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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #66755 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66755)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Animal Life in Field and Garden, by
-Jean-Henri Fabre
-
-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
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Animal Life in Field and Garden
-
-Author: Jean-Henri Fabre
-        Florence Constable Bicknell
-
-Release Date: November 16, 2021 [eBook #66755]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading
-             Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file
-             was produced from images generously made available by The
-             Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANIMAL LIFE IN FIELD AND
-GARDEN ***
-
-
-
-                              ANIMAL LIFE
-                                   IN
-                            FIELD AND GARDEN
-
-
-                                   BY
-                            JEAN-HENRI FABRE
-
-              Author of “The Story-Book of Science,” “Our
-                  Humble Helpers,” “Field, Forest and
-                     Farm,” “The Secret of Everyday
-                             Things,” etc.
-
-
-                       TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH
-                                   BY
-                      FLORENCE CONSTABLE BICKNELL
-
-
-                                NEW YORK
-                            THE CENTURY CO.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-
-    CHAPTER                                         PAGE
-
-    I         What Uncle Paul Proposes to Talk About   3
-    II        Teeth                                    6
-    III       The Different Shapes of Teeth           13
-    IV        Bats                                    24
-    V         The Bat’s Wings                         36
-    VI        The Bat’s Senses of Smell and Hearing   43
-    VII       The Hedgehog                            49
-    VIII      Hibernation                             58
-    IX        The Mole                                67
-    X         The Mole’s Nest—The Shrew-Mouse         77
-    XI        The Exploit of One-Eyed John            84
-    XII       Nocturnal Birds of Prey                 90
-    XIII      Rats                                    93
-    XIV       Meadow-Mice—Hamsters—Dormice           106
-    XV        Horned Owls                            114
-    XVI       Other Owls                             122
-    XVII      The Eagle                              129
-    XVIII     Hawks and Falcons                      137
-    XIX       Kestrels, Kites, and Buzzards          144
-    XX        The Raven                              154
-    XXI       The Crow                               160
-    XXII      Woodpeckers                            168
-    XXIII     More about Woodpeckers                 177
-    XXIV      Climbers—The Hoopoe                    184
-    XXV       The Cuckoo                             188
-    XXVI      Shrikes                                197
-    XXVII     The Titmouse                           204
-    XXVIII    The Wren and the Kinglet               214
-    XXIX      Swallows                               220
-    XXX       Swifts and Night-Jars                  231
-    XXXI      The Bird’s Beak                        240
-    XXXII     Insectivorous Birds                    245
-    XXXIII    Granivorous Birds                      253
-    XXXIV     Snakes and Lizards                     260
-    XXXV      The Batrachians                        273
-    XXXVI     The Toad                               280
-    XXXVII    Instinct                               290
-    XXXVIII   The Grain-Weevil                       295
-    XXXIX     The Common Caterpillar                 300
-    XL        Caterpillars at Table                  304
-    XLI       Enemies of the Grapevine               310
-    XLII      Clever Mischief-Makers                 315
-    XLIII     Nut-Weevils and Flower-Weevils         321
-    XLIV      Enemies of Clover                      328
-    XLV       Cabbage-Eaters                         333
-    XLVI      A Destructive Family                   338
-    XLVII     Fliers with Wings of Gauze             343
-    XLVIII    Beneficent Parasites                   349
-    XLIX      Apple-Eaters                           358
-    L         Leaf-Rollers                           363
-    LI        The Hop-Moth                           368
-    LII       The Inchworm                           374
-    LIII      Sap-Suckers                            381
-    LIV       Queer Musical Instruments              385
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-ANIMAL LIFE IN FIELD AND GARDEN
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-WHAT UNCLE PAUL PROPOSES TO TALK ABOUT
-
-
-“In these talks that we shall have together,” said Uncle Paul, as he
-sat with his nephews one evening in May under the big elder tree in the
-garden, “I propose to designate as ‘friends’ those forms of animal life
-that, though not domesticated or cared for by us, nevertheless come to
-our aid by waging war on insects and various other devouring creatures
-which would in the end, unless their excessive multiplication were kept
-in restraint by others besides ourselves, eat up all our crops and lay
-waste our fields; and it is these ravagers of the farmer’s carefully
-tilled acres that I shall speak of as ‘foes.’
-
-“What can man’s efforts avail against those voracious hordes,
-multiplying as they do every year to an extent beyond calculation? Will
-he have the patience, the skill, the keenness of vision necessary for
-waging successful warfare on the tiniest species, often the most
-formidable, when the June-bug, despite its far greater size, baffles
-all his endeavors? Will he undertake to examine his fields and inspect
-every lump of soil, every spear of wheat, every separate leaf on his
-fruit-trees? For so prodigious a task the whole human race would be
-inadequate, even if it united all its efforts to this one end. The
-devouring hordes would reduce us to starvation, my children, had we not
-able helpers to work for us, helpers endowed with a patience that
-nothing can tire, a skill that foils all ruses, a vigilance that
-nothing escapes. To lie in ambush for the enemy, to track it to its
-remotest retreats, to hunt it unceasingly, and finally to exterminate
-it—that is their sole care, their never-ending occupation. Urged on by
-the pangs of hunger, they are relentless in their pursuit, both for
-their own sake and on behalf of their progeny. They live on those that
-live on us; they are the enemies of our enemies.
-
-“Engaged in this work are the martins that just at present are circling
-over our heads, the bats that fly around our house, the owls that call
-to one another from the hollow willow trunks in the meadow, the
-warblers that sing in the grove, the frogs that croak in the ditches,
-and many more besides, including the toad, which is an object of
-loathing to most people. Thanks be to God who has given us, to serve as
-guardians of our daily bread, the owl and the toad, the bat and the
-viper, the frog and the lizard! All these creatures, wrongfully cursed
-and shamefully abused by us, and foolishly looked upon with repugnance
-and hatred, in reality lend us valiant assistance and should take a
-high place in our esteem. To repair the injustice they have suffered
-shall be my first duty as we come to each of them in turn. Thanks be to
-God who, to protect us from that great eater the insect, has given us
-the swallow and the warbler, the robin redbreast and the nightingale!
-These, the delight of our eye and ear, creatures of infinite grace—must
-I again raise my voice in their defense? Alas, yes, for their homes are
-ravaged by the barbarous nest-hunter.
-
-“It is my purpose now to acquaint you, my children, with these various
-helpers of man in his labors as tiller of the soil. I will tell you
-about their ways of living, their habits and their aptitudes, and the
-services they render us. My object will be attained if I succeed in
-imparting to you a little of the interest they deserve. I will begin
-with those that have teeth. But first let us take a glance at the shape
-and structure of teeth in general; for it is this that determines the
-kind of food required by the animal.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-TEETH
-
-
-“Is it not true,” resumed Uncle Paul, “that each kind of work demands
-its own special tool? The plowman must have the plow, the blacksmith
-the anvil, the mason the trowel, the weaver the shuttle, the carpenter
-the plane; and these different tools, all excellent for the work to
-which they are applied, would be of no use in any other. Could the
-mason rough-cast his wall with a shuttle? Could the weaver weave his
-cloth with a trowel? Evidently not. Is it not true, then, that from the
-tool one may easily guess the kind of work it does?”
-
-“Nothing could be easier, it seems to me,” replied Jules. “If I see
-planes and saws hanging on the wall, I know that I am in a carpenter’s
-shop.”
-
-“And I should know,” said Emile, “from seeing an anvil, a hammer, and a
-pair of tongs, that I was in a blacksmith’s shop. But if I saw a
-mortar-board and a trowel, I should look around for the mason.”
-
-“Well,” Uncle Paul went on, “every creature has its special task in
-creation’s great workshop, where all take part, all work, according to
-the design of Divine Wisdom. Each species has its mission—I might say
-its trade to follow—a trade that requires special tools just as does
-any work done by man. Now, among the innumerable trades of animals
-there is one that is common to all without exception, the most
-important trade of all, as without it life itself would be impossible:
-it is the business of eating.
-
-“But all animals do not take the same kind of food. Some need prey, raw
-flesh, others fodder; some eat roots, others seeds and fruit. In every
-instance teeth are the tools used in the work of eating; so they must
-have the shape appropriate to the kind of food eaten, whether that be
-tough or tender, hard or easy to chew. Therefore, just as from his tool
-the artisan’s work may be inferred, so from the shape of its teeth one
-can usually tell the kind of food eaten by any animal.
