blame them. There are times when it's +no fun being a chipmunk, I tell you. The hawks get after +you, and the minks and the foxes and the weasels. Those +extra doors into the nest are very useful places to dodge +into when you're outside and a savage old hawk swoops +down on you, or a fox makes a jump at you. And they're +just as handy—these extra doors—to run <i>out</i> of when a +mink or a weasel follows you in. They'll do that, if you're +a chipmunk; chase you right into your own house!</p> + +<p>When a pair of grown-up chipmunks start housekeeping +for themselves—that is to say when they are about ten +weeks old—they first dig a little tunnel, almost straight +down for several feet. Then they make a hall that runs +along horizontally—like anybody's hall—for a few yards. +Then, supposing you're Mr. or Mrs. Chipmunk in your +new place, after it's all done—you go up a slant—a flight +of stairs, you might say, although, of course, there aren't +any stairs—and there you are in the family bedroom, the +nest.</p> + +<p>Not long after the chipmunks stop their outdoor games +in the Fall you might think it was because they had the +mumps; they go around with their faces all swelled out in +such a funny way. The reason is they have their cheeks +full of nuts and seeds that they are storing for the Winter. +They don't put these stores in the nest—for then where +would they sleep, the nest is so small—but in special cellars +that they build near the nest, with connecting passages.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +These cellars, like the nests, are well below frost-line, so +that Jack can't get the nuts or nip the noses of the chipmunks +while they are asleep.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei146" name="imagei146"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i146.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">PICTURESQUE HOME OF A CONNECTICUT WOODCHUCK</p> +<p class="ctext">This is the truly artistic residence of a Connecticut woodchuck which I found in a rocky +knoll by the wayside during a summer vacation at Kent and reproduced as well as I could +with my fountain-pen. Mr. W. as he often does in digging his burrows, had availed himself +of the protection of the roots of a tree. Here there were two projecting roots, forming a +curious arch over the doorway, which was tastily decorated by a little overhanging vine, on +its way up the knoll, along the stones, and up the foot of the tree.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>When Winter finally sets in, the chipmunks get very +drowsy and go up to bed. And there they stay until +Spring—one great long nap, except that they wake up and +stir around occasionally on bright days and if it happens +to warm up a little.</p> + +<p>"Such sleepyheads!" you say. "And what about all those +nuts? I should think they'd be fine for Winter parties."</p> + +<p>They would, I dare say. But you know a body doesn't +have much of an appetite when he doesn't get any outdoor +exercise, and that's why the chipmunks only take a few +bites now and then, during the Winter. And, besides, if +they ate up everything in the Winter—you know how folks +eat at parties—what would they do in the Spring, with no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +good nuts lying around on the ground, as there are in the +Fall; and nothing else to be had that chipmunks care +about? So they keep most of the nuts and seeds and +things for the great Spring breakfast, and all the other +meals, until berries are ripe. The berries they eat until +the next nut harvest comes along.</p> + +<p>Until then, you see, they haven't much of anything to +do but play around and sit in the sun and chat. So why +shouldn't they?</p> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>You will find some most readable things about foxes in Burrough's +"<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23714">Squirrels and Other Fur Bearers</a>"; Comstock's "Pet Book"; +Cram's "Little Beasts of Field and Wood"; Wright's "Four-Footed +Americans"; Jordan's "Five Tales of Birds and Beasts"; +Long's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18193">Ways of Wood Folk</a>"; +and Seton's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3031">Wild Animals I Have Known</a>."</p> + +<p>Comstock's "Pet Book" also tells about the prairie-dog; and +Seton, in his "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3031">Wild Animals I Have Known</a>," tells about "The +Prairie Dog and His Kin."</p> + +<p>It's a very common superstition among English country folk that +shrews always drop dead if they attempt to cross a road. How do +you suppose such a strange idea ever got started? Allen, in his +"Nature's Work Shop," reasons it out, and his reasons seem very +plausible. It's a fact that their dead bodies are nearly always +found in roadways. You'll also find some interesting information +about shrews in Johonnott's "Curious Flyers, Creepers and Swimmers" +and Wright's "Four-Footed Americans."</p> + +<p>There's some little dispute about squirrels as tree-planters; that +is to say as to just how they do it, for there's no question that they +<i>do</i> plant oaks and other trees. Thoreau, in his "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/205">Walden</a>," gives the +squirrel credit for doing an immense amount of tree-planting, but +Ernest Ingersoll, in his article on squirrels in "Wild Neighbors," +thinks the squirrel leaves comparatively few acorns or hickory-nuts, +and that he doesn't forget where he puts them, as other writers +on nature say. "They seem to know precisely the spot," says Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +Ingersoll, "where each nut is buried, and go directly to it; and I +have seen them hundreds of times when the snow was more than a +foot deep, wade floundering through it straight to a certain point, +dive down, perhaps far out of sight, and in a moment emerge with +a nut in their jaws."</p> + +<p>But <i>how</i> the squirrel knows it's there—that's the mystery! Read +what Ingersoll says about it. The whole essay is extremely good +reading, and will tell you a number of things to watch out for in +squirrels that you perhaps never have noticed.</p> + +<p>In Pliny's "Natural History" you will find, among other quaint +stories, one to the effect that mountain marmots put away hay in +the fall by one animal using itself as a hay-rack—lying on his back +with his load clasped close while he is pulled home by the tail. +"Animal Arts and Crafts" tells what a simple little thing originated +this idea. Many of the peasants of the Alps still believe it.</p> + +<p>Hornaday, in his "Two Years in the Jungle," gives an interesting +account of how one of the four-footed knights in armor—the +pangolin—does himself up in a ball, and how next to impossible +it is to "unlock" him.</p> + +<p>Ingersoll, in discussing the various uses of tails in "Wild Neighbors," +tells how a gerboa kangaroo brings home grass for his nest, +done up in a sheaf of which his own little tail is the binder.</p> + +<p>An interesting four-footed burrower, when he can't rob a prairie-dog +of his hole—or some other body smaller than himself—is the +coyote. There is a long talk on the coyote and his ways in "Wild +Neighbors." This little book also gives pictures of the different +kinds of shrews in the United States, and a lot of detail about them +and their little paws and their noses and their tails.</p> + +<p>It's a queer thing how systematic and prompt shrews and moles +are in business. You can actually set your watch by them, as +you will see in the same book.</p> + +<p>In the article on the gopher in the "Americana" you will find +how the gopher got his name. Can you guess, when I tell you it's +from a French word meaning "honeycomb"?</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p class="center">(AUGUST)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">'Till he came unto a streamlet<br /></span> +<span class="i6"> In the middle of the forest<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To a streamlet still and tranquil<br /></span> +<span class="i6">That had overflowed its margin,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To a dam made by the beavers,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To a pond of quiet water,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where knee-deep the trees were standing,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where the water-lilies floated,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where the rushes waved and whispered.<br /></span> + +<p class="right">—<i>Longfellow</i>: "<i>Hiawatha.</i>"<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>WATER FARMERS WHO HELP MAKE LAND</h3> + + +<p>As we all spend more or less time in the water in August +I thought it would be a good idea to take as the subject +of this chapter the lives of the water farmers. Some of +these—the crayfish and the turtle, for example—you know +well, and everybody has heard of the beaver family, but +they will all bear closer acquaintance. I know, for I've +spent a good deal of time among them.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="I_The_Turtle_People" id="I_The_Turtle_People"></a>I. The Turtle People</span></h4> + +<p>Every boy who has tramped along creeks and ponds +knows the mud-turtle. We ought to call him a tortoise, +perhaps, but the name turtle is more common. I don't +know why; perhaps because it's a little easier to say. +Strictly speaking, the name "turtle" is applied to the +members of the family that have flippers, and spend nearly +all their time in the water; while the tortoises are the ones<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +that have feet and put in much of their time on land. +(And then, of course, there are the tortoises of fables that +run races with hares, and so teach us not to be too confident +of ourselves because we think we are cleverer than +some other people.)</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei151" name="imagei151"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i151.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A HAWKSBILL TURTLE</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>The common box-turtle of the United States you'll meet +in the woods in the evening and early morning, wandering +about looking for something to eat. He spends practically +all his time on land in Summer; and in the Winter, all his +time in bed. As soon as cold weather comes on he digs a +hole in the ground, or scoops out a place under some +brush, and turns in.</p> + +<p>But the box-turtle—he's really a tortoise—is what some +of his relatives would call a "landlubber," no doubt, for +many of the tortoises who live in the sea rarely leave it; +as if they had half a mind to go back and be only flipper +people, as the ancestors of both the turtles and the tortoises +must have been; since all life is supposed to have +begun in the sea.</p> + +<p>All the tortoises of temperate regions dig in for the +Winter, but one Southern member of the family makes his +home in a dugout throughout the year. He's called the +"gopher" turtle. The gopher turtles are natives of +Florida, and live in pairs in burrows. Other members +of the turtle tribe do not pair, but there's one time in +their lives when both land and water turtles dig into the +soil and that's when they are laying their eggs. The +females scoop out hollows with their hind legs, kicking up +the dirt, first with one leg and then with the other. But +they're as careful of the dirt they dig out as a beaver is +when he digs a canal. They scrape it up in a little ridge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +all around the hole.</p> + +<p>What for? Just watch.</p> + + +<h5>HOW MOTHER TURTLE "TAMPS" HER NEST</h5> + +<p>As soon as she has finished laying her eggs, Mother Turtle +carefully scrapes this dirt back over them and tamps +it down, much as a foundryman tamps the sand in a mould. +You can guess what she uses for a tamper—the under side +of her shell, raising and lowering herself on her legs like a +Boy Scout taking his morning setting-up exercises in a +Summer camp. After that she doesn't pay any more attention +to her eggs. She leaves the sun to do her hatching +for her. Both land and sea turtles—or, more properly +speaking, the tortoises and the turtles—hatch their young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +in this way. The sea-turtles scramble up out of the water +on their flippers, much as a seal does in climbing on a +rock, and make their way back from the shore, great +crowds of them, at nesting-time, to some stretch of sand, +and there lay their eggs. This march of the mother turtles +always takes place at night. When the young are +hatched they dig their way up through the sand and make +for the sea.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="II._THE_CRAB_FAMILY" id="II._THE_CRAB_FAMILY">II. The Crab Family</a></span></h4> + +<p>Another one of the water people who help make land +and one that everybody knows, is the crayfish. Every +small boy is afraid Mr. Crayfish will catch his little big +toe sooner or later, when he goes swimming; although I +never heard of a crayfish that did. But they never worry +about <i>their</i> toes—the crayfish don't. When they lose a +whole foot even—as they often do—it grows right out +again. The science people say this is because they belong +to a low order in the animal world, but I think it would +come in right handy for any of us—this way of regrowing +not toe-nails alone, but toes and all—don't you?</p> + +<p>The crayfish, as you may know, love to burrow in the +mud, for you are always coming across their little mud +towers along the margins of the brooks. Related to the +crayfish are the crabs. Mother Nature seems to have +been very fond of crabs—she has made them after so many +different patterns and scattered them all over the world; +in the deep sea, along the shallows of its shores, and on +land. Those you are most apt to meet must have more or +less business on land, for the shape of their legs shows that +they are formed for walking rather than swimming. But go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +far out to sea and you'll find crabs with paddles on all four +pairs of legs, like banks of oars; while others, living on the +borders of the sea, have paddles only on the last pair.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei153" name="imagei153"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i153.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SOUTH SEA ISLAND AND COCOANUT COLUMBUS</p> +<p class="ctext">Here we are on an island of the Southern Seas—the home of a colony of cocoanut crabs. +One of the members of the colony is climbing a tree to get a nut. "And who has a better +right?" says he. "This tree," he might continue, "is the descendant of a nut that some of +my ancestors sailed upon to this island; for a cocoanut, dropping into the water from a tree +near some far shore, often carries on it the crab who had started to eat it. Then a current +of the sea carries the nut and its passenger to some other island. Later cocoanut Santa +Marias and their Columbuses reach the island in the same way, and so it becomes populated +with both cocoanuts and crabs—which makes it very nice for the crabs!"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>One of the big families of crabs live on land most of the +time and make burrows in which they live. These have +legs specially fitted for digging. Like most of the crab +family, the land-crab earns its living at night and, except +in rainy weather, seldom leaves its burrow by day. Like +small boys, these crabs seem to love to play in the rain. +The fact is they do this to keep their gills wet; for, although +they spend most of their time on land, crabs breathe with +their gills, like fish; and while some of them—as the mountain +crab of the West Indies—live quite a distance back +from the sea, they must have some moisture for their +gills, and this they get, in part, in their damp cellars—the +burrows.</p> + +<p>But it's queer, isn't it, what different ways people have +of looking at things? Take land crabs and turtles, for +example. Turtles, when they lay their eggs, think the only +thing is to get clear away from the water and put their +eggs in an incubator, as we saw them do a few pages back. +The land-crabs evidently think just the opposite; for no +matter how far they may live away from the sea—one, +two, even three miles sometimes—nothing will do but they +must go to the water to lay their eggs. In April and May +you'll see them swarming down by hundreds and thousands. +And they'll climb right over you if you don't get +out of their way!</p> + +<p>"This is my busy day and I can't stop for anything," +says Mrs. Crab.</p> + +<p>Besides the work they do for the soil in grinding and +mixing it, the crab people, like all the crustaceans, help a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +lot by adding lime to it, and that's one of the very best +things you can do to soil, you know. They add this lime +when they change their clothes; that is, when they moult +or cast their shells. The shell they take off as if it were +indeed a dress. They "unbutton" it down the back. +Sometimes, in trying to get out of the legs of the suit, they +leave not only the leg covering but the leg itself. That +leg is good for the soil, too, of course, and the loss of a leg +doesn't bother a crab so very much. He just grows a new +one, that's all!</p> + +<p>These shells—particularly the shells of the largest species +of crabs—not only contain a great deal of lime but carbon +and phosphorus, also, and these are splendid soil stuff, +too. In the smaller kinds of crabs—of crustaceans, generally—these +shells are mostly chitin, the stuff that the +coverings of insects is made of.</p> + +<p>The crustaceans, by the way, are closely related to the +insects. You may <i>suspect</i> this by comparing their shapes, +but then you'll see there isn't any doubt about it when +I tell you that in getting born from the egg, the crabs and +their kin don't come out dressed in their final shape, but +change after they are born, first into one shape and then +into another, just as insects do. Each shape, as it comes +along, looks funnier than the rest; that is, it looks funny +to us, but not, naturally, to the crabs. It must seem just +the thing to them, for they always dress the same way and +look as solemn about it as a man does when he wears a +monocle. In fact, they do something almost as funny as +wearing a monocle. For many of them carry their eyes +about, not on the end of a cord, to be sure, but on the end +of a stick. These "sticks" are called foot stalks. And +they're not a bad idea either—for a crab. By moving them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +around the crabs can keep much better posted on what is +going on about them than they could otherwise; particularly +as a crab always moves sidewise or backward. What +good a monocle does, though, nobody knows.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="III._THE_STRANGER_THAT_MADE_LONDON_LAUGH" id="III._THE_STRANGER_THAT_MADE_LONDON_LAUGH">III. The Stranger That Made London Laugh</a></span></h4> + +<p>But if we can hardly look a crab in the eye and keep a +straight face, what would we do if we met a duck-billed +mole? We'd laugh right out! I'm sure of it, for that's +what even the men of science did when they saw the first +one that came to England. This strange foreigner—it +came to London all the way from Australia—had a body +like a mole. But you couldn't call it a mole. For one thing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +it had a bill like a duck. Yet no more could you call it a +duck; for, besides having a body like a mole, it had a tail +like a beaver. Still I'm afraid the beavers wouldn't have +owned it—hospitable as they are—even if they could have +overlooked that bill. For—can you believe it?—this duck-billed, +mole-bodied, beaver-tailed creature lays eggs!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei156" name="imagei156"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i156.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE ANIMAL X FROM THE ANTIPODES</p> +<p class="ctext">A mole's body, a duck's bill, a beaver's tail, this strange citizen of that land of strange +animals, Australia, lays eggs like a bird and suckles its young like a pussy-cat! Do you +wonder that the wise men of London laughed at the idea that there is any such creature—even +when they were looking right at one?</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Yet the ducks just couldn't take it into their families +either, for what else do you think it does? It suckles its +young, like a pussy-cat! Talk about your sensations; it +made the hit of the season—this Animal X from the Antipodes. +The learned men of London town, they looked +him up and they looked him down, and they came to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +same conclusion, at first, that the old gentleman did when +he saw the dromedary. They said: "They <i>ain't</i> no such +animal!" (Only, of course, being learned men, they used +good grammar.)</p> + +<p>They really did say that in effect, and you can't blame +them; for, as if to complete the joke, the first member of +the duck-billed mole family to move in scientific society +came in like a Christmas turkey; in other words, he was a +stuffed specimen. So the men of science said he wasn't +<i>real</i> at all; that he was just made up of the parts of <i>other</i> +animals. But being true men of science, after all, they +finally began looking up the stranger's record among his +neighbors back in Australia, and they found there actually +are living creatures in that land of strange creatures, just +like that specimen, and that they live in burrows which +they dig in the banks of the streams.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei157" name="imagei157"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i157.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">COUSIN ECHIDNA</p> +<p class="ctext">The echidna—you can see one in the New York Zoo—is closely related to our duck-billed +friend and is also a native of Australia. It uses that long, tapering nose and those claws to +burrow for the ants on which it lives.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Still the scientists didn't know what to call this paradox +of the animal kingdom; so they named him just that—paradoxicus, +<i>Ornythoryncus paradoxicus</i>. A little Greek +boy, without having to look it up in a dictionary, would +have told us that "ornythoryncus" means "bird-billed"; +for it's like those Greek picture words that always told +their own story to the little Greeks. As for "paradox" +if you don't know what that means, look it up in the dictionary +and then look at the <i>Ornythoryncus paradoxicus</i>, +and you'll understand.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="IV._THE_BEAVERS" id="IV._THE_BEAVERS">IV. The Beavers</a></span></h4> + +<p>Of course you wouldn't like to be a duck-billed mole—nobody +would, but I always thought it would be rather +nice to be a beaver. The beaver is, in many ways, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +most remarkable of all the water people that help make +the lands that give us bread.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei159" name="imagei159"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i159.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">BEAVERS AT WORK AND AT PLAY</p> +<p class="ctext">Whether he's working because he is more industrious than those beavers in +the water or because it's recess time with them, the young +beaver gnawing the tree seems to be having quite as good a time +practising his profession as the others do in playing about.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>But it is not alone for the amount of work he does that +I admire Mr. Beaver so much; it is for his intelligent, not +to say brilliant, way of doing it. Suppose, for instance, +you had to build a house out in the water, the way our +great, great-grandparents, the lake-dwellers, did, to protect +yourself from enemies and for other reasons. And then suppose +you didn't have any <i>tools</i>; nothing but a pair of +paws and a set of teeth. Could you do it?</p> + +<p>Another thing: The lake-dwellers had plenty of water +to build in; plenty, but not too much. The beavers don't +have this advantage. They usually build in the water of +flowing streams, and they have to make their <i>own</i> lakes. +How would you do it; even if you had tools? But remember, +being a beaver, you've got nothing to use but +two honest paws and a set of teeth. It was with these Mr. +Beaver did it all—with his teeth, his paws, and his head; +the inside of his head, I mean—his brain. Take the matter +of water arrangements. He gets the water to lie quietly +and at just the right depth by building his dam across the +stream. This dam not only provides him with water of +just the right depth to protect his front door from enemies +and to keep rushing torrents from carrying his house away, +but the spreading out of the original stream bed into a +pond helps in gathering the Fall harvest of trees, since it +brings the trees nearer to the water's edge, and water +transportation among beavers, as among men, is always +cheapest.</p> + +<p>Although dams are usually built of trees which the +beavers cut down themselves, they also use cobblestones<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +where trees are scarce; for Mr. Beaver is a very thrifty +soul; he doesn't waste material nor time nor effort. Many +books about beavers say they cut the trees so they will +fall across the stream, but Mills says, in his book on the +beaver, written after many years of patient observation, +that beavers don't seem to care how the tree falls, just so +it doesn't fall on <i>them</i>! Not but what they <i>could</i> cut trees +to fall in the water if they thought best; for just watch +them build a dam and see how clever they are; cleverer, +possibly, than some of us.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei161" name="imagei161"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i161.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">BEAVERS AT WORK ON A DAM</p> +<p class="ctext">See how many of the features of the building of a beaver dam, as described in our story +of these wise little people, you can make out in this picture.