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diff --git a/old/55097-h/55097-h.htm b/old/55097-h/55097-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index cd15a8a..0000000 --- a/old/55097-h/55097-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9190 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Book of Nimble Beasts, by Douglas English</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - - body { - margin-left: 7%; - margin-right: 8%; - font-size: 110%; - } - - p { - margin-top: .5em; - text-indent: 1em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .5em; - line-height: 120%; - } - - h1 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; - font-weight: normal; - font-style: normal; - font-size: 150%; - line-height: 120%; - margin-top: 2.5em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - } - - h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; 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} - .indent2 { padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em; } - .nodent { text-indent: 0; } - .center { text-indent: 0; text-align: center; } - .bold { font-weight: bold; } - .smcap { font-variant: small-caps; } - .uppercase { text-transform: uppercase; } - .large { font-size: large; } - .x-large { font-size: x-large; } - .small { font-size: small; } - .x-small { font-size: x-small; } - .gap-above { margin-top: 2em; } - .gap-between { letter-spacing: 4em; } - -@media handheld { - .image-float-left { - float: none; - text-align: center; - margin-right: 0; - } - .image-float-right { - float: none; - text-align: center; - margin-left: 0; - } - } - - h1.pg { font-weight: bold; - font-size: 190%; - line-height: 100%; - margin-top: 0em; } - h2.pg { font-weight: bold; - font-size: 135%; - line-height: 100%; } - h3.pg { font-weight: bold; - font-size: 110%; - line-height: 100%; - margin-bottom: 1em; } - h4 { text-align: center; - clear: both; } - hr.full { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Book of Nimble Beasts, by Douglas English, -Illustrated by Douglas English</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world 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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: A Book of Nimble Beasts</p> -<p> Bunny Rabbit, Squirrel, Toad, and "Those Sort of People"</p> -<p>Author: Douglas English</p> -<p>Release Date: July 13, 2017 [eBook #55097]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF NIMBLE BEASTS***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by MFR, Chris Pinfield,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/bookofnimblebeas00engliala"> - https://archive.org/details/bookofnimblebeas00engliala</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<p class="center large">A BOOK OF<br />NIMBLE BEASTS</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 338px;"> - <img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="338" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">He held himself with an air, his body - arched, one broad white pad uplifted, his tail curved - decorously.—<span class="smcap">In Weasel Wood.</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="front"> - - <h1>A BOOK OF<br /> - NIMBLE BEASTS</h1> - - <p class="small">BUNNY RABBIT, SQUIRREL, TOAD,<br /> - AND "THOSE SORT OF PEOPLE"</p> - - <p>BY<br /> - <span class="large">DOUGLAS ENGLISH</span><br /> - <span class="small">FELLOW AND MEDALIST OF THE ROYAL<br /> - PHOTOGRAPHIC SOCIETY</span></p> - - <p>WITH OVER 200 ILLUSTRATIONS<br /> - FROM PHOTOGRAPHS OF LIVING<br /> - ANIMALS TAKEN BY THE AUTHOR</p> - - <p>London<br /> - <span class="large">EVELEIGH NASH & GRAYSON LTD.</span><br /> - 148 Strand<br /> - <span class="small">1922</span></p> - - <p class="x-small"><span class="smcap">Printed by</span><br /> - WOODS & SONS, LTD.,<br /> - <span class="smcap">338-340, Upper Street,<br /> - London, N. 1</span>.</p> - - <p class="large">IN MEMORY<br /> - C. J. E.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="image-right"> - <img src="images/005.jpg" width="125" height="107" alt=""/> -</div> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table id="toc" summary="ToC"> - -<tr> - <td class="month"></td> - <td class="pag"><span class="x-small">PAGE</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">JANUARY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">SOMETHING ABOUT BATS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">FEBRUARY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">SOMETHING ABOUT TADPOLES</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">VALENTINE'S DAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">MARCH</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">ANIMALS' NESTS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">APRIL</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">SOMETHING ABOUT BEETLES</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">LADY DAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">BUNNY RABBIT</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">MAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">A BUTTERFLY PAINT-BOX</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">JUNE</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">TWO WONDERFUL WASPS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">MIDSUMMER DAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">SPINIPES THE SAND-WASP</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">JULY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">PICTURES ON BUTTERFLIES' WINGS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">AUGUST</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">A VERY WEE BEASTIE AND A VERY BIG ONE</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">LAMMAS DAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">IN WEASEL WOOD</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">SEPTEMBER</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">SHEEP IN WOLVES' CLOTHING AND<br />WOLVES IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">OCTOBER</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">THE BEASTIES' BED-TIME</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">MICHAELMAS DAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">THE BLUNDERS OF BARTIMÆUS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">NOVEMBER</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">SOMETHING ABOUT A CHAMÆLEON</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">DECEMBER</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">THE TRAIL OF NIMBLE BEASTS</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">CHRISTMAS DAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S BAND</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="month">BOXING-DAY</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">THE PYGMY SHREW</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_301">301</a></td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR</h3> - -<table id="toic" summary="ToIc"> - -<tr> - <td class="group"></td> - <td class="pag"></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="group">IN WEASEL WOOD</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He held himself with an air, his body arched, one broad - white pad uplifted, his tail curved decorously</td> - <td class="pag"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="group">A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Green Toad slowly stretched himself. "THAT?" - said he, "that's not French"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">At the fifth stone—a bulky slanting one—he sighted the - French Frog</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="group">SPINIPES, THE SAND WASP</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">An instant's pause to shift her grip, and she had pushed - the grub within the entrance</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Take that—and that—and That," said Spinipes, and - drove her sharp Sting home</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="group">THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S BAND</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">And the last thing Winnie remembers was the Great - Green Grasshopper's Wife hurrying the little Skipjacks - off to bed</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS IN TEXT</h3> - -<table id="toit" summary="ToIt"> - -<tr> - <td class="group"></td> - <td class="pag"></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">SOMETHING ABOUT BATS</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Natterer's Bat</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Lesser Horseshoe Bat</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Noctule</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Noctule</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Lesser Horseshoe Bat going to sleep</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Greater Horseshoe</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Long-eared Bat</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Greater Horseshoe Bat hanging head downwards</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Pipistrelle</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">SOMETHING ABOUT TADOLES</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Toad's Spawn</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Frog's Spawn floating on the water</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Frog's Spawn Quite Fresh</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Frog's Spawn beginning to Grow</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Frog's Spawn showing Young Tadpoles, &c.</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Tadpoles getting like Frogs</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Tadpoles full grown</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Passable</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">His Little Eyes were Starting from their Sockets</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Water Rat</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Salamander</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Natterjack</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Have you Seen this Trick before</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The French Frog</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"I see a Natterjack"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Fetch him," thundered the King Toad</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Five Times He Tried</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Shrew Mouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He Bristled with Apologies</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Green Toad</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">His Inside was Red Hot</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He Lay as He had Fallen</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Ducks," whispered Bombinatrix</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">ANIMALS' NESTS</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Four Moles' Nests Together</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Squirrel</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Harvest Mouse Nest</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Dormouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">A Dormouse's Nursery Nest</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Harvest Mouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">SOMETHING ABOUT BEETLES</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Stag-Beetle</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Stag-Beetle that I ran over</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Female Stag-Beetle</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Great Water Beetle</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Musk Beetle</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Cockchafer</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Churchyard Beetle</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">BUNNY RABBIT</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Landed on his Back six feet below</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">It wasn't Mother after all</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He Combed his Ears Out</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He Watched and Heard the Awakening of the Wood</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Berus the Adder</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Lay full length, eyes closed</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Bunny Rabbit Watched him out of Sight</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">A BUTTERFLY PAINT-BOX</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Brimstone Butterfly</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Red Admiral</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Purple Emperor</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Clifden Blue</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Swallow Tail Butterfly</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Black Pepper Moth</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Silver-washed Fritillary</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">TWO WONDERFUL WASPS</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Spinipes' burrow opened up</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Spinipes Bringing up a Grub</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Spinipes Grub Feeding</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Cocoon which Spinipes' Grubs make</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Little Beetle that Caterpillars turn into</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Before and After the Thunderstorm</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Crabro</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Crabro Looking out of her hole</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">How the Cocoons Looked</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">One of the Crabro's Stores of Blue-Bottles</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">What the piece of Elm-bough looked like</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">One of the Cocoons of Crabro in Elm-bough</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">SPINIPES, THE SAND-WASP</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Sand Cliff splits the Old Gravel-Pit in two</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">First the Wild Bees, Red King, Black Queen</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Down Dropped a Red King</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"In Sand, Ma'am, in Sand"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Well, call me when it comes"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Spinipes commenced to Dig in Earnest</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Good Hunting, Sister!" said the Ophion Fly</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Rose Chafer</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Out flew the Bees</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Hour after Hour she Toiled</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Lowest Chamber of the Shaft now held a precious thing</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">A Flabby, Green, Blackheaded Grub</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Twelve Grubs in all she brought</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">She Sank five other Curving Shafts</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">PICTURES ON BUTTER-FLIES' WINGS</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Magpie Moth</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Emperor Moth</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Elephant Hawk Moth's Caterpillar</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Elephant Hawk Moth showing his Trunk</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Peacock Butterfly</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Mother Shipton Moth</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">A VERY WEE BEASTIE AND A VERY BIG ONE</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Common Shrewmouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Water Shrewmouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Pygmy Shrewmouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">How the Pygmy Coils Himself Up to Sleep</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">IN WEASEL WOOD</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Again the Fox Cub was Puzzled</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He Sank from his Hindquarters forward</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Stoat Tiptoed Towards Him</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"My Plumed Tail! you wait till Squirrel grows"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Marten has seen you</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Perhaps you will be good enough to get higher up the tree"</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">It was another Badger</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">She came out full charge</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">And in due course of time, his wife</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">SHEEP IN WOLVES' CLOTHING</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Lobster Moth Caterpillar</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Spider on the Bramble Blossom</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Dragon in the Water-weed</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Lobster Moth Caterpillar, Angry</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Ichneumon Fly</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Puss Moth Caterpillar</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Giant Wood Wasp</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">THE BEASTIES' BEDTIME</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Queen Wasp in her Winter Sleep</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Bill the Lizard</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Toadums</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Round Eye the Dormouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Dormouse in his Winter Sleep</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Prickles the Hedge Pig</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Hedge Pig in his Winter Sleep</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Lesser Horseshoe Bat Asleep</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">THE BLUNDERS OF BARTIMÆUS</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Bartimæus</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He Headed Straight for the Water</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Bank Rose Steeply Over Him</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Only one grass-blade stirred, but Tatters saw it</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Harvest Mouse stood up full length</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Harvest Mouse drew herself up indignant</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Weasels!" said the Meadow Mouse</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"Don't rush!" the Pygmy screamed behind</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">His fortress, his own fortress had been breached</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">SOMETHING ABOUT A CHAMÆLEON</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">You can see his eye looking back over his shoulder</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">You can see his hands and feet</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Chamæleon</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">THE TRAIL OF NIMBLE BEASTS</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Nuts Gnawed by Mice</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_269">269</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Weasel's Trail</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Where the Weasel met the Mice</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Where the Weasel met the Rook</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Two Mouse Trails</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Fox's Footprints</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S BAND</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">She Never went to Sleep at all</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Cricket was Sitting on the Hearthstone</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The pair of them dropped</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">"I beg your pardon," said the Grasshopper's Wife</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_288">288</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Mole Cricket</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Field Cricket</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Wood Cricket</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The First Note sent the Grasshopper's Wife's hind legs straight up</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He had backed out of his hole</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Grasshopper's Wife reared herself up</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td colspan="2" class="group">THE PYGMY SHREW</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Woodmouse First</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He took the Right-hand Surface run</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">He could now see and hear as well</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">His rival feinting, flicked his tail</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Grey Shrew Leant against the Trunk</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_309">309</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">With Tangled Tails and Rounded Straining Bodies</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">There they lay head to tail</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Field Voles</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Bat came to a halt and stared</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Pygmy climbed two inches up</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">Now one was on his back, now the other</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="title">The Mole plunged into the air</td> - <td class="pag"><a href="#Page_317">317</a></td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<h2>PUBLISHER'S NOTE</h2> - -<div class="small"> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">The</span> -publisher may, perhaps, be allowed to call the -reader's attention to the illustrations—particularly to -the two of the Sand-Wasps, reproduced in colour. -The difficulties of photographing from wild life active creatures -of such small dimensions as hymenopterous insects -are very great from an optical standpoint. The picture of -Spinipes bringing the beetle grub to her tube took several -years to accomplish successfully, and the strain involved -by the conditions, a blazing June sun on the operator's -back, an uncertain foothold, and the necessity of keeping -the attention riveted for hours on one particular patch of -sunlit sand, was exceptional. It is of course possible, -probable even, that with the introduction of an improved -lens system, which will enable fast exposures to be made -at very short range on minute moving objects, this particular -picture may be repeated and improved upon. But -the odds against the second picture on the same page, -that of Spinipes stinging the jewel-fly, <i>ever</i> being repeated, -are enormous. It will be necessary in order to secure -the repetition of such a picture, first, that the camera -shall be focussed on one out of a score of tubes; second, -that the parasitic jewel-fly shall enter that particular tube; -third, that the Owner Wasp shall return while the jewel-fly -is below; fourth, that the Owner Wasp shall pull the -jewel-fly to the surface; fifth, that the jewel-fly shall -cling to the rim of the tube; sixth, that the Wasp shall -sting it in this position—it will be noticed that the sting -is directed at the junction of the thorax and abdomen; -seventh, that the observer shall be ready to expose his -plate at the exact psychological moment; and eighth, -that he shall succeed in doing so. The first six conditions -were, in Mr. English's case, fulfilled by chance. -As regards the seventh he was unready. He was, in fact, -some feet below his camera. But chance befriended him -still further.</p> - -<p>He caught the jewel-fly's glint, and caught the shadow -of the returning Wasp. He flung his arm up, grabbed -the dangling bulb, and pressed at random. This action -dragged the camera from its moorings—to fix a camera -on a Sand Cliff's side is no slight task—and it fell twelve -feet down. Yet it had done its work and made the -picture.</p> - -<p>There are a score of pictures in this book, which -are believed to be unique, not only by reason of -the rarity of their subjects, but also by reason of the fact -that they are the <i>only</i> pictures of such subjects, good or -bad, in existence. The most remarkable among them -is the picture of Spinipes stinging the jewel-fly.</p> - -</div> - -<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I know</span> -a Boy Scout who has never -seen a weasel. Many weasels, I fancy, -must have seen that Boy Scout.</p> - -<p>And I know a Girl who has never seen a -Harvest Mouse, but who might have, often.</p> - -<p>There may be other boys and girls like -these. There may be grown-ups also.</p> - -<p>It is for them that I have written this book. -It is to them that I offer its pictures.</p> - -<p>I would lead them (with hushed voices and -quiet feet) into God's Under-World; a World -of queer small happenings; of sparkling eyes -and vanishing tails; a whispering, rustling -World.</p> - -<p>I would have them, whatever their age -be, approach this World as children. For -children's eyes are closest to the ground.</p> - -<div class="foot"> -<div class="right0 smcap">Douglas English</div> -<div class="left1 smcap small">Hawley, Dartford, 1910</div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">{17}</a></div> - - <h2>SOMETHING ABOUT BATS<br /> - <small>(JANUARY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/017.jpg" width="200" height="321" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Natterer's Bat</span><br /> - The best-looking Bat in Britain</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">You</span> -must all, I think, have seen Bats flying, or, at any rate, pictures -of Bats flying, and you must all know that they are night, or twilight, -beasties, though some of our English kinds fly about in broad daylight -more often than most people think. But do you all know that they are the -only four-footed creatures that <i>really</i> fly—for -they are four-footed though they don't look it; -and do you all know that there are, probably, -more different kinds of Bats in England -than there are different kinds of any -other beastie; and that they are the very -ugliest of British Beasties, taking them -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">{18}</a></span> -altogether; and that they all have very small -eyes—which is a queer thing for twilight -beasties to have; owls, of course, and dormice -have very big eyes—and that they have -either very wonderful ears, or very wonderful -noses, but not both together? If you don't -know all this, perhaps you would like to hear -more.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/019.jpg" width="200" height="245" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Lesser Horseshoe Bat</span><br /> - You can see his nose-leaf, shaped like a horseshoe, very - well in this picture. Both the Greater and Lesser Horseshoe - Bats are wonderfully neat fliers</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>We had better, I think, begin with a Bat's -wings, for, when we have learnt something -about these, we may perhaps get some notion -as to why a Bat is more clever in the air than -a bird, and far, far more clever than a flying -machine, worked by a human brain, is at -present. The reason why a Bat is a cleverer, -I don't mean a stronger, flier than a bird, is -a reason which you young people will find to -be a very common one, if ever you try your -hand at guessing Mother Nature's riddles. -It is simply this—that <i>he has to be</i>. A Bat -has to catch his food, tiny food mostly, in the -air, and he has to catch it in a bad light, and, -as far as we can tell, though we cannot be -sure of this, his eyesight is not as good as, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">{19}</a></span> -say, a swallow's eyesight. This means that he has had to pick up a -wonderful quickness in checking his own flight, and in turning sharp in -the air, almost head over heels -sometimes, and in diving, and in soaring up -again. To do all these things well he has -had to be built in a very special way, and I -will try to explain to you how he has been -built by comparing a Bat with one of ourselves, -for you must remember that a Bat -belongs to the same great order of living -creatures as we do, and that a Bat is much -more like a human being than a bird is.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/020.jpg" width="200" height="243" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Noctule</span><br /> - You can see one earlet quite plainly, and his eye "starting - out of his head"</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Let us fancy, then, a small boy being -turned into a Bat. The first thing that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">{20}</a></span> -would have to happen would be that his legs -would have to be bent at the knees, and -shrunk until they were as thin as sticks. Then they would have to be -twisted right and left until the knee-caps faced the wrong way about. -His arms would have to be -shrunk too, and his fore-arms would have to be -stretched until they were twice their natural -length, and his middle-fingers would have to -be about a yard long, and his other fingers -nearly a yard long also. His thumb might be -left as it was, but it would have to have a strong -claw at the end of it. In between his fingers, -and joining his arms to his body, and stretching -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">{21}</a></span> -down to his legs, and joining his legs -together, there would have to be a web of -skin, and then, perhaps, if his chest was -brought well forward like a pigeon's, and his -head pressed well back until it stopped -between his shoulders, he might, if his muscles -were strong enough, and the whole of him -was light enough, be able to fly.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/021.jpg" width="500" height="496" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Noctule</span><br /> - One of our largest Bats. He is sometimes more than a foot - across the wings, and his brown fur is as velvety as a - Mole's—when he feels quite well</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/022.jpg" width="200" height="374" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lesser Horseshoe Bat</span><br /> - He is hanging head downwards, and beginning to wrap himself - up in his wings before going to sleep</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Now about a Bat's eyes. I have already told -you that these are very small—at least they -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">{22}</a></span> -look very small in our English Bats—and that it does not seem likely -that Bats possess the wonderful eyesight, which one would expect them to -have. In some cases the eyes are so curiously placed in the head that -the Bat can hardly be able to see straight in front of him at all. In -the Leaf-nosed Bats, for -instance, you can only just see the Bat's eyes -when you look at him full face, because his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">{23}</a></span> -leaf-nose all but hides them—you can see -what I mean from the pictures—and in the -case of one rare little bat, the Barbastelle, the -eyes are set so far back that part of the ear -comes round them like a horse's blinkers; -and one can hardly imagine his being able to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">{24}</a></span> -see much sideways, even if he can see quite -well in front. There is just one little thing, -however, which I have noticed in a large Bat -called the Noctule, and this may mean that -Bats have better eyesight than one would at -first suppose. The Noctule can make his own eyes "start out of his -head," until they seem to be almost twice as large as usual. If all Bats -can do this it is quite likely that very few people have seen their eyes -properly at all; that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">{25}</a></span> -is, have seen them as they really appear, when -the Bats are chasing moths in the twilight.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 345px;"> - <img src="images/023.jpg" width="345" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THE GREATER HORSESHOE—A PIG THAT <i>DOES</i> FLY</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/025.jpg" width="500" height="386" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Long-eared Bat</span><br /> - His ears are more than twice as long as his head, and - beautifully pink and transparent when seen in the right - light</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/024.jpg" width="200" height="334" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Greater Horseshoe Bat</span><br /> - Hanging head downwards. Except when he is flying he always - carries his tail cocked up over his back, as you see it.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>I think I will leave the pictures to show -you the ugliness of Bats generally, though I -have purposely put one picture in to show -you that all Bats are not ugly—for I am sure -you will agree with me that the little white-fronted -Natterer's Bat, has quite a pretty face. -I must tell you a little more, though, about -Bats' ears and noses.</p> - -<p>When we were turning, in imagination, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">{26}</a></span> -our small boy into a Bat, we did not trouble -ourselves about his ears and nose, but we -ought to have done so, for there are some -very wonderful differences between Bats' ears -and noses, and the ears and noses of human -beings. If you will look at anybody's ear -carefully you will see that in front of, and -just a little below the ear-hole, there is a -small lump of flesh which points backwards -across the opening. It is not much to look -at in a human being, and does not seem to -serve any particular purpose, but in many -Bats it is evidently very important, for it is -quite large and takes all sorts of curious -shapes. It is called the "earlet." Sometimes -it is pointed, sometimes square, and -sometimes rounded. Sometimes it is long -and thin and tapering like a dagger, and -sometimes it is short and thick and blunted -like a kidney-bean. You will see several of -its different shapes in the pictures, and you -will also see that the leaf-nosed Bats, who -have such queer ornaments on their noses, -do not have it all. Now some wise folk think -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">{27}</a></span> -that the ornament on the face of a leaf-nosed -Bat, which makes him appear so very ugly to -our ideas (though I have no doubt his wife -thinks it very beautiful) may give him a kind -of sixth sense which is neither seeing, nor -smelling, nor hearing, nor feeling, nor tasting: -a sense, that is, like that which blind -people often seem to possess and which helps -them, poor souls, through their world of -darkness. If this is so (but you must remember -that we can only guess about it), it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">{28}</a></span> -may be that the earlets of Bats do much the -same, and that, therefore, Bats with earlets -have no need of leaf-noses, and Bats with leaf-noses -have no need of earlets.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/027.jpg" width="500" height="347" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Pipistrille</span><br /> - A small Bat and one of the commonest</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">{29}</a></div> - - <h2>SOMETHING ABOUT TADPOLES<br /> - <small>(FEBRUARY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 400px;"> - <img src="images/029.jpg" width="400" height="314" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">This is Toad's Spawn, which is - laid in "Ropes"</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">How</span> -many of you can tell me the difference between a frog-tadpole and a -toad-tadpole? I don't mean when they are so small that it seems a -kindness to call them tadpoles at all, but when they are quite a good -size, with great fat heads and shiny little eyes and squiggly little -tails. And how many of you can tell me the number of different kinds of -tadpoles which one can find in England in the springtime? Most -of you, I am sure, know a tadpole when you see -one (sometimes he is called "pot-ladle,"or "polly-wog," -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">{30}</a></span> -or "horse-nail,") and some of you may -know that a fat frog-tadpole is brown with little -specks of gold, while a fat toad-tadpole is black -all over; but I don't expect many of you -know that there are two kinds of frog-tadpole, -and two kinds of toad-tadpole, and three kinds -of newt-tadpole, to be met with in England, -which makes seven kinds of tadpoles in all.