-
-“Herbivorous animals are those that live on grass, fodder, hay; and
-carnivorous animals are those that eat flesh. The horse, the donkey,
-the ox, and the sheep are herbivorous; the dog, the cat, and the wolf,
-carnivorous. The food of the herbivorous animal is tough, hard,
-fibrous, and must be ground for a long time by the teeth in order to be
-reduced to a paste-like mass suitable for swallowing and, after that,
-for easy digestion. In this case the teeth in both upper and lower jaw
-must have broad and almost flat surfaces that will come together and
-grind the food as millstones grind grain. On the other hand, the flesh
-eaten by the carnivorous animal is soft, easy to swallow, and easy to
-digest. All that the animal has to do is to tear it apart and cut it
-into shreds. So the teeth here must have sharp edges that come together
-and operate like the blades of a pair of scissors.
-
-“I think I have said enough on that subject. Now, which of you will
-tell me what kind of food goes with each of the teeth I show you here?”
-
-And Uncle Paul laid before his hearers the two teeth pictured on these
-pages, with others to follow.
-
-“The first tooth,” said Emile, “is flattened and very wide at the top;
-it must crush and grind by rubbing against a tooth of the same kind in
-the opposite jaw. So it is the tooth of an animal that eats fodder.”
-
-“It is indeed,” Uncle Paul replied, “the tooth of an herbivorous
-animal, a horse.”
-
-“The second,” continued Emile, “is composed of several broad points
-with edges almost as sharp as knife blades. It must be meant for
-cutting flesh.”
-
-“Those winding folds that you see in the horse’s tooth—what are they
-for?” asked Jules. “There is nothing like them in the wolf’s tooth.”
-
-“I was going to tell you about them,” his uncle replied. “If the
-horse’s teeth had perfectly smooth surfaces, without any roughness to
-act as a grater, is it not true that in pressing and rubbing, each
-against the opposite tooth, they would simply crush the fodder or hay
-as you would crush it between two smooth stones without changing it
-into fine powder? Millstones, if they were polished like marble tables,
-would flatten the grain without making flour of it; they must be rough
-on the surface in order to seize the wheat during the grinding of the
-upper stone on the stationary lower one and to make it into powder.
-When by long use the surface is worn smooth, the stones are of no
-service until they are dented again with the hammer. Well, the folds of
-a horse’s teeth may be likened to the roughness of a millstone: they
-project a little above the general surface of the tooth, making a sort
-of coarse file that tears to pieces blades of grass or hay when rubbed
-by the opposite tooth.”
-
-“I think I see a danger threatening the herbivorous animal,” put in
-Jules at this point. “Those projecting folds must soon be worn down by
-rubbing against one another, just the same as the roughness on the
-millstone. If smooth millstones can’t make flour without being
-roughened again, no more can the herbivorous animal’s worn teeth go on
-grinding.”
-
-“That is provided for, admirably provided for, my boy. Everything in
-the world is arranged so that it can do its work: a wisdom that nothing
-escapes watches over the smallest details; everything, even to a
-donkey’s jaw, shows this to be so. Listen, and judge for yourselves.
-
-“There are two different substances in a tooth: one very hard, a little
-like glass and called enamel; the other quicker to wear out, but very
-difficult to break, and known as ivory. These two substances are
-combined in different ways, according to the animal’s diet. In the
-horse, the sheep, the ox, the donkey, and many other herbivorous
-animals the ivory makes up the main part of the tooth, while the harder
-substance, the enamel, extends in winding sheets throughout the former,
-projecting a little above its surface in a fold which varies in form in
-the different kinds of animals. So, then, it is the enamel, a substance
-as hard as a pebble, that composes the folds in the herbivorous
-animal’s teeth. From the rubbing of the lower teeth against the upper
-the ivory wears away faster than the enamel, so that the folds of the
-latter embedded in the mass of the tooth have their cutting edges
-brought above the general level as fast as required, and thus the
-grinding surfaces are kept in constant repair. You see how it is: in
-the donkey’s food-mill, for instance, the millstones re-roughen
-themselves as fast as necessary for the chewing of a thistle; the
-machinery is self-repairing even while at work.”
-
-“What you tell us, Uncle, is wonderful,” commented Jules. “I never
-should have guessed that such an arrangement was necessary for chewing
-a thistle.”
-
-“And only the other day,” put in Louis, “I kicked out of my way a
-jaw-bone that was lying in the road. How gladly should I have looked at
-it closely if I had known all these things!”
-
-“Ignorance always kicks things aside like that, my boy, but science is
-interested in everything, knowing that it can always learn something.
-But let us return to the teeth of the carnivorous animals and examine
-those of the wolf.
-
-“Here the irregularities of the nutmeg-grater, the parallel ridges of
-the file, and the roughness of the millstone would be of no use, since
-the animal’s food is to be torn into shreds and not chewed into paste.
-For the wolf’s food cutting blades are needed—sharp scissors which are
-hard enough not to become blunt. Hence the working edges of the wolf’s
-teeth are not flat like millstones, but shaped rather like pointed
-chisels. The ivory forms the central body of the tooth, making it tough
-and strong, while the enamel, harder but more brittle, is spread as a
-continuous layer over the tooth and furnishes the requisite cutting
-edges. In like manner a skilful cutler, when he wishes to make an edged
-tool that will cut well and at the same time withstand violent blows,
-makes its central mass of iron, a tough material that bears
-considerable violence without injury, but is not hard enough to furnish
-a keen cutting edge. He then overlays it, to obtain such an edge, with
-fine steel, which combines excessive hardness with the fragility of
-glass. The best that man can contrive in the making of edged tools is
-met with in perfection in the teeth of carnivorous animals.”
-
-“If I understand you, then,” said Jules, “ivory, which is not so hard
-as enamel, but less brittle, forms the interior of the teeth of
-carnivorous animals, and enamel, which is harder and more brittle,
-forms the outside layer. Ivory makes the teeth strong; enamel makes
-them cut.”
-
-“Yes, that is it.”
-
-“Now, I don’t know which is the more wonderful, the donkey’s or the
-wolf’s set of teeth.”
-
-“Both are wonderful, as both are admirably adapted to the kind of work
-they have to do.”
-
-“What surprises me most,” Emile interposed, “is that a lot of things we
-should never pay any attention to turn out to be very interesting when
-Uncle Paul explains them to us. I never should have thought that the
-time would come when I should listen with pleasure to the history of a
-tooth.”
-
-“Since that interests you,” said Uncle Paul, “I will continue the
-subject a little further and will tell you about human teeth, about
-yours, my boy, so white and so well arranged, and so admirably adapted
-for biting a slice of bread and butter.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-THE DIFFERENT SHAPES OF TEETH
-
-
-“Man has thirty-two teeth, sixteen to each jaw,” Uncle Paul continued.
-
-Emile already had his finger in his mouth, passing it from one tooth to
-another, to count them. His uncle paused until he had finished the
-count.
-
-“But I have only twenty, all told,” declared the boy; “twenty, and not
-thirty-two.”
-
-“The other twelve will come some day, my boy; at present you have the
-right number of teeth for a child of your age. They do not all come at
-one time, but one after another. We begin with twenty, and no more.
-They are called milk teeth, or first teeth. When we are about seven
-years old they begin to fall out and are replaced by others stronger
-and set in more firmly. In addition to this second score of teeth there
-appear later twelve others, bringing the total number up to thirty-two.
-Those farthest back, in the inmost cavity of the mouth, come late, when
-we are eighteen or twenty years old, or even older, for which reason
-they are called wisdom teeth to signify that they appear at an age when
-the reason is well developed. These thirty-two last teeth constitute
-the second cutting. I call them last because they are never replaced by
-any others; if we lose them, that is the end of our teeth; no more will
-come.”
-
-“I have two now that are loose,” said Emile.
-
-“They must come out soon to leave room for the new teeth that are to
-take their place. The others will get loose, too, and the twenty that
-you have now will be succeeded by twenty others, to which, sooner or
-later, will be added twelve more which come only once. These last
-occupy the back part of the jaws, three on each side, top and bottom.
-Thus the final number will be thirty-two.
-
-“These thirty-two teeth are divided into three classes according to
-their shape and the work they must do. The same names being repeated
-top and bottom and right and left, I show you merely the eight teeth of
-half a jaw. In every tooth there are two parts to be distinguished, the
-crown and the root. The root is the part that is embedded in the
-jaw-bone like a nail hammered into wood; the crown is the part that
-comes into view, and it may be likened to the head of a nail. The root
-holds the tooth in place, fixes it firmly; the crown cuts, tears, and
-grinds the food.