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Let's see. Say you've got your trees up to where the +dam is to be; now how are you going to set them in building +the dam?</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<h5>SEE IF YOU'RE AS CLEVER AS MR. BEAVER</h5> + +<p>"Right across the dam," you would say, wouldn't you? +That is what most people have said when I have asked +them that question; for that is the way men do it. But +remember, if you built the dam as men build dams you +would have to drive stakes or do something to keep the +logs from washing away. Years ago, when writers used +to theorize a great deal on how things were done, instead +of getting outdoors and watching patiently to see how they +actually <i>were</i> done, it was said that Mr. Beaver in building +his dam did really drive stakes and that he did it with +that big tail of his. But what Mr. Mills found was that +the beaver lays his trees lengthwise of the stream. You +see why that is, don't you? When the trees are laid lengthwise, +the water, instead of striking them broadside, strikes +only the end and so there is less likelihood of their being +carried away.</p> + +<p>Another thing, two things, about the trees in the dam—in +fact four:</p> + +<p>1. It wouldn't do, you see, to lay the trees broadside +to the stream, but what position could we give them that +would help still further in keeping the water from carrying +them away?</p> + +<p>2. Shall we use trees with the branches still on them or +trees trimmed down like sticks of cord-wood? (What +kind do you see in the picture of the beaver dam?)</p> + +<p>3. Or shall we use both trimmed and untrimmed trees? +If so, why? And how?</p> + +<p>4. If we use untrimmed trees, which end shall we put +up-stream? The butt or the tip?</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei163" name="imagei163"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i163.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SECTION OF A BEAVER DAM</p> +<p class="ctext">You can see that there was a sufficient flow of water in the stream from which this sketch +of a section of a beaver dam was taken; otherwise the dam would have been plastered with +mud to conserve the supply. The longest slope, of course, was up-stream—a fundamental +principle in beaver bridge engineering.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>In building his dam the beaver uses, for the most part, +slender green poles trimmed and cut in lengths; but mixed +with these are small untrimmed trees which he places with +the butt end up-stream, and propped with mud and sticks +so that the up end will be a foot or so higher than the down +end. In this way, you see, the branches are made to resist +the push of the waters against the butt end; while, if they +were placed the other way, the current would have a pulling +purchase on the butt end. The raising of the ends also +lessens the pushing force of the water as it doesn't strike +the butt of the tree "full on," as it would otherwise do. +And the branches not only help to hold the trees in place, +but, together, form a kind of foundation on which to pile +and intermix the trimmed poles.</p> + +<p>The timbers, being cut green, become water-soaked. +This makes them heavier and so causes them to sink and +helps to hold them in place; while the branches and twigs +of the untrimmed trees form a kind of basketwork that +catches the sediment and drift of the stream, and so the +dam lets less and less water through. The upside stream +is plastered by the beavers with mud in cases where the +flow of water in the stream is meagre. Otherwise it is left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +unplastered. You see Mr. Beaver's idea is not to make +the dam absolutely water-tight, for then it would be running +over all the time and so be worn away. What he +wants is a dam that will let the water through slowly and +at the same time keep a proper level.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei164" name="imagei164"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i164.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">BEAVER HOME WITHOUT TIME LOCK</p> +<p class="ctext">Here is a beaver home as it looks before the time lock is put on in the Fall.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Beaver's chief purpose in building these dams seems +to be to keep his front-door yard full of water. This may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +look like a funny idea at first, but in this, as in other things, +Mr. Beaver shows he has a very wise head on his shoulders; +for one peculiarity of his life is that he is obliged to +come and go through the cellar door. As he doesn't want +any of his enemies—the wolf, the coyote, and all that class +of people—to use this door, he keeps it under water. And +in winter-time, when he goes out to the wood-pile to get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +something to eat, the water must be deep enough so that +the pond doesn't freeze solid to the bottom.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei165" name="imagei165"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i165.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A BEAVER HOME WITH TIME LOCK</p> +<p class="ctext">Here, as it looks after being made secure against hungry wolves and the Winter winds.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>As for those professional highwaymen, the wolves and +coyotes, that are so much bigger than he is, Mr. Beaver +keeps out of their way in Summer, when they don't bother +much about him, anyway, as he sticks so close to the water +and is hard to catch. In the Winter, when they get hungry +and desperate and would break into his house, if they could, +he makes it practically burglar-proof, by putting on a time +lock; a lock that just won't open, even to a wolf's sharp +claws, until Spring.</p> + +<p>And in the simplest way.</p> + +<p>Just before Winter sets in Mr. Beaver plasters the outside +of his house with mud, and the mud freezes as hard +as a stone. But sometimes, even among the beavers, there +are shiftless characters, like that Arkansas man who just +<i>wouldn't</i> look after his roof. These careless beavers don't +plaster their roofs. But then, just see what happens! Some +hungry wolf comes along and breaks through and has a +nice fat beaver for supper, maybe. And maybe not; for, +even in that case, if Mr. Beaver wakes up in time, he dives +down through the cellar door and into the tunnel and out +under the ice.</p> + +<p>"Aha! You got fooled that time, didn't you? You +mean old thing!" (Can't you almost hear him say it?)</p> + +<p>In putting the mud coating on their houses or dams +the beavers carry it in their fore paws. Sometimes, in a +very steep place, they climb up the roof with three feet +and hold the mud with one. When they have delivered +the mud they use these same little paws to pat it down—not +their trowel-like tails, as one would naturally suppose.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> +<h5>THAT MYSTERY ABOUT THE BEAVER'S TAIL</h5> + +<p>Then what <i>do</i> they do with those tails? Well, for one +thing, they sometimes use them to carry mud by curling +them between their legs and holding the mud against their +bodies. Perhaps they resort to this way of carrying mud +where they have such a steep climb up the roof they need +all four legs to climb with; or it may be just an individual +fancy of some beavers. For, being really <i>thinkers</i> and not +mere machines, acting entirely on what is called instinct, +different beavers have different ways of doing things. The +beaver's tail is also very useful in swimming, and Mr. +Beaver is a great swimmer. You should see him. He +swims mostly with his hind feet and tail, holding his fore +paws against his breast as a squirrel does when he's sitting +up looking at you. His tail he uses as one uses an oar in +sculling, turning it slightly on edge as he works it back +and forth.</p> + +<p>But he has two other important uses for this big tail, +as we shall now see; for the beavers of this colony we are +watching, having put up their dam and built their big +house, are now ready for the Fall harvest that is to provide +for the long Winter. The beavers are strict vegetarians. +Their diet consists of the tender bark of young +trees and roots dug from the bottom and along the banks +of the ponds in which they live.</p> + +<p>"But, for mercy's sake, where are they going to get the +tender bark of trees in the dead of Winter, when all the +trees are frozen solid and the beavers can't get from under +the ice anyhow?"</p> + +<p>Well, Mr. Beaver has thought out just how to do it and +we didn't. That's the beauty of being a beaver. What +he does is to cut down small trees, trim them, divide them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +into lengths, and then heap them up in a great pile at his +door, under the water.</p> + +<p>By the time they are three years old beavers feel grown-up; +as, indeed, they are in size, although, like certain other +young people I could name, they have a great deal yet to +learn. At this age they choose their mates and either settle +down in the home colony or go away somewhere else.</p> + +<p>School takes up with the beavers in September. All +through September and October the harvest is gathered +and preparations made for the long Winter. The baby +beavers of the Spring, who by this time are four or five +months old, take part in the harvesting; at least they +play at it. They don't do much, but they learn a great +deal. Now let's all be little beavers for a few minutes and +see what we can learn. We are out in the harvest-field—the +woods—with father, and he's going to cut down a tree +for the Winter food-pile. Watch him.</p> + +<p>He picks out a young tree something less than six inches +thick. Then he looks up as if he wanted to see what kind +of a day it was going to be; although the fact is he never +bothers his head about the weather. What he is really +looking up for is to see if the top of the tree he is going to +chop down is likely to get tangled in the tops of other trees +when it falls. (All beavers, I should add, don't take this +precaution; only the older and wiser ones.) After this +inspection he either cuts the tree in two with his long sharp +chisel teeth so that it will fall clear of the tangling branches +of other trees, or, if he sees he can't prevent this, he moves +away to another tree.</p> + +<p>Just before the tree is ready to fall he thumps the ground +several times with his tail to warn other beavers working +near by. They all scamper as fast as their fat bodies and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +short legs will let them. If they are near water, as they +usually are—they "plunk" into it. After the tree falls +the limbs are cut off, the trunk gnawed into sections four +to six feet long, depending on the size of the trunk, the +distance from the water, and the number of beavers that +are going to help move it. Although, as a rule, only one +beaver works on a tree in cutting it down, they all pitch +in and help in getting the sections home; dragging them +across the ground and into the pond or into one of their +wonderful canals.</p> + + +<h5>THE BEAVERS AND THEIR PANAMA CANALS</h5> + +<p>The beavers knew all about digging canals long before +the days of Colonel Goethals. They dug them for much +the same reason we dug the great Panama Canal, to save<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +time and expense in moving freight and for protection +from possible enemies. On land the beaver is easy prey +for wolves and such, but once in the water he can laugh +at them. These canals not only enable him to haul his +wood easily and safely, but are just the things to dive into +when somebody is after you. Another purpose of the +canals is to fill ponds where water is getting low; or to +make a pond where there isn't any at all, as in a dry ravine.</p> + +<p>Whether you look at them from the standpoint of their +intelligence and good habits, or their usefulness, beavers +are the most interesting of all our little four-legged brothers +of field or wood, and it is pleasing to know that many +States have passed laws to protect them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei169" name="imagei169"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i169.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SUN BATH AFTER THE SWIM</p> +<p class="ctext">Boys, after an hour or so in the "ole swimmin' hole," like to take a sun bath. That's +what these young beavers are doing on a nice grassy spot by the pond.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>And besides he is such a good fellow, Mr. Beaver is; +peaceable, industrious, dependable, and with the best +heart in the world! Why, do you know what they do—the +beavers—when neighbors get burned out by forest-fires +or their houses broken into by a mean old wolf or +coyote or anything? Take them right in, children and all!</p> + +<p>If you were a little beaver you'd have from two to four +twin brothers and sisters to start with, and then two to +four more for each of the remaining two years before you +left home to make your own way in the world. You'd +be born with your eyes open and not like a puppy or kitten. +And, what do you think, <i>in less than two weeks</i> you could +go swimming. Mother would be right with you in case +anything happened. Then when you were tired swimming +you'd climb up on top of the house and rest and doze +in the sun; take your afternoon nap just like any other +baby.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei171" name="imagei171"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i171.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">LITTLE BEAVERS IN THEIR HOME</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>But maybe it wouldn't be your own mamma that would +be with you; for lots of sad things happen to beaver people, +and when one little beaver's mother dies another mother +beaver will take care of him, and all his brothers and sisters +besides! Mr. Mills tells in that most interesting book of +his about how one day a mother beaver was killed by a +hunter who thought he didn't have anything better to do +than kill poor little beavers; and the very next evening a +lady beaver, who <i>already</i> had four babies of her own, +travelled a quarter of a mile with them to the house of +her dead neighbor and stayed there and brought all the +little orphans up!</p> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>The crayfish is a thing you've got to take seriously if you want +to get the most out of it. Huxley says that a thorough study of a +crayfish is almost a whole course in zoology. Think of going to +school to a crayfish! But you'd enjoy it, I'm sure. For just look—and +these are only a few of the interesting things you will find +in Huxley's famous book on "The Crayfish":</p> + +<p>How they swim backward (no doubt you know this already), +and how they walk on the bottom of the water.</p> + +<p>Why they seem to know the points of the compass—for they +prefer rivers that run north and south.</p> + +<p>Why they are most active toward evening.</p> + +<p>Where they spend the winter.</p> + +<p>Why they eat their old clothes.</p> + +<p>How early in the spring you may expect to find them.</p> + +<p>When they hatch their eggs and how the mother crayfish uses +her tail for a nursery.</p> + +<p>In what respect they resemble moths.</p> + +<p>How they chew their meals with their feet and work their jaws +like a camel from side to side—only more so!</p> + +<p>How they grow by fits and starts, and what this has to do with +the way they change their clothes.</p> + +<p>How you can tell the age of a crayfish. (You don't do it by +looking at its teeth. You couldn't see its teeth anyway, because +they are in its stomach.)</p> + +<p>And all this in less than the first fifty pages of a book, which has +more than 350.</p> + +<p>One of the most famous of the crab family, not only on account +of his part in agriculture, but because of his funny ways, is the +robber-crab. You should read about the wild life of adventure +some of these crabs lead—regular Robinson Crusoes who get +wrecked on islands far away from home and build houses there and +shift for themselves in many ingenious ways, just as the human +Robinson Crusoe did. Kingsley's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1697">Madam How and Lady Why</a>" +has some interesting pages about them; and so has Darwin's "Voyage +Around the World."</p> + +<p>Of the many things that have been written about beavers the +following are among the most interesting: The story of the beaver +in "Stories of Adventure," edited by Edward Everett Hale; "The +Forest Engineer," by T. W. Higginson, in Johonnott's "Glimpses of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +the Animal World"; "How the Beaver Builds His House," in "The +Animal Story Book," edited by Lang; "The Builders," in Lang's +"Ways of Wood Folks"; and "The House in the Water," by Roberts.</p> + +<p>The most interesting book of all on beavers, however, is "The +Beaver World," by Mills, referred to in this chapter. I have not +told you one-half of the remarkable things you will find about +them in this book.</p> + +<p>One of the most curious is about how a beaver sometimes gets +his breath in the winter time. He may have to travel quite a distance +under the ice, and one good breath has to last him to the end +of the journey.</p> + +<p>"But does he hold his breath all this time? How can he?"</p> + +<p>He can't. He just uses the same breath over again. See how +he does it. The Mills book tells.</p> + +<p>Look up the muskrat and compare his ways with those of the +beaver.</p> + +<p>In the "Country Life Reader" you will find a graphic description +of one of the perils of life for the beavers and their cousins the +muskrats; namely in attacks by the great horned owl.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei174" name="imagei174"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i174.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">CITY LIFE AMONG THE FLAMINGOES</p> +<p class="ctext">We don't have to go to Florida to get this bird's-eye view of a flamingo city. It is one +of the habitat groups in the American Museum of Natural History in New York, and reproduces +perfectly the architecture and the social life of these interesting people.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p class="center">(SEPTEMBER)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">On the housetop, one by one<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Flock the synagogue of swallows<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Met to vote that Autumn's gone.<br /></span> + +<p class="attr">—<i>Gautier</i>: "<i>Life.</i>"<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>FARMERS WHO WEAR FEATHERS</h3> + + +<p>Sh! Go easy! Pretend you're a horse or a cow.<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> We've +gone south with the swallows—it's September you see—and +those queer birds over there are flamingoes. The flamingoes +are a shy lot; I don't know why. I can't think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +it's on account of their looks; for there's the kiwi, the hornbill, +and sakes alive—the puffins! <i>They</i> all have funny +noses, too, but none of them are particularly shy, and you +can walk right up to a Papa Puffin almost. Whatever the +reason is, the flamingoes are very easily frightened and +they're particularly suspicious of human beings. Yet +we've simply got to meet them and have them in this chapter, +for they are among the most interesting of the feathered +workers of the soil. They just live in mud; build those +tower-like nests out of it, walk about in it, and get their +meals by scooping up mud and muddy water from the +marshes where they live, on the borders of lakes and seas. +They strain out the little creatures wiggling about in these +scooped-up mouthfuls.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. Feathered Farmers with Queer Noses</span></h4> + +<p>"What a funny nose! What happened to it?"</p> + +<p>I knew you'd say that. Everybody does. But just +watch now and see. That flamingo over there, stalking +about on his stilt-like legs, sticks his long neck down to the +muddy water, turns that funny nose upside down and——</p> + +<p>"Why, of all things, is he going to stand on his head?"</p> + + +<h5>WHY FLAMINGOES HAVE SUCH FUNNY NOSES</h5> + +<p>No, not that. Don't you see, he's getting his dinner? +After that crooked scoop bill—for that's what it really is, +a scoop—is filled, the water strains out through ridges +along the edge of the bill and what's left is his food.</p> + +<p>That picture looks as if it had a tremendous lot of flamingoes +in it, doesn't it? It has. It's quite a town, Flamingoburg +is. Although flamingoes are so wary about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +meeting two-legged people without feathers—that is, human +beings—they're very sociable among themselves and +there may be a thousand, even two thousand, pair in a +single flamingo city, such as Doctor Chapman studied in +the Bahama Islands some years ago.</p> + +<p>Their nests are cupped-out hollows in little towers of +dried mud raised a foot or so to keep high tides from +swamping them. They scrape up the mud with that +shovel-like bill. After the conical-tower nest is made, the +mud piled up and patted into shape with her bill and feet, +Mother Flamingo lays one or two eggs—and then she goes +to setting. You notice there's just one little chick in the +nest in the lower left-hand corner of the picture, and just +one egg in the nest near by.</p> + +<p>With such a low stool to sit on you wonder what the +mother bird does with her long legs. In some pictures in +children's nature books of not so many years ago you'll +find her represented as sitting on the nest with her legs +hanging down the sides—but you see that couldn't be; +the nest isn't tall enough. What she really does is to fold +her legs under her body; just once, of course, at the joint. +But they're so long that, even when folded, they reach +out beyond her tail. While setting, the lady birds reach +around with their long necks shovelling up things to eat +and gossiping, more or less, with the neighbors; for the +nests, you notice, are very close together. Sometimes two +of them will reach across the narrow alley that separates +the residence of Mrs. Flamingo Smith from Mrs. Flamingo +Jones, take each other playfully by the bill and +hold together for a while. Maybe this is their way of saying +"Good morning," or "How do you do?"</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class="figborder2"><a id="imagei177a" name="imagei177a"></a> + +<div> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="illustrations"> + +<tr> +<td rowspan="3" class="center"> +<img src="images/i177a.jpg" alt="" /></td> +<td colspan="2"> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td rowspan="3" class="center"><a id="imagei177b" name="imagei177b"></a> +<img src="images/i177b.jpg" alt="" /></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td rowspan="3" class="center"><a id="imagei177c" name="imagei177c"></a> +<img src="images/i177c.jpg" alt="" /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><p class="caption">THE TOILETTE</p> + +<p class="ctext">You'd expect a lady +wearing so many nice +feathers to be particularly +careful about her dress, +wouldn't you?</p></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td rowspan="2"> </td> + +<td><p class="caption">A LITTLE NAP</p> + +<p class="ctext">Queer notion, sleeping on +one leg like that, isn't it? But +then flamingoes <i>are</i> queer!</p></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td rowspan="2"> </td> +<td><p class="caption">A TOUCH OF RHEUMATISM</p> + +<p class="ctext">Of course flamingoes don't go +around like that even in zoos. +This is the artist's joking way of +telling that in our northern climate +they are subject to rheumatism. +And the keepers actually do oil +their legs.</p></td> +</tr> + +</table></div> + +<p class="caption">FLAMINGO SOCIETY NOTES FROM THE ZOO</p> + +</div> + + + +<p>You'd hardly think it—with those long legs of theirs—but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +the flamingoes swim beautifully. With their long necks +drawn back—the way swans do it, you know—they are +very graceful, and a flock of them floating about is one +of the loveliest sights in the world. They look like a big, +fleecy, pink cloud resting right on the surface of the water. +You can now find only a few flamingoes in Florida, where +there used to be so many; but go on south into Central +and South America and there are thousands of them. They +are still fairly numerous in countries bordering the Mediterranean +and the Indian Ocean. In Persia they are called +"red geese." And the name isn't so far wrong as you'd +think. You notice that, unlike those stilt-walkers, the +herons, the flamingoes have webbed feet. Like geese and +ducks, also, they have those rows of tooth-like ridges on +the edges of their bills. It is these "teeth" that, coming +together, act as strainers.</p> + +<p>But a queer thing about their bills, besides the funny-way +they have of crooking down all of a sudden, is that +the upper bill is smaller and fits down into the lower. +Stranger still, the birds can raise and lower this upper bill +like the cover of a coffee-pot.</p> + +<p>They can move the under bill a little, too, but not to +amount to anything; so you see there was even more to +the upside-downness of that bill than there seemed to be +at first. The whole arrangement looks odd to us, but it +works out beautifully for the birds. When they turn their +heads upside down they can stir the ooze to various depths, +as required, by using the upper bill as a ploughshare and +setting it at different angles.</p> + +<p>Although they've borrowed some ideas from both the +goose and the heron families, the flamingoes are so different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +from either they are put into a family by themselves, the +<i>Phœnicopteridę</i>. This family name is from two Greek +words meaning "red-winged." If you want to be formal +in speaking of or to a goose you must refer to her family +as the <i>Anserinę</i> which is Latin for "geese."