</p> - -<p>Now as these seven little tadpoles are all -different from one another (though the two frog-tadpoles -and the two toad-tadpoles are not <i>very</i> -different), we may be quite sure that they grow -up into seven different little beasties. I am going -to tell you something about the frog- and toad-tadpoles -now and leave the newt-tadpoles for -another time, for it will be easier for you if you -don't have too much to remember at once.</p> - -<p>If you go into the country in springtime (the -middle of March is the best time where I live, but -in other places it may be a little earlier or a little -later) and find a pond, or a brook which runs -quite slowly, or even a hole in swampy ground -which has water in it, you are almost sure to -see a lump of stuff which looks like dirty grey -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">{31}</a></span> -jelly, either close to the bank or on the top of -some of the weeds.</p> - -<p>If you pick up a little of this, you will find -(perhaps before it has slipped out of your fingers -and perhaps after) that it is full of round black -eggs.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/031.jpg" width="500" height="450" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">This is Frog's Spawn Floating on the Water</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The grey jelly is either frog's spawn or toad's -spawn.</p> - -<p>If it is just a lump with no particular shape -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">{32}</a></span> -to it, it is frog's spawn, but if it is made up of -small slimy ropes, which come apart from one -another, and in which the eggs lie in rows like -strings of black beads, it is toad's spawn. -When you find toad's spawn, you may be sure -that frog's spawn has been about for some time, -for frog's spawn is always to be found rather -earlier in the year. Whichever it may be you -should take a little of it (quite a little is best) -and put it in a glass jam-jar half full of water, -and stand this in some bright, warm place, -where it will not get knocked over, and where -the sun will not shine directly on to it.</p> - -<p>Frogs and toads usually lay their eggs in -places where the sun <i>does</i> shine on them and -warms them gently, and so hatches them out, -but of course they do not lay them in glass -bottles, and if the sun shines on these, the water -will get warmer than is good for them, partly -because there is no other water round to keep it -cool, and partly because the bottle acts as a -kind of burning-glass, and brings too much -of the sunshine into itself, and so gives too much -warmth to the eggs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">{33}</a></span> -Some people think the jelly of frog's or toad's -spawn acts like a burning-glass too; this, however, -is a burning-glass which Mother Nature -has arranged, and so there is no fear of its not -acting properly.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/033.jpg" width="500" height="480" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">This is Frog's Spawn When it is Quite Fresh</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>If you find frog's or toad's spawn soon after -it is laid, you will see only a small quantity of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">{34}</a></span> -jelly round it, but this soon swells out and gets -much bigger.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/035.jpg" width="500" height="558" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">This is Frog's Spawn, too</span><br /> - But I have photographed it with a microscope, so that you may see it - a little bigger than it really is. Right in the middle is a Tadpole - who has grown his feathery gills, and close to him is one like a - little alderman. There is another Tadpole with gills towards the - right hand bottom corner, but there is an egg behind which makes his - shape wrong. All the round things are eggs and the long things are - Tadpoles which have just hatched</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/034.jpg" width="300" height="374" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Frog's Spawn</span><br /> - The Little Curly Tails are beginning to Grow</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Have you ever seen Cook make a jelly? The first thing she does is to -soak the gelatine in water, so that it gets soft and swells to twice the -size it was before. It swells because it takes up water inside it, and -frog's spawn does just the same. Now we must try and -think what the frog's spawn jelly is for. It is -really the white of the eggs, the black beads being -the yolk. You wouldn't understand all its uses, -but one is that it makes the frog's spawn much -more difficult to eat, because it is so slippery. -A great many water birds are very fond of -frog's spawn and would gobble it up very -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">{35}</a></span> -quickly if they had a good, big spoon, instead -of a rather small bill. As it is, a great deal of -frog's spawn and a good many tadpoles are -eaten up one way or another, which is really -rather lucky for us, for frogs and toads lay -millions and millions of eggs, and, if they all -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">{36}</a></span> -hatched out, there wouldn't be room in the -world for all little frogs and toads.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/036.jpg" width="500" height="426" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Tadpoles are here seen Getting very like Frogs</span><br /> - Most of them have all four legs, but one has only his hind - legs at present</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Well, if you keep your glass bottle with the -eggs in it in a good place and look at it every -day, you will find something fresh to interest -you every day. First the black yolks will grow -larger and change their shape so that they seem -longer than they are broad, and presently you -will find that they are turning into tadpoles. -The baby tadpole seems much too fat to begin -with, and sticks out in front like a little alderman; -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">{37}</a></span> -but soon he gets slimmer again, and you -find that he is growing a curly tail (which no -alderman ever did), and that there are tiny markings -where his eyes and mouth are going to be. -He is still very small (about a quarter of an -inch long), but before he is much bigger a very -wonderful thing happens—it has been happening -all the time, though you have not been able to -see it—he grows a pair of gills like a fish. -They are delicate, feathery things, and stand out -on either side of his head, I should like to say -"neck," but I do not think I ought to because -frogs and toads have no necks at all, and so -I suppose tadpoles have none either. All this -time his tail is growing too, and presently it is -long enough for him to swim with. When this -happens he slips out of the jelly and wriggles -about in the water. At present he has no real -mouth, but he has a little opening, shaped like a -horseshoe, near to where his mouth is going to -be, and he uses this to hold on to weeds when -he is tired, which he very soon is at first.</p> - -<p>Once he is fairly hatched, however, his mouth -grows quickly and he gets a pair of rather hard -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">{38}</a></span> -little jaws with which he can nibble the water-weed. -When this happens you must, of course, -put some water-weed into the bottle, though -grass will do if you can't get anything else.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 484px;"> - <img src="images/039.jpg" width="484" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Tadpoles Full Grown</span><br /> - They are covered with little specks of gold. At the bottom - one can be seen feeding</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>I told you that he had gills like a fish, but -they are curious gills at this early stage because -they have no flap of skin to protect them. If -you want to see a fish's gills you must lift up -the hard flap of skin which covers them. The -tadpole soon grows a flap of skin, though, just -like a fish, and this always appears first on the -right side, so that at one stage he looks as if he -had only one gill, the one on the left side. -When both the flaps of skin have grown, the -tadpole is really a little fish, and he stays in -much the same shape, though he gets fatter -and fatter, for about a month. At the end of -this time he begins to grow legs, first the hind -ones and then the front ones (newt-tadpoles -grow the front ones first); but, in spite of his -legs, he is still only a fish, because, instead of -breathing the air with his lungs as a grown-up -frog does, he breathes the water with his gills. -During the next month, when he is getting on -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">{39}</a></span> -for three months old, another wonderful change -comes over him. For a time he breathes both -with his lungs (he has to put his head out of -water for this) and with his gills, and so he is -both a frog and a fish at once; but he gets -more and more like a frog, and less and less -like a fish. His lungs keep growing inside him, -and his body and gills and tail get smaller and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">{40}</a></span> -smaller, and his mouth and his eyes and his legs -get larger and larger, and presently he leaves -the water altogether, for he is tired of water-weeds -and tired of his tail (he can swim beautifully -without it), and he wants to make his -meals off insects and slugs, and to learn how to -croak and jump, and to be a great fat frog like -Mother.</p> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/040.jpg" width="125" height="89" alt=""/> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">{41}</a></div> - - <h2>A FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING GO!<br /> - <small>(VALENTINE'S DAY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/041.jpg" width="125" height="121" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">"This</span> -is better," gasped Bombinator.</p> - -<p>Bombinatrix eyed him anxiously.</p> - -<p>Only his waistcoat touched -the ground. His eyes and -nose had vanished. The -right of either foot was now the left; the left -of either hand was now the right; his head, -subverted, curled to touch his toes, and, in his -back, was a deep hollow.</p> - -<p>This sounds involved, and that is just what -Bombinator was.</p> - -<p>"It's awful," said Bombinatrix.</p> - -<p>"What do I look like?" spluttered Bombinator. -"It's awkward talking to your -feet."</p> - -<p>"You're like—you're like a toadstool," said -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">{42}</a></span> -Bombinatrix, "a crinkled, gummy, yellow-spotted -toadstool."</p> - -<p>"That's the idea," said Bombinator, as he -snapped back to shapeliness. "Now you try," -and Bombinatrix tried.</p> - -<p>"Passable," said Bombinator, "but not sufficient -curl."</p> - -<p>"It cricks my neck," she answered. Her -head was slowly drooping.</p> - -<p>"You <i>must</i> keep rigid," said Bombinator. "I -can't see half the yellow. Throw back your head."</p> - -<p>Bombinatrix threw back her head, until it -grazed her toe-tips. Then she unstrung herself.</p> - -<p>(I see you look incredulous. You ask and -ask with reason: How came two fire-toads in -an English garden? To this I answer frankly—I -put them there myself.)</p> - -<p>Even a fire-toad loves his liberty, though -prison-life may have its compensations. The -breakfast gong, for instance, two taps upon the -glass. The sluggish fatted meal-worm, the -feeling of full-fed security.</p> - -<p>Nor had there been a lack of company.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack had livened things—by running -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">{43}</a></span> -races with his own reflection. So had the -mottled Green Toad, an alien like themselves; -so, in his own quiet way, the Salamander.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/043.jpg" width="500" height="302" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">"<span class="smcap">Passable," said Bombinator, "but not - sufficient Curl</span>"</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Each welcomed freedom differently.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack went straight into the pond -(quite the wrong thing for him), and swam with -short-legged jerky sweeps up to the water-lilies. -There he met the Water-Rat, of whom more -later. The Green Toad sought the nearest tuft -of grass, and, scratching with his fore-feet at the -roots, contrived a roomy burrow. He backed -inside and sat there quite content, blinking his -emerald eyes. The Salamander stayed where -he was put—and smiled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">{44}</a></span> -The fire-toads climbed upon a stone and -practised squiggles—aposematic squiggles.</p> - -<p>That resonant epithet comes, I think, from -Oxford. It means, <i>you dare to touch me and -you'll catch it</i>, or words to that effect. "Apo," -get out, and "sema," a sign. It is quite simple, -really. Yet its significance (in toads) may need -explaining, and, to be master of the sense of it, -you must remember that fire-toads, though dusky -olive green above, are orange red beneath. A -patch of orange underneath each hand, a patch -of orange underneath each foot, an orange patchwork -waistcoat.</p> - -<p>Now orange is a poison-label. It means in -wild-folk speech, "Be careful," and yellow means -the same; and when black joins the scheme, it -means, "Be very careful, here is poison."</p> - -<p>Sometimes the colour flaunts itself—witness -the salamander, or the wasp. Sometimes it is -concealed, witness the fire-toad. But fire-toads -have the knack of showing it. Drop one upon -his back and there he stays, knowing the underpart -of him is fearsome. Startle one as he sits -at ease, and he will flick into a knot, crinkly, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">{45}</a></span> -immovable, unreal, with screaming labels at each -corner. To be adept at this, the fire-toad needs -spare living, one meal, at most two meals a day. -When corpulent he finds the bend beyond him.</p> - -<p>But corpulence is transient in toads. The -first to find a waist was Bombinator, and Bombinatrix -quickly followed. They now could -travel with less apprehension. They made five -equal hops and stopped. Before them stretched -the pond, green-carpeted, a mirror-patch of water -here and there, balsam and iris on the fringe of -it, and fronting them, upon his leaf, the Rat.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack had left him, and was swimming -landwards. His head bobbed with each -stroke, and he was slow in coming.</p> - -<p>"The surliest brute I ever met," he said.</p> - -<p>"The Rat?" said Bombinator.</p> - -<p>"The Rat," replied the Natterjack. "He -grumbled at my ripples in the water—and <i>he</i> -makes noise enough. Just listen to him."</p> - -<p>The Water-Rat had left his leaf, and now was -in the reed-stems. He held a two-inch cutting in -his paws. They heard his munching plainly.</p> - -<p>"This is a queer pond," said the Natterjack; -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">{46}</a></span> -"it's full of noises. A shrew-mouse chirped as -I swam back, and half a dozen bubbles struck -me. That means there's something grunting. -My yellow stripe! what's that?"</p> - -<p>It rose <i>crescendo</i>,</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!</i>"</p> - -<p>and finished <i>amoroso</i>,</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i>"</p> - -<p>"I know it," shrieked Bombinator. His -little eyes were starting from their sockets, as -he sat up entranced.</p> - -<p>"I know it," echoed Bombinatrix.</p> - -<p>"Then you might share your knowledge," -snapped the Natterjack. Jealousy had convulsed -him, for he too can sing.</p> - -<p>"A French Frog," cried Bombinator.</p> - -<p>"A French Frog," echoed Bombinatrix, and -in a rattle came the southern notes:</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!</i>"</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i>"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">{47}</a></span> -"I'll find him, if I hop all night," said -Bombinator.</p> - -<p>He plunged aside into the grass, and Bombinatrix -followed at his heels.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack soon caught them. He ran -with little mouse-steps.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/047.jpg" width="200" height="233" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">His Little Eyes were Starting from their - Sockets as he sat up entranced</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Are you quite prudent?" he jerked out.</p> - -<p>"Prudent?" said Bombinator, "why, he's a countryman."</p> - -<p>So all three went together, and dropped abreast into the Green Toad's -burrow.</p> - -<p>"Have you heard him?" said Bombinator.</p> - -<p>The Green Toad was half dozing.</p> - -<p>"Heard what?" he muttered sleepily.</p> - -<p>"The French Frog," said Bombinator. -"Come out and listen."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">{48}</a></span> -They pulled him out between them.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 328px;"> - <img src="images/048.jpg" width="328" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THE WATER-RAT HAD LEFT HIS LEAF AND NOW WAS - IN THE REED-STEMS. HE HELD A TWO-INCH CUTTING IN HIS PAWS. - THEY HEARD HIS MUNCHING PLAINLY</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">{49}</a></span> -The Green Toad slowly stretched himself.</p> - -<p>"<i>That?</i>" said he, "that's not French." Then -he relapsed to sleep again.</p> - -<p>"What did I tell you?" said the Natterjack.</p> - -<p>"You told us nothing," said Bombinator. -"Let's ask the Salamander."</p> - -<p>The Salamander had not moved an inch.</p> - -<p>"Is that song French?" the Natterjack inquired.</p> - -<p>The Salamander slowly raised his head, -curled S-wise out and home again, blinked -either eye three times, smiled fatuously at each -toad in turn, and then smiled at the sky.</p> - -<p>"Oh, come on!" said the Natterjack. The -Natterjack is all on wires, and Salamanders -madden him.</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!</i>"</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i>"</p> - -<p>The Natterjack now led them, faster and -faster as the song grew louder, hippy-hoppy, -hurry-scurry, bumping against the snails and -spiders, starting the flies and beetles, and -rousing every sleeper in the grass.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">{50}</a></span> -Small wonder that they soon encountered -trouble.</p> - -<p>They wakened the King Toad.</p> - -<p>Since you last knew him, the King Toad has -grown. His waist is fourteen inches. His -mouth could welcome three small toads -abreast.</p> - -<p>The fire-toads crouched in front of him (the -mouth seemed very wide); even the Natterjack -hung back, and waited to be spoken to.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes passed, and then the King Toad -spoke, in slow, imperial-measured tones.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" said he, and fixed his royal -eye on Bombinator.</p> - -<p>Bombinator's mouth was flattened to the -ground, and his reply was indistinct.</p> - -<p>"Speak louder," said the King Toad.</p> - -<p>But Bombinator kept his head. If he spoke -louder he must move, and, if he moved, he might -be swallowed.</p> - -<p>Once more he muttered with closed lips.</p> - -<p>The King Toad slowly raised one foot. Before -it reached the ground again the Natterjack had -vanished. So had the fire-toads, but in different -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">{51}</a></span> -fashion. Where they had been were now two -spotted toadstools.</p> - -<p>"That's a queer trick," said the King meditatively. -"Orange underneath I see. Risky -to eat without inquiries. Come back, Natterjack."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/051.jpg" width="500" height="360" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Salamander had not moved - an Inch</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Two yellow eyes were peeping round a dock-leaf. -The Natterjack slouched low in the -Presence.</p> - -<p>"Have you seen this trick before?" said the -King Toad coldly.</p> - -<p>"I have, Sire," said the Natterjack.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">{52}</a></span> -"Do it yourself," said the King Toad.</p> - -<p>"Alas, Sire," said the Natterjack, "I am too -stout."</p> - -<p>"Not a bad fault," said the King more -graciously, "not a bad fault. What is the -meaning of it?"</p> - -<p>"It means, Sire, that my two small friends -are frightened."</p> - -<p>"Frightened?" said the King Toad; "frightened -of what?"</p> - -<p>"Of you, Sire."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/052.jpg" width="500" height="401" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Natterjack Slouched low - into the Presence</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">{53}</a></span> -"Of me?" said the King Toad. "Why -should a toad fear me? I am the Protector of -all toads." He swelled himself imperially.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/053.jpg" width="500" height="355" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Have You Seen this Trick before?" said - the King Toad</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"These are strange toads, Sire," said the -Natterjack, "they come from France."</p> - -<p>"France?" said the King; "this must be -looked to. The place is being overrun with -aliens. Undo them, Natterjack."</p> - -<p>The Natterjack looked pained.</p> - -<p>"Sire," he gasped out, "they're poisonous. -I bit one once, and could not sing for -days."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">{54}</a></span> -"Could not sing for days?" said the King. -"Could not sing for days?" The shadow of a -smile played round his mouth.</p> - -<p>"Just fetch me that French Frog," he said.</p> - -<p>"Sire," said the Natterjack, "it was during -our unsuccessful search for him that we had the -felicity of being so graciously received by your -Majesty."</p> - -<p>"You know him then," said the King, frowning.</p> - -<p>"The fire-toads know his song, Sire. At -least they said he was a countryman."</p> - -<p>"They shall be made better acquainted," said -the King, "much better acquainted. You will -find the French Frog by the water's edge, -beneath the furze-bush. You may go."</p> - -<p>The Natterjack went scudding like a mouse.</p> - -<p>He started in the wrong direction, but chance -befriended him. Climbing upon a clump of -moss, he opened out the circuit of the pond. -The furze-bush stood on the far side of it. Its -lower branches jutted from the bank, and, arching -downwards, trailed into the water. From -the first dip of them spread dancing waves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">{55}</a></span> -The French Frog still was singing, and each -note, caught and re-echoed overhead, crept down -the boughs and rippled to the shore.</p> - -<p>So far so good. His goal was plainly visible. -But how to get there? He -made a bee-line for the water's -edge, and tumbled down the -bank.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/055.jpg" width="125" height="129" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>His first idea, to swim, was -soon abandoned.</p> - -<p>With no clear mark by which -to set his course he might swim on till nightfall. -But if he crept along close to the water? -This seemed a certainty, so off he started.</p> - -<p>It was uneven going. Sometimes a stretch of -sticky mud, sometimes the mazy reed-stems, -and sometimes, where the bank was hollowed -out, deep water.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack was nimble on his feet, and -scuttling, crawling, swimming, made good progress. -Before he paused, the furze-bush rose -above him. Once in the shade of this, he moved -discreetly. He slid from stone to stone, and at -each stone he rose to reconnoitre. At the fifth -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">{56}</a></span> -stone, a bulky slanting one, he sighted the -French Frog. The French Frog sat absorbed -in his own harmonies, his mouthpiece taut, -to right and left of it two filmy bubble spheres, -now swelling now collapsing.</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>brek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-ek-EX!</i>"</p> - -<p class="padlft">"<i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i> <i>KO-ax!</i>"</p> - -<p>It sounded like a challenge.</p> - -<p>The last notes struck the listener squarely. He -too could sing. Had he not sung against the -wood-pecker, yaffle for yaffle, note for note? He -swelled himself to bursting point, shut both his -eyes, strained to their uttermost the voice-chords -underneath his tongue, and loosed one mighty -"Yaup!" It cut the last "<i>Ko-ax</i>" in half, and -as its rattle spent itself, he looked to see what -came of it. He looked in vain. The French -Frog was not there.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack at first was jubilant (a signal -victory this) but quiet reflection sobered him.</p> - -<p>His mission was to bring the French Frog -with him. Now there was no French Frog to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">{57}</a></span> -bring. He searched five yards each way, then -gloomily retraced his steps.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/057.jpg" width="500" height="365" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The French Frog Sat Absorbed in - his own Harmonies, his Mouthpiece taut, to Right and Left of it, - two Filmy Bubble Spheres, now Swelling, now Collapsing</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>He found the King Toad sleeping, and pausing -at a prudent range, croaked nervously.</p> - -<p>The King Toad made no sign.</p> - -<p>He croaked again, and louder.</p> - -<p>The King Toad moved uneasily. His eyebrows -twitched, and one eye half revealed itself. -Upper and under lids stayed fast, but, in their -crescent interval, a third lid fluttered, a filmy, -shadowy, cobweb thing, which brushed aside -the dream-mists.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">{58}</a></div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/058.jpg" width="500" height="300" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"I see a Natterjack," he said, "a - Starveling, Mouse Legged Natterjack. I sent for a French Frog"</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>So in due order, decorously, to open round-eyed -vision. The Natterjack was palpably distressed.</p> - -<p>His mouth drooped dismally; he shuffled -each squat foot in turn.</p> - -<p>At last the King Toad spoke.</p> - -<p>"I see a Natterjack," he said, "a starveling, -mouse-legged Natterjack. I sent for a French -Frog."</p> - -<p>"Sire," said the Natterjack, his voice a-quiver, -"I f-found him, but he v-vanished."</p> - -<p>"Fetch him," thundered the King Toad.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack fled headlong.</p> - -<p>"I shall have to find him," he muttered to -himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">{59}</a></span> -He stumbled on the Salamander. The Salamander, -after working for an hour, had partially -concealed himself. His smiling face alone was -visible, framed by the grass-stems.</p> - -<p>"Have—you—seen—the—French—Frog?" -said the Natterjack, as loudly and as plainly as -he could.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/059.jpg" width="500" height="396" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Fetch him," thundered the King Toad. - The Natterjack Fled Headlong</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Salamander turned his face away and -smiled across his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Have—you—seen—the—French—Frog?" -the Natterjack repeated.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">{60}</a></span> -The Salamander's face came slowly round -again, still smiling. It was too much; no longer -could the Natterjack contain himself. He ducked -his head and pranced, his legs flung round him -anyhow.</p> - -<p>So for a mad five minutes; at last he got his -answer, suave tones across the intervening grass: -"Have I seen what?"</p> - -<p>The Natterjack plunged straight into the -pond. His nerves were over-wrought, his heart -was racing. But for this cooling dive he must -have burst. He rose among the lily leaves, and, -clutching one, hung slantwise. Slowly the -madness left him.</p> - -<p>Then he commenced to paddle circumspectly.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/060a.jpg" width="500" height="439" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">The Green Toad slowly stretched himself. - "<span class="smcap">That</span>?" said he, "that's not French."</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/060b.jpg" width="500" height="425" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">At the fifth stone—a bulky slanting one, he - sighted the French Frog.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>He steered a zig-zag course, and, scanning -every leaf in turn, came to the outskirts of the -cluster. Here he sank slowly down, until his -nose alone was visible. The leaf on his right -hand was moving. A ripple ran the length of it; -then, close beside its stalk, appeared a snout, a -quivering trembling snout; then two bead eyes; -then a trim velvet body. The Natterjack brought -up his head again. No danger here, only a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">{61}</a></span> -water Shrew-mouse. The Shrew-mouse took -no heed of him. She swam the circuit of her -leaf three times, dived once or twice, then -climbed upon its surface. Here she performed -her toilet. The goggle-eyes in no way disconcerted -her. At length the Natterjack found -words:</p> - -<p>"Can you tell me," he said, politely, "where -the French Frog has got to?"</p> - -<p>The Shrew-mouse gave a little jump. She -had been combing out her tail, which was -important.</p> - -<p>"The French Frog?" she said; "the French -Frog? I'm sick of the French Frog. What -between him and the Water Rat—and the queer -thing is that neither of them seems to know that -the other——"</p> - -<p>"Of course, he's very fond of me," she -added. "Every day he sings <i>at</i> me, and so, -of course, when he comes my way, I have to -<i>ask</i> him to sing; and the -worst of it is, when I <i>ask</i> -him to sing, he <i>does</i> sing."</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/061.jpg" width="125" height="87" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"I think that might be cured," -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">{62}</a></span> -said the Natterjack, "if you can tell me where -he is."</p> - -<p>"Where did you see him last?" said the -Shrew-mouse.</p> - -<p>"Under the furze-bush," said the Natterjack.</p> - -<p>"Under the furze-bush?" echoed the Shrew-mouse; -"perhaps then I can find him. Swim -behind me."</p> - -<p>She slid so neatly off her leaf that not a drop -of water reached her back. Then she commenced -to paddle, her feet alternate, her square -tail trailing, her nose and face awash. Twin -ripples spread on either side of her, and, in -between them, though their distance widened, -the Natterjack swam stoutly, using his squat -hind-legs alone, short jerky thrusts of them, and -losing at each stroke.</p> - -<p>He reached the shore two yards behind, but -yet in time to see the last of her, a fluttering -wavy tail-tip, which skimmed the summit of a -stone and disappeared behind it.</p> - -<p>This was disheartening. The Natterjack had -spent his strength, and quick pursuit was out of -question. He paused and stretched each limb in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">{63}</a></span> -turn, scratched his chin doubtfully, -and looked about -him. He looked first at the -water, then at the stone to fix -it in his memory, and lastly at the bank above. -Here his eyes rested, expressionless at first, -lack-lustrous, but presently, with quickened -interest, sparkling.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/063.jpg" width="125" height="80" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>It must be, yes it was, the self-same furze-bush. -He stared intently. It was the self-same -stone. Perhaps the French Frog still was close -at hand; perhaps the Shrew-mouse knew his -hiding-place.</p> - -<p>He flung his tiredness off him, and started -running jauntily.</p> - -<p>He had not far to go. Two scurries -brought him to the stone, two scrambles to -its summit.</p> - -<p>There was the Shrew-mouse just below.</p> - -<p>She was too occupied to note his coming. -She coursed along the water's edge, her head -dropped low, her face almost submerged. At -times she paused and sniffed the air, her nose -upturned and crinkly, her bristles fan-shape. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">{64}</a></span> -Then she would drop her head again and probe -the water.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack watched quietly for a while, -but soon impatience mastered him. He crept -down and addressed her timidly.</p> - -<p>"You said you might find the French Frog," -he began.</p> - -<p>"I have found him," said the Shrew-mouse; -"he's down there—as usual."</p> - -<p>"Down where?" said the Natterjack.</p> - -<p>"Down in the water," said the Shrew-mouse, -"down at the bottom of this pool, a good foot -down."</p> - -<p>"Would you mind asking him to come up?" -said the Natterjack.</p> - -<p>"I've asked him for five minutes," said the -Shrew-mouse. "He must be fast asleep. I -know he's there; I've seen his bubbles."</p> - -<p>"How can we wake him?" said the Natterjack.</p> - -<p>"You'd better dive," said the Shrew-mouse.</p> - -<p>Now Natterjacks are bad enough at swimming; -at diving they are hopeless.</p> - -<p>"In you go," said the Shrew-mouse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">{65}</a></span> -For very shame the Natterjack went in.</p> - -<p>He swam to what he judged a likely spot, -ducked down his head, his hands pressed tight -against it, and lunged with both hind-legs. -These, splashing on the surface, urged him on, -but not one inch below.</p> - -<p>Five times he tried, and five times his fat -body, when half submerged, shot up and bobbed -afloat.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/065.jpg" width="500" height="367" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Five Times He Tried, and Five Times His - Fat Body, when Half Submerged, Shot Up and Bobbed Afloat</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">{66}</a></div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/066.jpg" width="200" height="400" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Shrew-Mouse drew all Four Feet - together and Slithered Eel-wise off the Ledge</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Shrew-mouse rocked with laughter.</p> - -<p>"Again, Natterjack!" she cried. "Again! -again!"</p> - -<p>Shame-faced, he paddled back to shore.</p> - -<p>"Be charitable, Shrew-mouse, be charitable. I did my best."</p> - -<p>The Shrew-mouse looked at him inquiringly. "Never mind, Natterjack," she -said, "I'll fetch him. It's hardly the right thing to do, but -still——"</p> - -<p>She climbed a ledge, drew all four feet together, and slithered off -it eel-wise. She swam a yard and dived. The -water closed like oil upon her going. Ten -seconds passed and then she reappeared.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">{67}</a></span> -"He's coming, Natterjack," she said, and -landed close beside him. The French Frog -shot up like a cork, and half of him splashed -clear above the surface. He took two strokes -to reach the shore, and came out moist and -shiny. He bristled with apologies—"It was -unpardonable. He was altogether desolated. -That a lady should have had to dive for him. -Alas! he had been dreaming, and his dream, -like all his dreams——"</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/067.jpg" width="500" height="372" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">He Bristled with Apologies</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Shrew-mouse cut him short.</p> - -<p>"The King Toad has heard your singing," -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">{68}</a></span> -she said, "and has commanded your presence. -The Natterjack will guide you."</p> - -<p>Ambition strove with gallantry, and, for a -time, the French Frog wavered.</p> - -<p>"And have I your permission, Shrew-mouse?" -he said, at last.