-
-“In the two front teeth in each half-jaw the crown grows thinner toward
-the top. The edge is straight and sharp, fitted for cutting food,
-dividing it into small mouthfuls. Therefore these teeth are called
-incisors, from the Latin incidere, meaning to cut. Their root is a
-simple pivot. The next tooth is called canine. Its root is a little
-longer than those of the preceding teeth, and its crown is slightly
-pointed. The dog, the cat, the wolf, and carnivorous animals in general
-have this tooth shaped like a powerful fang, which serves to catch and
-hold prey, but above all acts as a weapon in attack and defense. It is
-the canine teeth that you see crossing one another, long and pointed,
-two on each side, when you raise the upper lip of a cat or a dog.
-Because of these remarkable fangs of carnivorous animals, especially
-the dog, which in Latin is canis, the name canine has been given to the
-teeth that in man are like them, if not in form and use, at least in
-the position they occupy.
-
-“The next five teeth are the most useful of all. They are called
-molars, from the Latin mola, a millstone, because they play the part of
-millstones in grinding the food. For this purpose their crowns are
-blunt and broad and slightly irregular, not flat like the horse’s
-molars or with sharp cutting edges like the wolf’s, because man’s food
-is not composed exclusively of either vegetables or flesh, but of both
-at the same time. For food as varied as man’s there is need of molars
-fit for all sorts of service: they must grind like those of the
-herbivorous animals and cut like those of the carnivorous; in short,
-they must be like those of both. And, indeed, their wide crowns are
-suited to vegetable food, and their rather sharp irregularities are
-adapted to animal food.
-
-“The first two are called little molars or, in more learned language,
-bicuspids, because they have each two cusps or points. They are the
-least strong of the five and have only one root each. The two little
-molars, the canine tooth, and the two incisors (of each half-jaw) are
-the only teeth that are renewed. Multiply them by four and you will
-have the twenty teeth of the first cutting, teeth that begin to fall
-out toward the age of seven and are gradually replaced by others. That
-is the state of Emile’s teeth at present, there being but twenty of
-them.
-
-“The other three teeth, in each half-jaw, come only once. They are the
-large molars, of which the very end one is also called the wisdom
-tooth. As in the act of mastication the large molars have to bear
-strong pressure, the root is composed of several pivots or prongs
-reaching down each into a special cavity or socket. This makes them
-strong and firm, so that they can stand pressure both downward and
-sideways.
-
-“To sum up, the grown man has thirty-two teeth in all, sixteen to each
-jaw; namely, four incisors, two canines, and ten molars. These last are
-divided into four bicuspids or little molars and six large molars; the
-milk teeth do not include these last six.”
-
-Here Jules had a question to ask. “Ivory and enamel,” said he, “those
-two substances of different degrees of hardness that you told us were
-arranged in such a wonderful way in horses’ and wolves’ teeth—are they
-in our teeth, too?”
-
-“Yes, they are there. Ivory forms the entire root, which must serve as
-a firm support, and it also fills the crown, while enamel merely covers
-the outside as a hard protecting layer.”
-
-“I am going to get the cat and look at her teeth,” said Emile. “Has she
-twenty, like me, or has she thirty-two?”
-
-“Neither twenty nor thirty-two, but thirty when full-grown. Dogs and
-wolves have forty-two; horses and donkeys forty-four. In fact, the
-number varies with different animals as much as the shape. Perhaps a
-few words on this subject will not be out of place.
-
-“First, here is the picture of a wolf’s mouth. If one did not already
-know, one could easily guess the animal’s diet by merely looking at its
-teeth. Those deeply indented molars, those strong, curved
-canines—surely they call for wild prey and show great strength. The
-whole set indicates clearly enough a carnivorous appetite. At i are the
-incisors, six in number. They are small and of slight use, for the
-animal does not cut its prey into little mouthfuls, but swallows it
-gluttonously in great strips. At c are the canines, veritable daggers
-which the bandit plunges into the sheep’s neck. The little molars are
-at m. The large molars come next. The first, marked r, is the
-strongest, and it is with this that the wolf and the dog crack the
-hardest bones. Finally, the picture shows the salivary glands; that is,
-the organs that prepare the saliva and let it ooze into the mouth
-through the canal s as the animal eats. Without dwelling on this point,
-which would take me too far from my subject, I will merely say that
-saliva serves to soak the food and make a soft mouthful that can be
-easily swallowed, and it also plays an important part in the stomach in
-reducing to a fluid pap the food taken in; that is to say, it helps to
-digest the food.
-
-“Let us pass on to the cat, another typical flesh-eater. Six small
-incisors are ranged in the front of the jaw like a row of elegant but
-useless pearls. They are ornamental rather than useful to the animal. A
-mouse-hunter needs very long and pointed canines for piercing the prey
-seized by the claws. In this respect the cat is armed in a very
-formidable manner. What do you think of it, Louis?”
-
-“I think,” he replied, “a rat must be very uncomfortable between those
-curved canines the picture shows us.”
-
-“One day,” said Emile, “when I was pulling the cat’s mustache, she gave
-me a bite that felt like the sharp prick of a needle. It was done so
-quickly I had no time to draw my hand back.”
-
-“The cat brought her canines into play and wounded you with one of them
-as quickly as a steel point could have done.
-
-“Now look at the molars. There are four above, the last one very small,
-and three below. Their cusps or points are still sharper than the
-wolf’s; so, too, the cat’s appetite—like that of its kindred, the
-tiger, the panther, the jaguar, and others—demands more flesh than that
-of the wolf and animals like it, such as the fox, the jackal, and
-especially the dog. Have you ever noticed how disdainful the cat is
-when you throw her only a piece of bread? Scarcely has she smelt it
-when she makes a movement of superb scorn, tail in the air, back
-raised, and looks at you as if to say: ‘Are you making fun of me? I
-want something else.’ Or, if very hungry, she reluctantly bites the
-bread, chews it awkwardly, and swallows it with distaste. The dog, on
-the contrary, our good Azor for example, catches the bread joyfully in
-his mouth without letting it touch the ground, and if he finds any
-fault with the piece it is for being too small. You call the cat a
-glutton. I take her part and maintain that it is not the vice of
-gluttony she shows, but that her teeth must have meat. What could you
-expect her pointed canines and keen-edged molars to do with a crust of
-bread? They demand, above all, a prey that bleeds, a quivering bit of
-flesh.
-
-“What a difference between the teeth of the hunter and those of the
-peaceful chewer of grass! Let us examine this picture of a horse’s
-head. Here the incisors, six in number, are powerful; they seize the
-forage and cut it, a mouthful at a time. The canines, of no use here,
-show only as little knobs on the jaw-bone. Next beyond comes a long
-vacant space called the bar; that is where the bit is held in the
-horse’s mouth. Back of the bar you see the real grinding mechanism,
-composed of twelve pairs of strong molars with square, flat crowns
-furnished with slightly projecting folds whose usefulness I have
-already pointed out to you. If I am not much mistaken, here we have a
-mill capable of grinding tough straw and fibrous hay.
-
-“Finally, here is a rabbit’s head. Each jaw is furnished with two
-enormous incisors set deep into the bone, bent backward above, and
-ending each in a sharp-edged crown. What are such incisors as those
-made for?”
-
-“I know,” Jules quickly replied. “The rabbit is always nibbling. For
-want of better food it will gnaw the bark of a tree and even the wood.
-It uses its incisors to cut its food very fine, to gnaw it.”
-
-“To gnaw it—that is the right word; hence we give the name of rodents
-or gnawers to the various animals having incisors of that kind. Such
-are the squirrel, the hare, the rabbit, the rat, and the mouse, those
-poor creatures which must gnaw the toughest vegetable substances and
-fill their bellies with wood, paper, rags even, when there is nothing
-better for supplying the mill that is kept always going. But it is not
-merely to satisfy their hunger that these animals are almost
-incessantly gnawing; there is another reason for their doing it. Their
-incisors grow all their lives and tend to lengthen indefinitely;
-consequently, the animal must wear them away by continual friction, as
-otherwise their crowns would at last so far overlap that they could not
-be made to meet. Then the poor beast would be unable to seize its food
-and would perish. In order to be able to eat when hungry, the rat and
-the rabbit must eat when not hungry, so as to sharpen their incisors
-and keep them the right length. It is true that they often turn their
-attention to very poor fodder. A splinter of wood, a straw, a mere
-nothing suffices to maintain the play of their indefatigable incisors.
-Remember, children, the expressive term rodents (which means gnawers),
-applied to a whole class of animals akin to the rabbit and the rat;
-remember their curious incisors, for we shall have occasion to speak of
-them again hereafter. For the present let us finish our examination of
-the rabbit’s teeth.