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei179" name="imagei179"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i179.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHERE THE FLAMINGO KEEPS ITS TEETH</p> +<p class="ctext">While teeth, like those of the Hesperornis, went out of fashion ages ago, the flamingoes +have substitutes for teeth which answer their purposes much better. They have little horny +spines on their bills and on their tongues. These spines serve as fences to prevent the escape +of the minute creatures which the flamingo scoops up with its bill. You notice the spines +on the tongue are pointed backward toward the throat; and that's a help—to the flamingo, +I mean, for once on that tongue there's no turning back.</p> +</div></div> + +<h5><a name="A_LATE_BIRD_BUT_HE_GETS_THE_WORM" id="A_LATE_BIRD_BUT_HE_GETS_THE_WORM">A LATE BIRD, BUT HE GETS THE WORM</a></h5> + +<p>Another of the long-nosed earth workers, as curious in +his make-up as the flamingoes, is the kiwi of New Zealand. +Like the flamingo, the kiwi uses his queer bill to get his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +living out of the soil. You've heard the saying "it's the +early bird that gets the worm"; but while this is true of +most birds it doesn't apply to the kiwis. Although they +live on worms, as does Mr. Early Bird of the proverb, they +do their feeding by night.</p> + +<p>And such a funny thing for a bird to do, the kiwis go +about with their noses to the ground like a dog smelling +after a rat. The reason they do this is that their nostrils +are situated, not next to their heads, as in most birds, but +at the end of the bill—and on purpose; for they locate +their suppers, the worms in the earth, by the sense of smell, +although most birds have a very poor sense of smell. Just +after sunset, you'll see the kiwis moving about softly (as +if they were afraid of scaring away the worms!), and with +the tips of their bills against the ground.</p> + +<p>"Sniff! Sniff!" (You actually can hear them sniff.)</p> + +<p>There, he's found one! His bill is not only long, but +bends rather easily and that's why, perhaps, he's able to +follow up so closely the hints he gets from his nose as to +the location of worms, for he usually brings the worm out +whole, and not all pulled apart as the robins do it sometimes. +He works in soft earth, where most worms are found, +and generally drives his bill in up to his forehead. If all +goes well he pulls it right out with the worm at the end; +but if there is any likelihood of an accident, the kiwi gently +moves his head and neck to and fro until he has the soil +loosened up and so clears the way. Once the worm is fairly +out of the ground, he throws up his head with a jerk and +swallows it whole.</p> + +<p>Because they roam about so much at night, the kiwis +sleep much of the day. You'll find them in thickets or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +in among the forested hills, where they make their homes. +Sometimes, however, you'll see one standing, leaning on +his long bill, like a street-idler propping himself up with +his cane. If you disturb him, he yawns, as if to say:</p> + +<p>"Oh, these bores! Why can't they let a fellow alone?"</p> + +<p>But don't you go too far and annoy him or he'll get real<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +peevish and strike at you with his foot.</p> + +<p>Both Mr. and Mrs. Kiwi drill the earth every day—or +rather every night—in their search for worms, but Lady +Kiwi does all the excavating when it comes to making the +nest. This she does by digging a tunnel, generally under +the roots of a tree fern. There she lays two eggs and then +her family cares are practically over for the time being, +since it is the male kiwi who does most of the setting.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei181" name="imagei181"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i181.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MR. HORNBILL LOCKS THE DOOR</p> +<p class="ctext">In Africa, Southern Asia, and the East Indies live the Hornbills. After the nest is built +and the eggs laid in the hollow of some big tree like that, Mrs. Hornbill begins to set; and +Mr. Hornbill, to protect her from enemies, walls up the nest with mud—all but that hole +through which she puts her bill and gets food from the devoted father and husband.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Other long-nosed tunnel diggers you must have seen +many a time when you've been fishing, for they are fishers, +too—Mr. and Mrs. Kingfisher. Their home is at the end +of a tunnel in the banks of the stream where they do their +fishing.</p> + +<p>While we're visiting them and making a study of their +household arrangements, it's a good thing for us that we're +not kingfishers ourselves; for if there's anything that makes +the kingfishers mad it's to have other kingfishers fooling +around their place or even coming into their front yard. +Each pair of kingfishers lays claim to the part of the creek +in the neighborhood of their nest, as their fishing preserve, +and woe betide any other kingfisher that trespasses!</p> + +<p>Human fishermen and hunters give it out sometimes +that kingfishers eat big fish that might otherwise be caught +with a hook or a seine, but the fact is these birds catch +only minnows and little shallow-water fish.</p> + +<p>In digging the tunnels for their nests the two birds work +together, and these tunnels are sometimes fifteen feet long. +So you see that with kingfishers scattered around the world +as they are—some 200 species in all—they must have done +an enormous amount of ploughing in the course of time; +to say nothing of what they have done in the way of enriching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +the soil with fish-bones, one of the very best of all +fertilizers.</p> + +<p>The kingfisher's nest wouldn't be at all attractive to +some birds—the swallows, for example, who are so particular +about having feather-beds. It has just a hard-earth +floor like the cabins of the American pioneers, but the little +kingfishers are perfectly contented and happy; for their +meals are very plentiful, fairly regular, and the fish are +always fresh.</p> + + +<h5>FISHING DAYS AND OTHER DAYS</h5> + +<p>But some days even the kingfishers don't have fish for +dinner. Instead they serve crayfish and frogs. This is +on cloudy days, or when the wind is stiff and the water +rough. On such days even the keen eyes of the kingfisher +can't see a fish or make out exactly where the fish is when +he does see one. But on clear, quiet days, you should see +him fish. He often dives from a perch fifty feet or more +above the creek and strikes the water so hard you'd think +it would knock the breath out of him. But up he comes +with his fish, nearly every time!</p> + +<p>Of course he misses occasionally, but just think of seeing +a fish that far away—under the water, mind you; and +not a big fish, but a little minnow, only two or three inches +long.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="II_Under_the_Oven-Birds_Friendly_Roof" id="II_Under_the_Oven-Birds_Friendly_Roof"></a>II. Under the Oven-Bird's Friendly Roof</span></h4> + +<p>Another great little farmer is the oven-bird. We can't +afford to miss him and his wife for anything; and although +we have to go to South America to meet them, +we'll do it. So here we are! The oven-birds build a nest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +of clay mixed with some hair or grass or real fine little roots. +This nest, when it's all done—it takes a good while to build +it—is so big you'd hardly believe it was the home of so +small a bird. It's a dome-shaped affair, like a Dutch +oven. In the United States we have what we call an "oven-bird," +too—one of the water-thrushes; but as its dome-shaped +nest is made of grass and leaves and has no clay +in it, we will not include this bird among the feathered +farmers. The oven-bird of South America knows how to +build its dome of clay without any scaffolding, which isn't +easy.</p> + + +<h5>OVEN-BIRD DOORS AND THE FRIENDLY ROAD</h5> + +<p>While the big flamingoes are so shy, the little oven-birds +don't care who sees them—provided they can see <i>him</i> first. +This is possibly because they want to keep an eye on any +suspicious movements; for they make it an invariable +rule to build so that their front doors will face the road. +But really I think they do this, not because they are suspicious, +but because they want to be neighborly and arrange +their homes so they can sit on their front stoop and +watch the crowd go by. They not only have their doors +where they can see what's going on, but they nearly always +build near the country road or the village street, +and in the most conspicuous place they can find, instead +of staying off by themselves in those vast, lonesome woods +of Brazil where they lived before man came.</p> + +<p>When a nest is to be built the oven-bird picks up the +first likely-looking root fibre, or a horsehair, or a hair from +an old cow's tail, carries it to some pond or puddle and, +with this binding material, works bits of mud into a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +ball about the size of a filbert. Then he flies with this pellet +to the place where the nest is going up. With clay balls +like this laid down and then worked together, the two birds +make the floor of their little house. On the outer edge of +the floor they build up the walls. These walls they gradually +incline inward, just as the Eskimos build their snow-block +huts, until they form a dome with a little hole in it. +The last little ball they bring goes to fill that little hole +and then the house is done, so far as the walls and roof +are concerned. Next, a front door is cut through the wall +that faces the road.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei185" name="imagei185"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i185.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE FRIENDLY DOOR THAT FACES THE ROAD</p> +<p class="ctext">Oven-birds make it a rule to build their adobe homes so that the front door will face the road. +And they nearly always build near the road or the village street. Neighborly little creatures!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>From the front door a partition is built reaching nearly +to the back of the house, shutting off the front room from +the family bedroom. After the eggs are laid Papa Oven-bird<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +stays in the front room—or thereabouts—while +mamma sets in the back room. The object of the little +partition seems to be to protect mother and the eggs and, +when they come, the babies from wind and rain. When +the four or five baby birds arrive both papa and mamma +put in most of their time, of course, feeding them.</p> + +<p>The nests of the oven-birds weigh eight or nine pounds. +The work of these little feathered farmers and their wives +reminds us in more ways than one of that of Mrs. Mason-Bee,<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> +but they evidently have quite different notions about +housekeeping; for, although their residences are so big, +the oven-birds would evidently rather build than clean +house, while with Mrs. Bee it's just the other way. The +nests of the oven-birds are so thick and strong they often +stand for two or three years in spite of the rains; but the +birds build a new nest every year, nevertheless.</p> + + +<h4><a name="III._THE_MOUND-BUILDERS" id="III._THE_MOUND-BUILDERS"><span class="smcap">III. The Mound-Builders</span></a></h4> + +<p>Another class of birds that have a fancy for big dome-like +nests are the mound-birds. We find them in Australia, +the Philippines, and the islands of the South Seas. +Their scientific nickname is <i>Megapoddidae</i>, the "big-footed." +It's with their big feet that they pile immense +heaps of leaves, twigs, and rotten wood over their eggs.</p> + +<p>And what for, do you suppose?</p> + +<p>To hatch them! This heap of material not only absorbs +the heat of the sun, but, in decaying, makes heat of +its own. These mounds, of course, contribute tons and +tons of fertilizer to the soil, but what interests the birds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +is that these warm heaps hatch their eggs. It's a kind of +an incubator system, you see. As it is with many tens of +thousands of our own little chickens, these days, the baby +megapodes are born orphans. That heap of dead sticks, +leaves, and earth is all the mother they ever know. As +soon as the mother birds have laid their eggs in the mounds +and covered them up, they go off gossiping with other +lady megapodes, and don't bother their heads any more +about their babies.</p> + + +<h5>WHY LITTLE BIG FOOT NEVER SAYS "MAMMA"</h5> + +<p>But it really doesn't seem to matter. It's more of a +question of sentiment than anything else, for the babies +get on very well by themselves. When the time comes they +not only make their own way out of the shell, as all birds +do, but they work their way up through the rubbish-heap +and run off at once into the woods to hunt something to eat.</p> + +<p>It's all right, after all, I suppose; but if <i>I</i> were a little +mound-builder's baby, I'd rather have a mamma that +would stay around and go places with me, wouldn't you?</p> + +<p>There's one nice thing about these mamma mound-builders, +though; they're so neighborly and sociable. It's +like a regular old-fashioned quilting party to see them +build a nest. The birds look like turkeys, and one of the +species is called the "brush turkey," but they are no bigger +than an ordinary chicken—than a rather small chicken, +in fact. When I tell you, then, that these mounds of theirs +are often six feet high and twelve feet across in the widest +part, the middle, you can see it takes good team-work +to put them up.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei189" name="imagei189"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i189.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">BRUSH TURKEYS BUILDING THEIR INCUBATORS</p> +<p class="ctext">It's like an old-fashioned quilting party—the co-operative mound building of the brush +turkeys. The text tells you about that back kick of theirs.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>So a lot of the lady mound-builders get together in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +woodsy places, where there's plenty of leaves and twigs +lying around and together build a mound. One will run +forward a little way, rake up and grasp a handful of sticks +and leaves—I mean to say a footful—and kick it backward. +The motion is much like that of an old hen scratching. +Then another bird gathers a footful; then another, +and soon they are all throwing the rubbish toward the +same pile; all as busy as a sewing-circle, but—curiously +enough—nobody saying a word! Before the mounds are +quite done, they all begin laying their eggs in them; as +many as forty or fifty, before they are through.</p> + +<p>Some species frequent scrubby jungles along the sea. +These scratch a slanting hole in the sandy soil about three +feet deep and lay their eggs on the bottom, loosely covering +up the mouth of the hole with a collection of sticks, +shells, and seaweed. The natives say these birds, before +they leave, go carefully over the footprints leading to this +treasure-house, scratch them out and make tracks leading +in various directions away from the nest. And all species +lay their eggs at night. You see why, don't you? They're +just that cautious.</p> + + +<h5><a name="SUCH_AN_EGG_FROM_SUCH_A_BIRD" id="SUCH_AN_EGG_FROM_SUCH_A_BIRD"></a>SUCH AN EGG FROM SUCH A BIRD</h5> + +<p>But if you should find one of their nests full of brick-red +eggs you'd never guess who laid them, they're so big! +Away back in 1673, an English missionary to China who +had stopped off at the Philippines, on his way, wrote a +little book when he got back home about where he had +been and what he had seen, and he just couldn't get over +the wonder of the mound-builders. Among other things +he says, in one place in his book:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"There is a very singular bird called Tabon. What I and very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +many more admired<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> is that being in body no bigger than an ordinary +chicken, it lays an egg larger than a goose's."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"So," he adds, "the egg is bigger than the bird itself!"</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="IV_THE_SWALLOWS" id="IV_THE_SWALLOWS"></a>IV. THE SWALLOWS</span></h4> + +<p>To make the acquaintance of either the mound-builders +or those dear little oven-birds—<i>aren't</i> they dear?—we must +be travellers, of course, for with their short wings neither +the mound-builders nor the oven-birds ever could come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +all the way up here to see us. But another feathered farmer—and, +like the oven-bird, a clay-worker and most +neighborly—everybody knows; the swallow. Like Kim, +the swallow is the little friend of all the world.</p> + +<p>Swallows of one kind and another are found everywhere—almost +everywhere that people can live; usually where +people <i>do</i> live. And if all the soil they've helped pulverize +and mix—even since the days when the swallows built +under the eaves and rafters of the ark—was spread out, it +would easily make another Egypt, I do believe!</p> + +<p>But, speaking of the way swallows take to human society, +do you know where our barn-swallows came from? +They were originally cliff-dwellers away out West. The +early explorers found enormous collections of their nests +plastered all over the perpendicular cliffs and along the +bluffs. Just as soon, however, as the country settled up +and men put up barns these little cliff-dwellers, deserting +rocks and bluffs, began building their bottle-shaped nests +under the eaves. The swallows live on insects—including +squash-bugs, stink-bugs, shield-bugs, and jumping plant-lice; +and that's supposed to be one of the reasons for the +curious fact that they left their ancient family seats—they +found so many more insects about the barns and the farmer's +fields and the gardens and the orchards.</p> + + +<h5>TINY SOIL MILLS OF THE BABY SWALLOW</h5> + +<p>Haven't you often watched them and listened to them, +diving and chattering around the barn in their busy season; +that is to say, in the spring and summer time? Then the +air is full of insects and is fairly woven with their darting +wings. Some keep busy picking up the insects that are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +always hovering about in a barnyard, while others dash +away to some near-by marsh or to the meadow or to the +creek. Over the grain-fields they go, over the meadows +and back again straight to the nest where downy babies +are cheeping for them. The parents feed them, stop and +chatter a moment, and then off they go. Follow that one +down to the marsh. See how she flies high, round and +round in circles, and then swoops for an insect. She missed +him! Then she wheels, darts up—darts down—to right—to +left. There, she's got him! Then off like an arrow to +the nest. The soft-bodied insects are chosen and chewed +up for the babies, while the parents eat the tougher ones. +And to help digestion they give the babies little bits of +gravel, although they don't use it themselves. So, in grinding +up this gravel the baby birds help make soil before +they are old enough to do any nest-building.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei191" name="imagei191"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i191.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE SAND MARTIN AND HIS HOME IN THE BANK</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>You've noticed, of course, that all the swallows about +a barn don't build under the eaves. Some build under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +the rafters inside the barn. That isn't just a matter of +taste; it's family tradition. The eave-builders are descendants +of the cliff-swallows, while the birds known to +bird students as "barn" swallows build under the rafters.</p> + +<p>But they don't take to the fine, new modern barns—all +spick and span—the barn-swallows don't. If there's an +old gray barn with doors that never shut quite snug, a +board off here and there, and several panes in the cob-webbed +windows broken out——</p> + +<p>"Oh, just the thing!" say Mr. and Mrs. Swallow, and +they turn their backs on the new barn and proceed to build +their cute little nests of clay among the rafters of that old +tumbled-down affair. In their preference for the old gray +barns, the swallows are like the artists, the painters that +Mr. Dooley told about. He was talking about artists to +his friend, Mr. Hennessey:</p> + +<p>"I don't mane the kind of painther that paints yer fine +new barn," said Mr. Dooley. "I mane the kind of painther +that makes a pitcher of yer <i>old</i> barn and wants to charge +ye more'n the barn itself is worth."</p> + + +<h5>WHY ARTISTS AND SWALLOWS PREFER OLD BARNS</h5> + +<p>The reason the artists prefer old barns is that they look +better in pictures, but the reason the barn-swallow shows +the same taste is that, with windows that have panes in +them and doors that shut tight you'd no sooner start to +build a nest than, coming back with a pellet of clay, or +bringing a feather for the little feather-bed, you'd be liable +to find the door shut and you could no more get in until +chore time than you could open the time-lock in the First +National Bank. And suppose there were babies and you'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +just <i>got</i> to get back—you see it wouldn't do at all!</p> + +<p>But both the barn-swallows and the old gray barns will +be seen only in pictures before long, if things keep on; what +with these new barns and the cats always trying to catch +the few swallows there are left—when you're swooping +low to catch a squash-bug, say—and those hateful sparrows +that tear your nest to pieces. And for several years +swallows were killed by thousands to make ornaments for +women's hats until this shameful business was stopped +by law!</p> + +<p>On the Pacific Coast, if you're out there even as early +as March, you'll see a purplish-bronze swallow, with bronze-green +markings. These swallows make a specialty of +orchard insects and that's why, perhaps, they build under +the eaves of the farmhouse rather than the barn. But, +like the rest of the swallow family, they think nothing +quite so nice as a bed of feathers to raise babies in, and +they know as well as the cliff-swallows and the barn-swallow +that a barnyard is a great place for feathers.</p> + +<p>And besides, there's a man out there, in one place, that +keeps a supply of feathers just to give away when the +swallows are nesting. Watch him, over on the hillside. +He takes a little bunch of feathers and throws them up +into the air from his open hand. A swallow skims by and +catches one of these feathers before it touches the ground. +But soon the word passes along:</p> + +<p>"Here's that nice man with the feathers!"</p> + +<p>And, pretty soon, there are a half-dozen in the game. +They flit closer and closer to that generous hand, seizing +the feathers almost the moment they are in the air. Then +one, bolder than the rest, snatches a feather right from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +the man's thumb and finger. The little rogue!</p> + +<p>By the way, do you know who that man is? It's Mr. +W. L. Finley, State Ornithologist of Oregon. "Our little +brothers of the air," as Olive Thorne Miller calls the birds, +are getting to be so much appreciated, not only as the +friends of man, but for their beauty and the usefulness of +their lives, that both our State and national governments +have laws to protect them, and such men as Mr. Finley +are employed to look after their interests.</p> + +<p>Of course, he doesn't <i>have</i> to furnish feather-beds for +the baby swallows—he just does!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei194" name="imagei194"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i194.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">OFF FOR THE SOUTH</p> + +</div></div> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>If you want to get better acquainted with ostriches you should +read Olive Thorne Miller's "African Nine Feet High," in "Little +Folks in Feathers and Fur." Carpenter deals with the ostrich in +his "How the World is Clothed" and in his "Geographic Reader +on Africa"; Johonnott's "Neighbors with Wings and Fins" gives +a chapter to "Giants of Desert and Plain," among which you may +be sure he includes the ostrich.</p> + +<p>Allen, in writing about "Some Strange Nurseries" ("Nature's +Work Shop"), tells why it is Papa Ostrich has most to do with the +hatching of the eggs when the sun is not on the job.</p> + +<p>Lucas, in his "Animals of the Past," speaks of ostriches and crocodiles +as the nearest living relatives of—guess what—the dinosaurs! +(Yet look at the dinosaur in "The Strange Adventures of a Pebble" +and see if you can't make out a good deal of the ostrich and the +crocodile in him.)</p> + +<p>But, speaking of Papa Ostrich's parental duties, did you know +that it's <i>Mr.</i> Puffin, and not <i>Mrs.</i> Puffin, who digs the family burrow? +Arabella Buckley's "Morals of Science" tells that and +many other interesting things about devoted husbands among the +birds, including how Papa Nightingale feeds Mamma Nightingale.</p> + +<p>In the "Children's Hour," Volume 7, page 310, you will find an +interesting article about the puffins of Iceland.</p> + +<p>"The Romance of Animal Arts and Crafts" tells about one of +the feathered clay-workers, the nuthatch of Syria, and why he +makes his nest look like a rock. These nuthatches love to build +so well that they often make nests that they never use; and they +even help put up nests for their neighbors!</p> + +<p>This book also gives interesting details about the hornbill, and +how and why he walls up his mate in her nest in the hollow of a +tree. Father Hornbill, of course, gets all the meals for Mother +Hornbill, while she's setting. She simply <i>can't</i> get out, and you +should see him by the time the babies are old enough to leave the +nest. He's worn to a shadow!