</p> - -<p>"Please go," said she, "then come and tell -me all about it." So both departed. The -Shrew-mouse watched them out of sight, then -swam to open water. She wished the Rat to -see her next.</p> - -<p class="center gap-between">*****</p> - -<p>"Sire," said the Natterjack, "it is my -privilege to inform you that I have been successful."</p> - -<p>The King Toad made no answer. His eyes -turned from the Natterjack to his companion, -and, after an appropriate pause, he signed with -one fore-foot.</p> - -<p>The French Frog tiptoed forward.</p> - -<p>"I have heard your singing," said the King -Toad, "and your singing has annoyed me -intensely."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">{69}</a></span> -There was a queer strained silence.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack turned to conceal his face, -and saw the Green Toad perched above him. -He too was struggling to keep countenance. -Beside him was the Salamander, wreathed in -smiles.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 464px;"> - <img src="images/069.jpg" width="464" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Green Toad, too, was Struggling to - keep Countenance</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">{70}</a></span> -"Your singing has annoyed me intensely," -repeated the King Toad.</p> - -<p>Words failed the French Frog, who could -only gulp.</p> - -<p>"Sire," he burst out at length, "it was a love-song."</p> - -<p>"A love-song!" said the King Toad, "a love-song! and what nice-minded -English frog would listen to <i>your</i> love-song?"</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/070.jpg" width="300" height="347" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">His Inside was Red-Hot</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The French Frog might have scored a point, -but prudence checked him.</p> - -<p>"I am a poor exile, Sire," he said, "and, when -I sing, my heart is far away."</p> - -<p>"So will your voice be, soon," said the King -affably. "Come out, fire-toads." The fire-toads -squirmed from underneath him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">{71}</a></span> -The French Frog eyed them greedily. There -are worse eatables than little toads.</p> - -<p>"You may have the big one," said the King.</p> - -<p>"Sire!" screamed Bombinatrix.</p> - -<p>But she was too late. The French Frog's -mouth had closed again, and all now visible -of Bombinator was one distraught hind leg.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/071.jpg" width="500" height="368" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">He Lay as He had Fallen on His Back</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Excellent," murmured the King Toad, and -watched the French Frog narrowly. He was -worth watching. He paled a dirty ochre, his -eyes rolled horribly, he scratched his sides with -both hind feet, he dragged at his own throat, he -gasped and foamed and spluttered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">{72}</a></span> -"Most interesting," said the King.</p> - -<p>But there was more to follow. The French -Frog straddled with his toes wide spread; then -came an uncontrollable explosion, which flung -him four feet skywards, and, at the height of -this great leap, loosed Bombinator.</p> - -<p>Two thuds were heard, the first a sounding, -floppy one, the second farther off and duller.</p> - -<p>"I thought that would happen," said the -King Toad.</p> - -<p>The French Frog slowly pulled himself -together, climbed up the slope, and sat with -mouth agape. His inside was red-hot.</p> - -<p>The Natterjack burst into song, the Green -Toad joined him, the Salamander laughed outright, -but Bombinatrix, with a heavy heart, -hopped silently away.</p> - -<p>She was not long in finding him. He lay, as -he had fallen, on his back, his hands and feet -outspread, his poor throat twitching. But he -still breathed, breathed in short, wheezy, gasping -sobs, which made his whole frame shudder.</p> - -<p>She crept up close and whispered. I cannot -tell you what she said, but Bombinator caught -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">{73}</a></span> -the sense of it. He stretched his legs as far as -they would go, and clasped his hands beneath -his chin. This seemed to ease his breathing, -and presently, from every pore, welled a bead-drop -of moisture. He lay thus for an hour, and -Bombinatrix mounted guard beside him.</p> - -<p>At last he moved, but Bombinatrix checked -him instantly. "Down, Toad of mine," she -whispered, "down for your dear life!"</p> - -<p>"What is it now?" he groaned.</p> - -<p>"Ducks," whispered Bombinatrix, "Great, -Fat, White Ducks!"</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/073.jpg" width="500" height="365" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Ducks," whispered Bombinatrix, "Great, - Fat, White Ducks"</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">{75}</a></div> - - <h2>ANIMALS' NESTS<br /> - <small>(MARCH)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 125px;"> - <img src="images/075.jpg" width="125" height="98" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">When</span> -a young friend of mine told me the other day that he was going -birds'-nesting, and I told him in reply that I was going -animal-nesting, I think that, if he had not been -a very polite young friend, he would have laughed -at me. As it was he laughed <i>with</i> me—which -was really very nice of him, for he must have -been thinking all the time that I was laughing -at <i>him</i>. But I was quite serious really. I <i>was</i> -going animal-nesting. I hear you ask at once, -"What animal was it?" and I might tease -you by saying, "Any animal, of course. -When you go birds'-nesting you look for any -kind of bird's nest <i>you</i> can find, and when I -go animal-nesting, I look for any kind of -animal's nest <i>I</i> can find." But I won't do -that, because there are only a few animals' -nests which can be found in the same way in -which you find birds' nests. All animals make -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">{76}</a></span> -some kind of nest for their babies, and most of -them make some kind of nest to sleep in too. -They make them in such queer, out-of-the-way -places, though, that it would be quite impossible -for any boy or girl, let alone a man or woman, -to find them; for the first thing to be done -would be to choose the right hole in the ground, -and the next thing to be done would be to -crawl down it. Some animals, however, make -nests which are not in burrows, and though -these are not nearly so easy to find as birds' -nests, they can be found if you know the sort -of place to look for them in.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">{77}</a></span> -There are four animals in this country whose -nests can be found without having to dig, and -these are the mole, the squirrel, the dormouse, -and the harvest-mouse. Three of these build -their nests above the ground, and the fourth, -"the little gentleman in black velvet," builds -the ground above his nest. I am going to tell -you something about this one (the mole) first, -because his nest, I think, is the easiest to see. -I expect most of you know those queer little -heaps of earth which are sometimes dotted -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">{78}</a></span> -about the fields and are called mole-hills (I -want you to keep these in your minds for the -moment), and I expect those of you who have -got a natural history book will have seen a -picture of what is called a mole fortress. I -want you to put that out of your mind altogether; -it is quite wrong. Now, the little mole-hills -never have a nest in them, and I am not quite -sure why the moles make so many, but if you -ever find a really big hill among the little ones, -as big as six or seven of these heaped together, -and grub down into it (it is quite soft, and you -can do this with your hands if you don't mind -getting dirty), you will find a mole's nest just -about the place where you would find the grass -growing if there was no hill at all. In May or -June you may find the baby moles. Have a -good look at them and put them back, for you -won't be able to keep them alive, and the -mother mole is sure to come back and look -after them—when you have gone.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/077.jpg" width="500" height="442" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">FOUR MOLES' NESTS TOGETHER. THE BIG HILLOCK - OF EARTH ABOVE THEM HAS ALL BEEN TAKEN AWAY SO THAT THEY - COULD BE PHOTOGRAPHED</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Another animal's nest which is easy to find -is the squirrel's, but of course it is no use -looking for this anywhere but in woods and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">{79}</a></span> -places of that kind where you know there are -squirrels about. A squirrel's nest is in a hole, -or fork of a tree, and always, always out of -reach. When it is in a fork of a tree it looks -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">{80}</a></span> -like an untidy bird's-nest, made of rather big -twigs. It has a soft, warm lining, though, and, -if you can get up to it, you may find the baby -squirrels inside in June. If they are furry you -can take them away, for then they are quite -easy to bring up and tame.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 379px;"> - <img src="images/079.jpg" width="379" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Squirrel. "Squirrel means Shadowtail"</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Then there is the harvest-mouse's nest, which -is the most beautifully made of all, and is -usually to be found in cornfields, built some -way up the stalks, and looking just like a bird's-nest -except that it is quite round and has no -opening that you can see. One can't very well -walk about in a cornfield, but you have another -chance of finding a harvest-mouse's nest in the -hay-time, for they often build in the hay, and -once I found one with babies in it, on a haycock, -where it had been thrown without any one -noticing it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">{81}</a></span> -</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 334px;"> - <img src="images/081.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THE HARVEST MOUSE'S NEST<br/> - The most beautifully made of all</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>You have two chances, too, of finding a -dormouse's nest, for this mouse builds one nest -for the babies, and another to sleep in through -the winter. Both of them are rather big compared -with the harvest-mouse's nest, and they -are generally made of moss and leaves, often -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">{82}</a></span> -honeysuckle leaves, which the mother dormouse -seems to like, though I can't tell you why.</p> - -<p>The dormouse often makes a sleeping-nest at -the side of a path through a wood, and does -not seem to fasten it very carefully, for one -sometimes finds it in the middle of a path, as -if the dormouse had turned over in his sleep -and sent the whole thing rolling. It may be, -though, that some hungry animal has pulled -the nest out, and thinking the dormouse dead, -preferred to take the chance of finding something -alive and warm, and so left it.</p> - -<p>If you ever find a sleeping dormouse, which -will feel quite cold, you should take the nest -and all and keep it somewhere out of doors. -For if you bring it into a warm house, it will -wake up before its proper time and very likely -die; but if you leave it alone until the spring -comes, it will wake up as Mother Nature meant -it to, and you will have a pet which you will -like much better than one which you looked -at in a shop window, and could not resist -buying.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/083f1.jpg" width="300" height="294" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Dormouse</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Now there are other things for you to learn -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">{83}</a></span> -about animals' nests besides the kind of places -in which you may hope to find them. To begin -with, you must remember that an animal has not -got the beautiful little nest-making tool which a bird has—I mean, -of course, a beak. A bird's beak is used something like a -knitting-needle, to thread the little wisps of hay and feathers and moss -and things like that in and out and round about, until they stick where -the beak tells them. I -expect that animals use their teeth a little in -the same way, but they use them more, I -think, in biting leaves into strips, in softening -hard stalks, and cutting thick grasses -into thin ones, and I feel sure that they -would find knitting very awkward, because of -their thick lips. Most animals, instead of -building a nest in front of themselves, build it -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">{84}</a></span> -round themselves. The first thing they do is -to collect a little store of nest-material, and this -they manage by biting and nibbling at anything -which they think will be nice and soft, and -carrying it away in their mouths. I expect -most of you have seen a house-mouse's nest. -It is usually made of scraps of paper and wool -and fluff and other little rubbishes, which -they can pick up behind the walls and under -the floor. Sometimes, though, Mousey is not -content with a common kind of nest, and gets -into a hat-box and spoils a pretty hat, or into -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">{85}</a></span> -a drawer and spoils valuable papers. Once a -mouse nibbled the date and the signature off -a valuable paper of mine. That was all she -took, but it gave me a great deal of trouble, for -it was a legal paper, and it had to be done all -over again. Sometimes Mousey chooses even -queerer places. I will tell you three I have -heard of; the first was a tin of gunpowder, the -second was a box of cigars, and the third was -a plum cake. The last sounds the nicest, -doesn't it? But mousey is very fond of -tobacco, and I have often seen her, when the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">{86}</a></span> -house was quiet, nibbling at scraps of tobacco -which I had dropped on the carpet.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 339px;"> - <img src="images/085.jpg" width="339" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">A DORMOUSE'S NURSERY NEST, BUILT IN A FURZE BUSH</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The first thing that animals do, then, is to -collect a little store of nest material. The next -thing is to dive right into the middle of it. -When they are well in the middle, they begin -turning over and over, with a tug here and a -push there, and little curls and flicks of the tail -(the Harvest Mouse has the most useful tail of -any of our animals, and that, I think, is one -reason why his nest is so neat), until in a very -short time they have scooped out a hollow in -the ball of grass, or whatever it may be, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">{87}</a></span> -are sitting inside it. Sometimes they have to -come out and get some more grass, and then -the outside of the nest, which is quite springy, -closes up like a little trapdoor behind them, and -they have to make a fresh way in.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/086.jpg" width="300" height="300" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Harvest Mouse</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">{89}</a></div> - - <h2>SOMETHING ABOUT BEETLES<br /> - <small>(APRIL)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/089.jpg" width="125" height="103" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I expect</span> -that most of you have seen some of the wonderful foreign -beetles, whose wing-covers gleam and sparkle with -colour as though they were studded with -jewels; and some of you, perhaps, may have -envied the small Black Folks down south, -who have the chance of finding such beautiful -things. But if you have a microscope, or -even a magnifying glass, or if you know -some one who will lend you either, you need -not envy the small Black Folks at all, for -here, in our own dear country, there are hosts -and hosts of beetles as beautiful as any in the -world. But there is always a something, isn't -there? and the something in this case is that -they are so very, very small. There is another -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">{90}</a></span> -something, and that is that nearly all of them -have such very, very long names. The reason -for this is that the young people were not the first -to find them. If they had done so they would -certainly have given them names which grownups -could understand, just as the young people -of long ago christened Tom-Tit and Jenny -Wren, and Daddy Long-legs and Flitter Mouse. -All these names have lived since they were first -made, and they will live, I think, long after -some much more learned names for the same -things have been altogether forgotten.</p> - -<p>Now I must tell you how to find these beautiful -little beetles, and I think that you will be -able to find them very soon after you have read -these lines, for the spring-time will have come, -and the May will have flowered, and there is -nothing that the little beetles like better than -May-buds. All you have to do is to find a -May-tree (it doesn't matter if it is white or pink, -and it needn't even be a May-tree so long as -there is plenty of blossom on it) and hit one of -the branches with a stick, and hold a butterfly-net, -or an old umbrella, or a piece of newspaper, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">{91}</a></span> -or even your hat (an old hat is best) underneath, -and catch what falls from the branches. You -will find all sorts of things, but among them there are sure to be some -tiny long-snouted beetles which are called Rhynchophora. That is a -dreadful name, isn't it? but I think that the English word "weevils" is -just as ugly. Though they are very small indeed, you will see at once -that they have very wonderful colours. Probably you will catch an -emerald-green one, and a sky-blue one, and -perhaps a little square-shaped scarlet one, which -is not very uncommon, and there may come a -red-letter day when you catch one of the most -beautiful little beetles in the world, who is green -and crimson and gold. I have done this twice -myself.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">{92}</a></div> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/091f1.jpg" width="200" height="352" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Stag-Beetle</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>There are so many different beetles in our -country that no one has ever collected all of -them. Most are very small indeed, like -the weevils, but a few are quite big, and -I am showing you pictures of some of the -largest.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I ought to tell you how to know a -beetle when you see one. This sounds easy -enough, but it is not quite as easy as it sounds. -All beetles have six legs (beetles' bodies are -divided into three parts, and the legs grow out -of the middle part); nearly all of them have -strong, horny covers for their wings, and all of -them have their skeletons outside. This sounds -a very topsy-turvy arrangement, but it is quite -true. We have our bones inside, and our flesh -outside, but beetles have their bones outside -and their flesh inside. Sometimes you may see -beetles crushed flat in the road, but often they -are trodden on or run over without being killed; -and the reason for this is that their hard, outside -skeletons prevent their soft insides from being -altogether squashed up. Once I ran over a -Stag-beetle on my bicycle—it was nearly dark -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">{93}</a></span> -at the time, and I was over him before I could -get out of his way. Now a big Stag-beetle -weighs about an eighth of an ounce, and I am -rather a heavy person—indeed, with my bicycle -thrown in I should think that I must weigh -over two hundredweight, which is about thirty -thousand times as much as the Stag-beetle. -You can imagine how surprised I was to find -that the Stag-beetle was not hurt. I ought to -tell you, though, that the road was soft, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">{94}</a></span> -that my bicycle-tyres were not blown up hard, -so perhaps the Stag-beetle did not get all my -weight on his back—but, anyhow, it was a -wonderful escape for him, wasn't it?</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/093.jpg" width="500" height="416" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Stag-Beetle</span><br /> - This is the one that I ran over on my bicycle</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The two largest beetles in this country are -the Stag-beetle and the Great Black Water -Beetle. I am not sure which should really be -called the larger of the two, for it seems hardly -fair to count the Stag-beetle's antlers, and if we -leave these out, I fancy that the Great Black -Water Beetle has the bigger body. It is curious -that these two large beetles should be such quiet, -easy-going things, and that they should never -dream of eating beetles smaller than themselves.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 402px;"> - <img src="images/095.jpg" width="402" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Female Stag-Beetle, whose antlers - are quite short, and two Stag-Beetle Grubs</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/096.jpg" width="500" height="363" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Great Water Beetle</span><br /> - Who looks as if he was silver-plated underneath</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>But so it is, for both of them, the Stag-beetle -on land and the Great Water Beetle in the ditch, -eat scarcely anything at all, and, when they do -eat, are quite content to suck the juices out of -plants. One reason for these big beetles eating -so little is, I think, the very long time which -they have for feeding while they are caterpillars—beetle -caterpillars, by the way, are always -called "grubs" or "larvæ," and beetle chrysalises -are called "pupæ." The grubs of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">{95}</a></span> -Stag-beetle live on decaying wood (you may -sometimes find them at the bottom of an old -gate post which has decayed under the ground), -and take three or four years to become "full-fed." -The grub of the Great Water Beetle spends -all his time (three or four years, too, I expect) in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">{96}</a></span> -the water, and I think he feeds on decaying plants, -but I am not sure of this. Some people say that -the Stag-beetle uses his great antlers to crush -twigs and leaves so as to get the juice. This -may be so, but I have never seen him do it.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/097.jpg" width="200" height="329" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Musk Beetle</span><br /> - Who has a very nice smell</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Another big and beautiful insect is the Musk -Beetle. As you see in the picture, he has very -long horns and a narrow body. He is a beautiful -bronze green all over, and must be a -wonderful sight when he is flying in the -sunshine. I have never seen him fly myself, -but people who have say that his legs -and horns stream out behind him, so that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">{97}</a></span> -he must look like a little green Heron. Perhaps -the most wonderful thing about him, -however, is his scent. I expect most of you -know those little round pink sweets which -are called "cachous." He smells just like the -taste of those, and that is why he is called Musk Beetle.</p> - -<p>Another big beetle I have to show you is the Cockchafer. You must look -at his picture carefully, because it shows you how a beetle lifts up his -hard wing-covers when he is going to fly. Some beetles, the Burying -Beetle -for one, turn these wing-covers almost upside -down when they are flying, so that the hollowed -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">{98}</a></span> -side is uppermost. I expect that this helps to -keep them up when they are flying, and perhaps -it helps them to start as well.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/098.jpg" width="500" height="442" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Cockchafer Raising its Wing-covers - just before taking Flight</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Of course you have all heard of the wonderful -flying machines which are now being -made. To fly at all, you must be able to do -three things: lift yourself up, keep yourself -up, and move about. If you can do these -three things just as quickly and just as -slowly as you want to, you will be able to -fly perfectly. The hardest puzzle of all is -how to make a machine which will keep itself -up (and the right way up too) without moving -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">{99}</a></span> -about very quickly. This is what many birds -can do so beautifully, and I expect that in time -(all great inventions take a long time to make -perfect, and they are never the work of one man -alone, but rather of one man helped by the work -of many men who lived before him) machines -will be made in which men will be able to fly -as perfectly as birds. At present they only fly -as perfectly as beetles, but that they should be -able to do this is a very wonderful thing. The -great difference, in flying, between a beetle and -a bird like a gull, is that the beetle has to keep -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">{100}</a></span> -going full speed all the time, or else he will -tumble down to the ground, while a bird like a -gull can poise balanced in the air, with just a -flap or turn of his wings now and then to keep -himself the right way up.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/099.jpg" width="500" height="425" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Churchyard Beetle</span><br /> - When this Beetle is cross, he puts his head down, and rears - up backwards as if he were going to kick</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/100.jpg" width="125" height="107" alt=""/> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">{101}</a></div> - - <h2>BUNNY RABBIT<br /> - <small>(LADY DAY)</small></h2> - -<p class="center">AUTHOR'S NOTE</p> - -<div class="small"> - -<p class="indent2"><span class="uppercase">There</span> are "go-to-bury" -rabbits and "stub" rabbits. The "go-to-bury" rabbits have the longest -ears, but the "stub" rabbits, as any stoat will tell you, are the best -for dinner.</p> - -<p class="indent2">Moreover, there are rabbits and bunny rabbits—but -all were bunny rabbits once.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/101.jpg" width="200" height="254" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">Bunny</span> -Rabbit missed the bluebells, though these rang in his birth.</p> - -<p>Up rose the kingly foxgloves, tier upon tier of them pink-purple, but -Bunny Rabbit missed these too.</p> - -<p>A golden world—the -ragwort blazing on the slope, below the mellowing -corn-field, and, mantling primrose hills, the -dawn.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">{102}</a></span> -Now Bunny Rabbit was ready.</p> - -<p>The burrow winds in four sharp turns, and, at -each one, he stubbed his nose. This through a -mad desire to keep near Mother; for Mother's -tail bobbed in quick jerks, shaving each corner -to a hair, and he and all his brothers raced to -catch it. They reached the entrance packed as -one, but Bunny Rabbit, squirming clear, shot -past the uplifted paw, butted his waiting Father, -flung off him like a smoke-puff, and landed on -his back six feet below.</p> - -<p>That is why he has a separate history.</p> - -<p>It was indeed sharp change of circumstance. -The nursery had been pitch-black, though one -short gleam of light had reached it daily. That -was when Mother Rabbit snatched her food, -and sealed the entrance up for fear of Father. -At other times she screened her babies' eyes. -So now the sunshine blinded Bunny Rabbit, -and pointed grass-stems pricked a skin which -nothing harder than breast-fur had touched. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">{103}</a></span></p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/103.jpg" width="500" height="368" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">AND LANDED ON HIS BACK SIX FEET BELOW</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>He took some minutes to collect his wits, then -twisted upright, and, with frightened eyes, sought -guidance.</p> - - <div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">{104}</a></div> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/104a.jpg" width="125" height="111" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>But for the woolscrap all -would have been well.</p> - -<p>Mother Rabbit was close at -hand, feeding his brothers with -small sprigs of green. Father -Rabbit was close too. The sight of his lost -wife had softened him. He purred approval. -He licked the children's noses.</p> - -<p>Assuredly the lost would have been found, -but for the woolscrap. The woolscrap fluttered, -wind-borne, down the slope, and Bunny Rabbit -nature-taught, went after it.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/104b.jpg" width="125" height="103" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>It led him far.</p> - -<p>It caught on brambles and then flicked away. -It plunged in little valleys. It mounted little -hills. It bobbed and jerked and twisted, and -Bunny Rabbit, panting hard, pursued.</p> - -<p>At last he caught it, checked upon a grass-stem, -and—<i>it wasn't Mother after all</i>!</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/105.jpg" width="500" height="434" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">It wasn't Mother after all!</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Bunny Rabbit sat down bewildered. He -was hot with running; his -ears were prickly, his coat -was rumpled. He combed -his ears out, one by one, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">{105}</a></span> -brushed down his face, and -nibbled all the fur that he could reach. Then -he felt better.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 284px;"> - <img src="images/106.jpg" width="284" height="300" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">He combed his ears out, one by one</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The morning breeze gained appetite and sent -the woolscrap once more on its travels. Bunny -Rabbit took no heed of it—he watched and -heard the awakening of the wood. Bird notes, -that in the burrow had been restful, now -screamed and whistled in his ear. Out from -the shelter-side of leaves, out from the heart of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">{106}</a></span> -flowers, out from the grass-stems and from -earth itself, came whirring, humming, buzzing insects. In this new -myriad-peopled world there seemed small room for loneliness. A red mouse -bobbed up from his -hole, stared at him curiously, then whisked -about and vanished. Bright eyes bejewelled -the grass-tufts. Here a flick-footed lizard, -here a slow-trailing blindworm, here a squat -toad. The day-moths woke and flitted leaf -to leaf. The bee-fly clambered up the thyme, -poised hovering, vanished slantwise, and -vanishing, reappeared.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/107a.jpg" width="125" height="75" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>This was full entertainment, and Bunny -Rabbit stared round-eyed. He stared till -hunger gripped him. His brothers, a bare -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">{107}</a></span> -hundred yards away, already had -acquired the art of nibbling. He -had no teacher, and no wits by -which to teach himself. So, -though food lay on every side, he starved. He -felt a craving he had never known; a tightening -of his fluffy body; an ache for Mother. -Mother would set things straight for him, but -where to find her was beyond his reasoning.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/107b.jpg" width="113" height="125" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>He wandered aimlessly this way and that; -he nosed the bushes aimlessly; he -stepped on Berus the Adder, because -to him an adder, neatly coiled, was -merely speckled ground.</p> - -<p>Berus the Adder, though infuriate, -forebore to strike. Venom is far too precious -to be squandered, and baby rabbits are too -large to swallow. He swayed his ugly head, -and slowly, very slowly, he stretched forward. -This was enough for Bunny -Rabbit, who spun about and left -the wind behind. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">{108}</a></span></p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 338px;"> - <img src="images/108.jpg" width="338" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">HE WATCHED AND HEARD THE AWAKENING OF THE WOOD</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/107c.jpg" width="105" height="125" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>Before he had been lured by -Hope, now Terror thrust her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">{109}</a></span> -goad at him. He leapt two thorn-stumps -blindly, and, stumbling, -plunged head-deep into -the ant-hill.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/109a.jpg" width="200" height="171" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>The ant-hill covers two -square yards of ground, -and every inch of it is -peopled. Though soft, it -is no place to fall on. Its citizens resent intrusion—nay, -more, resent it actively.</p> - -<p>When Bunny Rabbit reached the grass he -felt the pricking of a thousand needles. The -pain and smart of them half maddened him. -He rolled upon his back; he scraped his neck -on stones; he writhed; he bit himself.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/109b.jpg" width="125" height="125" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>The pain eased as his torturers dropped off -him. Once more he tried to run, but in ten -yards his strength was gone. His fore-paws -flopped and stumbled, his -hind paws dragged, his -nose was bruised, his -coat was hot and steamy. -So he flung down bewildered, -scraped an imaginary -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">{110}</a></span> -bed (a poor half-hearted scraping), slid out his -feet, and lay full length, -eyes closed.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 182px;"> - <img src="images/110.jpg" width="182" height="200" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Berus the Adder</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Nothing now -seemed to matter -much. The hornet moth -came whirring past his -ears, he never heard it; -the drone fly danced -upon his nose, he never -felt it; the Man lay -almost at his side, he never saw him. Poor -tired-out baby! Nature had ordered sleep and -so he slept.</p> - -<p class="center gap-between">*****</p> - -<p>The Man woke slowly. Nature had been -his comfort, too, though sleep had not refreshed -him. He rose half-dreaming, with a smile. -"All right, little girl," he said; then his face -tightened. "It's the same place," he muttered, -"just where we lost the locket. First bluebell, -then foxglove, then ragwort; blue, purple, and -gold. It was the gold she loved."</p> - -<p>The woodland rang with voices, but Bunny -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">{111}</a></span> -Rabbit slept until man spoke. Then he leapt -up and found himself a prisoner.</p> - -<p>"You sha'n't be hurt, Bunny," said the -Man.</p> - -<p>Bunny Rabbit ceased his wriggling, and -lay quite limp, his eyes upturned, his nose -a-quiver.</p> - -<p>"Why lying in the open?" said the Man -"foolish, foolish Bunny. What's to be done -with you? Stoats and foxes and hawks, -Bunny. You can't be left, that's certain. You -can't be taken to your Mother, for I don't know -your Mother. You can't be taken to your hole, -for I don't know your hole. Hungry, Bunny? -You look as though you'd travelled. Try some -grass."</p> - -<p>Bunny Rabbit knew nothing of grass and -kept his teeth tight-clenched.</p> - -<p>"You must eat something," said the Man.</p> - -<p>He loosed one hand to reach a groundsel-top, -and Bunny Rabbit, squirming clear, slipped -deep into his pocket.</p> - -<p>"Well, it's your own choice, Bunny. Now -you come home with me."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">{112}</a></span> -It was dark and warm and soft inside the -pocket. The Man took swinging downhill -strides, and, at each stride, the folds changed -shape. Now they were loose and twisty, and -Bunny Rabbit stretched full length to fill them. -Now they were tightened to a ball, and Bunny -Rabbit tightened as the centre.</p> - -<p>The Man paused as he reached the corn, and -stepped two paces up again. He stooped, and -Bunny Rabbit was inverted. He rose, and -Bunny Rabbit found his feet. But now he -was more cramped than ever. He lay deep in -the farthest corner. Over, and on all sides of -him, was packed a stifling mass of green.