-
-“The canines are lacking; in their place the jaw shows a bar or, in
-other words, a large open space. At the extreme back of the mouth are
-the molars, few in number but strong, with flat crowns and several
-folds of enamel. In fact, they make an excellent grinding machine.
-
-“In giving you these details concerning the different shapes of teeth
-in different species of animals, I wished particularly to point out the
-following truth: Each species eats a particular kind of food for which
-the teeth are especially formed, so that one might say of any animal,
-‘Show me its teeth and I will tell you what it eats.’ In many instances
-where we cannot examine the teeth we do not know what such and such a
-creature feeds on, and in our hasty judgment we mistake a friend for an
-enemy, a helper for a destroyer. If the animal is ugly we condemn it on
-the spot and hate it, accusing it of any number of misdeeds. We declare
-war against it, and never suspect, in our foolishness, that it is a war
-at our own expense. But there is a very simple precaution by which we
-can avoid these regrettable mistakes: let us yield to no prejudice,
-however wide-spread, and before condemning an animal as harmful let us
-find out what sort of teeth it has. They will tell us the animal’s way
-of living, as you shall soon see for yourselves.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-BATS
-
-
-“Which of you three can tell me what bats feed upon?” asked Uncle Paul
-the next day.
-
-At this question Emile put on his thinking-cap, closing his eyes and
-rubbing his forehead; but no ideas came. Nor were Jules and Louis any
-prompter with an answer.
-
-“Nobody knows? Well, then, so much the better, for you will have the
-satisfaction of finding it out for yourselves, from the shape of the
-teeth. The incisors, small and weak, which you see on an enlarged scale
-in this picture of a bat’s set of teeth—do they look as if they were
-made for gnawing vegetable substances, after the manner of rats and
-rabbits? Could they cut any such tough fodder?”
-
-“Certainly not,” replied Jules; “they are too weak to be of much use.
-And then it seems to me those two sharp, curved fangs must belong to a
-flesh-eating animal.”
-
-“The long, pointed canines do indicate as much, but the molars show it
-perhaps still more plainly. With their strong and sharp indented crowns
-fitting so well into the sharp-edged depressions of the opposite
-jaw—are those molars designed to crush grain, to grind, slowly and
-patiently, fibrous substances?”
-
-“No,” said Jules; “they are the teeth of a flesh-eater, not the
-grist-mill of an herbivorous animal.”
-
-“I am sure now,” affirmed Louis, “that the bat lives on prey.”
-
-“It is a greedy hunter of flesh and blood,” Emile declared. “The cat’s
-teeth are not more savage-looking.”
-
-“All that is quite correct,” said Uncle Paul. “The teeth have taught
-you the chief thing about the animal’s habits. Yes, the bat is a
-hunter, an eater of live prey, a little ogre always demanding fresh
-meat. It only remains to find out the kind of game it likes. Evidently
-the size of the prey must suit the size of the hunter. A bat’s head is
-no bigger than a large hazelnut. It is true the mouth is split from ear
-to ear and can, when wide open, swallow mouthfuls larger than the
-smallness of the animal would lead one to suppose. Nevertheless the bat
-can attack only small creatures. What can it be that it goes chasing
-through the air when, after sunset, it flies hither and thither
-unceasingly?”
-
-“Gnats, perhaps, and night-moths,” Jules suggested.
-
-“Exactly. Those are its prey. The bat lives on insects exclusively. All
-are food for its maw: hard-winged beetles, slender mosquitoes, plump
-moths, flying insects of all sorts; in fact, all the little winged foes
-of our cereals, vines, fruit-trees, woolen stuffs—all those creatures
-of the air that come in the evening, attracted by our lighted rooms,
-and singe their wings in the flames of our lamps. Who would undertake
-to say how many insects bats destroy when they fly around a house? The
-game is so small, and the hunter is so hungry.
-
-“Notice what happens on a calm summer evening. Lured abroad by the
-balmy atmosphere of the twilight hours, a host of insects leave their
-lurking-places and come forth, guests at life’s garden party, to sport
-together in the air, hunt for food, and mate with one another. It is
-the hour when the sphinx-moths fly abruptly from flower to flower and
-thrust their long probosces into the depths of the corollas, where
-honey is stored; the hour when the mosquito, thirsting for human blood,
-sounds its war-cry in our ears and selects our tenderest spot to stab
-with its poisoned lancet; the hour when the June-bug leaves the shelter
-of the leaf, spreads its buzzing wings, and goes humming through the
-air in quest of its fellows. The gnats dance in joyous swarms which the
-slightest breath of wind disperses like a column of smoke; butterflies
-and moths, in wedding-garments, their wings powdered with silvery dust
-and their antennæ spread out like plumes, join in the frolic or seek
-places in which to deposit their eggs; the wood-borer comes forth from
-its hidden retreat under the bark of the elm; the weevil breaks its
-cell hollowed out in a grain of wheat; the plume-moths rise in clouds
-from the granaries and fly toward the fields of ripe cereals; other
-moths explore here the grape-vines, there the pear-trees, apple-trees,
-cherry-trees, busily seeking food and shelter for their evil progeny.
-
-“But in the midst of these festive assemblies suddenly there comes a
-killjoy. It is the bat, which flies hither and thither, up and down,
-appearing and disappearing, darting its head out this side and that,
-and each time snapping up an insect on the wing, crushing and
-swallowing it immediately. The hunting is good; gnats, beetles, and
-moths abound; and every now and then a little cry of joy announces the
-capture of a plump June-bug. As long as the fading twilight permits,
-the eager hunter thus pursues its work of extermination. Satisfied at
-last, the bat flies back to its somber and quiet retreat. The next
-evening and all through the summer the hunt is resumed, always with the
-same ardor, always at the expense of insects only.
-
-“To give you an idea of the multitude of harmful insects, especially of
-moths, from which the bat delivers us, I will quote a passage from the
-celebrated French naturalist Buffon, the most graphic historian of the
-animal kingdom. But first I must tell you that bats are in the habit of
-making their homes in old towers, grottoes, and abandoned quarries.
-There, in great numbers, they pass the daylight hours, hanging
-motionless from the roof, and thence they sally forth at the approach
-of darkness. The floor of these retreats becomes covered at last with a
-deep layer of droppings, from which we can learn the kind of food eaten
-by bats and judge of the importance of their hunting. Now here is what
-Buffon has to say of a grotto frequented by these creatures:
-
-
-   “Having one day descended into the grottoes of Arci, I was
-    surprised to find there a kind of earth of a singular nature. It
-    formed a bed of blackish matter several feet thick, almost entirely
-    composed of parts of the wings and feet of flies and moths, as if
-    these insects had gathered here in immense numbers, coming together
-    for the express purpose of dying and rotting in company. It was
-    nothing but bats’ dung that had been accumulating for years.”
-
-
-“What a curious kind of soil, made up entirely of the remains of dead
-insects!” Jules exclaimed.
-
-“I will add that sometimes this soil of flies and moths at the bottom
-of old quarries and caves is abundant enough for the farmer to take
-account of it and use it as a rich fertilizer. It is called bats’
-guano.”
-
-“To make such heaps of it, then,” remarked Louis, “bats must destroy
-insects by millions and millions.”
-
-“Five or six dozen flies or moths are hardly enough for a bat’s evening
-meal; if a few June-bugs should make their appearance, they would be
-eagerly snapped up. If the band of hunters is a large one, judge of the
-thousands of harmful insects destroyed in a single season. Next to the
-birds we have no more valiant helpers than bats; and so I beg you to be
-friendly to these creatures which, while we are asleep and perhaps
-dreaming of our rich crops of pears and apples, peaches and grapes and
-grain, proceed with their silent warfare against the enemies of our
-harvests, and every evening destroy by myriads moths, mosquitoes,
-beetles, bugs—in short, the greater part of the insect throng that
-always threatens us with starvation if we do not keep vigilant watch.”
-
-“I see now that the bat does us a good turn,” Emile admitted. “All the
-same, it is frightfully ugly; and, besides, they say if it touches you
-it will give you the itch.”
-
-“There are any number of other sayings about it that are just as
-foolish, my boy. One is that the bat pricks with its pointed teeth the
-she-goat’s udders so as to suck her blood and milk; another is that it
-gnaws the sausages and bacon hung under the chimney mantel; also, that
-its sudden entrance into a house means misfortune. I have heard persons
-cry out because a bat had accidentally grazed them with the tip of its
-wing; and I have seen others pale with terror because they had found
-one of the innocent creatures fastened by a claw to their bed curtains.