</p> + +<p>Rooks, it seems, do a little digging under certain circumstances. +Selous tells about it in his "Bird Life Glimpses." In this book you +will find a delightful description of martins building. It almost +makes you want to <i>be</i> a martin. It also tells about the work of the +sand martins. You will hardly believe how fast they work. The +house-martin's nest is more elaborate than the swallow's. This<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +book tells why the house-martins begin work so early in the morning, +and why they have to delay their nest-building if the weather +is either too wet or too dry.</p> + +<p>White, in his famous "Natural History of Selbourne," tells how +worried he was because certain swallows just <i>would</i> build facing +southeast and southwest.</p> + +<p>Birds, besides being workers of the soil, are great sowers of seeds. +Darwin tells how he reared eighty seedlings from a single little clod +on a bird's foot. What do you suppose he did that for? You just +look it up in the index to his "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2009">Origin of Species</a>."</p> + +<p>Doesn't it seem funny that one of the little farmer birds—a burrower—should +go into partnership with a lizard? There is one in +New Zealand that does that very thing. He is called the titi. +What the titi does for the lizard is to provide him with a home in +his burrow, but what do you suppose the lizard does in return to +pay for his lodging? Read about it in Ingersoll's "Wit of the +Wild," in the chapter on "Animal Partnerships."</p> + +<p>Do you know why the phœbe bird so often uses moss in building +her nest? And how the phœbes that make green nests keep them +green? And how Mrs. P. puts a stone roof on her house? You +will find all about it in "Wit of the Wild."</p> + +<p>The same chapter, "The Phœbe at Home," tells why the phœbe +bird took to building under bridges, and why she builds in a carriage +shed instead of a barn, as the barn-swallow does.</p> + +<p>"Bird Life," by Chapman, is a guide to the study of our common +birds. The beauty about this book is that it has seventy-five +full-page plates in the natural colors, with brief descriptions, so +that all you have to do is to bring the <i>mind</i> picture of the bird you +have seen alongside the picture in the book, and there's the answer! +Nobody has written more delightful books on birds than Olive +Thorne Miller. "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27277">Little Brothers of the Air</a>" is one of them. +You couldn't keep your hands off a book with a name like that, +could you? Then there is her "Children's Book of Birds," "True +Bird Stories," illustrated by Louis Agassiz Fuertes, and "Little +Folks in Feathers and Fur," which, as you can see, goes outside the +bird family. John Burroughs's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4203">Wake Robin</a>" deals not with +robins alone, but with birds and bird habits in general.</p> + +<p>But the greatest book about birds—the wonder of the bird and +his relations to the whole animal world—is very properly called +"The Bird," by C. William Beebe, who is at the head of the bird<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +department of the great New York Zoo. Among other things it +tells:</p> + +<p>How Nature practised drawing—so to speak—for years before +she could finally make a proper bird. (If you have ever tried to +draw a bird from memory and realized what a bad job you +made out of it, you will sympathize with her.) How they know +that the earliest birds Nature made, as well as being very homely, +weren't at all smart; not to be mentioned in the same breath with +clever Jim Crow, for example. How "a bird's swaddling clothes +and his first full-dress are cut from the same piece," the very words +of the book. About certain birds that have one set of wings to +play in and a new set for flying, like a child wearing jumpers to +save his nice clothes! About the world of interesting things you +can discover with the bones of a boiled chicken.</p> + +<p>And so on for nearly five hundred pages, and as many illustrations; +the most striking collection of pictures explaining birds that +I ever saw.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei198" name="imagei198"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i198.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE END OF A BUSY SEASON</p> +<p class="ctext">"And there's the corn and the pumpkins and the carrots and the turnips and the potatoes +in the root cellar and the jelly in the jelly-glasses—we helped make them all."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p class="center">(OCTOBER)</p> + +<blockquote><p>It is hardly an exaggeration to say that the tip of a root acts +like the brain of the lower animals.</p> +<p class="right">—<i>Darwin.</i></p></blockquote> + +<h3>THE BUSY FINGERS OF THE ROOTS</h3> + + +<p>This has been a very busy season for Mr. Root and his +family. It always is, and you can imagine they're all glad +when Fall comes and they can lay by for the Winter.</p> + +<p>"There's your apple crop, I helped make that," Mr. +Root might say. "And there's the corn and the wheat +in the granary, and the rye and the oats and the barley; +and the hay in the mow; and the pumpkins and the carrots, +and the turnips, and the potatoes in the root cellar; +and the jelly in the jelly-glasses, and the jam, and the preserves—we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +helped make them all.</p> + +<p>"And we've been working for you almost since the world +began; almost, but not quite—for the earliest plants, the +Lichens, for example—didn't have true roots.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and—well, I don't want to say anything—Mr. +Lichen has been a good neighbor—but he never did amount +to much; never could. No plant can amount to much +without roots. But with roots and a good start a plant +can do almost anything—raise flowers and fruit and nuts, +and help grow trees so tall you can hardly see the tops of +them. And, it isn't alone what we do for the plants we +belong to, but for the soil, for other plants and roots that +come after we're dead and gone. For them we even split +up rocks, and so start these rocks on their way to becoming +soil."</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. All in the Day's Work</span></h4> + +<p>It's a fact. Roots do split rocks. Hundreds of times +I've been in the cracks of rocks that were split in that way. +I mean right when the splitting was going on. This happened +oftenest where trees grew on the stony flanks of +mountains. Seeds of the pines, say, dropped in crevices +by the wind, sprout in the soil they find there, and then, +as these shoots grow up into trees, the enlarged roots, in +their search for more soil, thrust themselves deeper and +deeper into the original lodging-place, and so split even big +rocks. The tap-roots do the heaviest part of this pioneer +work. After the older and larger roots have broken up +the rock, the smaller roots and fibres, feeling their way +about among the stones, enter the smaller openings and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +by their growth divide the rock again and again.</p> + +<p>But it's a lot of hard work for little return, so far as these +early settlers are concerned; just a bare living. All these +rock fragments, in the course of the years, become soil, +but the amount of decay is small in the lifetime of the tree +that does the breaking.</p> + +<p>A root, as you doubtless know, tapers. This enables it +to enter a rock crevice like a wedge. As it pushes its way +in farther and farther it is growing bigger and bigger, and +it is this steady pressure that breaks the rock. Even the +tiny root of a bean grows with a force of several pounds, +and the power exerted by the growth of big roots is something +tremendous. At Amherst Agricultural College, one +time, they harnessed up a squash to see how hard it could +push by growing. From a force of sixty pounds, when it +was a mere baby, what do you suppose its push amounted +to when it had reached full squashhood in October? +Nearly 5,000 pounds; over two tons!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei201" name="imagei201"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i201.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW A LITTLE ROOT SPLIT A GRANITE BLOCK</p> +<p class="ctext">The little winged seed from which this pine-tree grew was carried by the wind one day +into a tiny crack in that big granite block. As the treelet grew the tap root split the rock, +penetrated to the earth below and fed the trunk until it became, as you see, a tree 40 feet +high and 18 inches in diameter!</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>But don't think because roots can and do split rocks, +if need be, that they go about looking for such hard work. +On the contrary. In travelling through the soil they always +choose the easiest route, the softest spots. They +use their brains as well as their muscles, and what they do +with these brains is almost unbelievable.</p> + +<p>Yet the roots are such modest, retiring folks, always +hiding, that it was a long time before the wise men—the +science people—found out what all they do. It took a +lot of science people and the wisest—including the great +Darwin—to get the story, and they haven't got it all yet, +as you will see. It was Darwin who first thought of having +Mr. Root write out his autobiography—or part of it—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +story of his travels; for he does travel, not only forward—as +everybody knows—but around and around. A +regular globe-trotter!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei202" name="imagei202"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i202.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHY BABY PLANTS BACK INTO THE WORLD</p> +<p class="ctext">Most plants back into the world out of the seed like that. Why? To protect their tender +first leaves. Suppose you were taking some very valuable thing, easily injured—baby +brother, say—through a swinging door and you had to use both hands to carry him. You +wouldn't open the door by pushing that dear, little tender head of his against it, would you? +You'd open it by backing through.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>Mr. Darwin was a wonderful hand at that sort of thing—getting +nature people to tell their stories. He was an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +inventor, like Mr. Edison; only, instead of inventing telephones +for human beings to talk with, he invented ways +of talking for nature people. You saw how he fixed it so +that the earthworms could tell what they knew about +geometry and botany. Well, in the case of the roots, +what did he do one day but take a piece of glass, smoke +it all over with lampblack—you'd have thought he was +going to look at an eclipse—and then set it so that Mr. +Root could use it as a kind of writing-desk. In a hitching, +jerky sort of way roots turn round and round as they +grow forward. In the ground, to be sure, a root can't move +as freely nor as fast as it did out in the open and over this +smooth glass, but it does turn, slowly, little by little. The +very first change in a growing seed is the putting out of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +tiny root, and from the first this root feels its way along, +like one trying to find something in a dark room. Thus +it searches out the most mellow soil and also any little +cracks down which it can pass.</p> + +<div class="figright"> +<a id="imagei203" name="imagei203"></a> +<img src="images/i203.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">CHARLES DARWIN</p> +<p class="ctext">The great naturalist.</p> +</div> + + +<p>"Here's a fine opening for +a live young chap," we can +imagine one of these roots +saying when it comes to an +empty earthworm's burrow or +a vacancy left by some other +little root that has decayed +and gone away. Roots always +help themselves, when they +can, to ready-made openings, +and it is this round-and-round +motion that enables them to +find these openings.</p> + +<p>But even this isn't all. A +root not only moves forward +and bends down—so that it +may always keep under cover +and away from the light—but it has a kind of rocking motion, +swinging back and forth, like a winding river between +its banks, and for a somewhat similar reason.</p> + +<p>"It's looking for a soft spot!" says the high school +boy, "just as the river does."</p> + + +<h5>NO HIT-OR-MISS METHODS FOR MR. ROOT</h5> + +<p>Exactly. But not in the sense that this phrase is used in +slang. The root has certain work to do, and it does it in +the quickest and best way. It can get food more quickly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +out of mellow soil than out of hard, and so it constantly +hunts it up. I mean just that—<i>hunts it up</i>. For it isn't +by aimless rocking back and forth that roots just <i>happen</i> +upon the mellow places. It's the other way around; it's +from a careful feeling along for the mellow places that the +rocking motion results.</p> + +<p>"But how on earth do the roots do this? What makes +them do it?"</p> + +<p>That's what any live boy would ask, wouldn't he? So +you may be sure that's what the science people asked, and +this is the answer:</p> + +<p>The roots, like all parts of the plant—like all parts of +boys and girls and grown people, for the matter of that—are +made up of little cells. Well, these cells, first on one +side of the root and then the other, enlarge, and so pump +in an extra flow of sap. Now, as we know, the sap contains +food for the plant, just as blood contains food for +our bodies; and more food means more growth. So the +side of the root where the cells first swell out grows fastest +and thus pushes the root over on the opposite side. Then +the cells on this opposite side swell, and the root is turned +in the other direction again. So it goes—right and left, +up and down. And when these two motions—the up and +down and right and left—are put together, don't you see +what you get? The round-and-round motion!</p> + +<p>Precisely the same thing happened right now when you +turned your finger round and round to imitate the motion +of the root. (I saw you!) The muscles that did the work +swelled up first on one side and then on the other, just as +they do when you bend your elbow, when you walk, when +you breathe, when you laugh.</p> + +<p>And more than that: You know how tired you get if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +you keep using one set of muscles all the time—in sawing +fire-wood, for example. Yet you can play ball by the hour +and never think of being tired until it's all over; because, +for one thing, you are constantly bringing new muscles +into action as you go to bat, as you strike, as you run bases. +It's the same way with the roots, it seems. For +the theory is that after the cells on one side have +swelled, they rest; then the cells on the other side +get to work.</p> + +<p>"But what starts the movement?" you may say. +"The idea of moving my arms and legs starts in +my brain."</p> + + +<h5>WHERE MR. ROOT KEEPS HIS BRAINS</h5> + +<p>Just so again. The root has a brain, too, or what +answers for a brain. And the root's brain, is in its +head; at least in the vicinity of its nose—that is to +say, its tip. It's the tip that first +finds out which side of the road is +best, and passes the word back to the +part of the root just behind it to +bend this way or that. It's also the +tip that feels the pull of gravity and +knows that it's the business of roots +to keep under cover. And Mr. Root just <i>will</i> have it that +way! You can't change his mind. Mr. Darwin tried it +and he couldn't; although he finally changed human people's +minds a lot.</p> + +<div class="figright"> +<a id="imagei205" name="imagei205"></a> +<img src="images/i205.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHERE MR. ROOT<br /> +WEARS HIS CAP</p> +<p class="ctext">A root wears its cap right +where you do—over its brain +department; that is to say, +the tip. It is called the "root +cap" and protects the tip +from injury.</p> +</div> + +<p>This is how he tried it on a root. He took a bean with +a little root that had just started out into the world. He +cut off the tip and then set the bean so that the root stuck +straight up. It continued to grow that way for some little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +time. Finally, however, a new tip had formed. Then +there was a general waking up, as if the tip said to the rest +of the root:</p> + +<p>"Here, here, this will never do! Where are you going? +You must bend <i>down</i>!"</p> + +<p>Anyhow that's what the root proceeded to do. One +side seemed to stop growing, almost, while the other side +grew rapidly and so the bending was done.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever! But how does the tip send back word?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me!" says the science man; say all the +science men, even to this day. "We don't know yet just +<i>how</i> it's done. But we're studying these things all the +time, and we'll know more about it by and by. Meanwhile, +perhaps you'll tell <i>us</i> why you say 'ouch' and pull +your finger away when you touch something hot."</p> + +<p>"Oh," you reply, "I say 'ouch' because it hurts; and +teacher and the Physiology say my arm pulls my hand +away because my head tells it to."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how does the head make the arm do the pulling? +What's the connection?" says the science man.</p> + +<p>Well, I guess we'll have to tell him we don't know, won't +we?</p> + +<p>But all the root's brains aren't in the tip, any more than +all <i>our</i> brains are in our heads. Scattered through our +bodies, you know, are <i>little</i> brains, the ganglia, that control +different parts of the body. So it is with roots. For +instance, a root at a short distance from the tip, is sensitive +to the touch of hard objects in such a way that it bends +toward them instead of turning away, as the tip does. The +result is that when a root comes to a pebble, say, under +ground, the sides of the root press close up to the sides of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +the pebble—turn around corners sharply, by the shortest +route—and so get over the obstruction as soon as possible +and resume their course in the soil.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei207" name="imagei207"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i207.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">BUT THEY COULDN'T CHANGE ITS MIND</p> +<p class="ctext">Some sprouting seedlings were attached to a disk like that, and when the roots started to +grow down, the disk was turned to make them point upwards. But, no Sir! The roots just +<i>wouldn't</i> grow upward. They turned downward. Every time!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>And different parts of a plant's root system respond in +different ways to the pull of gravity, and some don't respond +at all. The tap-root, for example, which always +grows down, has roots growing out from it horizontally. +They just won't grow any other way, and yet this is also +supposed to be due to the influence of gravity. Then, from +these horizontal roots, grow out a third set, and they don't +seem to pay any attention whatever to gravity. They +grow out in all directions—every which way—so that if +there is a bit to eat anywhere in the neighborhood they +are reasonably sure to find it. You see it works out all +right.</p> + +<p>When a plant first begins to peep into the world out of +that wonder box we call the seed, it's the root, as we know, +that does the peeping; it comes first. And its first business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +is to get a firm hold in the soil. So a lot of fine hairlike +fibres grow right and left and all around and take a +firm grip. There is an acid in the root that dissolves whatever +the root touches that has any food in it—including +pebbles and old bones—and so makes a kind of sticky stuff +that hardens. In this way these fibrous roots not only +get good meals for themselves and the rest of the plant, +but they hold the plant firmly in the soil, against the strain +of the winds. They also give the tap-root something to +brace its back against, as it were, while it pushes down for +water, for the moisture in the damper portion of the soil +beneath.</p> + +<p>As you may have noticed, a seed merely lying loose on +the ground is lifted up by its first little root in its effort to +poke its nose into the soil. But Nature makes provisions +for covering seeds up. They are covered by the castings +of the earthworms, the dirt thrown out by burrowing animals +and scratching birds. Some seeds fall into cracks +where the ground is very dry and others are washed into +them by the rains; while these as well as seeds lying on the +surface are covered by the washings of the rain. Then +come the roots that grip the soil.</p> + +<p>Always growing just back of the tip, are thousands of +root-hairs, as fine as down. These get food from the soil. +They soon disappear from the older parts of the root, so +that it stops gathering food itself and puts in all its time +passing along to the stem and leaves the food gathered by +the finer and younger roots. This is why plants are so apt +to wilt if you aren't careful when transplanting them; the +root-hairs get broken off. For the same reason, corn, after +it grows tall, is not ploughed deeply. The fine roots reach<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +out between the rows and the ploughshare would cut them +off.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">II. Mr. Root's Presence of Mind</span></h4> + +<p>All these things and more the roots do in their daily +work—in the ordinary course of business. And it's wonderful +enough. Don't you think so? But there are even +stranger things to tell; things that would almost make us +believe roots have what in human beings we call "presence +of mind." That is to say, the faculty of thinking just what +to do when something happens that one isn't looking for; +when the house takes fire, for example, or the baby upsets +the ink.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei209" name="imagei209"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i209.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THREE SCHOOLS OF STRATEGY</p> + +</div></div> + + +<h5>A ROOT'S WAY OF CROSSING A ROAD</h5> + +<p>Take the case of tree roots crossing a country road for +a drink of water. They do it just as you or I would, I'll +be bound. Just suppose you and I were roots of a big tree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +that wanted to reach the moist bank of a stream, and there +was a hard road-bed between. We can't go over the top, +and the road-bed is so hard we can't go straight through +on our natural level so we'll just stoop down and go under, +won't we? That's exactly what the roots do. They dip +down until they get under the hard-packed soil, and then +up they come again on the other side and into the moist +bank they started for.</p> + +<p>The roots of each kind of plant or tree have their natural +level; that's one reason, as we know, why so many different +kinds of plants—grass, trees, bushes, and things—get +on so well together in the fields and woods. The tree roots +that we have just seen crossing the road only went down +below their natural level because they had to, as if the +tip said:</p> + +<p>"This soil is too hard. We can never get through. Bend +down! Bend down!"</p> + +<p>So the roots bent down until they came to softer soil, +then forward, but always working up toward their natural +level, and so it was at their natural level they came out on +the other side.</p> + + +<h5>A ROOT'S STRANGE ADVENTURE WITH A SHOE</h5> + +<p>But here's an example of "presence of mind," that nobody +has accounted for. A good-sized root, working along +through the soil, like Little Brother Mole, to earn its board +and keep, came right up against the sole of somebody's +old shoe that had got buried in the soil. In the sole were +a lot of holes where the stitches used to be. The root +divided into many parts, and many of these smaller roots +found their way through the stitch holes. Then, coming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +out on the other side, these little roots got together and +travelled on, side by side!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei211a" name="imagei211a"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i211a.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW THE RAG BABIES TELL THE FORTUNE OF THE SEED CORN</p> +<p class="ctext">In what is popularly called "the Rag Baby Test" the seed corn is placed on squares marked +on cloth with numbers corresponding to the numbered ears. Then they are rolled up in +one of those moistened rags until they sprout.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Isn't that a story for you? But there's no accounting +for it. As we have seen, the men of science know a little +bit about how a root manages to turn round and round +and away from the light and so on, but what kind of machinery +or process is it that could tell the root if it would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +split up into little threads it could get through the stitch +holes in that old boot? You can't imagine; at least, nobody +so far has thought how it was done. But it's all true. +We'll find the story and a lot of other things about the +ways of roots in one of the books we'll get acquainted with +when we come to the "Hide and Seek."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei211b" name="imagei211b"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i211b.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"> © <i>International Harvester Company</i></p> +<p class="caption">THIS IS THE ANSWER</p> +<p class="ctext">The seed from Ear No. 12 came out beautifully, didn't it? That from Ear No. 13 looks +as if they were superstitious in Corn Land; but of course it was the fault of the seed and not +of the number.