</p> - -<p>Then Bunny Rabbit used his teeth, axe-fashion -at first, but soon to better purpose. -The lesson that he should have long since -learnt was now enforced by circumstance.</p> - -<p>He bit and tasted.</p> - -<p class="center gap-between">*****</p> - -<p>"Bunny Rabbit," said the Man, "your ears -are abnormal."</p> - -<p>Bunny Rabbit lay crouched upon the hearthrug, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">{113}</a></span> -blinking. At first he had found covert in -the curtains, but these had been looped up. -Then he had squeezed behind the bookcase and -been, with difficulty, extracted. Then he had -set himself to dig. The carpet had repaid him -with some fluff. The doormat and the wicker -chair seemed promising, but he made little headway, -and so had lain down tired.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/113.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lay full Length, Eyes closed</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Very abnormal ears, Bunny," the Man went -on. "This smacks of the domestic. Then -why so frightened?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">{114}</a></span> -But Bunny Rabbit was more tired than -frightened.</p> - -<p>"More food, Bunny?" A bunch of green -had lain upon the floor but every scrap had -vanished.</p> - -<p>"You've had enough for one day, Bunny. -It's bedtime, up you come."</p> - -<p>So Bunny Rabbit slept that night on blankets, -he and the moonshine. The Man tossed restlessly -and Bunny Rabbit watched his moving -lips. Twilight crept in soft-footed, and Bunny -Rabbit took three little jumps and wormed -inside the bed-clothes.</p> - -<p class="center gap-between">*****</p> - -<p>"Slept well, Bunny?" said the Man; "it's -more than I have. I've made my mind up, -Bunny. I'm going. I can't bear the house. I -can't bear the rooms. They're empty, empty, -empty."</p> - -<p>The Man stepped slowly down the stairs and -Bunny Rabbit stumbled after him. He reached -the hall and paused, then caught up Bunny -Rabbit, and once more ascended. He entered -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">{115}</a></span> -every upstairs room and gazed as though to -clinch them on his memory. He entered every -downstairs room, and in one room, the loneliest -of all, he sat and cried his heart out.</p> - -<p class="center gap-between">*****</p> - -<p>"We're homeless, Bunny Rabbit," said the -Man. "But you're the better off, for your -home's somewhere here."</p> - -<p>They had got half-way up the slope. The -Man stood tall among the ragwort, and Bunny -Rabbit, with wide, frightened eyes, clung to his -shoulder.</p> - -<p>The Man stooped down, and Bunny Rabbit -slid to earth.</p> - -<p>"Now you must find your home or make -one," said the Man, and Bunny Rabbit straightway -tried to make one. He plunged his forepaws -in the ground and scratched. The dust -flew out behind and, in the midst, shot something -hard and glittering.</p> - -<p>It was a small gold locket.</p> - -<p>The Man bent down and picked it up. He -opened it and with dimmed eyes he kissed it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">{116}</a></span> -"You've done me a good turn," he said—"of -course it's pure coincidence," and Bunny Rabbit -watched him out of sight.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 373px;"> - <img src="images/116.jpg" width="373" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bunny Rabbit watched Him out of Sight</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">{117}</a></div> - - <h2>A BUTTERFLY PAINT-BOX<br /> - <small>(MAY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/117.jpg" width="125" height="154" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I wonder</span> -how many of my young readers know why these dainty flying -creatures are called "Butterflies"?</p> - -<p>We all know what butter is, and we know, too, that there are quite a -number of English words which begin with "butter." It -is not a pretty beginning, is it? But there it is. -Let us think of a few—<i>butter</i>-fly, <i>butter</i>-cup, -<i>butter</i>-wort, <i>butter</i>-fingers, <i>butter</i>-scotch—why, -one can think of half a dozen straight away.</p> - -<p>Now this shows us clearly that "butter" is -a very old word, and that the people of long -ago (who were much less clever than we are, -perhaps) must have used it quite naturally -when they wanted to describe anything which -was squashy, or pasty, or greasy, or slippery, -or yellow.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/118.jpg" width="200" height="285" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Brimstone Butterfly</span><br /> - After whom all "Butterflies" are probably called</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Look at the picture at the top of the next -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">{118}</a></span> -page. I wish I could have given it to you in its proper colours. It -looks much nicer like that. Look at it carefully. No other English -butterfly has the same pretty curves to its wings, and some of you, I -dare say, will know what it is -by its shape. But I must tell those who do -not know. It is a Brimstone Butterfly, and -its colour is bright, bright yellow with an -orange spot in the middle of each wing (you -can only see one wing in the picture, the -other three are hidden behind it; one way to -tell a butterfly from a moth is to remember -that butterflies' wings close standing up, but -nearly all moths' wings close down flat).</p> - -<p>It is almost certain that this insect was the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">{119}</a></span> -first insect to be called "Butter"-fly because of -its butter colour. When people began to see -that there were other pretty flying things of -much the same shape, though of quite different -colours, they called them all Butterflies after -this first one.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 462px;"> - <img src="images/119.jpg" width="462" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Red Admiral</span><br /> - A Butterfly of many beautiful colours</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>So we speak, nowadays, without ever thinking -of how funny it really is, of blue butterflies -and white butterflies and black butterflies and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">{120}</a></span> -purple butterflies, and red and yellow and -green butterflies—all the colours of the rainbow, -in fact.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/120.jpg" width="500" height="407" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Purple Emperor</span><br /> - The most gorgeous Butterfly in England, though not by any - means the most beautiful</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>We would hardly talk of black butter or -purple butter, would we?</p> - -<p>Some of you will perhaps wonder why the -Brimstone Butterfly was the first to be noticed -when there are so many others which are just -as common.</p> - -<p>I think I can tell you.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 125px;"> - <img src="images/121.jpg" width="125" height="124" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Clifden Blue</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Brimstone is almost always the first -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">{121}</a></span> -butterfly to be seen in the spring. Most butterflies -die towards the autumn, and leave eggs -behind, which hatch out in the following year, -but the Brimstone, and a few others, sleep -through the cold winter months and come out -in the first warm days of spring and <i>then</i> lay -their eggs. The Brimstone comes out first of -all, often quite early in February, and so he is -the first butterfly that is likely to be noticed -in the year.</p> - -<p>Perhaps his coming out at a time when cows -began to give more milk, and butter began to -be more plentiful, had something to do with his -being called "butterfly," but I -think that his colour had more to -do with it.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 308px;"> - <img src="images/122.jpg" width="308" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Swallow-Tail Butterfly</span><br /> - Almost a paint-box in itself. It will give you blue, red, - black and yellow. It is only found in the Cambridgeshire Fens</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>What lovely colours butterflies -are! Have you ever fancied a -butterfly paint-box? Let us think of a few -common colours, and see how we could fill it. -Suppose we wanted a blue? Why we should -have a whole family of butterflies "The Blues" -to choose from, and we should be just as well -off for blacks and browns. For red we could -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">{122}</a></span> -take the beautiful scarlet ribbon of the Red -Admiral. "Why is he called Admiral?" you -ask. Well, Admiral is the same as Admirable, -and his old name was Red Admirable. -For purple we should have the Purple Emperor -and the Purple Hair-streak—there is -no purple quite so glorious as the purple that -these have on their wings. For orange, the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">{123}</a></span> -Orange-tip and the Clouded Yellow. For -yellow, the Brimstone and several others. For -white, of course, the Whites. Green might -bother us a little, but there is one English -butterfly, the Green Hair-streak, whose wings -are a beautiful green underneath. As he is -our only green butterfly I give you his picture. -He is the upper butterfly in the first picture -and, as you see, quite a little one.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/123.jpg" width="500" height="389" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Black Pepper Moth</span><br /> - Probably quite the blackest Moth we have. They vary very - much in colouring though</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>We must not forget gold and silver. When -I was young, I expected to find gold and silver -in a really nice paint-box, and I do not suppose -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">{124}</a></span> -young people have changed much since then. -Silver we should have no trouble about. There -is a big family of butterflies called the Fritillaries, -who have wonderful patches and ribbons -of silver on their wings. I do not think you will -find gold, except perhaps a little gold powder, -on any English butterfly, but you will find it on -several chrysalises. Indeed, Chrysalis means -"the little golden one," and the name was given -to these queer spiky things because gold -patches were so often seen on them.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/124.jpg" width="500" height="417" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Silver Washed Fritillary</span><br /> - The silver is in broad bands on the under wings</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">{125}</a></span> -I have seen little pictures made with the -scales of butterflies' wings, with blue skies and -green trees and everything. So you see a -butterfly paint-box is not altogether a make-believe, -though it is not an easy paint-box for -young people to paint with.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">{127}</a></div> - - <h2>TWO WONDERFUL WASPS<br /> - <small>(JUNE)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/128.jpg" width="200" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is one of Spinipes' burrows opened up. - There is an egg at the bottom on the left-hand side and a - caterpillar on the right-hand side. The egg is hanging by a - silk thread, but you can't see this</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I expect</span> -you all must know the Common -Yellow Wasps—the kind that come buzzing -into the jam at tea-time; and I want to tell -you this about them—that I don't think they -ever really get angry if there is jam about and -you leave them alone, though, when small -people jump up and scream, and edge away -from the table, and make bad shots at them -with spoons, they get so frightened and -bewildered, poor things, that they may sting -somebody, because they feel they really must -do something exciting.</p> - -<p>Perhaps some of you do <i>not</i> know that -there are seven different kinds of these Yellow -Wasps to be met with in this country of ours, -and I should be surprised to hear that any of -you know <i>much</i> about the two Black Wasps -whose story I am going to tell you. I say -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">{128}</a></span> -"black," because they <i>look</i> black, though both -of them have yellow girdles on their bodies. I wish they had English -names; for I am sure they both deserve them; and English names are much -easier to remember than Latin ones. However, Latin names are the only -ones I know for them, so we must make the best of it, and call one of -them Spinipes (you must read this as if it were Spiny Peas) and the -other Crabro.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/129.jpg" width="200" height="253" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is a little picture of Spinipes - bringing up a grub, which she is clasping beneath her body</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>We will take Spinipes first.</p> - -<p>If you look at the picture on the opposite page, -you will see what she is like, and, if you look at -the picture in Spinipes the Sand-Wasp (p. 151) -you will see one of the clever things she does.</p> - -<p>She is building a little tube out of sand -which is so delicate that the slightest touch -from one of our own clumsy fingers will -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">{129}</a></span> -knock it down like a card-house, but it is -strong enough for her to crawl inside; and -she has to crawl inside very often, as you -will see. I expect you will all want to know -how she builds it, and what it is for. I will -tell you how she builds it to begin with. You -must know first that she has a pair of jaws -which work quite differently from ours. Instead -of moving up and down, they move -across each other from side to side just like a -pair of scissors.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/131.jpg" width="200" height="213" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is the Spinipes' grub feeding on the - little green caterpillars</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The first thing that Spinipes does is to work -this little pair of scissors in the sand so as to -make a little hole. I am showing you on page 148 a picture of her when -she is just starting to dig. Every little pellet of sand she digs out -she puts carefully round the outside of the hole, and presently she -glues them all together. She carries the glue somewhere -inside her, and brings it out when she wants it, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">{130}</a></span> -Then she digs a little deeper and glues another -layer of sand pellets on the top of the first -one, and in a very short time she has dug a -hole about two inches deep, and built a little -tube round the top of it, which is made of the -little sand-pellets she has brought out of the -hole. Sometimes the tube stands straight up, -but more often it bends about half-way and -curves downwards. When she has finished it -off, and is sure that the hole is deep enough, -and the tube is long enough, she goes right -down to the bottom and lays an egg, and she -hangs the egg by a tiny thread (which she also -makes herself, but I don't know how she does -it) to the side of the hole a little above the -bottom. You will be able to see this in the -picture, but you must remember that in this -and in some of the other pictures the sand has -been cut away so that you can see exactly how -the hole goes. Then, if it is a bright, sunny -day, as it usually is when she begins digging, -she flies away, and in about half an hour's -time comes back carrying something clasped -tight against her body. What do you think -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">{131}</a></span> -that is? It is a small green caterpillar. She -stops a moment at the entrance of the tube, pushes the caterpillar down -in front of her, and disappears after it. In a few seconds she is out -again and off, and in another quarter of -an hour or so she is back again with another -caterpillar and so on, without ever tiring, -through six or seven hours of a hot June or -July day.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/132.jpg" width="200" height="409" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This shows you the cocoon which Spinipes' - grub makes for itself. I have opened it to show you the - grub, and also the little partition in the shaft above the - grub, which is the last thing Spinipes herself makes</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>I expect you will have guessed what the -caterpillars are for. They are food for the -wasp grub when it hatches out of the egg. -Generally each hole has between twenty and -thirty little caterpillars in it, and sometimes, -when caterpillars are scarce, the Mother Wasp -has to work hard for three or four days. If -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">{132}</a></span> -you dig into a hole yourself and look at the -store of little caterpillars, you will see there is -something the matter -with them. They seem -to be alive and yet they -don't seem to be able to -crawl. Wise men say -that the wasp stings -them just enough to -make them drowsy so -that they can't crawl -out of the hole, and -can't hurt the wasp -grub by jostling up -against it. It wouldn't -do to kill them, because -then they would go bad in the hole -before the grub had time to eat them. This -sounds rather cruel, but I don't think it is -really, because it is quite certain that the -caterpillars cannot feel as we should perhaps -feel, and we may be quite sure that in the -wonderful Nature World everything is -arranged for the best, so that only the right -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">{133}</a></span> -number of wasp-grubs may be properly fed -and grow up to do what it is their duty to -do, and only the right number of small green -caterpillars may grow up also.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/133.jpg" width="200" height="225" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">The little beetle that the caterpillars turn - into. It is sitting on its own open-work cocoon, from which - it has just hatched out. The picture makes it about twice - its real size</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>You will wonder, I expect, why the Mother -Wasp troubles to make the little tube above -the hole. I think I can tell you one reason -and you must remember this, because it was -just by chance that I found it out. One hot -morning in June I watched Mother Spinipes -bringing seven caterpillars to her hole. Then -a heavy thunderstorm came on, and the rain came down in buckets, and I -had to run away for shelter. Late in the evening when it had cleared up -a little, I thought I would like to see what had happened -to the tube I had been watching, and I -went back to the place and found that the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">{134}</a></span> -rain had knocked it all to pieces. But I -saw something much more interesting than -this. The tube had been on the face of a -sand-cliff, and in a crack close by there -was an ants' nest. I found that the ants -were running down the wasp's hole and -bringing out the caterpillars as fast as they -could (I saw them take six away), and taking -them along the face of the cliff into their own -stronghold. Now the tube that stands out -from the sand somehow frightens the ants (I -never saw an ant climb out along the tube and -down inside it), and so I think that one of the -reasons for the tube must be that it keeps -away ants and creatures of that kind who -crawl about on the face of the sand cliff and -like eating caterpillars.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/135a.jpg" width="500" height="384" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">BEFORE THE THUNDERSTORM</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">{135}</a></div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/135b.jpg" width="500" height="371" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">AFTER THE THUNDERSTORM</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/136.jpg" width="200" height="180" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is a large picture of Crabro, about - twice as big as she really is</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>It was a long time -before I found out what kind of creature the -caterpillars stored by Spinipes would have -turned into if they had not been caught. I -thought that it would have been a small moth, -but I was quite wrong. At different times I -took several caterpillars away from the tubes, -and tried to bring them up, but it was of no -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">{136}</a></span> -use, for they all died because they could not -eat. One day, however, I happened to be -sweeping with a butterfly-net in a field of -lucerne—it is great fun sweeping, and you -should try it, for you never know what you -may get next—and I swept up what I knew -at once was the self-same little green caterpillar -that Spinipes stocked her larder with. -She <i>always</i> brought the same kind. Well, I -got a good many of them by sweeping in the -lucerne, and brought them up carefully, and, -in due time, they spun little open-work cocoons -on the lucerne leaves which I fed them with, and at last turned into -small, brown, long-nosed beetles. I need not trouble you with the Latin -names of these beetles, but I may tell you -that they are a kind of weevil which is very -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">{137}</a></span> -common and very destructive to clover and -plants of that kind. So, if we consider that -every Mother Spinipes lays eight or nine eggs, and stocks eight or nine -burrows each with about thirty destructive little caterpillars, we must -allow that she is a very useful little wasp.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/137.jpg" width="200" height="251" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is Crabro looking out of her hole. The - front of her face is covered with bright silver hair, so - fine that it looks like a silver plate. The picture is - twice her real size</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>But I am not -sure that she is more useful to man than -the other little wasp I have to tell of, the -Crabro. I found out her usefulness quite -by chance, and I expect you will like to -hear how. To begin with, I must tell -you that all the "Digger" Wasps, as some -people call them, Spinipes and the Crabros -and several other kinds, store their burrows -with insect food for their grubs to feed on.</p> - -<p>But each one has her own particular idea as -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">{138}</a></span> -to what is the <i>best</i> -food. One will use nothing but little spiders, another nothing but -little flies, another, like Spinipes, nothing but little beetle grubs. -And the queer part is that they seldom seem to make any mistake as to -the kind of food they want. It will be <i>one</i> kind of spider, and -<i>one</i> kind of fly, -and <i>one</i> kind of beetle-grub. If there are -ever more than one kind, they are always -very near relations, and, I suppose, taste very -much alike.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/138.jpg" width="200" height="357" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is how the cocoon looked when I had - taken the sawdust away. The plug of sawdust above it leads - into the round hole in the wood</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Now Crabro's store consists of -really <i>large</i> flies, blue-bottles, and green-bottles—I -expect most of you know the -beautiful shiny green-bottle fly whose proper -name is Caesar—and how little Crabro -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">{139}</a></span> -manages to overcome and carry off large -bottle-flies who are several times her own -size and several times her own weight, I cannot -tell. But I have found out for certain -that she does so, and the pictures will show -you how I found out.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/139.jpg" width="200" height="373" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">At the bottom of the picture you will see - one of Crabro's stores of blue-bottles, and if you look - carefully you will see one of the fly's wings stretching - out of it</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Last autumn a dangerous bough had to be -taken down from the top of a high elm-tree -in my garden. It was perhaps sixty feet above the ground and it came -down with a crash and broke up into little pieces. I picked up one of -these tubes and galleries, which I knew were insects' work. But there -was something much more exciting -than this. A number of the galleries had blind -ends to them, and at the bottom of these were -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">{140}</a></span> -masses of dead blue-bottles, tightly packed, which rested on small -pillows of sawdust, and had long plugs of sawdust above them.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/140.jpg" width="200" height="353" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is what the piece of elm-bough looked - like. You will be able to see the little tunnels, and the - stores of blue-bottles, which are black-looking, and the - plugs of sawdust, in which the pupa cases of the wasp-grubs - are hidden. You can see one pupa about half way up</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>I opened one of the long sawdust plugs and found, as I half expected to -find, that at the end of it next to the blue-bottles, was a small -brown papery cocoon, and that inside the -cocoon was a wasp grub. I need hardly tell -you that I collected a lot of the wood, and kept -it carefully through the winter, and tried to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">{141}</a></span> -make the little grubs as much at home as if -they had stayed up in their tree. To do this I -had to keep the wood in moist and rather dark -surroundings. Then when the spring came -round I sometimes put the wood in the sunshine, -when it was not too hot, and in the first -week in June I was rewarded for my trouble, -for the little wasps hatched out in dozens, and -so I was able to find out what they were.</p> - -<p>Look up to the top of the trees some warm -summer day, and think of the blue-bottle -hunt which may be going on above us, and -of the wonderful little hunter, Crabro.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/141.jpg" width="300" height="381" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">This is one of the cocoons of Crabro in the - elm-bough. Crabro is just going to hatch out. You can see - the little black hole where she has started gnawing</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">{143}</a></div> - - <h2>SPINIPES THE SAND-WASP<br /> - <small>(MIDSUMMER DAY)</small></h2> - -<p class="center small">AUTHOR'S NOTE</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">{144}</a></div> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/143.jpg" width="125" height="168" alt=""/> -</div> - -<div class="small"> - -<p class="nodent"><span class="uppercase">This</span> insect-tale is based on -observations of fact extending -over several summers. It may -interest some of my readers -to know the scientific names -of the chief characters mentioned. -I do not think that -any of them have popular -names. The heroine is the -solitary Sand-Wasp <i>Odynerus -Spinipes</i>, a blacker and somewhat -smaller insect than the familiar yellow Wasps -of Town and Garden. The Red King and the Black -Queen are the male and female of a solitary Bumble -Bee, <i>Anthophora Pilipes</i>. The Mistress of the -Robes is a "Cuckoo" Bee, <i>Melecta armata</i>, which -attends on Anthophora, and lays its eggs in the cells -made by Anthophora for her own eggs. The grubs of -both feed on the honey and pollen which <i>Anthophora</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">{145}</a></span> -alone has the trouble of procuring. <i>O. Spinipes</i> has -several cuckoos, the most officious being the jewel -flies, <i>Chrysis ignita</i> and <i>Chrysis bidentata</i>, whose -grubs, I fancy, eat the grub of Spinipes, as well as -the food stored up for it. The Ophion is a common -Ichneumon fly, and the beetle-grubs belong to a very -common and destructive weevil, <i>Hypera variabilis</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">The</span> -Sand Cliff splits the old gravel-pit in -two, and, jutting southward, fronts the -mid-day sun. The cuttings driven east and -west of it have long been clothed with furze -and briar and nettle. Rank grass conceals the -cart-track round its base, and, on its summit, a -thin, root-bound soil gives foothold to a straggling -hedge of privet.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 347px;"> - <img src="images/144.jpg" width="347" height="599" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THE SAND CLIFF SPLITS THE OLD GRAVEL-PIT IN TWO</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Man, needing gravel only, scorned the sand; -and, as he turned his back on it, came Nature, -gently mothering; and brought it warmth, and -light, and life.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/146.jpg" width="300" height="204" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">First the Wild Bees, Red Kings, - Black Queens</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>First the wild Bees, Red Kings, Black -Queens, fringe-footed, shaggy-coated. These -made a chambered palace of the cliff, and -peopled it within a summer. With them came -Lords-in-Waiting and their Ladies, in liveries -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">{146}</a></span> -of black velvet, ermine-faced; and, after these, a -fluttering gauze-winged host—jewel-flies ablaze -with green and blue and crimson, trim slender-waisted -digger-wasps, long-streamered swart -ichneumons. And, last of all, came Spinipes -herself.</p> - -<p>Straight from the blue she dropped on May's -last morning, swerved through the hum and -racket of the Bees, poised with her smoke-grey -wings a-whir, and lighted softly on the centre -ledge, her ebony body mirroring the sun, her -five gold girdles blazing.</p> - -<p>Down dropped a Red King at her side. He -stared at her right royally, and kept right royal -silence, yet there was kindness in his yellow face, and kindness in the -purr of his departure.</p> - -<p>Down dropped a Black Queen in his place, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">{147}</a></span> -danced and hummed about her, and measured -her slim-waistedness, and buzzed her disapproval.—"What -is it?" asked she snappishly. -"Why does it come in this get-up? Where has it left its furs?"</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/147.jpg" width="300" height="272" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Down dropped a Red King at her side. He - stared at her right royally</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"It never had furs," said a voice behind her. It was her Mistress of -the Robes.</p> - -<p>"I know the family, Ma'am. Queer clothes, -of course. But artists, Ma'am, artists to the -toe-tips."</p> - -<p>"Artists in what?" said the Black Queen.</p> - -<p>"In Sand, Ma'am, in Sand. See, she's -starting now."</p> - -<p>"That's hive-bee's work," said the Black -Queen contemptuously.</p> - -<p>"The art comes at the finish, Ma'am——"</p> - -<p>"Well, call me when it comes," said the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">{148}</a></span> -Black Queen, "and keep her off the nurseries, and clean that eleventh -cell of mine, and wait till I come back. She soared up skywards, -fussily, cleared the cliff's head, circled three times about, and set a -straight course south.</p> - -<p>"Good riddance!" said the Mistress of the Robes.</p> - -<p>"They're like that everywhere," said Spinipes. -"What are her nurseries to me? Black -Queens and black sand go together. Now -this is red sand. I feel the grip and bind -of it."</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 125px;"> - <img src="images/148.jpg" width="125" height="247" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">In Sand, Ma'am, in Sand. See, she's - starting now</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>She was quite right. The ledge was rain-washed -silt. Sunshine had bleached the outer -crust of it, but, under this, its substance was -brick-red—fine ground stuff too, damp, clingy, -easily tunnelled, and easily smarmed into a -hold-fast mortar.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">{149}</a></span> -"In that case," said the Mistress of the Robes, -"I may as well be going."</p> - -<p>Slowly she floated off the ledge, yet kept her -face towards it. Slowly she tacked from side -to side, in dipping, widening sweeps. Slowly she -passed the cliff's east edge, and disappeared.</p> - -<p><i>Then</i> Spinipes commenced to dig in earnest.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/149.jpg" width="300" height="209" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Well, call me when it comes," said the - Black Queen</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Her scissor-jaws worked viciously, carved -four-square pellets from the sun-baked crust, -gripped them and flung them backwards. As -she engaged the softer soil, she added feverish -foot-work, and scraped, and rasped, and -scrabbled it, and kicked it back in dust-clouds. -Her head was quickly buried, next her waist, -and, presently, she disappeared completely.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">{150}</a></span> -But not for long.</p> - -<p>She backed up to the surface, dragging a -sand-load underneath her body. She shook -this clear, and, without resting, dived afresh. -Ten loads in all she raised, and each one meant -a longer spell below. For she had more to do -than dig. From end to end her shaft must -needs be glazed—and this meant patient mouth-work, -deft steadying touches as the mortar set, -and skill to keep her tube's round symmetry, -and guide it in a gentle curve to end in quiet -darkness. Three inches down she sank, and, -at the bottom, drove a slant, and hollowed out -a store-room.</p> - -<p>With this the first stage ended. She left her -shaft, and, poising in mid-air, made survey -of the ledge. To right she swerved, to left -again, outwards and back, upwards and down, -until its bearings east and west, from sky -above, and earth below, were rooted in her -memory.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/151.jpg" width="300" height="198" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap"><i>Then</i> Spinipes commenced to dig in - earnest</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>So far, so good—her morning's work was -done, the picture of it fixed into her mind. -Upwards she soared until the receding cliff -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">{151}</a></span> -shrunk to a splotch of brown. Once more she -took her bearings and was satisfied, set her -course east, and, with a dropping arrow's flight, -came to the hill-top coppice. She landed on -the bramble hedge which skirts its western -clearing.</p> - -<p>"Good hunting, sister!" said the Ophion Fly. -She sat on a high briar-leaf, her rainbow wings -uplifted.</p> - -<p>"It's hardly time for that," said Spinipes. -"To-morrow, p'raps. To-day I feed myself."</p> - -<p>"There's lucerne on the slope," the Ophion -said, "and something underneath you."</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/153.jpg" width="200" height="297" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Good hunting, sister!" said the Ophion - Fly</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>There was a snap and flicker in the grass, -and presently appeared a pygmy beetle, long-snouted, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">{152}</a></span> -dusty-coated, trailing its slow legs -wearily.</p> - -<p>"D'you <i>see</i> it?" said the Ophion Fly.</p> - -<p>"I see it, but what of it?"</p> - -<p>"It means good hunting, sister. Green -grubs, black-headed, fatted. Too small for me, -but just the size for you. You'll find them in -the lucerne."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Spinipes, but she was half -across the field, a dancing, filmy wisp of pink, -wind-borne.</p> - -<p>A meal, and then to work, thought Spinipes. -It must be done by sunset. It must. It -must.</p> - -<p>From spray to spray she flitted. Flower -after flower she robbed of its pale nectar. Bud -after bud she nibbled. At last she found the -food she sought, and, with her strength renewed, -took flight. Upwards she soared; three times -she circled round; then in a straight, unbroken -course, whizzed to her shaft. Her pace was -scarcely slackened as she entered. Her wings -closed lengthways on her back, and, in a -moment, she was at the bottom.