-
-“Here, as in many other things, my dear children, you must take into
-account the folly of mankind, which is more given to error than to
-truth. If you were old enough to understand me, I should add that
-wherever I find a general agreement that a thing is black I think it
-well to look into the matter and find out whether, on the contrary, it
-may not be white. We are so stuffed with false notions that very often
-the exact opposite of the common belief is the real truth. Do you ask
-for examples? There are plenty of them.
-
-“The sun, we generally say, according to all appearances revolves from
-east to west around the stationary earth. No, says science, no, it is
-the earth, on the contrary, that rotates from west to east before the
-stationary sun. The stars, we say again, are small bright points,
-little lamps in the arch of the firmament. No, answers science, the
-stars are not tiny sparks; they are enormous bodies which compare in
-light and size to the sun itself, a million and a half times as large
-as the earth. The bat, it is commonly asserted, is a harmful, hideous,
-venomous creature of ill omen that must be crushed without mercy under
-the heel. No, affirms science, a thousand times no; the bat is an
-inoffensive creature that, instead of doing us harm and bringing
-misfortune, renders us an immense service by protecting the good things
-of the earth from their countless destroyers.
-
-“No, we should not vent our hatred upon it and pitilessly kill it; on
-the contrary, we should like and respect it as one of our best helpers.
-The poor creature does not deserve the bad reputation that ignorance
-has given it. Its touch does not communicate either lice or the itch;
-its teeth do not pierce the goat’s udders or attack our stores of
-bacon; its chance entrance into a room is no more to be dreaded than a
-butterfly’s. For my part I should like to have it visit my bedroom
-often at night, for then I should soon be rid of the mosquitoes that
-torment me. All things considered, we have nothing, absolutely nothing
-to reproach it with, and we are indebted to it for very valuable
-services. That is the answer of science to ignorant prejudice.
-Henceforth, then, crush the bat under your heel if you dare.”
-
-“I will take good care,” said Louis, “never to do such a thing now that
-I know what an army of enemies we are guarded against by the bat.”
-
-“But what a pity,” Jules remarked, “that it is such a hideous
-creature!”
-
-“Hideous?” his uncle repeated. “That is a slander which I hope to make
-you take back.”
-
-“Surely you can’t deny that the bat is horribly ugly,” persisted the
-boy.
-
-“Perhaps I can.”
-
-“I should like to know,” said Emile, “how you can make out that the
-frightful shape of the creature is beautiful.”
-
-“To discuss ugliness and beauty with you, my children,” replied Uncle
-Paul, “is not an undertaking that I should care to enter upon. To
-follow me in such a discussion you would need a maturity of mind that
-does not go with your years. Even if you were grown up, it might still
-be impossible for us to come to an agreement, inasmuch as it is not
-with the bodily eyes that ugliness and beauty should be judged, but
-with the eyes of reason ripened by reflection and study and free from
-the trammels of first impressions, which are generally erroneous. Also,
-how few possess that intellectual clearness of vision that remains
-untroubled by prematurely conceived opinions and can thus contemplate
-things in all the clarity of truth! Trusting the testimony of our eyes
-and yielding to daily habit, we call beautiful the creatures whose
-general structure shows a certain conformity with that of the animals
-most familiar to us and unthinkingly accepted as standards for all
-future judgments. We call ugly those that differ from these accepted
-models, and if very unlike we call them hideous. Enlightened reason
-refuses to be hemmed in by the narrow circle of first impressions; it
-rises above petty prejudices and says to itself: Nothing is ugly that
-God has made; everything is beautiful, everything is perfect in itself,
-as everything is the work of the Creator.
-
-“An animal’s form should not be judged by its greater or less
-resemblance to the forms that are already familiar to us and serve us
-as standards of comparison, but rather by its fitness for the kind of
-life for which it was created. Where the structure is in perfect
-harmony with the functions to be performed, there too is beauty. From
-this higher point of view ugliness no longer exists; or, rather, it
-exists all too abundantly, but only in the moral world. Intemperance,
-laziness, stupid pride—all forms of vice, in short—constitute ugliness
-and hideousness. To tell the truth, I know of none besides.
-
-“But I must return to the bat, if not in the hope of making you find it
-beautiful, at least with the certainty of interesting you in its
-remarkable structure. I will wager, too, that not one of you knows what
-a bat is.”
-
-“It is a kind of bird,” declared Emile.
-
-“It is an old rat that has grown a pair of wings,” Jules ventured to
-assert.
-
-“You are both talking nonsense,” returned their uncle. “That is the way
-with us all: we speak at random of animals and persons, giving to one
-our esteem, to another our scorn, without knowing what they are, what
-they do, what they are good for. You don’t know the first thing about
-the bat, and yet you overwhelm the poor animal with abuse.
-
-“The bat has nothing in common with birds; it has neither beak nor
-feathers; nor is it a rat that has acquired wings in its old age. It is
-really a peculiar creature that is born, lives, and dies with wings,
-without in any way belonging to the bird family. Its body has the size,
-the fur, and somewhat the shape of a mouse; but its wings are bare.
-
-“The most highly organized animals have as a distinctive mark teats or
-udders, which furnish milk, the first food of their young. These
-animals do not feed their young family from the beak, as birds do; they
-do not abandon their offspring to all the hazards of good or ill
-fortune, careless of their future, as do the stupid races of reptiles
-and fish. The females rear their young with maternal care, feeding them
-from time to time with milk from their udders. All the various species
-that suckle their young, all that are provided with udders, are classed
-together by men of learning and called mammals, from the Latin mamma, a
-breast or teat. I will add that in the great majority of instances
-these animals have the body covered with fur or hair, and not with
-feathers or scales. Feathers belong to birds, scales to reptiles and
-fishes. As examples of mammals you will immediately think of our
-domestic animals, the dog, the cat, the cow, the sheep, the goat, the
-horse, and others.”
-
-“I have often noticed,” said Emile, “how carefully the cat raises her
-family. While the kittens press her teats with their little pink paws
-to make the milk flow faster, the old cat washes them with her tongue
-and shows her happiness by her soft purring.”
-
-“Well, then,” resumed Uncle Paul, “the bat is a mammal just as much as
-is the cat, and like that of the cat its body is protected from the
-cold by fur, and the female has teats for nursing her little ones. The
-number of teats varies widely in the different kinds of animals, being
-greater in the species that have many young at a birth, and less in the
-others; which is as it should be, in order that the nurslings may all
-be suckled at the same time. The bat has only two, situated on the
-breast and not under the stomach. The female bears only a single young
-one at a time. Emile rightly admires the love of the cat for her
-kittens; yet the bat is a still tenderer mother. When in the evening
-she goes out in search of food, instead of leaving her nursling in some
-hole in the wall after suckling it, she carries it with her, clinging
-to her breast; and it is while weighted with this load that she chases
-the nimble moths on the wing. Doubtless the pursuit of prey is thus
-rendered less fruitful and more difficult; but no matter, the loving
-mother prefers not to abandon her feeble charge, and allows it to
-continue peacefully sucking during the evolutions of the hunt. With the
-deepening darkness the bat regains its retreat, suspends itself from
-the roof by a toe-nail, and holds its nursling by wrapping it in her
-wings.”
-
-“That is not so bad a way to behave,” admitted Jules. “I begin to find
-the bat less ugly than I thought.”
-
-“That is what I just told you,” returned his uncle. “Ugliness is
-begotten of ignorance; it diminishes as knowledge increases. But let us
-continue our theme.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-THE BAT’S WINGS
-
-
-“Wings, real wings, perfectly adapted to flying, are the bat’s most
-striking feature. How can a mammal, an animal whose general structure
-is that of a dog or a cat for example, possess the flying-apparatus of
-a bird? How can two organs so entirely different be combined? In the
-bat’s wing, my children, we find an admirable example of the infinite
-resources at the command of the Creator, who, without adding to or
-subtracting from the fundamental plan, has adapted the same organs to
-the most widely different functions. The fore feet of mammals—of the
-dog, or the cat we will say—are changed into wings in the bat without
-the addition or the loss of a single part in this incredible
-transformation. More than that, the human arms, our arms, children—are
-there represented, piece by piece, bone by bone. You all look at me as
-if you did not believe it, unable to understand how there can be
-anything in common between our arms and a bat’s wings.”
-
-“The fact is,” Jules confessed, “it takes all my faith in your words to
-make me admit that there can be the least likeness between a man’s arm
-and a bat’s wing.”
-
-“I do not propose to make you admit it because of your faith in me; I
-propose to prove it to you. Follow along your arm so as to grasp the
-demonstration better.