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Here's another example of the same thing; what we +have called "presence of mind," resourcefulness, invention. +This example is even more striking, if possible, because, +for one thing, it is a case where roots still more completely +altered their habits to save a tree struggling for its life +on a stony mountain cliff. Maeterlinck tells about it in +his picturesque and dramatic style. The subject—the +hero, as it were—of this story was a laurel-tree growing +on some cliff above a chasm at the bottom of which ran a +mountain torrent.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"It was easy to see in its twisted and, so to say, writhing trunk, +the whole drama of its hard and tenacious life. The young stem +had started from a vertical plane, so that its top, instead of rising +toward the sky, bent down over the gulf. It was obliged, therefore, +notwithstanding the weight of its branches, stubbornly to +bend its disconcerted trunk into the form of an elbow close to the +rock, and thus, like a swimmer who throws back his head, by means of +an incessant will, to hold the heavy leaves straight up into the sky."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This bent arm, in course of time, struggling with wind +and storm, grew so that it swelled out in knots and cords, +like muscles upholding a terrific burden. But the strain +finally proved too much. The tree began to crack at the +elbow and decay set in.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The leafy dome grew heavier, while a hidden canker gnawed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +deeper into the tragic arm that supported it in space. Then, +obeying I know not what order of instinct, two stout roots, issuing +from the trunk at some considerable distance above the elbow, +grew out and moored it to the granite wall."</p></blockquote> + +<p>As if the roots, naturally so afraid of light, had heard a +frantic call for help and, regardless of everything, had +come to the rescue.</p> + +<p>To be sure, certain roots—the prop-roots of corn-stalks, +for instance, as you have noticed—habitually reach from +above ground down into the soil, and serve to brace the +tall stem swaying in the winds, but trees usually have no +such roots and no such habits. Yet, here a tree seems +suddenly to have learned, somehow, that elsewhere in the +land of plants this thing is done. But how did it learn +it? Did the brownies or the gnomes tell it; or was it some +of the spirits of the wind that go everywhere and see everything? +It might have been the same wind sprites that +carry the seeds of the laurel and the pine so far up the +mountain flanks. Or it might have been the dryads, those +beautiful creatures of the wood the Greeks knew so much +about.</p> + +<p>I tell you there are some mighty queer things going on +in the plant world, and perhaps Bud was right!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Some peoples thinks they ain't no Fairies <i>now</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No more yet! But they <i>is</i>, I bet!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>And, what is more, real live fairies have been found right down +in the world of roots! The science people call them "Bacteria," +but what of that? The thing about a fairy that makes it a fairy +is that it is always changing something into something else. Isn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +that right? Well, that's exactly what is done by the bacteria on +the roots of certain kinds of plants—clover roots, for one; and the +roots of beans, peas, peanuts, and alfalfa. These plants belong to +the legume family, and if you will look up the word <i>Legumes</i> you +will find out all about these fairy factories on the roots.</p> + +<p>Among other things you'll learn how small these fairies are. +Why, 100,000 of the bacteria that live on clover roots, marching +single file, wouldn't much more than reach across this typed page.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> +And in their little "villages" on one system of clover roots there +are so many that all of them put together would make a city as big +as London or New York; if the bacteria were as big as people, I +mean.</p> + +<p>Of course you have to take a microscope to see them—a very +powerful microscope—and even then some kinds of bacteria you +can't see until you put colored clothes on them. (Every high school +boy who has worked in the "lab" knows how this is done.)</p> + +<p>And when you finally see them, a strange thing happens. You've +hardly got your eye on a little Mr. Bacteria before he's two!</p> + +<p>"What's this! What's this!" you say. "Am I seeing double?"</p> + +<p>You look again and he's <i>four</i>! But don't be alarmed, you aren't +seeing double; it's just the little Mr. Bacterias multiplying by division. +How they multiply by division is one of the interesting things +you can learn by looking them up.</p> + +<p>But it's a good thing that the bacteria people in the little nitrogen +factories on the clover roots can get more farm-hands in this way, +for they have a lot to do, and their work is one of the most interesting +things that goes on about the place.</p> + +<p>The article in the "Country Life Reader" on "The Smallest +Plant on the Farm" will tell you how important these nitrogen +farmers are.</p> + +<p>You would hardly believe how great their work is, they're so +quiet about it. Do you know what a human nitrogen factory is +like? Well, for one thing, it's the <i>noisiest</i> place in the world. Men, +as do the bacteria, capture the nitrogen out of the air, but they do +it by keeping up continual thunder and rain storms in big barrels. +You will find one of these factories described in an article in <i>St.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +Nicholas</i>, Volume 45, page 1137.</p> + +<p>But what a fuss these human factories make! Why, in growing-time, +out in the clover field, where the loudest sound you hear is +the drone of the bumblebee among the blossoms, the little bacteria +people down among the roots are making nitrogen so much cheaper +than the big noisy factories that it only costs the farmer about one-fifth +as much as the storm-barrel nitrogen. And yet, of course, it +often pays to buy the artificial nitrogen, too.</p> + +<p>There are many more striking things about the habits of roots +than I have had room to tell about here, which you will find in +such books as Elliot's "Romance of Plant Life," Coulter's "Plant +Studies," Coulter's "First Book of Botany," Allen's "Story of the +Plants," Chase's "Buds, Stems and Roots," Atkinson's "First +Studies of Plant Life," Darwin's "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5605">Power of Movement in Plants</a>," +France's "Germs of Mind in Plants," Gray's "How Plants Behave," +Carpenter's "Vegetable Physiology," Detmer's "Plant +Physiology," and Parsons's "Plants and Their Children."</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei216" name="imagei216"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i216.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THANKSGIVING DINNER OF THE DORMICE</p> +<p class="ctext">They don't sit at the dinner table like that, to be sure, but along in the Fall and up to +nearly the time of our Thanksgiving dinners, the dormice eat unusually heavy meals and +put fat on their little bones to help them through the long, cold, and barren months of winter.</p> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p class="center">(NOVEMBER)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">All-cheering plenty, with her flowing horn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Led yellow Autumn, wreathed with nodding corn.<br /></span> + +<p class="right">—<i>Burns</i>: "<i>Brigs of Ayr.</i>"<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">There's silence in the harvest field,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And blackness in the mountain glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And clouds that will not pass away<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the hill tops for many a day;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And stillness round the homes of men.<br /></span> + +<p class="right">—<i>Mary Howitt</i>: "<i>Winter.</i>"<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE AUTUMN STORES AND THE LONG +WINTER NIGHT</h3> + + +<p>When the caveman was still living from hand to mouth; +before he had even got as far as his first crooked stick for +a plough, and when Mrs. Cave couldn't have canned a +bean or a berry to save her life, even if she had had the +cans, a certain little farmer already knew how to get root<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +crops in the Fall and clean them and cut them and put +them away in his little barn under the ground for Winter +use.</p> + +<p>Several of these forehanded folk we have already met—the +beaver and the chipmunk, among others—but since +we are now at the end of the harvest year I thought we +might spend this evening—the last but one, I am sorry +to say, that we shall be together—in a little chat about +these thrifty brothers of the wild, and how some of them +are going to spend the long Winter that begins in the Autumn +and lasts until Spring.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. Little Granaries under the Ground</span></h4> + +<p>I was going to begin by saying that one of the most <i>fore</i>-handed +of them all has <i>six</i> feet, but as that would be almost +as bad as a pun, I decided not to. You would have +known, of course, that by people with six feet I meant the +insects.</p> + + +<h5><a name="ANTS_THAT_THRESH_AND_STORE" id="ANTS_THAT_THRESH_AND_STORE">ANTS THAT THRESH AND STORE</a></h5> + +<p>Among the six-legged farmers, you may be sure, there +have always been many who took thought for the morrow—the +ants, for example. One can believe almost anything +of ants. If that sluggard had gone to the ant, as +wise King Solomon told him to, and learned all their ways, +he would have found, among other things, how one species +harvests the seeds of the plant known as the "shepherd's-purse," +by twisting off the pods with its hind legs. These +members of the ant family store grains of oats, nettle, and +other plants. They pick up all the seeds they can find that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +the Autumn winds have already threshed for them, but +they're not the least like that lazy man who wouldn't have +the corn that was offered by kind neighbors to keep him +from starving, because it wasn't shelled. If they don't +find enough seeds on the ground when it comes time to +think about the Winter stores they climb up and gather +in the seeds themselves. On the shepherd's-purse, for +example, the ant climbs up, selects a well-filled pod which +is not sufficiently dried to have had its seeds threshed out +by the winds, takes the pod in its little jaws and then—watch +him—turns round and round on his hind legs until +he twists it off! Then with it he carefully moves down the +stem, like a baggageman carrying a big trunk from the +third apartment; only the baggageman carries the trunk +in front of him or on his shoulders, while the ant backs his +way down. Sometimes two ants work together, one twisting, +the other cutting away the fibres with its teeth. Sometimes +they drop the pods to companions waiting below, +and these other helpers never run off with it, but carry it +to the common granary; for ants always play fair.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei218" name="imagei218"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i218.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW THE ANTS WORK IN DIGGING OUT THEIR GRANARIES</p> + +</div></div> + + + + +<p>And they have granaries, these ant farmers—hundreds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +of them, made just for that, each about the size of father's +watch.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei219" name="imagei219"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i219.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE INSIDE OF THE GRANARY</p> +<p class="ctext">Underneath the dome of the ant house you see in the previous picture, are flat chambers +like these, connected by galleries, in which the grain is stored. One is prepared not to be +surprised at anything about ants, but listen to this: The Agricultural Ants not only gather +and store this grain, but they actually plant and cultivate it. They sow it before the wet +season in the Fall, keep it weeded, and gather it in June of the following year. Seems incredible, +doesn't it? But I'm only telling you what McCook, an ant student, recognized +everywhere as a reliable observer, saw these six-footed Texas farmers actually do.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Now here's a thing; you stow away a lot of seeds in a +little hill where, of course, there's moisture, and what's +going to happen? Those seeds are going to sprout and +grow and spoil, and this, of course, destroys their value +as food. Then what are you going to do? Of course, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +human farmer would put his grains in a dry granary where +they couldn't sprout, but you see the ants haven't any +granary of that sort; nothing but those little holes in the +moist ground. Just what they do to these seeds has not +been discovered. They do something that keeps them +from either spoiling or sprouting. But, when they get +ready for these seeds to grow, they let them grow; not so +that they can raise a crop, but for the same reason that +the Chinaman lets the barley sprout that he uses in making +chop-suey; so that it will be nice and soft to eat. This<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +growing digests the starch in the seeds into sugar. When +the sprouts have grown as far as the ants want them to, +they gnaw the stalk a little, and cut off the roots with their +mandibles. When this sugar-making has gone on long +enough the ants bring all the plants out into the sun and +let them lie there until they are nice and dry. Then they +put them in their barns, and as long as Winter lasts they +live on this sweet flour, grinding it in their mouth mills +as they go along.</p> + +<p>Why, it's like living on cookies, almost! Only the ants +have been used to this steady diet of sweets for ages, and +it doesn't hurt <i>their</i> little stomachs as it would ours.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei220" name="imagei220"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i220.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">CLEANING UP AFTER THE DAY'S WORK</p> +<p class="ctext">While the Agricultural Ants don't take a bath after the day's work they do the next best +thing. They give each other a kind of massage, and they evidently find it very enjoyable. +You know how the cat loves to be stroked, dogs and horses to be patted, and little pigs to +have their backs scratched. The ants below are giving each other a massage (left, abdomen; +right, legs and sides). The lady above who seems to be braiding her back hair, is cleaning +her antennę.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>This particular kind of a farming ant is called the Attabara, +but there's another kind more wonderful still. If +we want to call on them by their scientific names—these +remarkable little creatures I'm going to tell about now—we'll +have to go to Texas and ask if the <i>Pogononyrmex +barbatus</i> family are at home.</p> + +<p>"Oh, to be sure," says the gentleman who first introduced +them to scientific society,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> "just come with me."</p> + +<p>So he takes us over into Texas and shows us the ants +at work. They destroy every plant on their little farms +except that known as ant-rice. Compared to the size of +the ants themselves, these grain-fields are giant forests, +far bigger than the Sequoia Forests of California. The +ants watch for rain at harvest-time as anxiously as a farmer, +and on the first sunny day, they do their cutting and +hurry the grain into the barn. Then on later sunny days, +they bring it out to dry before finally storing it away.</p> + +<p>"Well," you say, "is there anything left that these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +farmers <i>don't</i> do?"</p> + +<p>I can't think of anything except the planting. One observer +says that they do actually plant the seeds, and Doctor +McCook says, he wouldn't be surprised if they did, +but he never saw them do it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei225" name="imagei225"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i225.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE OLD HOME PLACE</p> +<p class="ctext">This is the farm of some Agricultural Ants in Texas. See the granary and the roads leading +to it? They collect and store the seeds of a plant which from this fact is called "ant-rice." +It looks like oats and tastes like rice. All plants growing around the nest—which is +also called the granary—the ants cut away, so clearing a space for 10 or 12 feet. Roads 5 +inches broad near the nest, but narrowing as they recede, are made for hundreds of feet in +different directions.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>In tropical America there is a species of ant that raises +"mushrooms"; at least a kind of fungus that passes for +mushrooms with the ants. They don't exactly set the +mushrooms out, but they save time by planting both the +mushrooms and the leaves that make them as one and the +same job. This is how they do it. They climb the trees, +cut circular pieces of leaf with their scissor-like jaws and +carry them back to low, wide mounds in the neighborhood +of which they allow nothing to grow; the purpose being, +as it is supposed, to ventilate the galleries of their homes +by keeping a clear space about the mound.</p> + + +<h5>HOW THE ANTS RAISE MUSHROOMS</h5> + +<p>The leaves are used as a fertilizer on which grow a small +species of mushrooms. The leaves are first left out to be +dampened by the rain, and are carried into the ants' cellars +before they are quite dry. In very dry weather the ants +work only during the cool of the day and at night. Occasionally +inexperienced ants bring in grass or unsuitable +leaves, but these are carried out and thrown away by older +members of the family. But you see how valuable all these +leaves are to the soil.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei223" name="imagei223"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i223.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">ANTS CARRYING LEAVES FOR THE MUSHROOM CELLAR</p> +<p class="ctext">You'd never guess what the ants are going to do with those leaves! Read what it says +on this page about these six-legged epicures.</p> +</div></div> + + +<h5><a name="MR_HAMSTERS_THRESHING_HARVESTER" id="MR_HAMSTERS_THRESHING_HARVESTER">MR. HAMSTER'S THRESHING HARVESTER</a></h5> + +<p>Of course, we always expect the ants to do extraordinary +things, but one of those four-legged farmers I mentioned +in the beginning of the chapter anticipated the principle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +of the very latest type of threshing-machine. It's a fact. +This remarkable little animal threshing-machine is called +the hamster. He is found in Europe east of the Rhine and +in certain portions of Asia. He does both his cutting and +threshing in his field; something the Gauls did in the days +of the Romans in a crude way, but which men of our day +have only got to doing in recent years. He pulls down the +wheat ear, cuts it off between his teeth, and then threshes +it by drawing the heads through his mouth. The grain +falls right into sacks as fast as it is threshed; just as it +does in those huge, combined reapers and threshers that +you see on our big wheat farms. Mr. Hamster's sacks +are his cheek-pouches, one on each side. When these are +filled, this little threshing-machine turns itself into an auto, +a commercial truck, and off it goes with its load of wheat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +to the little barn hidden in the ground. These cheek-pouches, +by the way, reach from the hamster's cheeks +clear back to his shoulders, and both of these pouches will +together hold something like a thousand grains of wheat. +He empties them by holding his paws tight against the +side of his face and then pushing forward. Rather a clever +unloading device, too; don't you think so? Just as good +for Mr. Hamster's purposes as the endless-chain system +at the Buffalo grain elevator that Mr. Kipling admired +so much.</p> + +<p>And in the mere matter of the amount of grain handled, +the work of the hamster is not to be laughed at. The peasant +farmers are very glad to find a hamster granary, which, +of course, they promptly take possession of by due process +of law:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"The good old rule, the simple plan<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That they shall take who have the power,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And they shall hold who can."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>One of Mr. Hamster's neighbors, the field-rat of Hungary +and Asia, stores his grain right in the house—the +place where he lives with his family. Mr. Hamster, however, +has his barns separate from his home. Sometimes he +has one, sometimes two; and the older members of the +community may have four or five.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="II_Mr_Vole_and_His_Root_Cellar" id="II_Mr_Vole_and_His_Root_Cellar"></a>II. Mr. Vole and His Root Cellar</span></h4> + +<p>The farmer I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, +who is so thrifty about his root crops and so neat, belongs +to the Vole family. He lives away over in Siberia and his +full name is <i>Arvicola economus</i>. In gathering his crop of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +roots, he first digs a little trench around them and lays +them bare. Then he cleans them off nicely so as not to +fill his storehouse with dirt; cuts them up in sizes convenient +for carrying, and then hauls them home and piles +them up in little cellars made specially for them.</p> + +<p>He only takes one piece at a time, walking along backward +and pulling it after him with his teeth. He travels +long distances in this fashion, going around tufts of grass, +stones, and logs that lie in the way. When he gets home, +he backs in the front door and into the living-room, and +then into the barns which are back of the living-room. +There are several of these and they are at the end of a long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +crooked passage.</p> + +<p>Some of the Vole family make a specialty of wheat. One +species of these wheat harvesters used to be common in +Greece. He made such a nuisance of himself—from the +Greek farmer's standpoint—that the Greeks had a special +god to get after him; Apollo Myoktonos, "Apollo, Destroyer +of Mice."<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> For the vole is just a kind of field-mouse. +The runs of these wheat-harvesting voles are eight +to twelve inches below the ground, and are connected with +the surface by vertical holes. The end of the run is enlarged +into a big room for the nest, and there are special +rooms leading from the main runway that are used for the +storing of the grain. These voles do their harvesting in +the evening. Standing on their hind legs and holding to +the stock with their little paws as a beaver clasps a tree, +they cut off the wheat head with their teeth. They work +very fast.</p> + +<h5>HOW DID THESE FARMERS LEARN TO STORE?</h5> + +<p>Neither the voles nor any other of these interesting +farmers and warehousemen used to get much credit for +what they did. The fact that they helped themselves to +some of the good things of earth annoyed Man, of course, +and then, when it came to the matter of intelligence, conceited +Mr. Man said: "Oh, <i>that's</i> just <i>instinct</i>." But nowadays +when scientists have begun to study to find out what +"instinct" really is, it is thought that man's brother animals, +although they are born with more knowledge of how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +to do things—with more of what we call "instinct"—have +also learned by experience just as man did. It is argued +that the storing habit was forced on animals wherever the +climate cut off the food-supply for a time—either because +it was too cold or too hot. The idea of putting something +by for a rainy day appealed particularly to the burrowers +because they are a timid lot. Not being able to defend +themselves very well against their enemies they were +obliged to pack up what they could and hurry to some +hidden eating-place. That is where the cheek-pouches, +which many of them have, come in handy. They are also +very industrious, and as the seeds and nuts on which they +lived began to ripen, they just couldn't resist the impulse +to gather and gather and gather more than they could +possibly eat at the time. So, as a result of this habit, food +piled up in their underground homes. Then, as they were +kept indoors by cold weather or by their enemies, they +took to eating more and more from the pantry shelf, and +thus the members of the family that were the busiest and, +therefore, had the most to eat would naturally survive and +leave children of a similar disposition, while the less thrifty +would die off.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">III. The Long Winter Sleep</span></h4> + +<p>Some of these forehanded people, instead of putting +their Winter supply of food in the ground, put it on their +bones. That is to say, before turning in for the Winter, +they get as fat as can be and then live on this fat +until Spring. A great advantage of this system of storage +is that it is particularly pleasant work—you eat and eat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +and enjoy your meals, that's all. Another advantage is +that you can't be robbed of your store as easily as the +hamster, for example, frequently is. You carry it right +with you wherever you go.