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">{153}</a></span> -Something was there before her.</p> - -<p>Something six legged, which kicked and squirmed and writhed. -Something which coiled to a hard, slippery ball, and rolled away from -capture.</p> - -<p>There was no space for it to pass, and yet there seemed no holding it. -At last she pinned it with her feet, and, backing, dragged it upwards -to the light. It was a radiant jewel fly, a squat, -short-waisted, dumpy thing made glorious by -its colour. Gems sparkled on it head to tail, -sapphire and ruby, emerald and topaz, and, as -it struggled, fire of gold blazed and died down -upon its jerking body. Instinctively she shook -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">{154}</a></span> -and worried it. Instinctively she flung it down -the slope. Head over tail, tight-clenched, it spun, -nor opened till it reached the grass below. Here -it snapped out to shape again, took instant wing, -and, with a glancing flight, regained the ledge.</p> - -<p>"An excellent shaft, Madam; quite excellent. -No doubt you made it for a special -purpose. Now I——"</p> - -<p>"Listen to me," said Spinipes, "and mark -my every word. If you come near that shaft -again—if you so much as touch it with your -feet, I'll sting your prying life out."</p> - -<p>She charged at it full swing and chased it -off the ledge.</p> - -<p>"An area sneak!" she muttered, as she dropt -underground once more—"and over-dressed at -that."</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/155.jpg" width="200" height="292" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The last to cease from play was the - Rose-Chafer</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Below the walls showed signs of the encounter—it -took ten minutes to repair their -glazing. When this was done, she crept back -to the entrance. It was high noon. A shimmery -haze rose from the heated sand. The -hum of work died fitfully away, as, one by one, -the homing bees sought shade. The digger-wasps -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">{155}</a></span> -dived deep into their holes; the hunting -spiders hid themselves. These were the last to -cease from work; the last to cease from play -was the rose-chafer.</p> - -<p>Him the fierce blaze of heat impelled to bursts of clumsy flight. -Across the pit and back again, and up and down the surface of the cliff, -he whirred and swung at random. Soon even he grew listless, and crept -within the shelter of the privet.</p> - -<p>The change came with a catspaw breeze, -which rippled from the valley, and, in its quiet -passing, fanned the cliff. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">{156}</a></span></p> - -<p>It brought back life and energy.</p> - -<p>Out flew the bees, a jostling, buzzing throng -of them, see-sawing wildly up and down, swinging, -reversing, wheeling. At length they towered -and broke to work. Out crept the hunting -spiders, zebra-coated; the fluttering, dancing, -digger-wasps; the lightning-footed ants. Out, -last of all, came Spinipes herself.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 461px;"> - <img src="images/157.jpg" width="461" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Out flew the Bees</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Her first care was her toilet. She combed -her long antennæ out and nibbled at each foot. -A circling flight to stretch her wings ended -where it had started; and, in a moment, she had -plunged below. Two minutes she stayed underground, -then came up slowly backwards. Between -her jaws was a clean-cut sand pellet. -She placed it on the rim of the shaft opening, -and, with deft touches from her lips, cemented it -in station. She danced about it joyously, with -fluttery wings, with airy, buoyant feet, moistened -it here, kneaded it there. Once more she -dived and dragged a second pellet up, and fixed -this too upon the rim. So diving, digging, -fixing, shaping, she raised a low ring-parapet.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/158.jpg" width="200" height="224" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Hour after hour she toiled</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Hour after hour she toiled, tier after tier she -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">{157}</a></span> -added, gluing each pellet firmly to the last, yet -leaving open space between each junction. So -rose a filagree tube of sand, so fragile that a -touch would crumble it; so strong that it -would bear four times her weight. Before a -shadow reached the cliff, it was a half-inch high. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">{158}</a></span> -But shadows meant an end to the day's work, -and Spinipes crept -down below and -slept.</p> - -<p>The morning sun had shone four hours before she stirred. She peered -out round-eyed from her tower, and, twisting on the rim of it, hung for -a while head-downwards. A flash of green and crimson light, and -something settled under her. It was the Jewel Fly again.</p> - -<p>"Fine progress, Madam, and a first-rate -tower. I never saw a better."</p> - -<p>No word said Spinipes, but straightway -launched, and flew at her.</p> - -<p>"Out, cuckoo-sneak!" she screamed. "Out! -or I sting!"</p> - -<p>The Jewel Fly dodged like a gnat, and -vanished round the corner.</p> - -<p>She certainly meant mischief.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">{159}</a></span> -The lowest chamber of the shaft now held a -precious thing—a spindle-shaped gold egg, -slung to the side-wall by a silken thread. -Back darted Spinipes to look at it; and test the -fine-spun sling again; and fuss with it; and feel -that it was hers.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 125px;"> - <img src="images/159.jpg" width="125" height="315" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The lowest chamber of the shaft now held - a precious thing</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Then up to her look-out once more. This -time she dropped down to -the sand and sunned herself -contentedly.</p> - -<p>The Bees had long been -working. Forward and back -they passed unceasingly, -now and again one towered, -now and again one settled; but -never did their labour-song, a -droning, buzzing, humming -chanty, weaken or gather -strength. The Jewel Fly had -vanished altogether, yet -Spinipes still seemed to fear her coming. A -full half hour she stayed on guard, and spent -the time in adding to her tower, and rounding -off its entrance, which, of its own weight, took -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">{160}</a></span> -a gentle down-curve. Then, after one last gaze -upon her egg, she flew afield.</p> - -<p>"Good hunting, sister!" said the Ophion Fly. -She sat on the same leaf as yesterday.</p> - -<p>"I want them now," said Spinipes.</p> - -<p>"The're thousands of them, -thousands," said the fly, "and most -of them quite fat."</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 125px;"> - <img src="images/160.jpg" width="125" height="175" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">It was a flabby, green, black-headed - Grub</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>But Spinipes was too engrossed -to hear her. Already, swayed by instinct she -was hunting, hunting an unknown quarry in -the lucerne. From plant to plant, from leaf to -leaf, she fluttered. Now she dropped down to -earth, and ran this way and that in the green -twilight tangle. Now she sped nimble-footed -up a stalk. Now she took flight and skimmed -above the leaves.</p> - -<p>At last she paused, her every muscle trembling, -and stared at what confronted her.</p> - -<p>It was a flabby, green, black-headed grub, -fixed slug-like on its food-plant. A trail of -skeleton tracery marked where its jaws had -passed, and, as it reached the border of its leaf -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">{161}</a></span> -it swung its head, and starting near midrib, -gnawed yet another ribbon-strip of green.</p> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/161.jpg" width="125" height="125" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>It ceased to feed as Spinipes appeared, and -rested motionless, until her weight made its leaf-platform -shiver. Then it dropped silently to -earth. But Spinipes reached earth almost as -fast, and, quartering every inch of ground, found -it and gripped it tightly. It struggled feebly -as she pinned it down, and, as she stung it, -shuddered. The sting was measured to the -millionth part. It robbed the grub of sentient -life, yet left it living. So Nature had enjoined. -For every infant Spinipes, a score of live green -grubs. Robbed of full life, lest struggling they -should harm the egg; forbidden death, lest dying -they should taint the shaft; -lulled to long sleep in mercy. -Of Nature's ordinance the -grub knew nothing—and -Spinipes knew nothing. Her -task was to make store of -food against the time when -her gold egg should hatch. Instinctively she -knew the grub was food: instinctively she -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">{162}</a></span> -paralysed its being: instinctively she laboured -to transport it.</p> - -<p>Her jaws were fastened tight behind its head. -Slowly she dragged it up a stalk until blue sky -alone was over her. Then, loosing her mouth-grip -of it, and clasping it with all six legs, she -soared on high; one long unbroken down-glide -brought her to her tower. An instant's pause -to shift her grip, and she had pushed the grub -within the entrance. Keeping a foot-hold on it, -she eased it gently downwards, until it lay -beneath her egg. She turned it over on its -back and propped it to the side wall, caressed -her egg, and mounted to the light again.</p> - -<p>Back to the lucerne field she flew, and, in ten -minutes, reappeared, a second grub beneath her.</p> - -<p>This, too, she propped up carefully, and so -she worked throughout the day, hunting, benumbing, -storing. Twelve grubs in all she -brought. All twelve she packed into a single -pile. A few made feeble movements, and these, -for prudence' sake, she stung afresh.</p> - -<p>She passed the night contentedly, for it had -been good hunting.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 381px;"> - <img src="images/162a.jpg" width="381" height="440" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">An instant's pause to shift her grip, and - she had pushed the grub within the entrance.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 381px;"> - <img src="images/162b.jpg" width="381" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">"Take that—and that—and that," said - Spinipes, and drove her sharp sting home.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">{163}</a></div> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/163.jpg" width="200" height="264" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Twelve Grubs in all she brought</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The morrow's sky was wind-swept. Across it scurried wisps of grey -with torn and fretted edges. These raced to catch each other, and fused -in rounded velvet clouds. Mass joined to mass, and, surging slowly -upwards, veiled the sun. Southwards, where earth met sky, a fine-drawn -streak of blue endured, while, here and there, a rent across the veil -gave passage to a radiant fan-spread beam. Once only did such radiance -reach the cliff. It brought a treacherous message. Out swarmed the bees -to snatch the chance of work, and out, with like intent, came Spinipes. -Straight to her hunting-ground she flew, but, even as she reached it, -came the rain.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">{164}</a></div> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/164.jpg" width="125" height="86" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>For two hours she was weather-bound. At -last a watery gleam of light, -mirrored in every dripping -leaf, enticed her from -her shelter. Homeward -she sped, and, reaching -home, found havoc. Her tower was gone—the -rain had razed it utterly—but there was -worse mishap than this. Swift-scurrying on -the surface of the sand were gangs of ants, -and every gang was busy with a grub, one -of <i>her</i> grubs. They pulled and pushed and -shouted to each other, and worked their -burdens upward to the cleft which marked -their city's entrance. She poised aghast, as -with a mocking spit at her, the gaping shaft -disgorged another grub. Six sturdy ants came -with it, and, ranging up in order, (a pair to tug, -a pair to push, a pair to guide,) commenced their -long ascent.</p> - -<p>The grubs might be replaced in time—what -of her precious egg? Downwards she tumbled -headlong. Three grubs, the lowest of the pile, -were left; her egg— She had been in the nick -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">{165}</a></span> -of time. Her egg was there, nay more, it was -uninjured. Her mother instinct told her this -as, with quick trembling passes, she felt the -hang and weight of it. Her mother instinct -swung her round, as down the shaft she heard a -scraping footfall. Even as she turned, an ant's -black face peered round the lower bend.</p> - -<p>"Out thief!" she cried. "Assassin! Bandit! -Robber!"</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/165.jpg" width="125" height="90" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>The ant retreated hurriedly, but all that night -she sat at the shaft's mouth, and barred the way -below with her own body.</p> - -<p>Next day the weather mended—a blaze of -sun from an unclouded sky, and, on the sand-cliff, -ecstasy of life.</p> - -<p>Hard work in store for Spinipes! Three -hours she spent in raising a fresh tower, five -hours in reprovisioning her burrow. But she -no longer worked alone. For others of her -race had found the cliff, and -other towers, twin to her -own, were rising from -the sand-ledge. Between -them pygmy digger -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">{166}</a></span> -wasps dug shafts to match their bodies, and -trident-tailed ichneumons sailed about them, -and sneaking, prying, -jewel flies, here, there, -and everywhere on -mischief bent.</p> - -<p>She <i>caught</i> her old acquaintance, -caught her in -the act, and dragged her out, and stung her as -was promised.</p> - -<p>"I looked inside, that's all—that's really all," -whimpered the culprit as she clutched the -rim.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/166.jpg" width="125" height="109" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">{167}</a></span> -"Take that—and that—and that," said -Spinipes, and drove her sharp sting home. -But jewel flies are toughened folk, and this one, -flung aside at last, was in full flight, and merry -as a grig, within a minute of her punishment.</p> - -<p>Daily the work grew harder. It took more -time to find the grubs, since other wasps were -hunting, and soon the increasing bulk of them -taxed her full powers of flight. Once, as she -neared the ledge, she dropped her burden. It -lay where it had fallen till it died, for neither -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">{168}</a></span> -she nor other of her kind had wit to forge, or -mend, a link in instincts broken chain. Once -she found strange additions to her store. A -human hand had robbed a neighbouring shaft -and, with well-meant intention, sought to help -her. Vain fancy! Here the self-same chain (to -hunt—to catch—to bring—to store) was, end for -end, reversed. The alien grubs were, one by -one, dragged forth, and, one by one, flung headlong.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 308px;"> - <img src="images/167.jpg" width="308" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">SHE SANK FIVE OTHER CURVING SHAFTS AND BUILT - FIVE TOWERS TO GUARD THEM</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Within a week the burrow held full store, a -stack of five-and-twenty grubs piled up to meet -the egg. This last was at the hatching-point. -The silken cord, by which it hung, had -lengthened with its growth, and each hour -found it closer to its food. All had gone well, -and Spinipes' last task, to seal the shaft with a -partition-wall, was soon accomplished. Nor did -she ever see that egg again. In time the tower -itself fell in—I fancy that she -helped it, and in its falling, -smothered the main entrance.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/168.jpg" width="125" height="112" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>She sank five other curving -shafts—each held an egg—and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">{169}</a></span> -built five towers to guard them. She made -five further stores of grubs; and then, her -life-work ended, she crept into a cleft and died.</p> - -<p>What of the eggs? you ask. They hatched -to golden yellow grubs, which fattened on the -food stores, and when, at length, their food was -all consumed, they spun them silken coverlets, -and changed from grubs to sleeping nymphs. -They slept through autumn's dreariness, through -winter's cold, through spring's soft showers, and, -when at length the warmth of summer beckoned, -they burst their bonds, and, working through the -sand, flew forth, as those before them had flown -forth. So recommenced the cycle. An æon -back it was the same. An æon hence—who -knows?</p> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/169.jpg" width="125" height="154" alt=""/> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">{171}</a></div> - - <h2>PICTURES ON BUTTERFLIES' WINGS<br /> - <small>(JULY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/171.jpg" width="200" height="186" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Magpie Moth</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I have</span> -already told you of the beautiful colours to be found on -butterflies' wings, and how people have actually used a butterfly -paintbox to make pictures with. Now I am going to show you some -butterflies and moths (quite common ones all of them) which have queer -little pictures on their wings ready made—real pictures I mean, -faces and animals and things like that.</p> - -<p>You may find it, at first, a little hard to see -them, for they are puzzle pictures, like those -you get in crackers, but once you have found -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">{172}</a></span> -the face, or whatever it may be, you won't be -able to help seeing it.</p> - -<p>I will start you with quite an easy one. -Some of you, I expect, have noticed how often -living creatures have a pattern on them like an -open eye. This is called an "eye-marking," -and is of course quite a different thing from the -eye which is used for seeing with. Nearly all -our butterflies have an eye-marking somewhere -on their wings, and we find it in many other -creatures besides butterflies. In birds, for -instance (you will remember the peacock at -once), and fish (next time you pass a big fishmonger's -look out for a John Dory, he has a -beauty) and lizards and snakes and frogs and -things like that. It is not often seen on -animals, though a leopard's or a jaguar's spots -are something very like it.</p> - -<p>If you look at the picture of the Emperor -Moth you will see that there is a very nicely -drawn eye on each of his upper wings (his -real eyes are quite hidden by his little fur -cape); and if you look at the caterpillar of the -Elephant hawk-moth long enough, I am sure -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">{173}</a></span> -you will think that he is looking back at you, -and that he does not like the look of you -much.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 469px;"> - <img src="images/173.jpg" width="469" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Emperor Moth</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Here, again, it is not his eyes that you -see, but his eye-markings. In the first picture -they are just where you would expect eyes to -be, and I must explain to you why. He -is called the "Elephant" caterpillar because -the head-end of him ("head-end" sounds -rather queer; but I think that if one may -say "tail-end" one may say "head-end") -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">{174}</a></span> -tapers off very quickly from his fat body, -and when he swings this end of him, as he often does, it looks like an -elephant's trunk. You will see what I mean in the second picture.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/174.jpg" width="200" height="285" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Elephant Hawk Moth's Caterpillar - showing his Eye-markings</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Now when he is frightened or angry, he tucks his head in like a -telescope close up to the eye-markings, and then these look as if they -are really eyes.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/175.jpg" width="200" height="310" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Elephant Hawk-Moth's Caterpillar, - showing his Trunk</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Some people think, and they may be quite -right, that these eye-markings frighten off birds -and lizards and things like that, who would -soon eat the caterpillar if they did not think -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">{175}</a></span> -that his eye-markings were really eyes, and -that they must have a big body behind them.</p> - -<p>You remember the eyes as big as tea-cups -in "The Little Tin Soldier"? If you have not -read that, read it as quickly as you can.</p> - -<p>Eye-markings are very easy to see, and I -am sure that you will be able to find four of -them on the wings of the Peacock Butterfly.</p> - -<p>Some people think that these frighten off -creatures who might eat him, just like those on -the Elephant Hawk caterpillar, and some people think just the -opposite—that the eye-markings are so clear a mark that the -butterfly's enemies will bite at <i>them</i>, and so get a mouthful of -butterfly's wing, instead of the butterfly himself; which is, of course, -all for the good of the butterfly. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">{176}</a></span> -I don't think we can be quite sure that -either of these reasons is true, but we may -be certain that if the eye-markings were not -somehow useful to the butterfly they would not -be there.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/176.jpg" width="500" height="429" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Peacock Butterfly</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The upper eye-markings on the Peacock -have nothing particularly curious about them, -but those on the under-wings each form a clear -man's face with a big moustache, whiskers, and -a bald forehead. If you hold the paper a little -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">{177}</a></span> -way off, you will see it clearly. It is something -like Mr. Balfour.</p> - -<p>This is a full-face picture, but in the other -moths, the Mother Shipton and the Magpie, -you will find side-face pictures. The Mother -Shipton takes its name from having the face of -an old witch on each of its upper wings. I will -leave you to puzzle this out for yourselves, but -I will give you the hint that the old witch has -a hooked nose and a pointed chin.</p> - -<p>The Magpie Moth has the side face of rather -an ugly boy with a button of a nose and his -mouth wide open. This is made up by the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">{178}</a></span> -markings of each pair of wings taken together, -and can only be seen when the wings are in a -certain position. I will give you a hint here, -too, which will help you. The seventh spot on -the border of the upper wing, counting downwards, -is the boy's eye; and he has a fine head -of hair.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/177.jpg" width="500" height="365" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Mother Shipton Moth</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Nearly all butterflies and moths have some -kind of picture on their wings, and I think that -it is nicer looking for these than looking for -pictures in the fire, because, when once you -have found a butterfly picture, you may be -sure of finding it again, and showing it to -other people.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">{179}</a></div> - - <h2>A VERY WEE BEASTIE AND A VERY BIG ONE<br /> - <small>(AUGUST)</small></h2> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I am</span> -going to talk about two animals this -time—one a very big one and one a very -small one. I am showing you two pictures -of the small one and two of some cousins of -his. He is quite the wee-est beastie in this -country of ours, and nearly the wee-est beastie -in all the world. He is called the Pygmy -Shrewmouse, and his name, as you see it -printed, is just about as long as his soft, -velvet body.</p> - -<p>I wonder how many of you know which is -the <i>largest</i> of our British animals? If you -guess quickly you are sure to guess wrong, -and so I will tell you, and then there will be no -need to put you right. It is the Blue Whale.</p> - -<p>Very few of us have ever seen a Blue Whale, -or, indeed, have ever had the chance; but he -comes to our northern coasts almost every -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">{180}</a></span> -summer, and so, as he is met with in -British seas, he is quite rightly called a -British animal.</p> - -<p>He does not often swim close inshore, for, -if he does, he is likely to be caught by the tide, -and left high and dry like a jelly-fish, which, -indeed, has more than once happened.</p> - -<p>The Blue Whales which come to this -country are between seventy and eighty feet -long (there is really no room to give you a -picture of one) and weigh between a hundred -and fifty and two hundred tons. The Pygmy -Shrewmouse, tail and all, is less than three -inches long and weighs about a tenth of an -ounce. Now I know that measurements are -difficult things for young folks to understand, -so I will try to make you see the difference -between these two animals of ours in a -different way. I expect we all know what -a lawn-tennis court looks like. Two Blue -Whales would just fill a lawn-tennis court, -but if we wanted to fill a lawn-tennis court -with Pygmy Shrewmice, we should want five-hundred -thousand of them, and if we could -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">{181}</a></span> -lift a Blue Whale on an enormous pair of -scales, and tried to balance him with Pygmy -Shrewmice, we should want—how many do -you think? We should want more than -<i>seventy millions</i> of them.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/181.jpg" width="500" height="454" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Common Shrewmouse, who is Half as - Big Again as the Pygmy</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>It is wonderful to think that the wee -Pygmy and the huge Whale should belong -to the same Class of creatures. But it is so. -Nearly all the bones in the Pygmy (some are -scarcely thicker than a hair) can be matched -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">{182}</a></span> -by the same sort of bones in the Blue Whale. -If the Blue Whale were a fish (and he -certainly looks like one) his bones would be -quite different and quite differently arranged, -and from this we know that the Whale is not -a fish like a Shark, but an animal like a Seal, -or a Pygmy Shrewmouse or one of ourselves.</p> - -<p>Now we must look at the pictures. You -will see at once what a long nose the Pygmy -has got. This nose is very useful to him, for -much of his food is tiny insects, and he pokes -his nose into tiny holes after them.</p> - -<p>You can't see his teeth in the pictures, -which is a pity, for they are very curious -teeth, and the front ones, instead of pointing -up and down like ours do, point outwards -rather, and come together like a pair of -tweezers. This helps him to catch insects -too, and to pull little snails out of their -shells.</p> - -<p>I don't think his teeth are strong enough -to crack snail shells, but his dark-brown -cousin, the Common Shrewmouse (his picture -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">{183}</a></span> -is on page 181), cracks snail shells quite -easily, and so does his black cousin, the -Water Shrewmouse.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/183.jpg" width="500" height="401" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Water Shrewmouse, who is nearly Half - as Big Again as the Common Shrewmouse</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>What does the great Blue Whale eat, you -ask? I expect you will be surprised to hear -that he eats much the same kind of things as -the Pygmy—small slug-like creatures, scarcely -an inch long, which swarm in parts of the sea. -Of course he eats barrelfuls at once.</p> - -<p>He catches them by a wonderful arrangement -in his mouth, which is made of what -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">{184}</a></span> -we call whalebone. It is something like the -gratings across drain-pipes, which let the -water through but stop everything else, and -he can lift it up or drop it down as he pleases. -When he is hungry, he takes a huge mouthful -of sea-water and lets it out again through this -whalebone grating. All the small slug-like -things which are swimming in the water are -trapped, and, when he has got most of the -water out of his mouth, he swallows them.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 350px;"> - <img src="images/184.jpg" width="350" height="366" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Pygmy Shrewmouse</span><br />His fur has a - beautiful purple bloom, like that on a yellow plum; and is - so fine that it often shows mother-of-pearl colours</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>I don't think that the Whale can have much -trouble about getting his dinner; all he has -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">{185}</a></span> -to do is to find the right piece of sea and then -open his mouth; but the Pygmy, I think, has -to work very hard, as he has to catch everything -separately, and he is such a delicate little -creature that he is seldom about unless the -weather is warm and fine.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 350px;"> - <img src="images/185.jpg" width="350" height="293" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">This is how the Pygmy coils Himself up - to sleep</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Then he has to make up for the hungry time -when bad weather has kept him in his hole.</p> - -<p>In the autumn one often finds dead shrewmice -lying on the paths. Nobody quite -knows why they die in the autumn, but I -think it is because only a few of them, if any, -are strong enough to stand cold and wet and -hunger all at once. The rest die just like the -leaves die.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">{186}</a></span> -You must not think a dead Shrewmouse is -like a live one to look at, for he is quite -different. When dead, the poor little beastie -lies stretched out straight, but when he is -alive he is all bunched up together and runs -about like a little fur ball on legs.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">{187}</a></div> - - <h2>IN WEASEL WOOD<br /> - <small>(LAMMAS DAY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/187.jpg" width="125" height="147" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">Again</span> -the Fox Cub was puzzled. His muzzle wrinkled dubiously, his ears -twitched and puckered, he barked (a new accomplishment), he mewed (a -newer habit still), and then, since sound proved futile, he sank from -his hindquarters forward slowly, grounded his nose between his paws and -stared.</p> - -<p>This was the queerest happening of all. -Queerer than the briar's queer flutter; and the -shower of pink petals from it; and the glint of -savage little eyes half-way up it; and the savage -little chestnut face behind them. Queerer than -the scream from the sky; and the rotten elm-branch -dancing bough to bough; and cannoning -against the trunk; and shattering at his -feet. Queerer than the swish through the nettlebed—swish -of a purple snaking shadow, which -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">{188}</a></span> -might have been mere bird, had the trail of it -been clumsier, or its ripple more fretful.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/188.jpg" width="500" height="410" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Again the Fox Cub was Puzzled</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Birds he had known since teething. Mother -had brought them often; Father less often—scraggy, -thin-necked, towsled things, yet mostly -of fine flavour; finer than rabbits certainly -(except quite baby rabbits); finer, too, than -frogs; or lizards; or mice; or snails; or any of -the myriad crawl-by-nights on which young -teeth gain confidence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">{189}</a></span> -The Fox Cub stared round-eyed towards the -bracken. It certainly was moving—moving in -waves which spent themselves abruptly, moving -in spins and eddies. Now and again great -swathes of it sank downward.</p> - -<p>The Fox Cub froze to stone. His muzzle -hardened; his ears drooped flat; only his tail -(his brush was yet to come) twitched half in -interest, half in apprehension.</p> - -<p>The bracken started midway down the slope, -in straggling, wayward patches. These quickly -joined in an unbroken mass, and, on the level -ground, gained full luxuriance. A cart-track -twisted through them, half of it clear to eyes -above, half intercepted.</p> - -<p>Beyond, the ground crept up once more—bracken -gave place to bramble, bramble to -coppice, coppice to the sky.</p> - -<p>The Fox Cub's eyes missed nothing.</p> - -<p>Movement above he saw—the brown owl -changing station. Movement upon mid-slope—the -dormouse in the brambles. Movement -upon the cart-track—the shrewmouse worrying -snails. But these were mere diversions—their -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">{190}</a></span> -interest passed. The bracken furnished a besetting -problem—movement inexplicable, sound -inexplicable—long-drawn, wheezy breathings, -snorts of exertion, sighs of content. There was -scent also, heavy musted scent, which came in -whiffs and dangled at his nose.</p> - -<p>But for this scent he must have smelt the -Stoat. The Stoat came dancing up the wind, -passed by to right of him, and swung about. -He held himself with an air, his body arched, -one broad white pad uplifted, his tail curved -decorously. From where he lay, the Fox -Cub took his measure, then slowly reared -himself and yawned. He, too, had teeth to -show.</p> - -<p>The Stoat's black tail twitched side to side. -He met the challenge squarely. The Fox Cub -sank full length again. The Stoat tiptoed -towards him, and, stretching full-neck forward, -nibbled at his fur. So was their peace established. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">{191}</a></span></p> - -<p>"Badger," whispered the Stoat, and danced -from point to point excitedly, "Badger, grub-grub-grubbing."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/191.jpg" width="500" height="357" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">HE SANK FROM HIS HINDQUARTERS FORWARD - SLOWLY, GROUNDED HIS NOSE BETWEEN HIS PAWS AND STARED</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">{192}</a></span> -A stunted patch of bracken burst apart, and -from its cover lurched a broad grey back.</p> - -<p>"He scents you," said the Stoat.</p> - -<p>The Fox Cub still lay motionless. It was -the broadest back he yet had seen.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/192.jpg" width="125" height="177" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"Should one run?" he whispered. This -spelt sheer ignorance of the woods.</p> - -<p>"Run?" said the Stoat. "Whoever ran from -Badger but a rabbit? Badger is all benevolence. -Badger is King. We run towards him."</p> - -<p>"Who are <i>We</i>?" said the Fox Cub.</p> - -<p>"<i>We?</i>" said the Stoat. "Why, Marten, -Polecat, Stoat, and Weasel. Flesh-eaters All. -All of one Brotherhood. Beasties Courageous. -Squirrel is living up to us—he does his best -with eggs."</p> - -<p>"<i>Squirrel is living up to us?</i>" It was a -cough and splutter from above -and Stoat and Cub peered -upwards. Squirrel sat twenty -feet away, and stamped with indignation. -"Squirrel is living -up to us? My plumed tail! -you wait till Squirrel grows."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/193.jpg" width="500" height="416" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Stoat tiptoed towards Him</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">{193}</a></span> -"Never mind him," said the Stoat, "he's -silly."</p> - -<p>The broad grey back had swung about, and -Badger's head was lifted. Slowly it swayed -from side to side, slowly it nodded.</p> - -<p>"Where are his eyes?" whispered the Fox -Cub.</p> - -<p>"In his head," chuckled the Stoat.</p> - -<p>"His head's a puzzle," said the Fox Cub—which, -indeed, it was. Seen from above, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">{194}</a></span> -swinging to and fro, its clean-cut -symmetries of black and white -foreshortened in confusion.