-
-“From the shoulder to the elbow the framework of the human arm consists
-of a bone known as the humerus. From the elbow to the wrist there are
-two bones of unequal size running side by side the whole length. The
-larger is the cubitus, the smaller the radius. Then comes the wrist,
-composed of several little bones which I will not now describe. Next is
-the palm of the hand, its framework formed of a row of five bones
-almost alike and each serving to support a finger. Finally, each finger
-contains a succession of small bones called phalanges, of which the
-thumb has two, and all the others three each. I will add that two bones
-serve to attach the arm to the body. One is the shoulder-blade, a broad
-triangular bone situated on the back behind the shoulder; the other is
-the collar bone, slender and curved, situated in front and extending
-from the shoulder to the base of the neck. Those are the collar-bones
-that you can feel with your hand at the right and left above the
-breast.”
-
-While thus enumerating the parts of the arm, Uncle Paul guided the hand
-of each listener and made it feel the several bones as they were named.
-Emile had some difficulty with the learned terms “humerus” and
-“cubitus,” which he now heard for the first time; nevertheless, by
-paying close attention he found that he could easily remember them.
-When the boys had all learned the name and the position of each bone in
-the human arm, their uncle continued:
-
-“Now examine with me this picture of a bat’s skeleton. The bone marked
-o is the shoulder-blade. As with us, it forms the back of the shoulder,
-and it is triangular, wide, and flat.”
-
-“Then the part marked cl is the shoulder, and the bone that goes from
-there to the base of the neck is the collar-bone?” queried Emile.
-
-“Precisely.”
-
-“I see how the rest goes,” Louis hastened to interpose. “The bone
-marked h is the humerus, and the elbow is at the angle made by this
-bone with the next.”
-
-“My turn now,” put in Jules. “The two bones running side by side from
-the elbow to the wrist are marked cu and r. The first is the cubitus,
-the other the radius. Consequently ca is the wrist. But there I get
-lost.”
-
-“The wrist, I told you,” explained Uncle Paul, “is composed of several
-small bones. That structure we find at ca, the bat’s wrist.”
-
-“But, then, the hand?” queried Jules.
-
-“The palm of the hand and the five fingers which it supports are
-represented by the ribs of the wing and by po, which is the thumb. This
-is the shortest of the five fingers, as with man. It forms no part of
-the framework of the wing, but is free and is furnished with a hooked
-nail which the animal uses to cling by and also in walking. Finally,
-this thumb has two phalanges, as in the human thumb, and at the base is
-a small bone which in man forms a part of the palm of the hand. So much
-for the thumb.
-
-“Now let us look at those four long bones that start from the wrist
-(ca) and spread out through the greater part of the wing. Together with
-the similar but shorter bone of the thumb they represent the series of
-five bones composing the framework of the human palm. Next come the
-fingers with their phalanges (ph). In short, except for a few slight
-differences, the bat’s wing reproduces, piece by piece, the structure
-of the human arm.”
-
-“Yes,” Jules admitted, “it’s all there, even to the small bones of the
-wrist and fingers. Is it possible that a poor bat can pattern after us
-so closely? The horrid creature copies our arms to make itself wings.”
-
-“Your pride need not suffer from this close resemblance, which you will
-find in different degrees in a multitude of other animals, especially
-among the mammals, our next of kin in bodily structure. In the
-formation of his body man enjoys no monopoly; the dog, the cat, the
-donkey, the ox—each and all of them—share with us a common stock of
-organs, modified in details and suited to the kind of life of each
-species. We recognize in the bat’s wings the fundamental plan of our
-arms; we see it also no less plainly in the fore legs of the cat, the
-dog, and many other animals, and we can trace a rude resemblance to our
-hand even in the donkey’s homely hoof. I tell you these things, my
-children, not to lessen in your eyes the undeniable superiority of man,
-but to inspire in you a fellow feeling for animals that are formed like
-us, suffer as we do, and are far too often the victims of our stupid
-cruelty. Whoever needlessly causes an animal to suffer commits a
-barbarous act, an inhuman act, inasmuch as he inflicts torture on flesh
-like our own; he brutally misuses a body having the same mechanism as
-our own and the same power of suffering. As to our superiority, it is
-established preëminently by an exceptional characteristic that places
-us above all comparison even with creatures that in their physical
-structure most closely resemble us. This characteristic is reason, the
-torch that lights us in our search for truth; it is the human soul,
-which alone knows itself and enjoys the sublime privilege of knowing
-its divine Author.
-
-“In bats four of the five bones similar to those of our palm are
-greatly elongated, as are also the corresponding fingers, and they
-together constitute the four ribs on which is stretched the membrane of
-the wing, just as silk is stretched on the ribs of an umbrella. Thus it
-is at the sacrifice of what might have been a hand that the wing is
-formed. Therefore the scientists call all mammals of like structure
-with the bat ‘chiropters,’ meaning hand-winged creatures, from two
-Greek words signifying hand and wing.
-
-“Of the five fingers one only, the thumb, is left free in the bat, and
-it is very small. It is furnished, as I said before, with a nail or
-claw. The four others, destitute of nails, are lengthened to serve as
-supports to the membrane of the wing. This membrane is a fold of the
-skin which starts from the shoulder, stretches between the four long
-fingers of the hand, and then attaches itself to the hind leg, the toes
-of which are all furnished with hooked nails or claws and do not depart
-from the ordinary shape of such members. By virtue of the free thumb
-already described the wings are able to serve as feet in walking, when
-these members are folded close to the animal’s sides. The bat grips the
-ground by thrusting in first the right claw and then the left, and
-pushes itself forward with its hind feet in laborious and awkward
-leaps. Thus it gets over the ground at what might be called a fast
-pace, but is soon tired out with the exertion; hence it does not walk
-except when sure it will not be molested or when it is compelled to do
-so by its position on a level surface where it cannot launch itself
-into the air. Then as soon as possible it gains an elevated point, from
-which it flies off. For in order to unfold the hampering membranes that
-serve as wings and to throw itself into the air, the bat needs
-considerable free space, which it cannot get except by hurling itself
-from a height. Consequently, in the caves inhabited by bats they never
-fail to secure an unimpeded drop. With the hooked talons of a hind foot
-they cling to the roof, head downward. That is the way they rest, the
-way they sleep. At the slightest alarm the claw lets go, the wings
-spread, and the animal is off.”
-
-“What a queer way to sleep,” Emile exclaimed, “hanging from the roof by
-one foot, head downward! And do they stay that way long without getting
-tired?”
-
-“If necessary, a good half of the year.”
-
-When he went to bed that night Emile thought again of the bat’s way of
-sleeping; but he preferred his own.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-THE BAT’S SENSES OF SMELL AND HEARING
-
-
-“Bats are nocturnal,” Uncle Paul continued the next day; “that is, they
-leave their lurking-places only at nightfall, to hunt in the evening
-twilight. As a rule, animals addicted to nocturnal hunting have very
-large eyes that take in as much light as possible, and thus these
-animals can see with very little light. Night-birds, such as owls of
-all kinds, will furnish us a remarkable example a little later. By a
-singular exception, however, despite their nocturnal habits bats have
-very small eyes. How, then, are they able to direct themselves in their
-swift flight, so abrupt in its changes of direction? How, above all,
-are they aware of the presence of their tiny game—moths and gnats?
-
-“They are guided especially by their senses of smell and hearing, which
-are extraordinarily acute. What do you say to the bat’s ears in this
-picture? What animal of its size can show anything like them? How they
-flare, like enormous hearing-trumpets, to receive the slightest sound!
-The bat that bears them has the expressive name of long-eared bat.”
-
-“Long-eared bat,” repeated Jules; “that’s the kind of name I like; it
-describes the animal and shows what there is about it that is out of
-the ordinary.”
-
-“Such prodigious ears are certainly made to hear sounds inaudible to us
-by reason of their excessive faintness. They enable their possessor to
-hear at a distance the beating of a moth’s wings and the fluttering of
-a gnat dancing in the air.