</p> + +<p>There are a lot of curious things about this hibernation. +Not only will warmth arouse the sleepers but also extreme +cold, and after the extreme cold may come another sleep +from which the sleepers never awaken; in other words, +too much cold kills them. So the object of burying one's +self as the ground-hog does, or under the snow as rabbits +do, or in hollow caves and trees as Brer Bear does, is to keep +from getting too cold. Sometimes two or more "bunk" +together, as little pigs do on cold March days. The body +of each helps to keep his bedfellows warm.</p> + + +<h5><a name="ITS_THE_COLD_THAT_MAKES_ONE_DROWSY" id="ITS_THE_COLD_THAT_MAKES_ONE_DROWSY">IT'S THE COLD THAT MAKES ONE DROWSY</a></h5> + +<p>It is the cold itself that seems to make hibernating animals +feel sleepy; just as it does human beings. At a moderate +temperature, say 45 or 50 degrees, dormice and hedgehogs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +will wake up, eat something, and then go to sleep +again. The dormouse usually wakes in every twenty-four +hours, while the hedgehog's Winter naps are two or three +days long. Hunger seems to be the cause of their waking, +just as it is with babies. The little dormouse, as the air +grows colder, gradually dozes off, and his breathing is very +deep and slow. As the temperature rises, he begins to take +shorter and more rapid breaths and gradually wakes up. +Then, if he is in his own little home under the ground, he +feeds on the nuts and other foods that he stored in Autumn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +and drops off again. He sleeps from five to seven months, +depending on the weather.</p> + +<p>Moles and shrews, so far as observation goes, don't +hibernate. The moles simply dig deeper, and there they +find worms and insects that are buried away from the reach +of frost. The shrews hunt spiders and hundred-legged +worms and larvę in holes and crannies of the soil or beneath +leaves of ground plants and old logs.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei228" name="imagei228"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i228.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">LITTLE HEDGEHOG IN MAN'S HAND</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>A queer thing is that the hedgehog, which belongs to +the same family as the shrew and the mole, is dead to the +world all Winter. Like all complete hibernators he stops +breathing entirely. The reason for this difference between +the hedgehog and the mole is that the mole doesn't need +to go to sleep, because he digs below the frost-line. As for +the shrews, they have little bodies and are very active, and +so get themselves food and keep warm, while the hedgehog +is so much bigger and slower that, when there is so little +to eat and it is so cold, he would either freeze or starve +to death if he went about looking for food. He finds it +cheaper to turn in and sleep than to work.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei229" name="imagei229"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i229.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A HEDGEHOG AND HER BABIES</p> + +</div></div> + +<p>None of the tree-squirrels seem to take any unusually +long naps in the Winter. We often see them around on +pleasant days in the parks and in the woods. They run +out, get a few nuts from their stores, and then back again +to their nests, but the chipmunks and the gophers, who +are closely related to the squirrels, stay from late Autumn +to Spring in their burrows, where they have plenty of food +stowed away, and they sleep most of the time. In the +home of four chipmunks was found a pint of wheat, a +quart of nuts, a peck of acorns, and two quarts of buckwheat, +besides a lot of corn and grass seed; all to feed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +four fat chipmunks. So, with such plentiful supplies, it is +not surprising that after their long Winter sleep the chipmunks +are as sleek as can be and as fat as butter, while +Mr. Bear comes out in the Spring lean and with his hair +all mussed up and as hungry as—well, as hungry as a bear!</p> + +<p>All the bear family, except the polar bears, retire to caves +or some sheltered spot under a ledge of a rock or the roots +of a big tree. Among the polar bears the rule seems to +be that it's Mamma Bear only who goes to bed for the Winter. +She is careful to put on enough fat not only for herself, +but so that the babies that come along in the Spring +will have plenty of milk. She is buried by snow that drifts +on her and her breath melts a funnel up to the fresh air.</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap"><a name="IV_Mr_Ground-Hog_and_His_Shadow" id="IV_Mr_Ground-Hog_and_His_Shadow"></a>IV. Mr. Ground-Hog and His Shadow</span></h4> + +<p>The woodchuck, like the bear, is a "meat-packer." +People talk about him more or less in February. His other +name is "ground-hog" and his shadow is quite as famous +as he is. But is there anything in that old weather saw? +Well, yes and no. You see, it's like this: Mr. Ground-Hog +goes to bed very early in the Fall—long before the cold +weather sets in—and so he is up very early the next Spring; +long before the snow is all gone and, as it is with the other +all-Winter sleepers, a little extra warmth may wake him +up. Along toward morning, you know, we all begin to +stir around in our beds and get half awake. So in addition +to the fact that it is nearly daybreak for him—that +is to say, Springtime—let there come along a bright, warm +day in February—the second is as good as any other—and +Mr. Ground-Hog is likely to come out of his hole. And,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +if he does, of course he will see his shadow, after which +there is likely to be quite a lot of cold weather.</p> + + +<h5>HOW WEATHER AVERAGES UP</h5> + +<p>Not that his shadow makes any difference, but the point +is that if you have much warm weather <i>early</i> in February +you are likely to have colder weather <i>later</i> and running on +into March. It's just the law of averages, that's all. You +see it running through the year—this averaging up of +weather; it just sways back and forth like a pendulum. +Take it in any storm of rain or snow; first the clear sky, +then the clouds, then the downfall, and after that the clear +sky again. Take any month as a whole, or a year as +a whole, and it's the same way; you get about so much +rain, so much sunshine, so much heat and cold. The United +States Weather Bureau went to work once and, from the +records, classified the storms for the last thirty years, and +they found that about fifteen storms each year start over +the region of the West Gulf States, twelve begin over the +mountains of Colorado, forty cross the country from the +North Pacific by way of Washington and Oregon; and +so on, just about so many from each region each year.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei233a" name="imagei233a"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i233a.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>The Last Snow, by Lippincott</i></p> +</div> + + +<p>And records and old diaries, going back a hundred years, +show that the longer the period you examine for weather +facts, the closer the average. The weather for one ten-year +period will be almost as much like any other ten-year +period, as the peas in a pea shell are like each other. Coming +back to the subject of February weather, we find in +the diary of an old resident of Philadelphia in 1779: "The +Winter was mild, and particularly the month of February, +when trees were in bloom." He doesn't say anything about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +the ground-hog, but there is this to be said of the sharper +changes of February and March, that at this season the +earth is getting more and more warmed up and yet the +cold winds from the North don't like to go; so there is a +constant wrestling-match, and it is the wrestling of the +winds one way and another that brings the changes of the +weather. So if the South Winds get the best of it early +in February, the North Winds, with their cold weather, +are likely to win later in the month, and vice versa. +Moreover, if you believe in the ground-hog proverb you +are apt to <i>notice</i> the warm days (or cold days, as the case +may be) for the next six weeks after February 2, and you +<i>won't</i> notice so much the weather that doesn't fit your +proverb! It's a way we all have; <i>seeing</i> the things that +go to prove what we believe and <i>overlooking</i> the things +that don't.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei233b" name="imagei233b"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i233b.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MR. GROUND-HOG AND HIS SHADOW</p> +<p class="ctext">"But is there anything in the old weather saw? Well, yes and no. Mr. Ground-Hog goes +to bed early in the Fall and is up early next Spring. Let there come a bright, warm day in +February—the second is as good as any—and Mr. G.-H. is likely to come out and see his +shadow. And if you have warm weather early in February you are likely to have colder +weather later. It's the law of averages, that's all."</p> +</div></div> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>I don't care what it says in "Alice in Wonderland," dormice +never drink tea; although dormice have been at table with people +ever since the days of the Romans. Dormice are still eaten in some +parts of Europe, and the Romans used to keep them as part of +their live stock. The European dormouse is really a little squirrel. +Varro's "Roman Farm Management" (of which you are apt to +find a good translation in the public library) tells how the Romans +put their dormice in clay jars specially made, "with paths contrived +on the side and a hollow to hold their food."</p> + +<p>Crocodiles and other tropical animals take very long naps during +the hottest weather. Hartwig's "Harmonies of Nature" tells +about an officer who was asleep in a tent in the tropics, when his +bed moved under him, and he found it was because a crocodile, +in the earth beneath, was just waking up! Imagine what the +dried-up ponds and streams of the llanos of South America must +look like when the rainy season comes on, after the dry spell, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +crocodiles asleep just under the surface everywhere. Doctor Hartwig's +book tells.</p> + +<p>But the most remarkable case of drying up that ever I heard +of was that of the Egyptian snail in the British Museum, that +Woodward tells about in his "Manual of the Mollusca." This +snail was sent to England, simply as a shell, in 1846. Never dreaming +there was anybody at home, they glued him to a piece of cardboard, +marked it <i>Helix Desertorum</i>, and there he stuck until March +7, 1850, when somebody discovered a certain thing that indicated +that there <i>was</i> somebody "at home," and that he was alive. They +gave him a warm bath and he opened his four eyes on the world!</p> + +<p>In his "Animal and Vegetable Hedgehogs" ("Nature's Work +Shop") Grant Allen tells why the hedgehog works at night and +sleeps in the daytime.</p> + +<p>How he fastens on his winter overcoat of leaves, using his spines +for pins, and how funny it makes him look.</p> + +<p>How Mother Nature manages to have breakfast ready for him +in the Spring just when he is ready for <i>it</i>.</p> + +<p>How hedgehogs use their spines when they want to get down +from a high bank or precipice real quickly.</p> + +<p>How their eyes tell how smart they are; for a hedgehog is smart.</p> + +<p>You will also find interesting things about hibernation in Gould's +"Mother Nature's Children" and Richard's "Four Feet, Two Feet +and No Feet."</p> + +<p>In one of his essays on nature topics—"Seven Year Sleepers"—Grant +Allen tells how the toad goes to bed in an earthenware pot, +which he makes for himself, and how this habit may have helped +start the story that live toads are found inside of stones.</p> + +<p>Ingersoll, in that delightful book I have already referred to several +times, "The Wit of the Wild," calls the pikas "the haymakers +of the snow peaks." In his article on these interesting little +creatures, he tells why you may often be looking right at one and +still not see it; why the pikas gather bouquets and why they always +lay them out in the hot sun; why their harvest season only lasts +about two weeks, and why, although they usually go to bed at +sunset, they work far into the night in harvest time.</p> + +<p>"The Country Life Reader" has a good story of a woodchuck +named "Tommy." Among other things it tells about the variety +of residences a woodchuck has; and why animals that work at night, +as all woodchucks do, have an unusually keen sense of smell. Can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +you guess why? The reason is simple enough.</p> + +<p>Here's a clever bit of verse about the woodchuck by his other +name, that I came across in some newspaper:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"The festive ground-hog wakes to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And with reluctant roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He waddles up his sinuous way<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And pops forth from his hole.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He rubs his little blinking eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">So heavy from long sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That he may read the tell-tale skies—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Which is it—wake or sleep?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Ingersoll's "Nature's Calendar" tells why Brer Bear stays up +all winter when there is plenty of food, but goes to bed if food is +scarce; how he uses roots of a fallen tree to help when he is digging +his winter house; how he makes his bed and what he uses for the +purpose; how the winds help him put on his roof, and how he locks +himself in so tight that he can't get out until spring, even if he +wants to.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei237" name="imagei237"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i237.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">"IT MUST BE BRER BEAR!"</p> + +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p class="center">(DECEMBER)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">While man exclaims "See all things for my use!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"See man for mine!" replies the pampered goose.<br /></span> + +<p class="right">—<i>Pope</i>: "<i>Essay on Man.</i>"<br /></p> +</div></div> + +<h3>THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE DUST</h3> + + +<p>But whether they store it in their little barns, like the +chipmunk, or on their bones, like Brer Bear, these farmers +deserve more friendly understanding than they usually get +from that two-legged farmer, Mr. Man.</p> + +<p>Just think of the ages upon ages that they have been +at work, these humble brothers of ours, and their ancestors—making +the soil that gives us food—and yet after all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +this Mr. Man comes along and says:</p> + +<p>"Get out of my fields!"</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">I. The Lord of Creation</span></h4> + +<p>"Oh, but—please Mr. Man—we were here <i>first</i>!"</p> + +<p>Was that the dormouse speaking? Anyhow, whoever +it was, I think he was more than half right, don't you? +Mr. Man, when he complains of these people, is apt not +only to forget what he owes to them but in claiming that +what they eat is wasted, to forget what a waster he is himself—wasting +the soil and wasting the trees and everything.</p> + + +<h5>BRER BEAR GIVES MR. MAN A PIECE OF HIS MIND</h5> + +<p>"Now just don't you overdo this Lord-of-Creation +business, Mr. Man," says a deep, growly voice. (It must +be Brer Bear!) "Other people have rights as well as you! +And if you'd tend to your work half as well as they've attended +to theirs, for ages before you were born, this would +be a better world to live in; a good deal better, and there'd +be a lot more of the good things of life to go around.</p> + +<p>"And now that you've waked me up I'm going to tell +you something else. You human beings are not only a +hard lot, but a stupid lot. You think you're mighty smart, +don't you, with your bear-traps and your shooting machines +that you shoot each other with, as well as shooting +the rest of us! But do you know what <i>I</i> think? I +think if some of us—the bears or the beavers or the ants, +for example—had had half your chance they'd have been +twice as smart; and then we bears might have gone around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +shooting at you, the way Mr. Beard showed once in one +of those funny pictures of his."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei239" name="imagei239"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i239.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HUNTING THAT DOESN'T HURT</p> +<p class="ctext">Hunting with a gun is great sport. But now you know from my story what good the +animals do in the world you may not like so well to kill them. And there is a new kind of +hunting that is just as much fun—with a camera. This picture shows a boy in ambush, +ready to shoot, by pressing a bulb; for the bird in the tree is exactly in front of the shutter +of the camera.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>You see, Brer Bear has a good tongue in his head as well +as a wise old head on his shoulders, and I must say he's +entirely right when he makes the statement that human +beings aren't anywhere near as bright, according to the +chance they've had, as the bears and the beavers and the +ants and the bees, and many others that could be named. +Why, do you know that in the whole history of the human +race there have been only a few really bright people, like +Mr. Shakespere and Mr. Kipling, Mr. Archimedes and +Mr. Edison. It was such men as these—not over two thousand +or three thousand out of the millions upon millions of +human beings who have lived on the earth—that raised +the rest up from the Stone Age to where they are to-day.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Into the coarse dough of humanity an infrequent genius has +put some enchanted yeast."</p></blockquote> + +<p>That's the way a recent English writer puts it. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +then he goes on to say that if snakes and beasts of prey +had been as clever as the bees and ants and beavers, men +would have been exterminated. They could have saved +themselves only by getting on with their education, climbing +up the grades, a good deal faster than they have done.</p> + +<p>He says it—this Englishman—almost in the very words +of Brer Bear. And we can imagine Brer Bear going on, +taking up where the Englishman leaves off.</p> + +<p>"In other words," says Brer Bear, "it was because the +bees and ants and beavers went on minding their own business, +neither hurting you nor giving any pointers to the +wolves and the lions and the snakes, that you're still here, +Mr. Lord Man! That's part of the story of how you got +to be lord of creation. Now listen to the rest of it:<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> + +<blockquote><p>"'The cave-dwellings of men were stolen from cave-lions and +cave-bears; their pit-dwellings were copied from the holes and tunnels +burrowed by many animals; and in their lake-dwellings they +collected hints from five sources: natural bridges, the platforms +built by apes, the habits of waterfowl, the beaver's dam and lodge, +and the nests of birds. In the round hut, which was made with +branches and wattle-and-daub, stick nests were united to the plaster +work of rock martins. Yes, a good workman in the construction +of mud walls does no more than rock martins have done in all +the ages of their nest-building.</p> + +<p>"'Suppose primitive man cut down a tree with his flint axe, +choosing one that grew aslant over a chasm or across a river; or +suppose he piled stepping-stones together in the middle of a waterway, +and then used this pier as a support for two tree trunks, whose +far ends rested on the bank sides. Neither of these ideas has more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +mother wit than that which has enabled ants to bore tunnels under +running water, and to make bridges by clinging to each other in a +suspension chain of their wee, brave bodies.'"</p></blockquote> + + +<h5>HOW MAN HELPED HIMSELF TO OTHER PEOPLE'S IDEAS</h5> + +<p>So you see that isn't just Mr. Bear's way of putting it; +there are human beings who think a good deal as he does. +Myself, I agree with Brer Bear and Brer Brangyn.<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> For +man certainly, take him by and large, doesn't always set +a good example to his fellow animals, either in making the +best of his <i>opportunities</i> or in giving his humble brothers +a square deal.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei241" name="imagei241"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i241.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>From "Bugs, Butterflies and Beetles," by Dan Beard. +By permission of J. B. Lippincott</i></p> +<p class="caption">IF BEETLES WERE AS BIG AS BOYS</p> +<p class="ctext">Our six-footed brothers are wonderfully strong in proportion to their size, and it would +go hard with us if beetles, for example, were as big as boys.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Do you know what I felt like saying, back there in +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Chapter IX</a>, when we were speaking of kingfishers, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +how certain parties had given it out that kingfishers eat +big fish that otherwise might be caught with a hook or a +seine? This is what I <i>felt</i> like saying:</p> + +<p>"What if they do? Who's got a better right?"</p> + +<p>Then they'd say—these men—I suppose:</p> + +<p>"Why, <i>we</i> have; <i>we're</i> sportsmen!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," I'd say, "you're the kind of sportsman that's +so afraid somebody else will see and kill something before +you do; particularly if that somebody is itself a wild creature +that has to earn its living that way and only takes +what it needs for its family!"</p> + +<p>And they're so good-natured about it, most of these +country cousins of ours, that we walked right in on and +ordered out, Cousin Woodchuck, for instance.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The woodchuck can no more see the propriety of fencing off—though +he admits that stone walls are fine refuges, in case he has +to run for it—a space of the very best fodder than the British +peasant can see the right of shutting him out of a grove where there +are wild rabbits, or forbidding him to fish in certain streams. So +he climbs over, or digs under, or creeps through, the fence, and +makes a path or a playground for himself amid the timothy and the +clover, and laughs, as he listens from a hole in the wall or under a +stump, to hear the farmer using language which is good Saxon but +bad morals, and the dog barking himself into a fit."<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></p></blockquote> + + +<h4>II. <span class="smcap">The School of the Woods and Fields</span></h4> + +<p>I don't mean to say, mind you, that the farmer hasn't +any rights in his own fields, and that he should turn everything +over to the woodchuck and the rest, but I do mean +to say that our wild kinsmen have rights and that there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +is a lot more to be got out of them than their flesh or their +hides or the pleasure of killing them.</p> + + +<p>For one thing, the ant and the angleworm, the birds +and the woodchucks, the little +lichens and the big trees, the +winds and the rains, are all +teachers in the Great School +of Out-of-Doors, and in this +school you can learn almost +everything there is to be +learned. It's really a university. +Nature study, as you call +it in the grades, besides all the +facts it teaches you, trains the +eye to see, and the ear to +listen, and the brain to reason, +and the heart to feel.</p> + + +<h5><a name="STORY_OF_THE_LONDON_BANKER_AND_HIS_ANTS" id="STORY_OF_THE_LONDON_BANKER_AND_HIS_ANTS">STORY OF THE LONDON BANKER AND HIS ANTS</a></h5> + +<div class="figright"> +<a id="imagei243" name="imagei243"></a> +<img src="images/i243.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SIR JOHN LUBBOCK</p> +<p class="ctext">The great London banker who carried +ants in his pocket.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Once there was a London +banker who used to go around +with—what do you think—in his pockets? Money? Yes, +I suppose so; but what else? You'll never guess—ants! +He was a lot more interested in ants than he was in money; +and so, while the business world knew him as a big banker, +all the scientific world knew him as a great naturalist. He +wrote not only nature books but other books, including +one on "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7952">The Pleasures of Life</a>," and among life's greatest +pleasures he placed the "friendship," as he puts it, of things +in Nature. He said he never went into the woods but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +found himself welcomed by a glad company of friends, +every one with something interesting to tell. And, in +speaking of the wide-spread growth of interest in Nature +in recent years, he said:</p> + + +<blockquote><p>"The study of natural history indeed, seems destined to replace +the loss of what is, not very happily, I think, termed 'sport.'"</p></blockquote> + +<p>And isn't it curious, when one comes to think of it, why +a man should take pleasure in seeing a beautiful deer fall +dead with a bullet in its heart? You'd think there would +be so much more pleasure in seeing him run—the very +poetry of motion. Or, why should a boy want to kill a +little bird? You'd think it would have been so much +greater pleasure to study its flight or to listen to the happy +notes pour out from that "little breast that will throb +with song no more."</p> + + +<h5>WHY MAN KILLS AND CALLS IT "SPORT"</h5> + +<p>Among other animals that this banker naturalist studied +was man himself; man when he was even more of +an animal than he is to-day, and he came to the conclusion +that this curious killing instinct is a survival of the long +ages when man had to earn his living by the chase.