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/194.jpg" width="125" height="152" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"Wait till he fronts you," said the -Stoat, and presently this happened. -The head stopped motionless. A -broad white stripe divided it; on either side were -triangles of black; beneath was white again, -and white tricked out the outline of each ear.</p> - -<p>"He's black beneath," said the Stoat, "and -grey behind—now you can see him."</p> - -<p>Badger had backed a pace or two and craned -his neck to snuffle. Ebon-chested he was and -ebon-footed.</p> - -<p>"Still I can't see his eyes," muttered the Fox -Cub, but, even as he spoke, he saw them—steadfast, -watchful, gimlet eyes, as black as their -black setting.</p> - -<p>"And now we <i>all</i> have seen you," said the -Stoat. "Marten has seen you; Polecat has seen -you; Weasel has seen you; I have seen you; -and Badger has seen you. Fox Cub, you yet -have much to learn in stealth. Go, make your -peace with Badger."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">{195}</a></span> -"What have I done?" said the Fox Cub.</p> - -<p>"You've come unasked," said the Stoat.</p> - -<p>"I was brought," said the Fox Cub.</p> - -<p>"That makes no difference," said the Stoat. -"The wood belongs to US!"</p> - -<p>"US! <small>US!</small> us!" the hillside caught the echo -of it, and filled with sibilant voices.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 488px;"> - <img src="images/195.jpg" width="488" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"My plumed tail! You wait till Squirrel - grows." "Never Mind Him," said the Stoat, "He's Silly"</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">{196}</a></span> -"US-S-<small>S-S</small>-s-s!" it was the Stoat departing.</p> - -<p>"US-S!" screamed the Squirrel, boldly, -from his branch.</p> - -<p>"<i>You?</i>" sneered the Fox Cub. "You -simian rat! You fuzz-tailed, fish-eyed rabbit! -Think of your teeth next time you wash your -face."</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/196.jpg" width="125" height="252" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>The Squirrel stamped and spat at him. -"Wait till I grow," he spluttered. "Wait till -my head's as big as yours. Wait till I give -up nuts."</p> - -<p>"Oh, do be quiet," said the Cub. "I want -to think."</p> - -<p>"It might be worth my while," he mused. -"I <i>like</i> this wood."</p> - -<p>Badger was grunting softly to himself. His -head still swayed and nodded. Now and again -he scratched the ground before -him. The Fox Cub rose up -cautiously, and sat back on his -haunches. He saw the whole of -Badger now, the iron-grey back, -the magpie head, the stumpy tarbrush -tail.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">{197}</a></span> -He stole two stealthy paces down the slope, -but checked as Badger squared himself. Two -paces more—and Badger ducked his head, and -charged full drive uphill at him.</p> - -<p>The Fox Cub bolted straightway, turned -sharp upon the hill-crest, ran half the length of -it, slid headlong down the sand-cliff (the stones -rattling about him), followed the ride for fifty -yards, swung sharply to the right, and so, by -some strange instinct, reached the gorse-clump.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/197.jpg" width="500" height="259" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Marten has seen You</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>He was quite badly scared. His tongue -lolled dripping from his mouth; his sides heaved -painfully; he felt that, come what may, he must -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">{198}</a></span> -lie down. So he squirmed, -eel-like, underneath the furze, -twisted himself about, and, with -his head thrust outwards, snuffed -and listened. He had outdistanced Badger—of -that he soon assured himself. Yet there was -something watching him, something whose -curious stare he felt. His eyes ranged anxiously -from point to point, dwelt on each tuft and -hummock in the grass, dwelt long upon a -jerking patch of moss, which in due course revealed -a white-legged mouse, and in the end -cast upwards.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/198.jpg" width="125" height="107" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>Above him stretched a leafless branch of elm, -and on its clean-cut, fretted edge a moving blur -intruded—a blur which swelled and shrunk in -steady rhythm, and twitched and wriggled forward -in short jerks, so closely welded to the -bark, so neatly matched in hue to it, that, but -for movement, it had cheated sight.</p> - -<p>The Fox Cub watched it furtively, his yellow -eyes upturned. It checked, and from the -end of it dropped a soft feathery plume, and -hung and dangled lightly. Its lines were unmistakable, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">{199}</a></span> -it was a tail. Then, as the Fox -Cub gazed, the head took shape—a flat-browed, -taper-muzzled head, with shimmery velvet eyes, -which seemed to look beyond as well as at him.</p> - -<p>Such was the Marten couched. Their eyes -met, and he saw her rampant. She leapt from -where she lay to where, six feet above, the -branch forked double. Astride on this, her forefeet -on the upper arm, her hind-feet on the -lower, she faced about and screamed—</p> - -<p>"Ai-<i>yah</i>-ai-ee! Ai-<i>yah</i>-ai-ee! A Fox! A -Fox!"</p> - -<p>The scream dropped to a whine, then to a -bleat—"<i>Huh-huh-huh-huh! Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh!</i>"—then -swelled into a scream -again.</p> - -<p>Out leapt the Fox Cub, impudent, and faced -the music.</p> - -<p>"The last part again, Marten," he cried. -"Oh, <i>please</i>, the last part again!"</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/199.jpg" width="125" height="207" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>The Marten stared, mouth open -"A cub!" she gasped; "not even -a grown fox—a woolly, blunt-nosed -cub."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">{200}</a></span> -"Do you know where you are?" she added, -shortly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do," said the Fox Cub. "The wood -belongs to US. Marten and Polecat, Stoat -and Weasel. Flesh-eaters All. All of one -Brotherhood. Beasties Courageous. I hope -I've got that right—and you all kow-tow to -Badger."</p> - -<p>"And where do <i>you</i> come in?" said the -Marten grimly. His coolness took her fancy.</p> - -<p>"The first good roomy hole I find," said the -Fox Cub. "I like this wood and in this wood -I'll stop."</p> - -<p>"<i>Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh</i>," said the -Marten.</p> - -<p>"Quite so," said the Fox Cub.</p> - -<p>The Marten snuggled down, her eyes a-twinkle.</p> - -<p>"I know exactly the kind of hole you'd like," -she said.</p> - -<p>"Where's that?" said the Fox Cub.</p> - -<p>"Listen to me carefully," said the Marten, -"and you can't miss it. You know where the -holm oak is—of course you don't. Look here. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">{201}</a></span> -Get back on to the ride and follow that. It -leads you to a hollow."</p> - -<p>"It leads two ways," said the Fox Cub.</p> - -<p>"You go downhill to the hollow," said the Marten, -gently. "Right at the bottom you will find -an oak-stump, and if you look inside it (which I -don't advise), you will find a family of Polecats."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/201.jpg" width="500" height="372" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">And perhaps you will be good enough to - get higher up the Tree, while I come underneath</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Polecats?" said the Fox Cub.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Polecats," said the Marten.</p> - -<p>"Turn up to the left at the stump, and make -for the silver birch at the top of the rise. The -hole is close by that."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">{202}</a></span> -"Much obliged," said the Fox Cub, "and -perhaps you will be good enough to get higher -up the tree, while I come underneath."</p> - -<p>"Certainly," said the Marten. From twig -to twig she sprang, so daintily, so airily, that -a mere flutter signalled her ascent.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/202.jpg" width="125" height="171" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"Will this do?" cried she from the topmost -branch. Her forefeet hung on its extremity; -her hind-feet curved and dangled; her tail -twitched underneath her.</p> - -<p>"That will do," said the Fox Cub. Before -the words were spoken he was past the tree; -before the Marten reached the ground he gained -his stride, which was good going. The Marten -checked at twenty yards. "I've done my -share," she said, and sauntered up the tree -again.</p> - -<p>The Fox Cub quickly hit the ride, noted -its slope, and keeping close in touch with -it, slunk velvet-footed through the abutting -cover. His pads dropped soft as -thistle-down, he scarcely stirred a -leaf, and yet the weasel, nosing in -the brambles, got wind of him and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">{203}</a></span> -squeaked. She was a five-inch weasel, too -small to check his progress, yet large enough -for mischief. Should she be silenced? He -swung about—the scent of her -still lingered—and in a moment -he was on her trail. Three -bounds and he had sighted her. -She shot beneath a bramble-patch, -issued where he had -least foreseen, and tricked him in a maze of -straggling roots. He worked back, sulky-faced, -towards the ride, but checked ten paces -from the oak-stump. Its tenant sat upon -it—the purple, snaking, whiplash thing which -had perplexed him earlier. Now he saw -head to tail of it. The white-rimmed ears, -the ochre-banded forehead, the bold eyes, -spectacled with brown, the coarse brown-purple -body-fur flecked here and there with -streaks of shimmery buff—all these he took -quiet note of, and presently saw many aspects -of them.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/203.jpg" width="125" height="125" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>The Marten had been right. The Polecat's -mate came sneaking from the hollow, and close -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">{204}</a></span> -behind her squirmed four red-brown cubs, loose-jointed -yet, but muscular, whimpering pettishly, -mauling each other as they ran.</p> - -<p>Six Polecats knit by kinship! it was too -much for one Fox Cub to face. He cast wide -off to right of them, and, creeping quietly round -again, regained the ride to leeward. Here it -cut through rough coppice. The western slope -was thickly wooded, low bushes mostly, chestnut, -birch, and hazel, yet high enough to screen -what lay beyond. He started to explore the -upper ground. At first the incline was easy, -but half way up it steepened to a cliff. Coppice -gave place to grass and briar, and these in turn -to gorse and slithery sand. By slow degrees -he zigzagged to the summit, faced round, and -scanned the depths which he had left. The -oak stump stood out clear against the ride, -and, on his right, two hundred yards away, -he marked the silver birch. He scrambled -down to grass again, and, travelling quickly -on mid-slope, found what he sought within -two minutes.</p> - -<p>Viewed from below—it opened near the skyline—the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">{205}</a></span> -hole seemed promising enough. It -was a spacious sheltered hole, almost a cavern—the -depths of it ink-black, the entrance to it -jagged and arching. The Fox Cub stole up -cautiously and stopped dead on its threshold. -Something was in possession, something which -split the darkened void in three; something -which crept out slowly from the black, first -shadowy grey, then white—a clean-cut <i>fleur-de-lys</i> -of white.</p> - -<p>It was another Badger.</p> - -<p>The Fox Cub leapt back sideways, but -even so she caught him. She came out -(thirty pounds of her) full charge, and caught -him low. The attacking badger tosses like -a bull, trusting to weight and side-swing of -the shoulders. He somersaulted twice. The -Badger held straight on her course and disappeared -downhill.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/205.jpg" width="125" height="96" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>The Fox Cub slowly pulled himself together. -Had he been bitten? Bruised he was all over, -and sick, and giddy; and so, -the hole being there, he crept -within it, and crawled down -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">{206}</a></span> -the main shaft for fifteen yards, and took one of -four turnings, and followed this until it forked, -and then chose the right gallery, and so attained -the nest. Rather the haystack, for the making -of it had almost stripped an acre. Bracken -there was, and bent-grass, thyme and clover, -arum stalk and bluebell, thick swathes of them -inextricably tangled, bedding enough for twenty -half-grown cubs.</p> - -<p>There was food also. He found a rabbit's leg -at once, then a stiff mummied frog, then half -a snake. He made a closer search, and found -more rabbit. Each find he sampled. Most of -them he gulped, but some he buried carefully -for seasoning, scraping small hollows to receive -them, and plastering earth upon them with his -nose. This done, he coiled himself up tight, -and for five minutes dozed with wakeful ears. -Thirst brought him to his feet again; thirst and -a sense of danger. Clearly this was the Badger's -hole—he owed that Marten something. The -hole had a main entrance. From this a single -shaft led fifteen yards, but then it split, and -smaller tunnels joined it, tunnels which might -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">{207}</a></span> -end blind. Badgers no doubt were most benevolent, -but Badgers seem to charge at sight, -and tunnels were poor places to be charged in. -The last reflection scared him back to sense. He -would be cornered hopelessly, would not know -which of twenty turns to take. That settled -it. To wait for them was madness. He -must go.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/207.jpg" width="500" height="454" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">It was another Badger</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>He reached the entrance without accident, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">{208}</a></span> -dropped soft-footed down the slope. A puddle -on the ride was in his mind—a puddle just -beyond the Polecat's stump. He reached this -safely also, stooped down his head, and lapped -his fill.</p> - -<p>The wood was oddly silent. Dark clouds had -massed low in the sky and streamed to either -side, outflanking it. Beneath their dreary shadow -the green and russet of the trees faded to lifeless -grey. The grass-blades stood up stiffly; the -leaves hung stiffly downwards. All that was -weatherwise was taking cover. Down from the -summit of the ride came the two Badgers, -bumping. They travelled leisurely.</p> - -<p>First He would root an arum up (a flick with -one fore-paw), and She would place her paw where -his had been. Then He would stretch tiptoe -against an oak, and She would do the same. -Then He would wheel sharp right or left, and -She would follow like a truck. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">{209}</a></span></p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 387px;"> - <img src="images/209.jpg" width="387" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">SHE CAME OUT FULL CHARGE</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Cub had time to entrench himself securely. -He chose the summit of the Polecat's stump, and -from it watched the pair of them bump past. -They quickened as they faced the rise, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">{210}</a></span> -grunted to each other; then, with their heads -down, sped in line uphill.</p> - -<p>And with their going came the rain.</p> - -<p>It spattered in large warning drops, then -swished in sheets. Even before the thunder-peals, -and rattle of fierce hail, the stump became -untenable. The Fox Cub scrambled down -from it, headed a dozen different ways, and, in -the end, grown desperate, pursued the retreating -Badgers. He caught them as they reached the -hole, and saw them topple down it. He gave -them half a minute's grace and toppled after.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/210.jpg" width="500" height="357" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">And in due course of Time, His Wife</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">{211}</a></span> -What happened next? That I can only guess -at. Perhaps there was a Fox Cub course for -dinner; perhaps (and this, I think, is likeliest) -the Badgers took small notice of his entry. They -may have even welcomed him, and, in due course -of time, his wife.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">{213}</a></div> - - <h2>SHEEP IN WOLVES' CLOTHING<br /> - <small>AND WOLVES IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING<br /> - (SEPTEMBER)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 124px;"> - <img src="images/213.jpg" width="124" height="163" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Lobster Moth<br /> - Caterpillar</span><br /> - Pretending to be a Spider</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">The</span> -wolves and sheep I am going to talk about are all of them insects, -or rather all of them but one, for scientific people do not allow us to -call spiders insects. Insects have six legs and six legs only, while -spiders and mites and those sort of people -have eight, and there are a great many other -differences between spiders and true insects -which would make it quite a dreadful blunder -to put them in the same case in the Museum, -or to speak of them in the same breath when -you know you are talking to clever people.</p> - -<p>The Spider, as you might guess, is one of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">{214}</a></span> -the Wolves, and so is the Dragon in the -Water-weed, who turns into one of our largest -dragon flies, if he is lucky; while the caterpillars -and the Giant Wood Wasp are just -silly harmless sheep.</p> - -<p>Have you ever thought of the wonderful -struggles which are always going on in the -insect world—the struggles to eat, and the -struggles not to be eaten? Nearly all insects -seem to be the food for something or other. -Most animals enjoy them thoroughly, so do -many birds, and many reptiles and amphibians -(frogs and toads) and many fish. I -think that spiders live on them entirely, and -they have also cannibals to fear among their -own kind, for though most insects feed on -plant-juice, quite a large number of them -turn to stronger meat, and spend their lives -in hunting their poor relations. It sounds -rather horrible, doesn't it? But we may be -quite sure that everything of the kind has -been mercifully arranged so that this beautiful -world of ours, with all its joy and colour, -and its millions and millions of happy children—I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">{215}</a></span> -do not think that any lives but those -of human beings are ever really unhappy—may -keep its beauty always. That is why -the ichneumon flies have to kill down the -caterpillars, for, if there were too many caterpillars, -there would be no hedgerows, let -alone vegetables for dinner; and the Rove -Beetles, who have curly cock-up tails, have -to kill down the little boring beetles, for, if -there were too many little boring beetles -there would be no trees; and the Crabros have -to kill down the blue-bottles, for if there were -too many blue-bottles—well, goodness knows -what <i>would</i> happen to some excitable people.</p> - -<p>We must believe then that things are best -as they are—that a struggle for life is part of -a Great Plan, Greater than our human minds -can grasp, and that the lives of the hunters -are as useful in their way as the lives of the -hunted.</p> - -<p>Now how would we ourselves act, if our -lives depended on catching things? And how -would we act if our lives depended on not -being caught? I don't think we could add -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">{216}</a></span> -much to what the insects and spiders have -taught us. To hunt successfully you must -get so near to your quarry that you can kill -it. If you are quicker-footed, well and good. -If you are slower-footed you may employ -something quicker-footed than yourself—this -is what happens in fox-hunting; or you may -approach without being seen—this is what -happens in deer-stalking: or you may hide -yourself and wait for your quarry to approach -you—this is what happens in tiger-shooting; -or, lastly, you may employ traps and snares, -which is how most fishing is done. I don't -think that any creatures but ourselves employ -lower creatures to hunt for them, but the -other ways are used by all sorts of animals, -and the last two are used more skilfully by -insects and spiders than by anything else. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">{217}</a></span></p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 334px;"> - <img src="images/217.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THE SPIDER ON THE BRAMBLE BLOSSOM</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Look at the pictures of the spider on the -bramble-blossom. This particular spider -belongs to a family called <i>Thomisus</i> (I don't -know why) and he varies in colour from a -bright sulphur yellow to a delicate green, -which is an exact match to the green of an -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">{218}</a></span> -unopened bramble-bud. In three of the pictures -(a fly has settled close to the spider in -two of them) you will be able to make out -the spider pretty soon, I expect, for he has -stretched his legs out. He keeps quite still -in this position, and I think he fancies that -he is a bramble-bud. But in the other picture -I am pretty sure that, if he did not -happen to be a rather fat spider, you would -find it very difficult to distinguish him, and -you may be certain that a fly would find it -just as difficult. He is a wolf in sheep's -clothing, and the sheep are bramble-buds.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/218.jpg" width="500" height="318" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Dragon in the Water-weed</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/219.jpg" width="500" height="381" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Dragon in the Water-weed</span><br /> - This is the back of him, and you can see that he is covered - with a delicate water-weed</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>And now for the Dragon in the Water-weed. -You will not be able to make him out -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">{219}</a></span> -at all at first, but if you look long enough you -will see his body which is too thick to be a piece -of weed, and if you then let your eyes travel -upwards, you will see his "mask," which is -like a pair of folding-doors. These open and -let his jaws out when he wants to use them. -And his disguise is even more slim than that -of the spider, for not only does he mimic the -Water-weed round him—his straggly legs, -which you should be able to make out also, -help him in this—but he actually becomes part -of his surroundings, for all over him grows a -delicate water-weed, and when he is at the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">{220}</a></span> -bottom of the pond, where he spends most of -his time, he is <i>part</i> of the bottom of the -pond, and the creatures which he would eat -walk past him carelessly. He is a wolf in -sheep's clothing, and the sheep are water-weeds.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/220.jpg" width="300" height="309" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Lobster Moth Caterpillar</span><br /> - As he looks when angry</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>And now for the sheep who are just as clever really as the wolves. -Two of these are caterpillars—quite the most curious pair of -caterpillars to be met with in this country—and the third is a -sawfly. Sawflies get their name from having an instrument with which -they can bore or saw, as the case may be, into leaves or trees, and this -is the largest one we have in England.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">{221}</a></span> -The hunter-insects, as we have seen, disguise themselves so as to get -near their victims unawares, and the hunted disguise themselves very -often in the same way so as to avoid being seen, but sometimes in such a -way that if they <i>are</i> seen they may appear to be much more -terrible creatures than they really are. And so we have the sheep in -wolves' clothing.</p> - -<p>The hunters of the caterpillars are the -ichneumon flies. Ichneumon flies do not eat -caterpillars but lay their eggs inside them. -They have a special instrument for the -purpose, and when the grubs hatch out they -gradually eat away the fleshy parts of the -caterpillar so that it seldom has strength -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">{222}</a></span> -enough to turn into a chrysalis, let alone a -butterfly, or moth, or beetle, as the case may -be. Now what is the chief enemy of a fly? -Why, of course, a spider. If then something -which dreads an ichneumon fly can make itself -look like that fly's worst enemy, a spider, it -will have a good chance of scoring off the fly.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/221.jpg" width="300" height="435" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Ichneumon Fly</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Caterpillar of the Lobster Moth, of -which I show you two pictures, can do this -to a nicety. He has, as you see, an extraordinary -shape for a caterpillar, I don't think -that any other caterpillar in this country has -the same long skinny legs—and he is able to -strike extraordinary attitudes which make -him look very spidery indeed, particularly -from in front, for then the two little spikes at -the end of his lobster body appear over the -top of his head and look like a spider's -pincers. Mother Nature has been very -careful of her Lobster Moth caterpillar. -When he is quite a baby he looks just like -a little black ant. When he is asleep he -folds up his legs and looks like a shrivelled -beech-leaf—he usually feeds on beech—and, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">{223}</a></span> -when he is attacked by an ichneumon fly -(you can make him think he is being attacked -by tickling him with a paint-brush) he turns -himself at once into a sham spider, by throwing -back his head as far as it will go and -shuddering his skinny legs in the air.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/223.jpg" width="500" height="457" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Puss Moth Caterpillar</span><br /> - As he looks when angry</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Puss Moth caterpillar is almost as -curious. He, too, strikes fearsome attitudes. -He has eye-markings to help him (you will -have read about these elsewhere) and he can -also squirt out an acid from underneath his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">{224}</a></span> -chin. These two defences are probably most -useful against animals and birds and lizards -and creatures of that kind, but they do not -seem to be much use against an ichneumon -fly, and so Mother Nature has helped him -further, by giving him two little pink whiplashes, -which shoot out from the prongs at -his tail end when he is really annoyed. -When a fly comes near him he brandishes -them as you see in the picture.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/225.jpg" width="500" height="404" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Giant Wood Wasp</span><br /> - It has no poisonous sting, though it looks as if it had a - very fine one</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Our last sheep is the Giant Wood Wasp, -who is not a wasp at all, and is much more -common in this country than he used to be. -He is a handsome black and yellow insect -with a body about an inch long, and his -wolf's clothing is his black and yellow colour. -This is the commonest wolf's clothing of all. -You know I expect that a number of stinging -insects, wasps and bees, have a black and -yellow, or black and red colouring, and you -know too, I dare say, that there are a great -many flies who have no stings but are -coloured in much the same way. Well, it is -thought that these flies without stings, of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">{225}</a></span> -which the Giant Wood Wasp is one, may -sometimes avoid attack because they frighten -their enemies by looking as if they <i>had</i> -stings. Suppose a young sparrow ate a -wasp, he would probably get stung, and it -might happen that next time he saw a black -and yellow fly, he would mistake it for a -wasp and so not eat it. If this <i>did</i> happen, -the fly would have owed his life to being -black and yellow.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">{227}</a></div> - - <h2>THE BEASTIES' BEDTIME<br /> - <small>(OCTOBER)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 125px;"> - <img src="images/227.jpg" width="125" height="196" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Queen Wasp in her<br />winter sleep</span><br /> - <small>She puts her wings <i>underneath</i> her body, so that they - sha'n't get damaged, and holds on chiefly with her mouth</small></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">How</span> -would you like to sleep straightaway through the winter, and miss -Guy Fawkes, and Christmas, and New Year, and Valentine's Day, and -skating, and snowballing, and round games in the evening, and having -stories read to you by the fire, and all those delightful -things which come to cheer us when the weather -is damp and gloomy, making us feel somehow -that summer is a queer, impossible kind of -time, just as in summer we find it hard to -imagine what it feels like to be really cold? I -want you to remember in this winter which is -coming what a number of little creatures in the -wide world around you are fast, fast asleep. I -want you to think how wonderful it is that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">{228}</a></span> -these little creatures are able to dream away -the time when there is nothing for them to eat, -and to wake again when there is food in plenty.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/228.jpg" width="500" height="396" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bill the Lizard</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Every year when the evenings begin to come -quicker and quicker, and grow colder and colder, -Mother Nature, who is the mother of our dear -own mothers, puts her babies to bed at the -time which she knows is best. A queer set of -babies they are! Babies of such different kinds -that it is a wonder she can keep them all in her -head, and not have to say sometimes to herself: -"Good gracious, I forgot my dormouse: and I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">{229}</a></span> -don't believe my brown lizard was properly -tucked up in the grass-tuft; and as for my -prickly hedge-pig, I don't remember where I -sent him last."</p> - -<p>But Mother Nature never does forget, and -never spoils her babies. She whispers "bedtime," -and they go.</p> - -<p>The little insects go first—the flies, and -beetles, and earwigs, and frog-hoppers, and -myriads of other tiny creatures which you can -see in the grass on any warm day by just lying -down and opening your eyes.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/229.jpg" width="300" height="239" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Toadums</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>For all Mother Nature's care I fear that most of these die, but some -may manage to live through the cold, and among the larger kinds of -insects some always do. You remember -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">{230}</a></span> -what I told you about the Brimstone Butterfly! -The Queen Wasp is another of the lucky -ones.</p> - -<p>She creeps into some sheltered crevice, -where she can find a shred of something small -enough to take into her mouth. This sounds -queer, doesn't it? I will tell you the reason. -The Queen Wasp sleeps hanging by her jaws, -and hardly trusting to her legs at all. You can -see what she looks like in the picture, and you -must notice that she has tucked her wings -right underneath her body so that nothing can brush against them.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/230f1.jpg" width="500" height="414" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Round Eye the Dormouse</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>After the insects go the reptiles and the frogs. These are -cold-blooded creatures, so they have no need to make -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">{231}</a></span> -a nest to keep them warm, but they don't like -to be too cold, and always creep somewhere -where the frost will not reach them. Bill the lizard sometimes goes deep -down into a large grass-tuft, and sometimes creeps into a mouse-hole. -Froggin dives into a pond and -wriggles into the mud, or underneath a stone, -and there sleeps under the water until the hot -sunshine comes again, and he knows, by the -feel of things, that it is time to be moving. -Toadums prefers to sleep on land. He lies -quite flat, with his hands in front of his eyes, -and wakes up a little later than Froggin.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/231.jpg" width="300" height="348" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Dormouse in his winter Sleep</span><br /> - He bunches himself up so as to close all the doors that the - air can get in by, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, everything</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>After these the animals. Round Eye the -dormouse goes to sleep about November. -He builds a nest of leaves and grass all around -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">{232}</a></span> -himself, and, if the winter is cold, sleeps straight -away into April. If the winter is warm, however, -he may wake up and eat a little food, and -if he is a wise little mouse, as he usually is, he -keeps a little store of nuts and seeds at hand in -case he <i>does</i> wake up. Prickles the hedge-pig -does much the same. He has a nest which is -even warmer, for, besides the leaves and grass -which make the round of it, he rolls his spines -into anything soft which will stick to them and -so has a nice warm blanket next to his skin. -Once he has dropped off to sleep he stays asleep -till the spring comes. I don't think he ever -wakes up like the dormouse, or ever makes a -store of food.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/233.jpg" width="500" height="418" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Prickles the Hedge-Pig</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">{233}</a></span> -The only other animals which sleep the -winter through in this country are the bats, and -some of them sleep even longer than the dormouse -and the hedge-pig; indeed, they are -only awake for three or four months in the -year. Sometimes there are crowds of them -sleeping together in old caves, and tree trunks, -and places like that, and it may be that they -half wake up and talk to each other to pass -away the time. Indeed, if you know their hole -and can put your ear close to it, you can sometimes -hear them talking and squabbling—faint -little squabblings like the sound of a kettle -simmering on the hob when you can just hear -the tiny bubbles hitting each other and bursting -with bad temper. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">{234}</a></span></p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/234.jpg" width="500" height="414" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THE HEDGE-PIG IN HIS WINTER SLEEP<br /> - He is not so tightly coiled as when he shuts up to defend - himself</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>When bats are flying about and hunting -for moths they often squeak for joy, and then -their voice is quite different. It is so high -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">{235}</a></span> -that some people cannot hear it at all; but -you can make a noise just like it by striking -two pennies sharply together, and if you can -hear that being done when you are several -yards away from the person who is doing it, -you ought to be able to hear a bat squeak too.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 432px;"> - <img src="images/235.jpg" width="432" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Lesser Horseshoe Bat in his winter Sleep</span><br /> - He is hanging head-downwards and is completely shut up in - his own wings, which, you see, are beautifully folded</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>You have to watch bats very closely before -you can tell one kind from another, and I -expect some of you will be surprised to hear -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">{236}</a></span> -that there are more different kinds of bats in -England than there are of any other kinds of -animals. There are, at least, twelve different -kinds of English bats, and, as bats now and -then seem to get blown over the sea from -France, or be brought in the rigging of ships, -quite a strange foreign bat may turn up -sometimes.