-
-“Other bats which have smaller ears have as a substitute a sense of
-smell unequaled for its acuteness. The high state of perfection of this
-sense is the result of the abnormal development of the nose, which
-covers a good part of the face and gives the animal a very strange
-appearance. For example, here is the head of a bat called the horseshoe
-bat. This broad, distended formation of curious shape that occupies
-almost the whole space between the eyes and the mouth is the nose. It
-ends above in a large triangular, leaflike expanse; laterally it
-spreads out in folded laminæ, all together taking the shape of a
-horseshoe, whence the name of the creature. What odor, however faint,
-could escape such a nose? The dog, so famous for its keenness of scent,
-chases the hare without seeing it, guided solely by the odor left
-behind by the animal, heated in the chase; but how much keener the
-scent of the horseshoe bat must be when it chases in the same manner a
-moth that leaves no odor for any nose but its pursuer’s! I sometimes
-wonder whether such a nose, so abnormally developed, may not be able to
-detect certain qualities that are and always will be unknown to us for
-want of the means to perceive them. The horseshoe bat’s grotesque nose
-makes you laugh, my little friends; it makes me think. I think of the
-thousand secrets that nature hides from our senses and that would be as
-easy for us to learn as they would be valuable if we possessed the
-scent of a poor bat. Perhaps (who can tell?) the horseshoe bat foresees
-with its nose the coming storm several days in advance; it may scent
-the future hurricane, smell the rain-clouds coming from the other end
-of the earth, know by detecting their odor what winds are about to
-blow, foretell in similar manner what the weather is going to be; and,
-guided by perceptions of which we can form no idea, it may make its
-plans for hunting insects that are sometimes abundant and sometimes
-scarce according to the state of the atmosphere.”
-
-“If the horseshoe bat’s nose can do all that,” said Jules, “we must
-agree that it is a first-rate sort of nose.”
-
-“I make no positive assertions,” his uncle rejoined. “I merely have my
-suspicions. The only thing that seems to me beyond doubt is that such
-an organ as the bat’s nose serves its owner as a source of sensations
-unknown to man.”
-
-“You say so many wonderful things about it, Uncle,” Emile interposed,
-“that I shall end by thinking the horseshoe bat’s nose much more
-curious than ugly. There’s another thing, too, I’ve just noticed. Why
-does the creature have such fat cheeks? See what a puffed-up face it
-has in the picture.”
-
-“With the bat,” Uncle Paul explained, “the chase is a short one,
-lasting only one or two hours—in fact, the short interval between
-sunset and dark. The remainder of the twenty-four hours is passed in
-rest, in the quiet of some cavern or grotto. Does the animal, then,
-have but one meal in all this time? And what if there are evenings when
-hunting is out of the question, the sky being overcast, the wind too
-strong, or rain falling, so that the insects keep under cover? The bat
-would then be subjected to long fasts if it were impossible for it to
-lay in supplies beforehand. But these supplies must be collected
-hastily, on the wing, with no interruption to the hunt which lasts so
-short a time. Hence it is that pouches are indispensable, deep pouches
-in which the hunter can put his game as fast as he catches it. The
-cheeks exactly fill this office: they can be enlarged at the creature’s
-will—distended so as to form roomy pockets in which the insects killed
-with a snap of the teeth can be stowed away. These reserve pockets are
-called cheek-pouches. Gluttonous monkeys have them. That is where the
-she-ape, fond of sweets, puts the lump of sugar given her and lets it
-slowly melt so as to prolong the enjoyment of it. Well, when the bat is
-out hunting it first satisfies its hunger, and then—especially when its
-nose, the famous nose that we have just been talking about, predicts
-unfavorable weather for the following days—it redoubles its exertions
-and stows away moth after moth in the depths of its elastic pouches. It
-returns to its quarters with cheeks all distended. Now without fear of
-famine it can remain idle for several days if necessary. Hanging
-motionless by a hind claw, it feeds on its store of provisions,
-nibbling one at a time, as hunger prompts, the insects softened to
-taste in the reservoir of its cheeks.
-
-“But it is high time we finished with the bats; their history would be
-too long if I were to tell you all about them. I will only ask Jules
-what he thinks now of the animal he at first called hideous.”
-
-“Frankly, Uncle,” answered the boy, “these creatures interest me now
-more than they disgust me. Their singular wings, formed at the cost of
-what might have been hands, their prodigious nose and immense ears
-which make up for their poor eyesight, their cheeks swollen so as to
-make pouches for their supply of food—all these have interested me very
-much.”
-
-“The cheek-pouches,” said Emile, “where the bat puts its game to soak,
-and the nose that scents the coming storm, seemed to me the most
-curious things about the animal.”
-
-“And I,” said Louis, “shall never forget how many enemies bats deliver
-us from.”
-
-“Now you understand,” Uncle Paul rejoined, “or at least I hope you are
-beginning to understand, that bats, being so useful to us in destroying
-a multitude of ravaging insects, and noteworthy for their singular
-structure, should not inspire us with an unjustifiable repugnance and
-still less with a stupid rage to exterminate them. Let us leave in
-peace these poor creatures that so valiantly earn their living by
-protecting our crops. Do not let us harm them under the foolish pretext
-that they are ugly, for their supposed ugliness is in reality an
-admirable adaptation of bodily structure to the creature’s mode of
-life.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-THE HEDGEHOG
-
-
-In his walled garden Uncle Paul allowed a couple of hedgehogs, which he
-had brought from the neighboring hills, to wander at large. One evening
-the children noticed them poking about in a lettuce patch.
-
-“Why,” asked Emile, “has Uncle Paul put those animals in the garden and
-told us to leave them alone if we happened to come across them?”
-
-“No doubt to make war on harmful insects,” answered Louis. “Stop, look
-there! One of them is turning up the earth with its little black snout.
-Ssh! Let’s keep still and see what it’s after.”
-
-The children crouched down behind a row of peas so as not to be seen.
-The hedgehog, now scratching with its paws, now rummaging with the tip
-of its snout, which resembles that of a pig, finally unearthed a big,
-fat white larva which had probably been clinging to the root of a
-lettuce plant. The children ran to look at the captured game. The
-hedgehog, thus taken by surprise, hastened to roll itself up into a
-ball bristling with spines. In the disinterred worm Jules easily
-recognized a June-bug larva, one of that ravenous and destructive race
-that Uncle Paul had already told them about. [1]
-
-In the evening, when they were all gathered together, the hedgehog
-naturally became the subject of conversation.
-
-“Several years ago,” said Uncle Paul, “as I was returning home one
-evening at a late hour, I chanced upon two hedgehogs coming out from a
-pile of stones. I tied them up in my handkerchief so as to bring them
-home and let them loose in my garden. Ever since then they have never
-failed to render me certain services that you can appreciate by
-examining the jaws in this picture.”
-
-“Pointed teeth like those,” Jules remarked, “were never made for
-browsing grass. The hedgehog must feed on prey. Its teeth are just
-right for crunching June-bug worms such as I saw dug up in the garden
-this morning.”
-
-“Notice how sharp the points of the teeth are,” resumed his uncle,
-“both in the upper and in the lower jaw. Those two rows of teeth fit
-into each other when the animal bites, and they plunge like so many
-fine daggers into the captured victim’s flesh. With this complicated
-dental mechanism evidently the hedgehog cannot triturate tough food; it
-must have a kind of diet that is soft, juicy, capable of being reduced
-to marmalade by a brief chewing. The animal is therefore preëminently a
-flesh-eater. Several other species, particularly the mole and the
-shrew-mouse of these regions, have, like the hedgehog, teeth tapering
-to conical points and interplaying in the two jaws. Their food, too, is
-about the same as the hedgehog’s. All three—hedgehog, mole, and
-shrew-mouse—live on small game—insects, larvæ, slugs, caterpillars,
-worms. They belong to the group of mammals known to naturalists as the
-order of insectivorous animals, or, in other words, the order of
-insect-eaters. On and under the ground they carry on the same kind of
-hunt that bats do in the air. In their way of living bats, too, are
-insectivorous; but their peculiar bodily structure causes them to be
-placed apart in the order of chiropters. Thus the mammals furnish us
-two orders of helpers: the chiropters, which hunt on the wing, and the
-insect-eaters—the insectivorous animals properly so called—which hunt
-on and under the ground. To the latter belong the hedgehog, the mole,
-and the shrew-mouse.
-
-“The hedgehog, the largest of the three, requires the largest and most
-plentiful prey. Tiny vermin are disdained, but a June-bug larva or a
-good fat mole-cricket is an excellent find. When they are not buried
-too deep he digs with his paws and snout to unearth them. You have
-to-day seen my hedgehogs at work in the lettuce bed. All night they go
-prowling about the garden, sniffing and rummaging in every nook and
-corner, and crunching no small number of my foes without doing me much
-harm. In them I have two vigilant watchmen who make their rounds every
-night for the greater security of my growing vegetables. However,
-despite the interest I take in them, I must, to be candid, acknowledge
-their faults.