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the night fell o'er the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the moon hung red o'er the river bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He mumbled the bones of the slain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Loud he howled through the moonlit wastes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Loud answered his kith and kin;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From west and east to the crimson feast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i4">The clan came trooping in.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They fought and clawed and tore."<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Not a very pretty picture, is it? Yet it's true. But, +fortunately, so is this one of the happiest hours of the caveman's +grandchild.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Oh, for boyhood's painless play,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sleep that wakes in laughing day,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Health that mocks the doctor's rules,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Knowledge never learned of schools:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the wild bee's morning chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the wild flower's time and place;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Flight of fowl, and habitude<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the tenants of the wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How the tortoise bears his shell,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How the woodchuck digs his cell<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the ground-mole sinks his well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Of the black wasp's cunning way,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Mason of his walls of clay<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the architectural plans<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of gray hornet artisans.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For, eschewing books and tasks,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nature answers all he asks."<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Some boy wrote to John Burroughs once, and asked +how to become a naturalist. In his reply, Burroughs said:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I have spent seventy-seven years in the world, and they have +all been contented and happy years. I am certain that my greatest +source of happiness has been my love of nature; my love of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +farm, of the birds, the animals, the flowers, and all open-air things.</p> + +<p>"You can begin to be a naturalist right where you are, in any +place, in any season."<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p></blockquote> + +<div class="figleft"> +<a id="imagei246" name="imagei246"></a> +<img src="images/i246.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHOSE AUTOGRAPH IS THIS?</p> +<p class="ctext">If you're a boy scout you +will probably recognize this +autograph in the snow. If +not look it up in the Boy +Scout Handbook.</p> +</div> + + +<p>It is the wholesomest, most inspiring reading in all the +world, this Book of Nature. And there is simply no end +to it. Just see what all we've been led into +merely in following out the story of a grain of +dust; and even then, I've only dipped into it here +and there, as you can see by the hints of things +to be looked up in the library. If we had gone +into all the highways and byways of the subject—for +it's all one continued story, from the +making of the planets, circling in the fields of +space, to the making of the little dust grains that +are whirled along in the winds of March—if we +followed the story all through we would have to +have learned professors to teach us Astronomy, +Geology, Chemistry, Zoology, with +its subdivisions of Paleontology, +Ornithology, Entomology, and so on; +a whole college faculty sitting on a +grain of dust!</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">III. The World Brotherhood</span></h4> + +<p>An obvious thing in Nature is what is called "the struggle +for existence"; animals and plants fighting among +themselves and against enemies of their species in the universal +struggle for food. What is not so obvious, is how +the whole world of things works together toward the common<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +good.</p> + + +<h5><a name="HOW_THE_LICHENS_AND_THE_VOLCANOES_WORK_TOGETHER" id="HOW_THE_LICHENS_AND_THE_VOLCANOES_WORK_TOGETHER">HOW THE LICHENS AND THE VOLCANOES WORK TOGETHER</a></h5> + +<p>For example, working with those quiet little people, the +lichens, is one of the biggest and noisiest things in the world—the +volcano. The volcanoes not only pour into the air +vast quantities of carbon-gas, which is the breath of life +to plants, but help the lichens and the rest of the soil-makers +with their work in other ways. And as the volcanoes +help the lichens get their breath, the lichens forward +the world service of the volcanoes by turning their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +lava into soil; in course of time, hiding the most desolate +of these black iron wastes under a rich garment of green. +It is thus the dead lava comes to life, and it is the very +smallest of the lichen family that starts the process.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei247" name="imagei247"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i247.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>Courtesy of the Northern Pacific Railway</i></p> +<p class="caption">HOW THE DEAD LAVA COMES TO LIFE</p> +<p class="ctext">Lava, after it has been converted into soil, by the agents of decay, makes the richest land +in the world. This picture shows a vineyard on the fertile plains overlooked by Mt. Ranier, +which is an extinct volcano. In the days when Mt. Rainer was being built these plains were +covered with molten lava.</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>Among the two principal gases of the air there is a working +brotherhood; just as there is between the plants and +the animals in their great breath exchange. The oxygen +in the air makes a specialty of crumbling up rock containing +iron. It rusts this iron into dust; while the CO<sub>2</sub>, as the +High School Boy calls what I have called carbon, for short, +goes after the rocks that contain lime, potash, and soda.</p> + +<p>Working with both these gases is the frost that, with +its prying fingers, enlarges the cracks in stones, and so allows +the gases of the water and the air to reach in farther +than they could otherwise do.</p> + +<p>Every Winter, with its frost and its storing up of moisture +in the great snow-fields of the mountains, is a benefit +to the lands and their people, but the Ice Age, "The +Winter that Lasted All Summer,"<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> not only worked wonders +in other ways, but was of far greater benefit to the +soil because it was so much more of a Winter.</p> + +<p>Mr. Shakespere, in his day, didn't know anything about +an Ice Age, but Brer Bear might have quoted certain lines +of his, just the same:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Blow, blow, thou winter wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou art not so unkind<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As man's ingratitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thou dost not bite so nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As benefits forgot."<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei249" name="imagei249"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i249.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>Courtesy of the Northern Pacific Railway</i></p> +<p class="caption">ASTER GROWING IN VOLCANIC ASH ON MT. RANIER</p> + +</div></div> + + +<h5><a name="THE_GREAT_PLOUGHS_OF_THE_ICE_AGES" id="THE_GREAT_PLOUGHS_OF_THE_ICE_AGES">THE GREAT PLOUGHS OF THE ICE AGES</a></h5> + +<p>With all the work the other agencies do in changing the +rock into soil, and fertilizing and refreshing it with additions +from the subsoil, there still remains an important +thing to be done, and that is to mix the soil from different +kinds of rock. This is still done constantly by the winds +and flowing waters, but every so often, apparently, there +needs to be a deeper, wider stirring and mixing. This the +great ice ploughs and glacial rivers of the Ice Ages did. +And they do it every so often, probably; for there was more +than one Ice Age in the past, and, as Nature's processes do +not change, it is more than likely there will be more ice +ages and more deep ploughing and redistribution of the +soil in the future. As you will see, if you take the trouble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +to look it up in "The Strange Adventures of a Pebble," it +is thought we may now be in the springtime of one of those +vaster changes which bring Springs lasting for ages, followed +by long Summers and Autumns, and by the age-long +Winters and the big glaciers and all.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei250" name="imagei250"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i250.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW THE MOUNTAINS FEED THE PLAINS</p> +<p class="ctext">"The elevations of the earth's surface provide for it a perpetual renovation. The higher +mountains suffer their summits to be broken into fragments and to be cast down in sheets of +massy rock, full of every substance necessary for the nourishment of plants, and each filtering +thread of summer rain is bearing its own appointed burden of earth to be thrown down +on the dingles below."</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>The glaciers, moving over thousands of miles and often +meeting and dumping their loads together on vast fields, +did the very same thing for everybody that England does +for herself to-day in bringing different kinds of fertilizers +from all over the world to enrich her farms. I'm very glad +to speak of this because the author of the story of the pebble +may have left a bad impression of the glaciers—"The +Old Men of the Mountain"—as farmers, by what he said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +about their carrying off the original farm lands of New +England, and leaving a lot of pebbles and boulders instead. +While these pebbles have not produced what you would +call a brilliant performer among soils, they have made a +good, steady soil that in New England has helped greatly +in growing farm boys into famous men, while the pebbles +of Wisconsin have been of immense service to her famous +cows. In the counties in Wisconsin where there are plenty +of pebbles scattered through the soil, the production of cheese +and butter is something like 50 per cent greater than it is +in regions where there are comparatively few pebbles.<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></p> + + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei251" name="imagei251"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i251.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="atext"><i>From Tarr and Martin's "College Physiography." +By permission of the Macmillan Company</i></p> +<p class="caption">GOOD CROPS FROM NEW ENGLAND'S STONY FIELDS</p> +<p class="ctext">While the stones, big and little, with which the fields of New England are so richly supplied +have not produced what you would call a brilliant performer among soils, they have made +a good steady soil that can turn its hand to almost anything, and that has helped greatly +in growing farm boys into famous men. In building those stone fences, for example, the +boys learned that it always pays to do your work well. A hundred years is merely the tick +of a watch in the life of a fence like that!</p> +</div></div> + + +<p>The soils of New England are like the New Englander<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +himself, they can turn their hands to almost anything; +raise any kind of crop suited to the climate, while richer +soils are often not so versatile. The reason is that these +pebbles were originally gathered by the glaciers from widely +separated river-beds, and so contain all varieties of rock +with every kind of plant food in them. It takes a long, +long time to make soil out of bed-rock, but in the case of +soils in which there are a great many pebbles it is different; +and you can see why. On a great mass of rock there is +comparatively little surface for the air and other pioneer +soil-makers to get at, and so decay is slow; while the same +amount of rock broken up into pebbles presents a great +deal of surface for decay.</p> + +<p>If you will examine with a glass—an ordinary hand-glass +will do—one of these decaying pebbles lying embedded +in the grass you can trace on it a number of wrinkly +lines—sometimes even a network. These are the marks, +the "finger-prints," of little roots. Little roots, as we have +seen, are very wise. They always know what they are +about, and the fact that they cling to the pebbles in this +way means that they are getting food out of them.</p> + +<p>And that's right where the cows of Wisconsin come in. +The rootlets of the grasses get a steady supply of food from +the decaying surfaces of these pebbles scattered through +the pastures, and then pass it on to the cows.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a id="imagei253" name="imagei253"></a><div class="figborder"> +<img src="images/i253.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HOW PEBBLES HELP FEED THE COWS</p> +<p class="ctext">You'll think I'm joking at first, but it's the truth: <i>Pebbles are good for cows.</i> Otherwise +how are you going to account for the fact that in the counties in Wisconsin where there are +plenty of pebbles the production of cheese and butter is something like 50 per cent greater +than it is in regions where there are comparatively few pebbles? Examine, with a hand-glass, +the "finger prints" of the little roots on a decaying pebble, and see if you can't guess +why. Then read the explanation in this chapter.</p> +</div></div> + + +<h5><a name="TEAMWORK_BETWEEN_MOUNTAINS_AND_PEBBLES" id="TEAMWORK_BETWEEN_MOUNTAINS_AND_PEBBLES"></a>TEAMWORK BETWEEN MOUNTAINS AND PEBBLES</h5> + +<p>But now, going from little things to big things again, +notice how the mountains and the pebbles are linked together +in this chain of service. The mountains, too, continually +feed the plains. Ruskin, in speaking of this great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +service, says:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The elevations of the earth's surface provide for it a perpetual +renovation. The higher mountains suffer their summits to be +broken into fragments, and to be cast down in sheets of massy rock, +full of every substance necessary for the nourishment of plants. +These fallen fragments are again broken by frost and ground by +torrents into various conditions of sand and clay—materials which +are distributed perpetually by the streams farther and farther from +the mountain's base. Every shower which swells the rivulets +enables their waters to carry certain portions of earth into new +positions, and exposes new banks of ground to be mined in their +turn. The turbid foaming of the angry water—the tearing down +of bank and rock along the flanks of its fury—these are no disturbances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +of the kind course of nature; they are beneficent operations +of laws necessary to the existence of man, and to the beauty of the +earth; ... and each filtering thread of summer rain which trickles +through the short turf of the uplands is bearing its own appointed +burden of earth to be thrown down on some new natural garden in +the dingles below."</p></blockquote> + + +<div class="figborder2"> +<div> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="4" summary="illustrations"> + +<tr> +<td> +<a id="imagei254" name="imagei254"></a> +<img src="images/i254.jpg" alt="" /> +</td> + +<td> +<a id="imagei255" name="imagei255"></a> +<img src="images/i255.jpg" alt="" /> +</td> +</tr> + +</table> +</div> +<p class="caption">THE MILL OF THE EARTHWORM AND THE EARTH MILLS OF THE SEA</p> +<p class="ctext">"From the gizzard mills of the earthworm to the great earth mills +of the sea, all are—most evidently—parts of one great system." +(In the picture on the left an earthworm has been +laid open to show its grinding apparatus.)</p> +</div> + + + +<p>So we find a wonderful variety of things working together +in making and feeding the soil that feeds the world: +mountains and pebbles, volcanoes and lichens, the breath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +of the living and the bones of the dead; the sun, the winds, +the sea, the rains; the farmers with four feet, the farmers +with six feet; the swallow building her nest under the +eaves, the earthworms burrowing under our feet, each +bent on its own affairs, to be sure, but at the same time +each helping to carry on the great business of the universe. +From the little gizzard mills of the earthworm to the great +earth mills of the sea, that renew the soil for the ages yet +to come, all are—most evidently—parts of one great system;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +are together helping to work out great purposes in +the advance of men and things; purposes which require +that</p> + +<blockquote><p>"While the earth remaineth, summer and winter, seed-time and +harvest, shall not cease."</p></blockquote> + + +<p class="center">HIDE AND SEEK IN THE LIBRARY</p> + +<blockquote><p>As I said, most people not only think that they're smarter than +their fellow animals, but when you point out to them how clever +some of these other animals are, they say: "Oh, <i>that's</i> just instinct!" +As if animals don't think and learn by experience, and all, just as +we do! You look up "instinct" in the encyclopędia, and you'll +see. Then read Long's "Wood Folk at School."</p> + +<p>There's really a lot more fun in shooting animals with a camera +than with a shotgun or a rifle. Did you ever try it? "Hunting +with a Camera" in "The Scientific American Boy at School," by +Bond, will tell you how to get the best results. Other good pointers +on animal photography will be found in Verrill's "Boy Collector's +Hand Book" ("Photographing Wild Things") and in +"<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18525">On the +Trail</a>," by A. B. and Lina Beard.</p> + +<p>And if you ever feel like killing a bird "just for fun," read in the +diary of "Opal" about the farmer boy who shot the little girl's +pet crow; it was "only a crow," he said, and he wanted to see if he +could hit it. That will cure you, I think. The diary of "Opal" +reads like a fairy-tale, but it's all true, and although it was written—every +word of it—by a little girl of seven, it is one of the most +remarkable books that anybody ever wrote. The crow's name, by +the way, was "Lars Porsina of Clusium." The little girl used to +give her pets names like that.</p> + +<p>Don't forget what the great naturalist, Agassiz, said about the +pencil being "the best eye"; that is to say, you can get a more +accurate knowledge of things and come nearer to seeing them as +they really are, by drawing them. Drawing, in the best schools, is +a part of Nature Study, and when you get so that you can draw +fairly well—as everybody can with practice—you will find there is +even more of a thrill in thus <i>creating</i> forms—out of nothing, as you +might say—than there is in taking photographs. The pencil is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +magician's wand! As an example and inspiration for taking your +pencil and sketch-book into the fields, get "Eye Spy," by Gibson, +and, of course, Seton's animal books. I do believe Seton drew his +pictures with those simple, expressive outlines so that young folks +could redraw them. The difference between redrawing a drawing +and simply looking at it, is a lot like the difference between <i>reading</i> +a book and merely glancing at the print.</p> + +<p>You are sure to be interested in Sir John Lubbock's book on +"Ants, Bees and Wasps," and you will find a world of interesting +things about the earlier animal days of man in his "Origin of Civilization" +and "Pre-Historic Times."</p> + +<p>And who do you suppose had most to do with teaching men they +were really brothers, and so bringing them up to the civilized life +we know to-day? Mother! (See Drummond's "Ascent of Man," +or Chapter XII of "The Strange Adventures of a Pebble," where the +whole marvellous story of evolution is told in simple form.)</p> + +<p>If Nature Study proves half as delightful and profitable to you +as I am sure it will, the following list of books will be very useful +in building up your library on the subject, and in selecting books +from the public library:</p> + +<p>"<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19381">Among the Farmyard People</a>," by Clara D. Pierson, deals with +various things you probably never noticed about chickens and pigs, +and other domestic animals. "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34943">Among the Meadow People</a>," by +the same author, tells about birds and insects. You can see what +her "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35002">Among the Pond People</a>" tells about—tadpoles, frogs, and +so on. Really, it's a perfect fairy-land, an old pond is! "Among +the Moths and Butterflies," by Julia P. Ballard, is about fairies, +too, as the title shows.</p> + +<p>For children of the seventh to eighth grades, and up, Hornaday's +"American Natural History" will be a delight, and it has +loads of pictures which, as in all well-illustrated scientific books, +are as valuable as the text. You know who Hornaday is, don't +you? He is the man at the head of the great Zoo in New York +City.</p> + +<p>Margaret W. Morley's "The Bee People" is worthy of its subject, +and that's about the highest praise you could give to a book +about bees, I think. Then don't forget, when you are in the library, +to look up her "Grasshopper Land." The grasshopper book +also treats of the grasshopper's cousins, which include the crickets +and the katydids; yes, and the "walking sticks"; and the "praying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +mantis." (Did you know that whether you spell this weird little +creature's first name, "praying," with an "e" or an "a" you'd be +correct?)</p> + +<p>Every boy and girl, of course, is supposed to know about Ernest +Thompson Seton's books, but for fear some of them don't, I'll +mention a few that it simply wouldn't do to miss. +"<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2284">Animal +Heroes</a>" gives the history of a cat, a dog, a pigeon, a lynx, two +wolves and a reindeer; "Krag and Johnny Bear" is made up from +his larger book, "Lives of the Hunted"; "Lobo, Rag and Vixen" +is from his "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3031">Wild Animals I Have Known</a>," +and "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32319">The Trail of the Sandhill Stag</a>."</p> + +<p>John Burroughs is very different from Seton and Long, but the +older you get the better you will like him. His is one of the great +names in the study of Nature's pages at first hand and, as literature, +ranks with the work of Thoreau. Get his +"<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3163">Birds, Bees and Other +Papers</a>," "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23714">Squirrels and Other Fur-bearers</a>."</p> + +<p>Darwin, one of the greatest men in the whole history of science—the +man whose name is most prominently identified with the greatest +discovery in science, the principle of evolution—how do you +suppose he started out? Just by looking around! Read about it +in "What Mr. Darwin Saw in His Voyage around the World."</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX</h2> + + +<p>(For numerous practical suggestions as to the use of an index the reader +is referred to the preface to the index in the author's "Strange +Adventures of a Pebble.")</p> + +<p class="ind1"> +Africa, one country where the Hornbills live, <a href="#imagei181">169</a></p> + +<p>Ants, their interesting habits in relation to the history of the soil, +<a href="#AMOUNT_OF_WORK_DONE_BY_ANTS">94</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">ants that thresh and store, <a href="#ANTS_THAT_THRESH_AND_STORE">205</a>, +<a href="#imagei225">213</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they clean up after the day's work, +<a href="#imagei220">208</a></span> +</p> + +<p>Aphids, how they supply the ants with honey, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></p> + +<p>Armadillo, a four-footed farmer who wears armor;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how fast he can dig, <a href="#II_Four-Footed_Farmers_That_Wear_Armor">120</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the funny gimlet nose that helps him travel +so fast under the ground, <a href="#MR_ARMADILLOS_REMARKABLE_NOSE_DRILL">121</a></span></p> + +<p>Asia, one of the countries where the Hornbills live, <a href="#imagei181">169</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">home of a farmer who stores grain for the +winter, <a href="#Page_212">212</a></span></p> + +<p>Australia, home of that animal paradox, the Duck-billed Mole, <a href="#III._THE_STRANGER_THAT_MADE_LONDON_LAUGH">144</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and of birds that hatch their babies with an +incubator, <a href="#III._THE_MOUND-BUILDERS">174</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="ind1">Bears, how they go into winter quarters, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a></p> + +<p>Beavers, their work and their wisdom, <a href="#IV._THE_BEAVERS">148</a></p> + +<p>Bees. (See Mason Bee and Bumblebee.)