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">{237}</a></div> - - <h2>THE BLUNDERS OF BARTIMÆUS<br /> - <small>(MICHAELMAS DAY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/237.jpg" width="500" height="409" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Bartimæus</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">Bartimæus</span> -was simply mole-tired (which -is as tired as a beastie can be), and he lay -on his side, with his nose tucked into his waistcoat, -and dreamed of Nydia, fretfully. Nydia -was half a field away, dozing in a snug fortress -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">{238}</a></span> -of her own, with four fat helpless babies to attend -to, and not a passing thought for Bartimæus.</p> - -<p>Five times within twelve hours had Bartimæus -sought her. Five times had he traversed -his main-line tunnel, turned eastward at the -junction by the fence, and, breasting up the -up-grade full tilt, thrust an inquiring nose at -Nydia's nest. Why shouldn't he? Why should -he stand on ceremony with four fat, squirmy, -wrinkled, hairless infants?</p> - -<p>But Nydia had been mightily offended. -Each time she had boxed his ears. Each time -she had bitten him. And so he had retreated; -not for fear, but for black shame—black shame -which he had brought upon himself; for Father -Moles may not approach Mole babies—that is -Mole law, and that has been Mole law since -Moles first dug.</p> - -<p>Long journeyings these to Nydia, a hundred -yards each way at least, but not of length to -tire him. He had found time and energy for -in-between excursions. One to the mill-house -orchard—there staring hillocks proved it; one -to the sacred croquet lawn—he left his marks -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">{239}</a></span> -here also; one to the mid-field partridge nest, -which meant one egg the less.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/239.jpg" width="500" height="449" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">He headed straight for Water</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>A cheerful strenuous day's work; on which, -but for the finish of it, he might have slept at -ease.</p> - -<p>Nydia's last bite and buffet had been real.</p> - -<p>She swept her right hand cross-ways, baring -her teeth in line with it, and screwing round her -shoulders for the swing. Then she lunged -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">{240}</a></span> -backwards viciously. This meant a dragging -wound which hurt, and Bartimæus had bitten -too, and, as ill-luck would have it, bitten a -baby. Nydia flung at him squealing, and, -when a Mother Mole flings at you squealing, -one prudent course and only one is open.</p> - -<p>His nose was bleeding as he started home, -and he was hot and thirsty. He headed -straight for water. A ten-yard down-slant -brought him to the brook. He drank his fill, -then, tempted by the coolness, set off swimming. -He swam as deftly as a water-shrew, high out -of water, with his stumpy tail cocked upward in -his wake. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">{241}</a></span></p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 334px;"> - <img src="images/241.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THE BANK ROSE STEEPLY OVER HIM</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>He reached the farther side without mishap, -rustled the moisture off his fur, then started -climbing. The bank rose steeply over him, -but here and there a naked root gave hand-hold, -and, shoulder-hoisted over these, he scrambled -to the level. On this he travelled easily, using -his paddle-hands as sweeps, and scuttling with -his feet. From the brookside half-way across -the field, and almost to the dried-up middle-ditch, -bent grass-stems marked his trail. He -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">{242}</a></span> -checked close by the alder-stump, nosed at the -ground, and started digging.</p> - -<p>Perhaps he scented supper.</p> - -<p>The alder-stump is populous still. Its core, -now sapless, lifeless touchwood, is riddled -through and through. Here moths-to-be, and -flies-to-be, and beetles-to-be have spent their -youth and fattened. Virtue still lingers in the -roots, and, hidden by the forks and bends of -them, quiet lives consume, or bide their time. -Now and again a human hand "collects" them, -now and again a mole, the skilfullest pupa -hunter in the world.</p> - -<p>Yet Bartimæus was not really hungry—he -dug more from ill-humour, wrenching the grass-tufts -sideways with his teeth, and slashing -fiercely with his hands, until he forced an -entrance for his shoulders.</p> - -<p>Then his whole action changed.</p> - -<p>He stabbed his nose into the soil, and, twisting -from the shoulders, screwed it home. Then -he drew back his head, turned over sideways, -and, with one shoulder and one hand thrust -out, gained purchase where his nose had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">{243}</a></span> -been, and scratched at the soft earth. As one -side tired he turned about, and thrust its -fellow forward. Sometimes -he lay upon his back, -and heaved and squirmed -and shuffled. Sometimes he -screwed his way, his whole -frame twisted spirally, half -prostrate, half supine.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/243.jpg" width="125" height="175" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>He drove a six-inch -downward slant, then, for one yard, a level -course, then upwards half a foot again. His -pink nose broke the surface crust, snuffed, and -dropped back. The first stage was accomplished, -but only the first stage. His tube was -choked and littered end to end. He backed -nine inches through the loose, reversed, ducked -down his head, and charged. Part of the rubble -caked as he drove past, and part was swept -before him to the outlet. It spurted through -and sprayed upon the grass. Six charges -raised a mole hill, and left a half-yard tunnel -clear. His hands compressed the sides of it to -smoothness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">{244}</a></span> -He made a cave and four runs leading from -it. Three plunged deep down, and hillocks -marked their course. The fourth was near the -surface. Its flimsy roof, pressed upwards from -below, and dotted end to end with spits of soil, -cast a betraying shadow.</p> - -<p>It was good feeding-ground. In it were -worms innumerable, slow-minded worms which -held their ground too long, and footless leathern-coated -grubs, grubs of beetles and flies, and -eggs innumerable, grasshoppers' eggs, earwigs' -eggs, and eggs of smaller fry, some massed -in sticky clutches, some dispersed.</p> - -<p>He toiled and fed alternately. He made a -nest inside his cave, a mass of leaves and -grasses dragged down into his surface run (to -thrust his mouth out was sufficient), and pulled -or pushed into their proper station.</p> - -<p>This done he slept, his head tucked down -between his hands, his hind feet curled up -under him.</p> - -<p>All but his ears slept soundly.</p> - -<p class="center gap-between">*****</p> - -<p><i>One-Two—One-Two—One-Two.</i> Twin footfalls -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">{245}</a></span> -almost over him, and with them a soliloquy -deep-toned.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/245.jpg" width="125" height="182" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"Comin' right down valley they be. That's -them water-works. Down goes springs. Up -comes nunkey-tumps. I'll get this one for sure. -Here! Tatters!"</p> - -<p>Out like a loosened spring leapt Bartimæus, -and plunged into his surface run. Half-way -along it he stopped dead and listened, the tip of -his pink nose thrust through the roof.</p> - -<p>Man's booted tread he knew full well; man's -voice he knew, but something else was coming,—something -which lilted pit-a-pat, something -with yielding velvet pads, -something four-footed. -It danced towards him, -louder still and louder, till a -hoarse whisper checked it. -"Steady you fool! Here -good dog! Steady!"</p> - -<p>The pink nose dropped. -Only one grass-blade -stirred, but Tatters saw it.</p> - -<p>His every muscle tautened as he pointed. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">{246}</a></span> -His hair stood stiff upon his back, his eyes -stared fixedly.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 437px;"> - <img src="images/246.jpg" width="437" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Only one grass-blade stirred, - but Tatters saw it</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>For half a minute he stood tense; then -Bartimæus breathed, and at his breath a grass-stem -twitched and flickered.</p> - -<p>Tatters upreared and poised himself, stayed -poised a moment, then, with a vicious dropping -lunge, stabbed with his forefeet downward. His -muzzle followed instantly, and screwed and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">{247}</a></span> -ploughed along the run until the weight of roof -upcurled checked further progress.</p> - -<p>Then only did he raise his head and look back -shamefaced at his master. He had completely -missed.</p> - -<p>"Tatters, you'm grown old, I reckon—like -your Master. Never mind, lad, we'll have 'im -yet. We'll put a trap down tea-time. Come off -it now! Think you can scratch him out?"</p> - -<p>Tatters was burrowing tooth and nail, uprooting -grass clumps with his teeth, drumming -with his forefeet, and showering sods between -his hind feet backwards. He raised a wistful, -mud-stained face and whined, shook himself -doubtfully, started, turned back for one more -scratch, then galloped to his master's call.</p> - -<p>And Bartimæus had been burrowing too—opening -a bolt-hole which should close behind -him, passing the dislodged earth beneath himself, -and piling it to cover his retreat.</p> - -<p>Tatters had all but pinned his body, and that -would have meant death to him. Tatters <i>had</i> -pinned his tail, but, with a wriggle, he had -freed himself, out-distanced the pursuing nose, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">{248}</a></span> -dived through the nest, -and twisting sharply right, -reached the west outlet -shaft. Fist over feet he -scuttled down and screwed -himself into the blinded end. He bored two -yards zigzagging, then paused for breath. He -pricked his stumpy whiskers up, starred the -grey fur about his eyes, spread wide his pinhole -ears. He was quite safe. The ground -before, behind, and on all sides of him, was -dead. Ten minutes passed before he moved, -then he worked quickly upwards, and broke the -ground beneath a clump of thistles.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/248.jpg" width="125" height="95" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"They've gone," said a small piping voice -above him.</p> - -<p>The nose of Bartimæus, pink and quivery, -had issued first, his bullet head had followed, -then his great hands and shoulders. The sunbeams -played upon his coat, and waves of -limpid shimmery blue crept softly to and fro -in it.</p> - -<p>"They've gone," the Harvest Mouse repeated.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">{249}</a></span> -"Excellent!" said Bartimæus. "I can't -see who I am talking to—this awful glare!—but -it will pass—and meanwhile I can guess at -you. You are a mouse; a small mouse, with -sharp-pointed toes, a blunted tail, and a warm-orange -coat."</p> - -<p>"How did you know that?" said the Harvest -Mouse.</p> - -<p>"I heard you, and I felt you, and I smelt -you," said Bartimæus. "You ran up just -before I put my nose out. I heard your tail -flick after you. I heard the leaves crack underneath -your feet. I felt and smelt your colour. -If you lived underground like me, you'd notice -things."</p> - -<p>"Give me the sunshine," said the Harvest -Mouse (its beauty doubled on her coat). "If -you could see what I -can see you'd go back -home."</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/249.jpg" width="200" height="165" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"How's that?" said Bartimæus.</p> - -<p>"It's near the -fence," the Harvest -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">{250}</a></span> -Mouse replied, "you'd better run and look -at it."</p> - -<p>"It would take a lot to scare <i>me</i>," said Bartimæus, -and puffed his little chest out. His -chest was like the mouse's back, warm -orange.</p> - -<p>"This will scare you," she said. "You -strike from here towards the sun and you can't -miss it. It throws a shadow at you."</p> - -<p>"I'm off," said Bartimæus, and straightway -started burrowing.</p> - -<p>The Harvest Mouse stood up full length, -and watched his ripple fading into distance. -Then she dropped down to earth.</p> - -<p>"That was a quite nice Mole," she said, "it -really <i>is</i> a pity."</p> - -<p>A surface run is child's play to a Mole. He -bores it almost at his surface pace. The roof -springs ready-moulded from his back, and -lengthens like a paid-out rope behind him.</p> - -<p>The fence was reached so suddenly that -Bartimæus stubbed his nose against it. He -bit and tore it, thinking it was root, then, -finding it too hard for him—it was red teak—worked -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">{251}</a></span> -ten yards back and thrust his head and -shoulders above ground.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 415px;"> - <img src="images/251.jpg" width="415" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Harvest Mouse stood up full length</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The sun was low behind the fence. The -shadow of it lengthened out towards him and, -in between its clefts, crept dazzling gold-red -rays. For full ten minutes Bartimæus' head -swayed nodding side to side. Now and again -he twitched one hand impatiently. He fought -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">{252}</a></span> -for a clear vision. Each time he faced the -dazzling streams of light, his head fell worsted -sideways, and minutes passed before he could -look up again.</p> - -<p>At last their brilliance faded, and, somewhat -to the right of him, a stunted bush took -shape.</p> - -<p>The stem of it loomed dark in the fence -shadow; the leaves were darker still—and there -was something queer about the leaves. They -were too large, too black, too solid.</p> - -<p>The breeze could hardly stir them, and, -when they stirred, it was as though they spun.</p> - -<p>No more could be determined certainly. He -left his run bent on a closer vision.</p> - -<p>It was no bush at all. It was a thick-stemmed -alder-branch staked in the soil. The -leaves were moles—moles like himself, or rather -moles which had been like himself. For all -were dead. Their bodies dangled pitifully, or, -with poor shrivelled outstretched hands, spun as -the breeze compelled them.</p> - -<p>It was too much for Bartimæus' nerves. -He turned about and fled, crashed luckily -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">{253}</a></span> -through his own tunnel's roof, and ran as -though mole-ghosts were at his heels.</p> - -<p>And something ran ahead of him, and -reached the thistle half a -yard in front.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/253.jpg" width="200" height="360" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Harvest Mouse drew herself up indignant</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Did you find it?" said the Harvest Mouse. She sat at her old station -nibbling.</p> - -<p>"You beast," said Bartimæus, "you heartless little beast."</p> - -<p>The Harvest Mouse drew herself up indignant.</p> - -<p>"You're blinder than I thought," she said.</p> - -<p>"It was a mean trick," muttered Bartimæus.</p> - -<p>"It was a good turn," said the Harvest -Mouse.</p> - -<p>"Now listen, for I know this meadow end -to end. It is no place for Moles. Ask -the red-coated Meadow Mouse. Ask the -Pygmy Shrew. Ask any one who really -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">{254}</a></span> -knows. Worse things than dogs come into -it."</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/254.jpg" width="200" height="178" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Weasels!" said the Meadow Mouse</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Weasels!" said the Meadow Mouse. "Oh, never wait for weasels in a -run. I really thought that you were one behind me." This to Bartimæus.</p> - -<p>"Cats!" said the Pygmy Shrew. Vainly did Bartimæus strive to see -her—a sorrel leaf concealed her, head to tail.</p> - -<p>"Worse than dogs. Worse than weasels. -Worse than cats," said the Harvest Mouse. -"TRAPS!"</p> - -<p>"We Harvest Mice are never trapped, and -stump-tail mice are only trapped by chance—or -their own folly. I saw one once. He walked -inside because it rained in torrents. Down -went the door, and he was drowned, with cheese -afloat all round him."</p> - -<p>"Cheese is good," said the Meadow Mouse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">{255}</a></span> -"Cheese is glorious," said the Pygmy -Shrew.</p> - -<p>"There you are. You'd go anywhere for -cheese," said the Harvest Mouse. "One bite—a -snap behind—and then where are you?"</p> - -<p>"I'm out in front," said the Pygmy Shrew.</p> - -<p>"You'll try that once too often," said the -Harvest Mouse.</p> - -<p>"Now I hate cheese—the smell of it spells -danger. But there are traps and traps—and -the worst traps are traps with nothing in -them."</p> - -<p>"That's so," said the Meadow Mouse.</p> - -<p>"You can smell them, can't you?" said -Bartimæus.</p> - -<p>"You can smell them if you go slow -enough," said the Harvest Mouse, "but when -do <i>you</i> go slow? Now mark my words. It's -just about your sleeping time. You'll sleep for -your full hour, then you'll wake hungry. -You'll rush full tilt until you reach your slant. -You'll rush down that, you'll rush along your -gallery. <i>Won't</i> you now?"</p> - -<p>"P'raps," muttered Bartimæus. He had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">{256}</a></span> -withdrawn his nose below, and sleep was stealing -over him.</p> - -<p>"Well, don't!" said the Harvest Mouse.</p> - -<p>"Don't!" said the Meadow Mouse.</p> - -<p>"Don't!" said the Pygmy.</p> - -<p>"Don't what?" said Bartimæus in his sleep.</p> - -<p>"Don't rush!" said the Harvest Mouse. -"Don't rush. Don't rush!"</p> - -<p class="center gap-between">*****</p> - -<p>He slept for his full hour and woke to find -the Pygmy at his side. "It's in your centre -gallery," she whispered. "I've slipped right -through it twice."</p> - -<p>"My <i>centre</i> gallery?" shouted Bartimæus. -"My <i>centre</i> gallery? I'll have my centre -gallery clear."</p> - -<p>He started burrowing straightway.</p> - -<p>"Don't rush!" the Pygmy screamed behind. -"Don't rush! It's death to rush!"</p> - -<p>And yet it was his rush that saved him.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/257.jpg" width="500" height="407" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Don't rush!" the Pygmy screamed behind</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The crumbled earth which still lay in the -bolt-hole, melted before it. Part slipped to -either side of him. Part massed before his -plunging head, and, reaching the clear downshaft, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">{257}</a></span> -dropped. With it there dropped a stone—a -rounded half-inch stone, which danced along -the gallery at the foot, cannoned from side to -side of it, spun round and pulled up short, six -inches in advance of him. His senses signalled -something in his path. His senses signalled a -clear passage through it, and a clear space beyond -it. His senses urged more pace. So he crashed -on. He stubbed his hands against a ring of -iron: the ring gave way: there was a snap and -two iron jaws had gripped his waist. But for -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">{258}</a></span> -the stone which jammed against the clinch of them, he must have met his -death. And death itself had scarcely brought more torture. It was as -though the half of him sped on while half remained behind. The back -wrench left him senseless, and so the Pygmy found him. It was the -pit-pat of her on his fur, the cobweb flutter of her questionings, which -roused him back to life.</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/258.jpg" width="200" height="452" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">His Fortress, his own Fortress, had been breached</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"I'm done," he muttered, "done as sure as -sure."</p> - -<p>"Not you!" she answered bravely, "the -trap's not closed—not half. <i>Wriggle</i>, dear -Uncle, <i>wriggle</i>!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">{259}</a></span> -And Bartimæus wriggled.</p> - -<p>He wriggled right; he wriggled left; he -wriggled up; he wriggled down; he brought his -hands to bear upon the iron and with a supreme -twist he wriggled free.</p> - -<p>Then he saw red.</p> - -<p>He flung himself against the trap, and bit at -it, and scratched at it, and shook it with his -shoulders, and heaved and strained and wrenched -at it, until it lay upturned upon the surface. -He was convulsed with windy gusts of rage: -nose-tip to tail he boiled; nor did he gain composure -until the field was far behind, and he had -reached the smooth-faced tube which led to his -own fortress. Hand over foot he sped the length -of it, dived down the <b>U</b>-shaped entrance hole, -bobbed up again and climbed into his nest.</p> - -<p>His troubles were not over.</p> - -<p>His fortress, his own fortress, had been -breached. The nest lay open to the day, windswept.</p> - -<p>For a full hour he toiled repairing it, then, -mole-tired, coiled to sleep.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">{261}</a></div> - - <h2>SOMETHING ABOUT A CHAMÆLEON<br /> - <small>(NOVEMBER)</small></h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse open">"''Tis green! 'tis green, Sir, I assure ye.'</div> -<div class="verse">'Green!' cries the other in a fury.</div> -<div class="verse">'Why, Sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?'</div> -<div class="verse">''Twere no great loss,' the friend replies,</div> -<div class="verse">'For if they always serve you thus,</div> -<div class="verse">'You'll find them but of little use.'"</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I wonder</span> -how many of you know these -lines? Not so very long ago most young -people used to have to learn the poem from -which they are taken, but I don't think the -poem can be quite such a favourite as it used -to be. Perhaps we are all getting to be such -good naturalists that we know it is not quite -true, for, though Chamæleons change their -colours in a very wonderful way, they do not -go red, white, and blue, in the way which the -poem makes out.</p> - -<p>I think I must tell you a little story about -a Chamæleon, though some of you may perhaps -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">{262}</a></span> -have heard it before. An old lady once -had a pet Chamæleon which she was very fond -of, and which her manservant, John, used to -look after. He was very fond of the Chamæleon -too, and he used to amuse himself by putting -it on to different coloured things in his room -and watching it change colour. Well, one -day, the old lady had a friend to tea, and she -thought she would like to show her the -Chamæleon, so she rang for John.</p> - -<p>"John," she said, "bring in the Chamæleon."</p> - -<p>John looked very sorry for himself. "Please -ma'am," he said, "I can't."</p> - -<p>"Can't?" said his mistress. "Why -not?"</p> - -<p>John looked still more confused. "Please, -ma'am," he said, "he's gone."</p> - -<p>"Why, how is that?" said the lady.</p> - -<p>"Well, ma'am, I was playing with him, -and I put him against my baize apron, and he -turned green."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"And then I put him against the red tray, -ma'am, and he turned red."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">{263}</a></span> -"Yes, yes! Of course he would."</p> - -<p>"And then I put him against your tartan -plaid, ma'am, and—<i>and he just bust hisself</i>."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 365px;"> - <img src="images/263.jpg" width="365" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">You can see his Eye looking back over - his Shoulder in this Picture</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>I am afraid that that story is not altogether -true either.</p> - -<p>I must try to explain to you how a Chamæleon -changes colour. Of course you all know -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">{264}</a></span> -that there are black men, and brown men, -and copper-coloured men, and yellow men, -and what we call white men; and you know, -too, that among white men some have much -darker skins than others.</p> - -<p>Now the colour of people depends a little -on the colour of their blood, for there is a -network of tiny veins in the lower part of -their skin, but it depends even more on -millions of little specks of yellowish and -brownish paint which lie in the upper part of -their skin. A negro may be as black as your -hat outside, but his blood is red all the same, -and he looks black because the little specks -of paint in the upper part of his skin are very -dark and hide the red blood behind them. -When people change colour it is because for -one cause or another the colour of their blood -can be more plainly, or less plainly, seen; -and, when this cause is taken away, their old -colour returns, for the little specks of paint -have not altered in themselves at all.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 400px;"> - <img src="images/265.jpg" width="400" height="343" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">You can see his Hands and Feet well in - this Picture</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/267f1.jpg" width="164" height="450" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>In Chamæleons, however, and several other -creatures, which change colour much more -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">{265}</a></span> -than we do, and keep their changed colour -for quite a long time, the specks of paint lie -in the <i>lower</i> part of the skin, and often there -are numbers of them clustered together as if -they had been pressed down tight into little -bags. These clusters of paint specks have -the power of branching out like sea anemones, -and afterwards pulling themselves together -again like sea anemones when they are -frightened. When they are spread out so as -to be as large as possible, the Chamæleon is -dark-coloured; and when they are drawn -in so as to be as small as possible, the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">{266}</a></span> -Chamæleon is light coloured; and when, as is -really most usual, they are spread out in one -part of his body and drawn in in another, the -Chamæleon is piebald. I expect you will be -curious to know what colour the specks of -paint are, and whether they are always the -same. They are so small that one needs a -powerful microscope to see them; but, as far -as we can tell, they are always brownish or -reddish, so that the greens and blues which -are often to be seen in patches on a Chamæleon -have to be accounted for in some other way. -It would take too long to explain the blues -and greens to you thoroughly, but I think I -can give you one little hint about them. You -all know what mother-of-pearl looks like. -If you hold a piece one way it seems a dull -grey all over, but if you hold it another you -see all the colours of the rainbow, and you -can even make the colours move about it if -you handle it properly. Now if the colours -were paint they would not move about, though -they might not be so bright in some positions -as in others, and for the present you -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">{267}</a></span> -must be satisfied to know that a Chamæleon -skin, besides holding clusters -of paint-specks which change -their shape, is so wonderfully -made that it can show -mother-of-pearl colours as -well.</p> - -<p>A grown-up Chamæleon is usually greenish in the daytime, with brown -patches on his sides. When he goes to sleep at night he turns -cream-coloured and his patches become yellowish. A baby Chamæleon is -snowy white, and doesn't get spotted even when he is angry or excited, -as a grown-up Chamæleon always does.</p> - -<p>Now for the Chamæleon pictures. First -you must notice his eyes. He has enormous -eyeballs, but instead of having two eyelids to -each, as we have, he has one eyelid to each -(it is really made up of two stuck together), -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">{268}</a></span> -with a tiny round hole in the centre for his -eye to look through. This is queer enough, -but there is something even queerer about a -Chamæleon's eyes. He can move either eyeball -up or down or sideways, but he hardly -ever moves both the same way, so that he -has quite the most wonderful squint in the -world, and often keeps one eye looking over -his shoulder while the other looks straight in -front of him.</p> - -<p>Next you must look at his long, skinny -arms and legs, and especially at his hands -and feet. Like ourselves he has five fingers -or toes on each, but they are differently -arranged from ours. You must remember, -of course, that our thumbs are really fingers. -On each hand a Chamæleon has three thumbs -and two fingers, and on each foot he has two -great toes and three ordinary toes.</p> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">{269}</a></div> - - <h2>THE TRAIL OF NIMBLE BEASTS<br /> - <small>(DECEMBER)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/269.jpg" width="200" height="213" alt=""/> - <table id="ill269" summary=""> - - <tr> - <td>Top Row</td> - <td class="nuts">Nuts gnawed by</td> - <td>Meadow Mice</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Second Row</td> - <td class="nuts">"</td> - <td>Dormice</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td>Third Row</td> - <td class="nuts">"</td> - <td>Field Mice</td> - </tr> - - </table> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">I am</span> -going to end the articles in this book by telling you how you may -best see for yourselves some of the queer creatures which I have -photographed, for the real beasties are far, far -more interesting than any photographs of -them can be, and they are not so very difficult -to see if only you go the right way about it. -I think the Winter is as good a season as -any to begin in, at any rate with the fur-folk, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">{270}</a></span> -for there is sure to be plenty of mud, which -is a splendid thing for footprints to show up -on, and there may be a fall of snow, which -will tell you more in a day of the coming -and goings of your little brothers, than you -could learn without it in a year.</p> - -<p>If you put on your thickest boots and go -out into the fields and along the hedgerows, -after a heavy snowfall, you will find thousands -and thousands of footprints. Most of these -will be the footprints of birds, but some, you -will see at once, belong to four-footed creatures. -I am showing you pictures of some of the -commonest of these so that you may know -them the next time you see them. I have -left out Bunny-Rabbit on purpose, because I -think you will be able to find out what his -curious footprints are like for yourselves, and -will remember them better that way.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 361px;"> - <img src="images/271.jpg" width="361" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Weasel's Trail</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>We will begin with the Weasel's trail in the -picture on the opposite page. You will see that -there are two different looking trails showing, -but they both belong to the same weasel. -The reason they look so different is that one -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">{271}</a></span> -set are fresh and the other set are a day old. -There has been a slight thaw, and this has -melted the snow so that the oldest trail has -fallen in a little. All the trails lead to a -woodpile, and I used, after the snow had all -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">{272}</a></span> -gone, to go to that woodpile in the evening -and wait for the weasel to come out, and -watch him play, which he always did for -some time before he started hunting.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 400px;"> - <img src="images/272.jpg" width="400" height="377" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Where the Weasel met the Mice</span><br /> - The mice had made quite a beaten track from one hole to - another—this you can see at the top of the picture. The - other tracks are the weasel's, except one, which shows the - imprint of a mouse-tail</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>It was quite exciting to follow that little Weasel's -trail in the snow. I came to where he had -startled a moor-hen and to where he had -startled a rook, and to where he had had a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">{273}</a></span> -splendid game chasing mice. I am showing -you a picture of this, and you will notice at once -the line down the centre of one of the tracks, -which is made by Mousey's tail. Another -of the pictures shows you two mouse-tracks -running to separate mouse-holes, which I was -very glad to know about, and which I don't -think I should ever have seen but for the -tell-tale snow. A Rat's track is much the -same, only larger; and a Stoat's track is the -same as a Weasel's, only larger. A Hedgehog -does not often come out in the snow, -but he does sometimes and leaves a very -smudgy track behind him, for he drags his -fur along the ground.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/274.jpg" width="500" height="438" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Where The Weasel met the Rook</span><br /> - You can see where the Rook's wing hit the snow</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/275.jpg" width="200" height="303" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Two Mouse Trails leading to holes in the - snow</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Snow shows one much more than mud, but, -unless it is of just the right softness the prints -in it are apt to be splodgy, and I don't think -you ever get so perfect a track in snow as you -sometimes do in mud. The pictures of the -Vixen's and the Otter's footprints will show -you what I mean. A Vixen's footprints are -smaller than a Fox's, and a Fox's footprints -are smaller than most people think, indeed a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">{274}</a></span> -Fox is a smaller animal than most people -think. I have a little wire-haired terrier -whose footprints are much larger than those -of a Vixen. At the same time it is not very -easy to distinguish a Fox's track from that of -a small dog. Generally a Dog's claws make -their mark as well as the pads, and this does -not often happen with the Fox; but I think -a better way of telling the difference is to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">{275}</a></span> -remember that a Fox's pads are more oval-shaped -than a Dog's. You will always, I think, be able to tell an Otter's -footprints (some people call them the Otter's seal) by their size, and -by their leading to or from the water. Usually the claws can be clearly -traced and sometimes the webbing of the feet as well. I have never seen -clean-cut -Badger's footprints—all I have met with -have been very broad and splodgy, more -smears than patterns—and I have never seen -a Marten's trail at all.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 377px;"> - <img src="images/276.jpg" width="377" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Fox's Footprints</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Footprints tell us a good deal of what is -going on about us, and so do "runs" in the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">{276}</a></span> -grass, and "runs" in the hedges. But, of -course, there are other things to be looked for. -Often one finds the remains of beasties' meals, -nuts for instance. Nuts with clean-cut round -holes in them have been gnawed by Dormice, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">{277}</a></span> -nuts with jagged holes by Red Meadow Mice -and Wood Mice, nuts split clean in half most -likely by Squirrels. Otters leave half-eaten -fish about sometimes, and scattered broken -eggshells tell you where Stoats have been -running the hedgerow. If you notice where -you find these things and keep your eyes -open, you are sure in time to see what you -are looking for.