</p> + +<p>Beetle, Sacred (Tumble Bug), sinful tactics of, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></p> + +<p>Birds, their ancestors among the ancient monsters, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">service of the Moas in ploughing and in +grinding up rock, <a href="#THE_ELEPHANT_FAMILY_AS_PLOUGHMEN">28</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">other farmers who wear feathers, +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">162</a></span></p> + +<p>Bumblebees, their homes under the ground, <a href="#ABOUT_THE_WASP_THE_FOX_AND_THE_BUMBLEBEE">104</a></p> + + +<p class="ind1">Caveman, what he learned from his fellow animals, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></p> + +<p>Central America, a good place to look for Flamingoes, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></p> + +<p>Chipmunks, work and play in Chipmunkville, <a href="#Work_and_Play_in_Chipmunkville">131</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">why they have large feet for such little +people, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">inside the Chipmunk's home, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">why they have several front doors, +<a href="#WHEN_THOSE_EXTRA_DOORS_COME_HANDY">133</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they spend the winter, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<p>Clouds, how dust helps make them, <a href="#I._THE_MARCH_DUST_AND_THE_APRIL_RAINS">56</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and shape them, <a href="#THE_LITTLE_ARTISTS_THAT_SHAPE_THE_CLOUDS">57</a></span></p> + +<p>Colorado, once the home of prehistoric monsters, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></p> + +<p>Corn, how the "rag babies" tell the fortune of the seed, <a href="#imagei211a">199</a></p> + +<p>Crabs, water farmers who help make land, <a href="#II._THE_CRAB_FAMILY">140</a></p> + +<p>Crayfish, their habits and their service in helping get land ready for the +farmer, <a href="#II._THE_CRAB_FAMILY">140</a></p> + +<p>Crustaceans, their relation to insects, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></p> + +<p>Cuvier, Baron, the famous paleontologist, and his adventure with +a "monster," <a href="#HIDE_AND_SEEK_IN_THE_LIBRARY_34">34</a></p> + + + +<p class="ind1">Dandelions, flying machines of, <a href="#imagei063">51</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>Darwin, Charles, on the importance of earthworms in the history of human +civilization, <a href="#CHAPTER_V">75</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">what he said about the intelligence of roots +and why he said it (the whole chapter is about that), <a href="#CHAPTER_X">186</a>; </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how he taught roots to write their +autobiographies, <a href="#Page_190">190</a></span><br /></p> + +<p>Deserts, plant pioneers in, <a href="#imagei020">8</a>; <br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">rich in plant food, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how irrigation transforms them, <a href="#imagei084">72</a></span></p> + +<p>Dormice, their Thanksgiving dinners and their long winter naps, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></p> + +<p>Duck-billed Mole, the Animal X that lays eggs like a bird and yet suckles +its young like a pussycat, <a href="#III._THE_STRANGER_THAT_MADE_LONDON_LAUGH">144</a></p> + +<p>Dust, how it helps the rain come down, <a href="#I._THE_MARCH_DUST_AND_THE_APRIL_RAINS">56</a></p> + + +<p class="ind1">Earthworms, great importance of their work in pulverizing and fertilizing +the soil, <a href="#CHAPTER_V">75</a>; <br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their habits and remarkable intelligence, +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">75</a>; </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how the great sea and the little earthworms +work together, <a href="#imagei254">242</a></span></p> + +<p>East Indies, home of some of the Hornbills, <a href="#imagei181">169</a></p> + +<p>Electricity, how it helps in the shaping of the clouds, <a href="#THE_LITTLE_ARTISTS_THAT_SHAPE_THE_CLOUDS">57</a></p> + +<p>Elephants, their ancestors among the prehistoric monsters, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">elephants as ploughmen, <a href="#THE_ELEPHANT_FAMILY_AS_PLOUGHMEN">28</a></span></p> + + +<p class="ind1">Fabre, Henri, his study of the Mason Bee and how his schoolboys helped him, +<a href="#Page_108">108</a></p> + +<p>Farms, abandoned, how Nature restores them, <a href="#HOW_NATURE_RESTORES_ABANDONED_FARMS">16</a></p> + +<p>Fish, monster fish of other days, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></p> + +<p>Flamingoes, habits of some feathered farmers with queer noses, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></p> + +<p>Florida, one place where you may find flamingoes, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></p> + +<p>Fox, home life and habits, <a href="#IV._THE_HOME_OF_THE_RED_FOX">128</a></p> + +<p>Frost, Jack, how he helps convert rock into soil, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>; <br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how he makes stones "walk" and in other ways +co-operates with the river mills in making soil, <a href="#HOW_RAINDROPS_MANAGE_TO_GRIND_UP_THE_ROCKS">60</a></span></p> + + +<p class="ind1">Geese, their relation to the flamingoes, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></p> + +<p>Groundhog. (See Woodchuck.)</p> + +<p class="ind1">Hamster, a four-footed farmer who uses a threshing-machine, <a href="#MR_HAMSTERS_THRESHING_HARVESTER">210</a></p> + +<p>Hedgehogs, why they are so unpopular as food, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>; <br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their homes and how they do their ploughing, +<a href="#Page_122">122</a>; </span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">pictures of baby hedgehogs, <a href="#imagei228">216</a>, <a href="#imagei229">217</a>; +</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">why they go into winter quarters, <a href="#ITS_THE_COLD_THAT_MAKES_ONE_DROWSY">216</a>, +<a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<p>Hibernation, "The Autumn Stores and the Long Winter Night," <a href="#Page_204">204</a></p> + +<p>Hornbills, why Mr. Hornbill shuts his wife up in their home in a hollow +tree, <a href="#imagei181">169</a></p> + +<p>Hungary, home of the field rat, a farmer who stores grain for the winter, +<a href="#Page_212">212</a></p> + +<p class="ind1">Ice Ages, how the glaciers ploughed and mixed the soil, <a href="#THE_GREAT_PLOUGHS_OF_THE_ICE_AGES">237</a></p> + +<p>Insects, their service in pulverizing and fertilizing the soil, <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">92</a>; <br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">damage done by injurious insects, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>; +</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">relation of insects to crustaceans, +<a href="#Page_143">143</a></span></p> + +<p class="ind1">Kangaroo rat, <a href="#imagei143">131</a></p> + +<p>Kingfishers, their tunnel homes in the bank and how their fishing +habits help enrich the soil, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></p> + +<p>Kiwi, a late bird that nevertheless gets the worm, <a href="#A_LATE_BIRD_BUT_HE_GETS_THE_WORM">167</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p class="ind1">Lichens, first of the soil makers—how they helped Columbus discover +the world by discovering it first, <a href="#I._HOW_LITTLE_MR._LICHEN_DISCOVERED_THE_WORLD">1</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how the volcanoes and the lichens work +together, <a href="#HOW_THE_LICHENS_AND_THE_VOLCANOES_WORK_TOGETHER">235</a></span></p> + +<p>Lizards, reign of the lizard family in the days of the prehistoric monsters, +<a href="#REIGN_OF_THE_LIZARD_FAMILY">25</a></p> + +<p>Lubbock, Sir John, the great London banker who carried ants in his +pocket—what he had to say about the pleasures of Nature Study, <a href="#STORY_OF_THE_LONDON_BANKER_AND_HIS_ANTS">231</a></p> + +<p class="ind1">Maeterlinck, on the presence of mind of a tree and its heroic struggle +against adverse circumstances, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></p> + +<p>Marmots, their farm villages, <a href="#III_A_Visit_to_Some_Farm_Villages">124</a></p> + +<p>Mason-Bees. The house that Mrs. Mason-Bee built and its relation to the +story of the soil, <a href="#III_The_House_that_Mrs_Mason_Built">104</a></p> + +<p>Moles, their work as ploughmen, <a href="#I._MR._MOLE_AND_HIS_RELATIONS">115</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they do their tunnelling, <a href="#MR_MOLES_PAWS_AND_HOW_HE_WORKS_THEM">117</a>;</span><br +/> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mr. Mole's castle under the ground, +<a href="#imagei130">118</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how he keeps his hair so sleek, +<a href="#Page_119">119</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">where he spends the winter, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<p>Monsters, prehistoric, what they looked like, their habits and how they help +the farmers of to-day with their farming, <a href="#Page_20">20</a></p> + +<p>Mosses, as soil makers, <a href="#II._THE_MARCH_OF_THE_TREES">8</a></p> + +<p>Mound-Birds, how they build their incubators;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">other interesting habits, <a href="#III._THE_MOUND-BUILDERS">174</a></span></p> + +<p>Mountains, how the trees climb them, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">why you always hear a rattle of stones in +the mountains at sunrise, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how the winds help trees to climb the +western slopes, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how the mountains help the rain to come down +and why so many rivers rise in mountains, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">why the bones of the monsters are found in +the mountains, <a href="#II_How_the_Monsters_Died_and_Returned_to_Dust">31</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how the mountains helped kill off the +monsters, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">farm villages of the marmots in the +mountains, <a href="#III_A_Visit_to_Some_Farm_Villages">124</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">team-work between mountains and pebbles, +<a href="#TEAMWORK_BETWEEN_MOUNTAINS_AND_PEBBLES">240</a></span></p> + +<p class="ind1">Nature Study, its great value, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how it is taking the place of cruel sport, +<a href="#Page_232">232</a></span></p> + +<p>New England, why its soil is so versatile and dependable, and how it helps +grow farm boys into famous men, <a href="#Page_239">239</a></p> + +<p>New Zealand, home of a bird that is a very late riser but nevertheless gets +the worm, <a href="#A_LATE_BIRD_BUT_HE_GETS_THE_WORM">167</a></p> + +<p class="ind1">Oven-Birds, of South America, how they differ from the American oven-birds, +<a href="#Page_172">172</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their remarkable adobe homes and their +friendliness toward man, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></span></p> + +<p class="ind1">Pebbles, how they help feed the Wisconsin cows, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">teamwork between mountains and pebbles, +<a href="#TEAMWORK_BETWEEN_MOUNTAINS_AND_PEBBLES">240</a></span></p> + +<p>Philippines, one of the regions where mound-birds live, <a href="#III._THE_MOUND-BUILDERS">174</a>, <a href="#SUCH_AN_EGG_FROM_SUCH_A_BIRD">176</a></p> + +<p>Ploughing, Nature's system: work of the squirrels, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of the elephants and their ancestors among +prehistoric monsters, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of the Moas, <a href="#THE_ELEPHANT_FAMILY_AS_PLOUGHMEN">28</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">of the Dinosaurs, <a href="#THE_MILLSTONES_OF_THE_MOAS">29</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">storm ploughs of the winds, <a href="#III_The_Storm_Ploughs_of_the_Wind">46</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">use of the plough to prevent soil waste, +<a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the great ploughs of the Ice +Ages, <a href="#THE_GREAT_PLOUGHS_OF_THE_ICE_AGES">237</a></span></p> + +<p>Pocket Gopher, Thompson-Seton's "master ploughman," <a href="#imagei141">128</a>;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">why he has that queer expression on his +face, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how he spends the winter, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<p>Pocket-Mouse, <a href="#imagei142">130</a>, <a href="#imagei143">131</a></p> + +<p>Pot Holes, soil-grinding mills of the rivers, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></p> + +<p>Prairie-Dog, his watch tower and how it protects him from his enemies, +<a href="#SUCH_NEAT_CHAMBERMAIDS">126</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">his great sociability, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></span></p> + +<p class="ind1">Rains, their work in making and transporting soil, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></p> + +<p>Rivers, work of the river mills in soil making, <a href="#HOW_RAINDROPS_MANAGE_TO_GRIND_UP_THE_ROCKS">60</a></p> + +<p>Roots, how lichens get along without them, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how and why they work at different levels, +<a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they make their way about (you won't +wonder that Darwin said their actions suggested intelligence!), +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">186</a></span></p> + +<p class="ind1">Sand, how it helps the soil to breathe, <a href="#Page_59">59</a></p> + +<p>Seeds, how they determine the order of march of the trees, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">use of screw-propellers and other devices, +<a href="#imagei054">42</a>, <a href="#imagei061">49</a>, <a href="#imagei063">51</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how and why baby plants back into the world, +<a href="#imagei202">190</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they tried to change a sprouting +seedling's mind but couldn't, <a href="#imagei207">195</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how "rag babies" tell the fortune of corn, +<a href="#imagei211a">199</a></span></p> + +<p>Shrews, their work as ploughmen, <a href="#WONDERFUL_LITTLE_MACHINES_ON_FOUR_LEGS">115</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">where they spend the winter, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<p>Siberia, there you will find the voles and their root cellars, <a href="#II_Mr_Vole_and_His_Root_Cellar">212</a></p> + +<p>South America, home of the four-footed farmers that wear armor, <a href="#II_Four-Footed_Farmers_That_Wear_Armor">120</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and of the viscacha, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">a good place to look for flamingoes, +<a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">and for oven-birds, <a href="#II_Under_the_Oven-Birds_Friendly_Roof">171</a></span></p> + +<p>South Sea Islands, one of the regions in which you find birds that hatch +their babies with an incubator, <a href="#III._THE_MOUND-BUILDERS">174</a></p> + +<p>Squirrels, how they help the trees to march, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">the winding streets of Ground-Squirrel Town, +<a href="#imagei135">123</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">marmots, the largest of the squirrel family, +<a href="#III_A_Visit_to_Some_Farm_Villages">124</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how the tree-squirrels spend the winter, +<a href="#Page_218">218</a></span></p> + +<p>Swallows, their habits and their service as soil makers, <a href="#IV_THE_SWALLOWS">177</a></p> + +<p class="ind1">Termites, insects improperly called "white ants";<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their habits in relation to the history of +the soil, <a href="#HOW_TERMITES_ARE_LIKE_THE_ANTS">100</a></span></p> + +<p>Terracing, how employed to prevent waste of soil, <a href="#imagei083">71</a></p> + +<p>Texas, you can still find armadillos there, <a href="#II_Four-Footed_Farmers_That_Wear_Armor">120</a></p> + +<p>Trees, their settled order of march into new lands, <a href="#II._THE_MARCH_OF_THE_TREES">8</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how the winds and the rains help trees to +climb the western slopes of mountains, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how waste of trees causes waste of soil, +<a href="#imagei081">69</a></span></p> + +<p>Turtles, how turtles differ from tortoises;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">habits of both these water farmers, +<a href="#I_The_Turtle_People">137</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how turtles differ from crabs in their +notions about laying eggs, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></span></p> + +<p class="ind1">Viscachas, South American relatives of the prairie-dogs;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their villages and their athletic fields, +<a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they rescue their buried comrades, +<a href="#Page_128">128</a></span></p> + +<p>Volcanoes, their contribution to soil making, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they help the plant world to +get its breath, <a href="#THE_WINDS_AND_VOLCANOES">40</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">team-work between volcanoes and lichens,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +<a href="#HOW_THE_LICHENS_AND_THE_VOLCANOES_WORK_TOGETHER">235</a></span></p> + +<p>Voles, four-footed farmers who fill root cellars for the winter, <a href="#II_Mr_Vole_and_His_Root_Cellar">212</a></p> + +<p class="ind1">Wasps, their habits in relation to the history of the soil, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></p> + +<p>Weather and the groundhog's shadow, <a href="#IV_Mr_Ground-Hog_and_His_Shadow">219</a></p> + +<p>Weeds, as soil makers, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></p> + +<p>Winds, how they helped Mr. Lichen to discover the world, <a href="#I._HOW_LITTLE_MR._LICHEN_DISCOVERED_THE_WORLD">1</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">how they help the trees to march, +<a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">their work in making, mixing, and +transporting soil, <a href="#Page_37">37</a></span></p> + +<p>Winter in the animal world, under the ground, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></p> + +<p>Woodchuck (Groundhog), picturesque home of a Connecticut woodchuck, <a href="#imagei146">134</a>;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mr. Woodchuck's winter quarters and his +shadow, <a href="#IV_Mr_Ground-Hog_and_His_Shadow">219</a></span></p> + +<p>Wyoming, one of the homes of the prehistoric monsters, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></p> + +<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"> +<span class="label">[1]</span></a> "The Strange Adventures of a Pebble."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> +"The Strange Adventures of a Pebble."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> +All these things put together are called "weathering."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"> +<span class="label">[4]</span></a> Muir. "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10012">The +Mountains of California</a>."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> + "The Strange Adventures of a Pebble."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> That is to say, no descendants worthy of them. It is now thought +some of the modern reptiles may be degenerate descendants of the big +reptiles of old.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"> +</a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Muir: + "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10012">The Mountains of California</a>."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> +"<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18562">Outlines of Earth's History</a>."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> "The Two Majesties." This painting, by a great French realist, +shows a lion getting home rather late, after his night out, stopping for +a look at the rising sun; a thing with which, owing to his habits, he is +not very familiar.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> When you study French, if you want to read this book—like most +French works on science it is very interesting—ask for Perrier's "Organization +des Lumbricus Terrestris."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Just listen to this: "Worms," says Mr. Darwin, in that remarkable +book of his, "are indifferent to very sharp objects, even rose thorns +and small splinters of glass."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> In the world of science, the ant goes by her Latin name, <i>Formica</i>, +and the whole family is known as the <i>Formicidę</i>. To a Roman boy +<i>Formica</i> simply meant "ant." <i>Fusca</i> is also Latin, and means "dark"; +so you can see this part of the story is about a species of dark ant. As +a matter of fact he is dark brown.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> + The scientific name for this particular kind of ant is <i>Lasius niger</i>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> A "bad" conductor is often a <i>good</i> thing, as you'll see by looking +it up in the dictionary.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> +The whole story is told in the famous book, "<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2884">The Mason Bee</a>," +by Henri Fabre. He was the teacher.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> The boys were a great help. You ought to see what Fabre himself +says about them in that famous book of his.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> You've often noticed them, haven't you? Now read Fabre's +wonderful book and see how much you <i>didn't</i> notice.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> "And that's once too many," as the old farmer said; and we must +agree with him when we think only of the damage they do.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> One of my friends in the faculty of the University of Chicago tells +me there are still a good many armadillos in Texas.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Isn't that the way a toad swallows an angleworm? Or how <i>does</i> +he do it?</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Observers find that flamingoes can be successfully approached by +putting on the skin of a cow or a horse.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> "Admire," +in those days, meant "to wonder at."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> By the way, the funny thing is that, while the bacteria that live on +roots of the legumes are plants and not animals, most of them <i>do</i> +move about.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> + Rev. H. S. McCook: "The Agricultural Ant of Texas."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Strictly speaking, I presume this was the same Apollo who carried +the sun about in his chariot, and "Destroyer of Mice" was one of his +many nicknames.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> Here imagine Brer Bear putting on his specs and reading from the +book.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> That's the name of the Englishman I've just been quoting. He's +a famous artist, but, like most cultivated Englishmen, can also write +a good book when he feels like it.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Ingersoll: "Wild Neighbors."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> Adapted from Langdon Smith.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> Whittier's "Barefoot Boy."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> "Pictured Knowledge."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> + "The Strange Adventures of a Pebble."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a>"As You Like It."</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> + Martin: "Physiography of Wisconsin."</p> + + +</div> + +<div class="notes"> +<p>Transcriber's note:</p> + +<p>In the scanned version of this book, there is apparently a printer error in the acknowledgments for sources of +illustrations (page x) where the author refers to an illustration on page +125. There is no illustration on page 125 in the original text, so the +hyperlink in this ebook has been connected to the closest illustration, (caption: This Must Be a Pleasant Day) which is on page +126 in the original text.</p> + +<p>Another possible printer error occurred on page 52, where the phrase +"branches and holes" appears in the original text. In an effort to relate the context +of the phrase, this has been changed to +"branches and boles" in this text.</p> + +<p>Full-page illustrations have been moved to the nearest paragraph so as not to interrupt +the flow of the text. Some page numbers are missing as a result. </p> + +<p>Where appropriate, internal hyperlinks within the index link directly to the pertinent +chapter heading, section, or illustration referred to on the referenced +page. In cases where no appropriate heading was available on the page, the top of the +referenced page is linked. In some cases illustrations have been moved from the original location +in order to avoid breaks in paragraphs, and to place them more closely +to the related paragraph. For example, the index reference +for "Hornbills" (page 169) links directly to the illustration now located on +page 170.</p> + +<p>This book contains links to other books in the Project Gutenberg collection. +Although we verify the correctness of these links at the time of posting, +these links may not work, for various reasons, for various people, at +various times.</p></div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of a Grain of Dust, by +Hallam Hawksworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF A GRAIN OF DUST *** + +***** This file should be named 38066-h.htm or 38066-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/0/6/38066/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Cathy Maxam, Joseph Cooper and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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