</p> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/277.jpg" width="500" height="427" alt=""/> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">{278}</a></div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 323px;"> - <img src="images/278.jpg" width="323" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">And the last thing that Winnie remembers was - the Great Green Grasshopper's Wife hurrying the little - Skipjacks off to bed.</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">{279}</a></div> - - <h2>THE GREAT GREEN GRASSHOPPER'S BAND<br /> - <small>(CHRISTMAS DAY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/279.jpg" width="150" height="131" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">"I beg</span> -your pardon!" said the Great Green Grasshopper's wife.</p> - -<p>"I think I ought to beg yours," said Winnie politely.</p> - -<p>Perhaps, however, you -would like me to begin at the very beginning. -Very well, then; but you must remember that, -for most of it, I can only tell you what Winnie -told me. It all seems to have happened between -Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. On Christmas -Eve, our Cricket, who lives in the kitchen -behind the hot-water pipes, had started chirruping -as usual, and I had gone into the library, and -hunted out an old, old Christmas book and -started reading to my small friends a story -which began with a cricket singing against a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">{280}</a></span> -tea-kettle. Then we had had a snapdragon, -and then the waits had come round, so everything -had been as Christmassy as ever it could -be. Just as the waits finished Winnie had got -into bed and snuggled herself up. All this -I can vouch for myself, for I was there all -the time, and I can remember how good the -snapdragon was, though I did not eat quite so -many raisins as one little girl. However, as -she said afterwards, "Even if I did eat thirty, -Father, it was quite worth it."</p> - -<p>So much for the true part of the tale—now -for the magic. Winnie tells me that she never -went to sleep at all! The waits and the cricket -and the snapdragon and the kettle were all -mixed up in her head, and the snapdragon had -turned hungry and was trying to snap up the -waits, and the kettle was puffing like a little -traction engine, and in between the puffs there -was a sad little chirrupy sound which she -thought must be the cricket. It seemed only -kind then that she should slip out of bed, listen -on the landing, and creep down to the kitchen -to see how the cricket was getting on. She -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">{281}</a></span> -found him sitting on the hearthstone and -watching the people in the fire going to -church.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/281.jpg" width="500" height="399" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Winnie tells me that She never went to - sleep at All!</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"I can't attend to you now," he said, "I'm -just going out."</p> - -<p>Winnie had half expected him to speak, but -she was a little frightened all the same, and a -little curious too.</p> - -<p>"Do take me with you," she said. "Where -are you going?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">{282}</a></span> -"Where am I going?" said the Cricket in -a surprised tone. "Why, it's Christmas -Eve!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, isn't it lovely!" said Winnie; "and -to-morrow there'll be presents. But where are -you going?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to be a wait, of course," said the -Cricket. "I've been practising all the evening. -Listen!"</p> - -<p>He ducked his head and lifted up his wings, -and a chirrup fluttered out of them and ran all -round the dresser. It <i>was</i> a chirrup! It -wriggled in between the plates and dived into -the soup-tureen, and climbed the tea-cup -handles, and danced upon the saucers, until -the sour deal boards, which had had all the -softness scrubbed out of them (and were cross-grained -to begin with), felt little thrills of -pleasure running down their backs. Then it -climbed up the wall and rattled the dish-covers, -and at last it died away with a little squeak -inside the coffee-pot.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of that?" said the -Cricket triumphantly. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">{283}</a></span></p> - -<p>"It's beautiful," said Winnie; "but where -are you going?"</p> - -<p>"You'll see presently," said the Cricket; "and -I wish you wouldn't chatter so. You nearly -made me forget him."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/283.jpg" width="500" height="409" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Cricket was sitting on the - Hearthstone watching the People in the Fire going to - Church</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Forget who?" said Winnie.</p> - -<p>"Our drummer," said the Cricket. "Keep -still—I heard him a minute ago."</p> - -<p>There was a long pause—so long that Winnie -almost screamed, for there was nothing but the -clock-tick to listen to.</p> - -<p>Then something joined the clock-tick—<i>One-two-three-four, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">{284}</a></span> -pit-tip, tip-pit, one-two-three-four, -pat-tap, tap-pat</i> (just like soldiers a long -way off, as Winnie explained), and presently the -drummer himself appeared. He was a very -small, squat, round-shouldered beetle, and he -came out of a hole in the beam which ran -across the ceiling.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 300px;"> - <img src="images/284.jpg" width="300" height="235" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Pair of Them dropped ... on to the - Edge of the Kitchen Table</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"What a nuisance it all is!" he yawned. "I -was just going off to sleep when I heard you. -Is there no one else who can drum?"</p> - -<p>"No one who can drum like you," said the -Cricket, which is far the best way to answer -these questions.</p> - -<p>"Very well," said the Beetle, "but my wife -must come too," and the pair of them dropped -with two little flops on to the edge of the kitchen -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">{285}</a></span> -table. Then the clock chimed in—<i>one-two-three-four</i>, -right away up to eleven.</p> - -<p>"Shall <i>I</i> come too?" said a mean little oily -voice from under the coal-scuttle. Winnie -could just see the Cockroach's whiskers making -quivery passes in the air, and she sat down and -drew her nightie round her feet as tight as ever -she could. She was quite relieved to hear the -Cricket's answer.</p> - -<p>"Of course not," he said; "you never played -anything in your life."</p> - -<p>"It's all the same to me," said the Cockroach. -"I've given up those silly meadows long ago. -Good-night, lunatics!" and he drew his whiskers -in and disappeared.</p> - -<p>"Was that eleven?" said the House Cricket, -taking no notice of his rudeness. "We've no -time to lose then. Come along!"</p> - -<p>Winnie climbed up on his back as if it were -the most natural thing in the world, and the two -Beetles climbed up behind her. The drummer -Beetle started playing at once—<i>one-two-three-four, -pit-tip, tip-pit; one-two-three-four, pat-tap, -tap-pat</i>—and the whole four of them sailed -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">{286}</a></span> -up the chimney. It was not hot (as Winnie -explained), for the fire had burnt very low and that -was what had beaten the kettle, but it <i>was</i> sooty, -and she remembers quite well longing to see the -clean, white snow on the roof. The Cricket went -up crab-wise—a little jump to one side and a -little jump to the other; so he took quite a long -time to reach the chimney-pot, and when he -crawled on to the edge of it the snow was all -gone. ("That was the queerest thing of all, -Father," said Winnie "there were leaves and -flowers and sunshine, and it was just like -summer.")</p> - -<p>"Now hold tight," said the Cricket, "while -I unpack my wings."</p> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/286.jpg" width="150" height="112" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>This was quite a long business, for the -Cricket had to keep moistening his fingers, and -Winnie and the Beetles had to keep crawling -up and down his back, so as not to be in the -way. At last everything was ready, and the -Cricket poised himself on the edge of the -chimney, spread his wings wide -apart, and slid into the air. -Winnie was just a little frightened -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">{287}</a></span> -at first, and she put her head down close -to the Cricket's neck and shut -her eyes and dug her fingers -into the chinks of his back; -but presently she felt that it -was no good being frightened, -for they were going quite -smoothly, and the Cricket's -wing-covers were high up on -either side of her, so that she could hardly have -fallen off if she had tried to. Soon she felt -brave enough to raise her head very carefully -and look about her. The kitchen chimney was -some way behind, the great elm on her left, and -the river close in front. Just before they -reached the river the Cricket's wings buzzed -like blue-bottles, and she felt they were going -upwards. Then came another long, gentle glide, -and the Cricket landed on the blackberry hedge -at the bottom of the meadow.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/287.jpg" width="150" height="195" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>"You must all get off here," he said.</p> - -<p>Winnie stepped off his back on to a slippery -thorn, missed her footing, and fell on the top of -the Great Green Grasshopper's wife.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">{288}</a></span> -"I beg your pardon!" said the Great Green -Grasshopper's wife.</p> - -<p>"I think I ought to beg yours," said Winnie -politely—which is where the story began some -time ago.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/288.jpg" width="500" height="370" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">"I beg your Pardon," said the Great - Green Grasshopper's Wife</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Great Green Grasshopper's wife was -more amused than offended.</p> - -<p>"Don't mention it," she said. "I suppose -you've come to help us, and I'm very glad to -see you. It is really most unfortunate, but I -couldn't possibly let my husband come—the -first Christmas Eve he has missed for years—but, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">{289}</a></span> -as I said to him, 'If your leg's frostbitten, -you're much better in your hole.' -Don't you agree with me?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, I think so," said Winnie, who felt -she must say something.</p> - -<p>"Of course we shall miss him very much," -said the Great Green Grasshopper's wife, "but if -the Field Cricket isn't too nervous, I dare say we -shall pull through. I see you have brought our -drummer with you, and here is the Mole Cricket -coming up, and the Wood Cricket, and I saw -the Bush-cheeps a moment ago. Do you really -mean to tell me that you have never met any -of them? Then I must introduce you. This -is the Mole Cricket. You can't ever mistake -him if you have once seen his feet; and this is -the Field Cricket—you can't mistake a blackamoor -like him either; and this is the Wood -Cricket with the check trowsers; and the Bush-cheep -always wears a brown tail-coat and a -greeny waistcoat. Now you all know each -other and we must get to work. What do you -play?"</p> - -<p>Winnie had been getting a little uneasy all -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">{290}</a></span> -this time, for the Crickets had been unpacking -their instruments and making little scrapes just -like the band before the pantomime, and she -had felt that she would be expected to do something -too, and had made up her mind as to -what she would say if she were asked.</p> - -<p>"I can play a grass-blade a little," she said.</p> - -<p>"Well, there's lots of grass about," said the -Great Green Grasshopper's wife. "Let's hear -you do it."</p> - -<p>So Winnie picked a big blade of grass and -jammed it tight between the balls of her thumbs -and pressed her lips hard against it and began -to play. The first note sent the Great Green -Grasshopper's wife's hind legs straight up in -the air, turned the Mole Cricket and the House -Cricket and the Wood Cricket and the Bush-cheeps -head-over-heels, and drove the Field -Cricket into his hole.</p> - -<p>"Easy, easy!" said the Great Green Grasshopper's -wife. "You nearly blew my tail off. -Can't you play more softly?" -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">{291}</a></span></p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 341px;"> - <img src="images/291.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">THIS IS THE MOLE CRICKET</p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"I'll try," said Winnie.</p> - -<p>"Please do," said the Great Green Grasshopper's -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">{292}</a></span> -wife. "There, I knew what would -happen. See what you've done."</p> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 250px;"> - <img src="images/292.jpg" width="250" height="273" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">This is the Field Cricket</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Field Cricket had all but disappeared, and there were only two -little black legs sticking out of his hole.</p> - -<p>"It's no use your trying to play in there," said the Great Green -Grasshopper's wife. "Nobody will hear you at all."</p> - -<p>"I can't help it," said the Field Cricket; -"my nerves are completely upset."</p> - -<p>"See what you've done," said the Great -Green Grasshopper's wife again. "It will take -him twenty minutes to recover."</p> - -<p>And she was quite right. For twenty -long minutes they had to wait and look -at one another, and even at the end of that -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">{293}</a></span> -time the Field Cricket still seemed very -shaken.</p> - -<p>"I will do my best now," he said at last, -"but I simply <i>must</i> have my head hidden." -He had backed out of his hole a little way and lifted up his -wing-covers. Every now and then he chirruped softly.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 250px;"> - <img src="images/293.jpg" width="250" height="381" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">And this is the Wood Cricket</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Well, it's better than nothing," said the Great Green Grasshopper's -wife, "and you certainly have some excuse this time. Now let's begin." -She climbed a little higher in the hedge, tapped sharply with -one hind leg, and looked about her.</p> - -<p>"Are you all ready?" she said. "Drums?"</p> - -<p>"Here!" said the Beetles.</p> - -<p>"First violin?"</p> - -<p>"Here!" said the Field Cricket.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">{294}</a></span> -"Second violin?"</p> - -<p>"Here!" said the House Cricket.</p> - -<p>"Viola?"</p> - -<p>"Here!" said the Wood Cricket.</p> - -<p>"'Cello?"</p> - -<p>"Here!" said the Mole Cricket.</p> - -<p>"Flutes?"</p> - -<p>"Here!" said the Bush-cheeps.</p> - -<p>"Grass-blade?"</p> - -<p>"Here!" said Winnie, screwing her lips up -very tight.</p> - -<p>"Good!" said the Great Green Grasshopper's -wife, and she reared herself up backwards and -began to beat time with her hind legs.</p> - -<p>"Two bars first," she said. "Now!"</p> - -<p>At the third bar they all came in very fairly -together, but before they had played half a -minute the Great Green Grasshopper's wife -stopped short.</p> - -<p>("It was really worse than the real waits," -Winnie explained. "It was like a million little -glass stoppers being squeaked out of bottles—and -they didn't seem to mind the time a bit.") -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">{295}</a></span></p> - -<p>The Great Green Grasshopper's wife looked -at Winnie quite severely.</p> - -<p>"I asked you to play softly," she said; -"you're drowning the whole band."</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 297px;"> - <img src="images/295.jpg" width="297" height="450" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The First Note sent the Great Green - Grasshopper's Wife's Hind Legs straight Up in the Air</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"I <i>can't</i> play more softly than that," said -Winnie.</p> - -<p>"Well, there's only one thing to be done -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">{296}</a></span> -then," said the Great Green Grasshopper's wife. -"I must hunt up the Skipjacks."</p> - -<p>The Skipjacks are the little grasshoppers -who live in the fields, and it takes quite a -number of them to play a tune that you can -hear.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 266px;"> - <img src="images/296.jpg" width="266" height="300" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">He had Backed Out of His Hole a Little - Way and Lifted up His Wing-covers</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Wait for me here," said the Great Green -Grasshopper's wife; "I sha'n't be long!" And -she leapt like a jump-jim-crow and landed three -yards clear of the hedge.</p> - -<p>She really was some time away, but at last -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">{297}</a></span> -she reappeared driving the Skipjacks in front -of her.</p> - -<p>"It is so troublesome to keep them straight," she explained; "the -little idiots! Look at them."</p> - -<div class="image-float-right" style="max-width: 200px;"> - <img src="images/297.jpg" width="200" height="341" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Great Green Grasshopper's Wife - Reared Herself up Backwards and began to beat Time with her - Hind Legs</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>They certainly were a queer flock to manage, for they could only move by -jumps, and when they jumped even they themselves had no idea of where -they were jumping to. However, by driving them in front of her she -managed to keep a few of them together, and at last she got them into -their places.</p> - -<p>"You must fiddle," she said, "as you never -fiddled before. The band shall <i>not</i> be beaten -by a grass-blade. Now altogether—<i>one, two, -three, four</i>!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">{298}</a></span> -It was really much better that time, and -though Winnie could not pick up the tune, -everybody else seemed quite pleased with -themselves.</p> - -<p>"<i>That's</i> better!" said the Great Green -Grasshopper's wife. "Now again!"</p> - -<p>But before the words were out of her mouth -the great hall clock chimed in, <i>Ting—Ting—Ting—Ting</i>——</p> - -<p>"Midnight!" screamed the Great Green -Grasshopper's wife. "What <i>will</i> become of -us?"</p> - -<p><i>Ting—Ting—Ting—Ting</i>——</p> - -<p>"It's fast!" cried Winnie: "I know it's -fast. I put it on myself for getting up tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"Are you quite sure?" said the Great Green -Grasshopper's wife.</p> - -<p>"Quite sure," declared Winnie; "it's five -minutes fast at least."</p> - -<p>"That's a great relief to my mind," said the -Great Green Grasshopper's wife; "but, of -course, we must stop at once."</p> - -<p>Indeed, the Crickets were already packing -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">{299}</a></span> -up their instruments, and the last thing that -Winnie remembers was the Great Green Grasshopper's -wife hurrying the little Skipjacks off -to bed.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/299.jpg" width="300" height="100" alt=""/> -</div> - -<div class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">{301}</a></div> - - <h2>THE PYGMY SHREW<br /> - <small>(BOXING-DAY)</small></h2> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/301.jpg" width="125" height="91" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="uppercase">Few</span> -know him and the -careless eye may -never see him. He is so -small,—that four of him -just stop a mouse-hole; -so light,—that ten of him just tilt an ounce. -Yet, if you search the files, you find him -eminent. The Pygmy Shrew in Cornwall! -The Pygmy Shrew in Kent!! The Pygmy -Shrew in Rutlandshire!!!</p> - -<p>Thus fame is garlanded round mystery.</p> - -<p>Man's kingdom is brick-built and parchment -guarded. The beasties have a nobler -heritage. Fence your broad acres as you -please, yet they shall quietly share them, -paying you naught, and taking what they will. -Water and air and land are theirs by prior, -nay primeval, right. So shall you bend -before their quality, and, for their lineage, -you shall respect them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">{302}</a></span> -Something had brushed across the Pygmy's -nose. He shook off three days' sleep in three -half-seconds. Where was his tail? Sleeping, -he swings it up across his face, and gathers -all four feet within its shelter. His tail was -there, but in its waking-place, behind him. -Then something must have moved it. He -stretched his neck and sniffed, long wheezy -sniffs which ended in a shiver; then he -peered down the shaft. He jerked back to -avoid an avalanche—a blinding dust-cloud, a -rattle of small stones, and, in the midst, two -common shrews close locked.</p> - -<p>But I go on too fast.</p> - -<p>The stump is close against the rookery-fence. -It is a stump of quality, a residential -stump, a maze of winding roots and secret -chambers, wherein field-folk may live without -acquaintance. There is a fellow to it in the -meadow, another fronts the rabbit mound, -and all three hold like tenants.</p> - -<p>The woodmouse first, round-eyed and debonair; -then the bank-vole, he who is half a -mouse, with chestnut coat, broad ear and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">{303}</a></span> -estimable tail; lastly the ranny-noses; the -common shrew—a velvet-coated pepper-tempered -gallant; the Pygmy, who is common -shrew refined—purple and orange ripple in -his fur, and him my Lady Sunshine loves the -best of all.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 400px;"> - <img src="images/303.jpg" width="400" height="337" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Woodmouse First, Round-eyed and - Debonair</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>All live together, yet apart, for, under -ground, the stumps are intricate. The roots -twist right and left and back upon themselves, -and, over and beneath them, are the runs. -Most are blind alleys, but a few creep on, and -strike the upper air. The mice and voles -reserve the lowest depths; they must be near -the water; moreover they can tunnel where -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">{304}</a></span> -they will. The common shrews live higher, -scratch two-inch levels where the rootlets -aid them, and trust to their quick ears. The -Pygmy takes what stouter beasties leave; and -that is how the Pygmy's tail was moved—his -sleeping-hole, the mould of some long-fallen -stone, abutted on the shaft.</p> - -<p>That two shrews should be fighting was -quite usual. Shrews fight to keep their -limbs in trim; they fight in play; they fight -in deadly earnest. A veteran shrew is scarred -in every part of him; great scars like thumbmarks, -where new growth of fur has failed to -draw up level with the old.</p> - -<p>Yet even shrews need open ground to fight -on. The Pygmy waited till the dust had -cleared, then peered into the darkness. The -scuffling of them could be plainly heard; -and, sharp above it, rose their vicious war scream. -The Pygmy knew what that meant—a -bolt for upper air and honest fighting. -He crouched back prudently. They rattled -past once more in quick succession, the foremost -gibbering his distress, the hindmost -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">{305}</a></span> -dumb. But this was dubious measure of their -quality, for, where there is bare tunnel-room -for one, one needs must be in front, and, then, -his only weapon is his voice.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/305.jpg" width="500" height="359" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">He took the Right-hand Surface-run</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The Pygmy sprang up after them. He is -the burrows' jackal, and takes an interest -in serious fights. Once on the level ground -he paused, made three small casts, then took -the right-hand surface-run.</p> - -<p>He was quite right; the combatants had -passed that way. It was a zigzag run, but -unimpeded. A drooping grass-stem tangle -formed its roof, and, through long use, its -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">{306}</a></span> -sides were brown and withered, as though -some noxious snake had glided through, and -poisoned every growing blade it touched. The Pygmy knew it end to end, -and knew that, where it broke, close to the elm, there was a moss-grown -clearing. So he took matters quietly, and, lingering as the fancy took -him, had supped before -he reached the fighting-ground. The -common shrews were feinting for an opening. -He knew them both by sight. One, -a brown-coated, thick-set scaramouch was -neighbour to him in the stump. The other -was a meadow-shrew, of lighter build and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">{307}</a></span> -colour, but longer and full match in weight. -The Pygmy rubbed his nose between his -paws—a pretty fight was promised.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 250px;"> - <img src="images/306.jpg" width="259" height="353" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">He could See as well as Hear</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>And others seemed to have got wind of it. -The grass-stems flicking to and fro betrayed -them. On every side he heard short, fluttery -mouse-steps. Above he caught shrill squeaks -and whimperings; a bat was busy with the -filmy moths. Below the ground seemed -shivery—that was the mole. The Pygmy -heard and scented him. He crawled discreetly -up the trunk, and so could see as well -as hear. In the green tangle round were flitting -specks—the voles and mice assembling -in hot haste. From these his eye passed to -the combatants. The grey shrew's ear was -torn, and from it hung one drop of blood. -This was the lodestone.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/308.jpg" width="500" height="378" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">His Rival, feinting, flicked his Tail - too Far, and, in a twinkle, it was seized</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Up from a moss-clump shot a woodmouse -nose, and, at the back of it, two round black -eyes looked murder. The Pygmy caught the -chatter-grince of teeth; the bat still threaded -needle-notes among the leaves; the leaves -themselves were whispering; but clear above -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">{308}</a></span> -these short, crabbed, fretful sounds, he heard -the steady rumble of the mole. The thing -perplexed him. Could the expectant ring of -mice be deaf? The pair that held the stage -were too absorbed to notice anything.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/309.jpg" width="500" height="393" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Grey Shrew leant against the Trunk and panted</span><br /> - The brown shrew lay half sideways fronting him</p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-left" style="max-width: 250px;"> - <img src="images/310a.jpg" width="250" height="294" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">With Tangled Tails and rounded Straining - Bodies, commenced to Spin</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>It was the brown shrew who got home the -first. His rival, feinting, flicked his tail too -far, and, in a twinkle, it was seized. The -grey shrew swung himself upon his back, and -kicked with all four paws. But this was -waste of strength. The shrewmouse has -forked teeth, teeth that will hold a slippery -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">{309}</a></span> -rounded beetle, much more a soft square tail. -So with necessity the spur of valour, he -twisted round and nipped the brown shrew's -foot. Both straightway bit their hardest; -the twinge made both give way. They toppled -backwards squealing. The grey shrew leant -against the trunk and panted; the brown -shrew lay half sideways fronting him, and, -on all sides, the ring broke into chatterings. -The Pygmy, trembling with delight, screamed -out encouragement, but no one heard <i>his</i> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">{310}</a></span> -screams. The bat dived headlong from -the leaves, skimmed in between them and -shot up once more. The woodmouse crept two paces forward, then backed -abruptly, for they were at grips. Each nipped a loose flap of the -other's skin, and, bracing all four feet, tugged at its prize. They -tugged until they toppled sideways; then with claws fastened in each -other's fur, with tangled tails and rounded straining bodies, commenced -to spin.</p> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/310b.jpg" width="125" height="89" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>That is the way of shrewmice, much pother -and slight wounds. Their fights are seldom -mortal. Rather, they die for want -of fighting. Their valiant souls -misfit them.</p> - -<div class="block"> </div> - -<div class="image-float-left"> - <img src="images/311a1.jpg" width="125" height="102" alt=""/> -</div> - -<div class="image-float-right"> - <img src="images/311a2.jpg" width="125" height="91" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>So this hot-blooded, strenuous -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">{311}</a></span> -pair spun as one -living ball across the -ring, over and over, -twist and twirl, upside -and down, faster and faster, until the -spin itself released them. Then they sat -back from one another and wobbled like -spent tops.</p> - -<p>The third round started dully. The brown -shrew, shaken with exertion, lay on his -back the better to refresh himself. The grey -shrew, just as weary, crept to an eminence -above and eyed him -wickedly. The ring -was all impatience.</p> - -<p>Both soon revived.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 250px;"> - <img src="images/311b.jpg" width="250" height="315" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Then They lay Head to Tail, and Tail to - Head</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 334px;"> - <img src="images/312.jpg" width="334" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Field-Voles on the Skirts of it - could only see between their Betters' Ears</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The brown shrew twisted corkscrew-wise, and landed arched upon his -toe points. The grey shrew shot beneath him like a whiplash. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">{312}</a></span> -Then they lay head to tail, and tail to head. -The ring drew closer. The field-voles on -the skirts of it could only see between their -betters' ears. The bat came to a halt and -stared. The Pygmy climbed two inches up, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">{313}</a></span> -and was rewarded. For now both combatants -saw red.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/313.jpg" width="500" height="330" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Bat came to a Halt and Stared</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>They hurled themselves at random, they -bit at random, they bucked and somersaulted, -they spun entwined in loops and twists, in -double-knotted tangles, in sinuous figures of -eight. Now one was on his back and now -the other—shrewmice reck little which way -up they fight. Now they sped screaming up -the trunk and all but reached the Pygmy; -now they dropped earthward with twin thud, -and grazed a red vole's nose. So without -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">{314}</a></span> -pause or respite. They tore and scratched -and gripped and pulled and wrenched and -tugged and jumped and squealed until——it -was an earthquake, a rounded dull upheaval, a -split and crackle of the moss, a sputter of dry -dust, and, in the midst, like some queer fungus -growth, the mole's red nose.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 419px;"> - <img src="images/314.jpg" width="419" height="500" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Pygmy Climbed Two Inches Up</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>"Flick!" went a woodmouse tail, betokening -danger. The amphitheatre emptied in -a moment; voles helter-skelter into cover, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">{315}</a></span> -bat loose into the sky. The Pygmy tumbled -earthwards, shot forward, paused, whisked -up again, and crept behind a flake of -bark.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 400px;"> - <img src="images/315.jpg" width="400" height="320" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">Now One was on his Back and now the - Other</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The two shrews lay amazed upon their -backs, and in between them wagged the intruding -nose.</p> - -<p>Slowly it lengthened. Two naked paddle-feet -passed on the surface, and, like some -clumsy fish that quits its element, the mole -plunged into air.</p> - -<p>He missed both shrews, who, dashing right -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">{316}</a></span> -and left of him, entangled him in double-minded -purpose. Rested the Pygmy, shrunk -to a rigid wisp of apprehension, ear-straining, -muscle-tautened, behind a flimsy screen of -bark.</p> - -<p>The mole lurched slowly forward, swaying -his noddle-head from side to side, nosing -each inch of ground. Blood had enticed him -upwards, and blood he meant to taste. It -seemed as though short measure must content -him—a smear upon a grass stem, a drop -upon a pebble. But presently his nose flung -up; on either side of it the velvet starred, -leaving two loop-holes for his pin-head eyes; -he snuffed and peered about him; his brush-tail -jerked and quivered; a snarl laid bare his -teeth; and then, his instinct mastering circumstance, -he charged, with swift alternate -strokes, straight at the Pygmy's shelter. Had -his eye seen? Had his nose smelt? At least -he had a visible allurement—a half inch of the -Pygmy's tail. The Pygmy curled it promptly, -but, even as it moved, the mole was thundering -at the bark. The Pygmy squeezed himself -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">{317}</a></span> -a half inch further, and this half inch -meant life. The mole had bored his snout -into the breach, and by a forward wriggle -brought his teeth to bear.</p> - -<div class="image-center" style="max-width: 500px;"> - <img src="images/317.jpg" width="500" height="425" alt=""/> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Mole Plunged into the Air</span></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The outworks broke and crumbled like a -biscuit. His nose attained the citadel itself, -but here the assault was checked. Strain as -he would he could not get fair tooth-hold, -for, working upwards in cramped quarters, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">{318}</a></span> -he spent his strength in struggling for a -purchase.</p> - -<p>Only exhaustion stays the hunting mole, -and such exhaustion ends in death. This -mole was not exhausted yet.</p> - -<p>He screwed his nose unceasingly, forced -his teeth forward line by line, and ground the -bark to powder; snatched out his head for -air, and thrust his hand in place of it; -snatched back his hand and used his jaws -once more. Harder and harder still he -worked, closer and closer still he drew, until -one claw touched fur.</p> - -<p>It was a graze, a skin scrape; the fur shrank -out of reach, but the mere contact goaded -him to frenzy.</p> - -<p>He squirmed and writhed and strained -until, by muscle strength alone, he forced -his head and shoulders through the gap. -His nose now touched his quarry, his -hands were squared beneath his chin, palms -back, and thus, in earth, he might have -tunnelled far. But the stiff shell of bark -was obdurate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">{319}</a></span> -The white owl helped him out. She caught -him at the bottom of her swoop, and loosed -him high up on the elm-tree. Here the white -owlets welcomed him.</p> - -<p>Before she turned, the Pygmy had reached -home.</p> - -<div class="image-center"> - <img src="images/319.jpg" width="400" height="332" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div id="tnote"> -<p>Transcriber's Note.</p> - -<p>Apparent typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in -the use of hyphens have been retained.</p> - -<p>Illustrations have been moved to between, or to the start of, -paragraphs.</p> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOK OF NIMBLE BEASTS***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 55097-h.htm or 55097-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/5/0/9/55097">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/9/55097</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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