-
-“The hedgehog’s natural food consists unquestionably of insects; but
-when a good opportunity presents itself the greedy creature is easily
-tempted by larger and more highly flavored prey. In its wild state the
-hedgehog does not hesitate to suck the blood of young rabbits caught in
-their hole during the mother’s absence. The eggs of quail and
-partridge, too, it esteems as a most delicious feast, but its supreme
-delight is to wring the necks of a brood of little chickens. One night
-last year I heard a great commotion in the hen-house. The roosters were
-raising cries of alarm, the hens were cackling in desperate fright. I
-ran out to see what the trouble was. One of my hedgehogs had crept in
-under the door, and I found the rogue regaling himself on some little
-chickens almost under their mother’s wing, she being powerless to help
-them in the dark. With one kick I sent the assassin rolling outside,
-and the next day thorough repairs were taken in hand. The holes on a
-level with the floor were closed up, and since then I have had no
-further trouble from my insect-hunters. With proper precautions against
-their thirst for blood, I have two larva-devourers of great value for
-my garden.”
-
-“But won’t they do damage of another kind?” asked Louis. “I have heard
-that hedgehogs climb trees and shake off the ripe fruit, and then roll
-on it so as to spit it with their spines, after which they carry it off
-to their holes and eat it at their ease.”
-
-“Pay no attention to any such stories, my boy. It is utterly impossible
-for a hedgehog to climb a tree. Clumsy and stubby as it is, with legs
-so short and claws useless for climbing, how could it manage an
-athletic feat that calls for agility, hooked claws, and supple limbs?
-No, my friend, the hedgehog does not climb trees, neither does it carry
-off fruit transfixed with its spines. The only vestige of truth in that
-old wives’ tale is that hedgehogs do not live exclusively on prey; if
-they find fruit that they like on the ground, a very ripe pear or a
-juicy peach, for example, they munch it with as great contentment as
-they would a beetle or a June-bug.”
-
-“It is also said,” Louis added, “that if kept in a house the hedgehog
-will drive away rats.”
-
-“Ah, that I am quite willing to believe. By day the animal crouches in
-a corner and sleeps, but at night it is on the move, always hunting for
-slugs, fat beetles, and other insects. Consequently it may well be that
-its noisy hunt for prey as it goes poking its pointed snout into every
-hole and cranny frightens the rats and mice and drives them away,
-especially as the nocturnal prowler exhales a disagreeable odor
-calculated to betray its presence. Having neither the cat’s light paw
-nor that animal’s great patience in lying in wait for game, the
-hedgehog does not indulge in hunting rats; but if by good luck one
-falls into its clutches, it is accepted with delight, for the
-hedgehog’s great feast is blood, freshly killed flesh. When I wish to
-give my two hedgehogs a special treat I throw them a bleeding beef
-liver or a chicken’s entrails. Anything of that sort is eagerly
-devoured. Tastes so undisguisedly carnivorous tell you what must happen
-to a mouse caught by one of these animals. I attribute to them the
-disappearance of some nests of rats that used to trouble me.
-
-“To satisfy its devouring hunger the hedgehog appears to attack all
-sorts of prey alike, even planting its teeth in a viper without any
-thought of the reptile’s venom; and in still other respects the animal
-enjoys a remarkable immunity. You have seen the Spanish fly, that
-magnificent, strong-smelling insect that lives on ash-trees and is
-distinguished by sheath wings of a superb golden green.”
-
-“Yes, I remember it,” said Jules. “It is used for raising blisters
-after being dried and ground to powder.”
-
-“That is correct. If, then, this powder eats into the skin so readily,
-what effect ought it to have on the delicate lining of the stomach if
-introduced into that organ? What animal could swallow it without
-suffering torture and speedy death? Well, by an exception that I cannot
-undertake to explain the hedgehog can feed on this horrible poison
-without the slightest apparent injury. A celebrated Russian naturalist,
-Pallas, has seen it make a meal on Spanish flies with no ill results.
-For a repast of that sort a stomach peculiarly constructed is certainly
-necessary.
-
-“Once upon a time there was a king, very well known in history, named
-Mithridates. Being aware that he was surrounded by enemies capable of
-poisoning him some day, in order to obviate the danger he gradually
-accustomed himself to the most noxious drugs. By increasing the dose
-little by little he finally rendered himself immune against poison. The
-hedgehog is the Mithridates of the animal kingdom; but how far it
-surpasses the suspicious king! Without practice it dares swallow the
-poison of the Spanish fly and the viper’s deadly venom.
-
-“I like to believe that the hedgehog has not received these exceptional
-gifts only to leave them unused. It must delight to frequent the haunts
-of the viper; in its nocturnal rounds in the underbrush it must
-occasionally come upon the reptile in its retreat and crush its head
-with those pointed teeth that are so well adapted to such work. What
-service may it not render in localities infested with this dangerous
-breed! And yet man rages at the hedgehog, curses it most heartily, and
-treats it as an unclean beast of no use but to arouse the fury of dogs,
-which cannot attack it because of its spines. He subjects it to the
-torture of an ice-cold bath to make it unroll itself; and if the animal
-refuses to do so he prods it with a pointed stick, goads it,
-disembowels it.”
-
-“We will never meddle with hedgehogs, Uncle Paul,” Jules assured him.
-“We are too much afraid of snakes to drive away this valiant defender.”
-
-“What are the hedgehog’s spines?” asked Emile.
-
-“Hairs, nothing else, but very coarse, and stiff, and pointed like
-needles. Together with other hairs, fine, soft, and silky, they cover
-all the upper part of the body. The under part has only a coat of soft
-hair; otherwise the animal would wound itself in rolling up into a
-ball. When the hedgehog scents danger—and it is a very wary beast—it
-ducks its head under its stomach, draws in its paws, and rolls itself
-into a ball, presenting everywhere an armor of spines to the enemy. The
-fox has long been famous for its many ruses; the hedgehog has only one,
-but it is always effective. Who would dare grapple with the creature
-when it has assumed its attitude of defense? The dog refuses; after a
-few luckless essays that make its mouth bleed it declines to go further
-and contents itself with barking. Sheltered under the safe cover of its
-spines, the hedgehog turns a deaf ear to these futile threats and
-remains quiet.
-
-“But if the dog, urged on by its master, returns to the charge, the
-hedgehog has recourse to a last expedient of war which rarely fails of
-effect: it discharges its strongly offensive urine, which flows from
-the inside of the ball and wets the outside. Repelled by the unbearable
-odor of the ill-smelling beast and pricked on the nose by its spines,
-even the most eager dog now abandons the attack. The enemy gone, the
-hedgehog slowly unrolls itself and trots off to some safe retreat.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-HIBERNATION
-
-
-“Our bats,” continued Uncle Paul, “live exclusively on insects, and
-these constitute the hedgehog’s chief food, but it also hunts larger
-game or even eats fruit. In winter there are no longer any plump
-insects to be had, most of them having died after laying their eggs,
-and the few surviving ones having taken refuge from the cold in
-hiding-places where they would be very hard to find. The larvæ, too,
-the hope of future generations, are lying torpid, far out of sight
-under the ground, in the trunks of old trees, snugly hidden away. The
-white worm has bored several feet into the ground to escape the frost,
-there are no more June-bugs for the long-eared owl, no more
-night-flying moths, and no more beetles for the hedgehog. What, then,
-is to become of these insect-eaters?”
-
-“They will die of hunger,” answered Jules.
-
-“They would indeed all die, were it not for the providential
-arrangement I am now going to try to make you understand.
-
-“You know the proverb, ‘He who sleeps dines,’—a very true proverb in
-its simple statement of an undeniable fact. Well, the hedgehog, the
-bat, and other animals put the principle into practice with a wisdom
-quite equal to that of man. Not being able to dine, for want of
-insects, they go to sleep; and so deep and heavy is their sleep that to
-designate it we use a special word, lethargy.
-
-“Another proverb says, ‘As you make your bed, so must you lie.’ Our
-dumb animals, never lacking in wisdom in ordering their own affairs,
-take good care not to forget this proverb, but to adopt wise
-precautions before abandoning themselves to their long winter sleep.
-The hedgehog chooses for itself a secure retreat amid the great roots
-of some old tree stump. Toward the end of the autumn it carries grass
-and dry leaves to deposit there, and arranges them in a hollow ball, in
-the middle of which it rolls itself up and goes to sleep. Bats assemble
-in great numbers in the warm depths of some cavern where nothing can
-disturb their slumbers. Heads down and bodies packed close together,
-they hug the walls, covering them with a sort of velvet tapestry; or,
-clinging to one another, they hang in bunches from the roof. Now the
-winter may do its worst and the winds may rage; the hedgehog in its
-warm blanket of leaves and the bats in their sheltered caves sleep a
-deep sleep until summer returns and with it insects, food, animation,
-life.”
-
-“But don’t they eat anything all winter long?” asked Emile,
-incredulously.
-
-“Nothing whatever,” his uncle assured him.
-
-“Then bats and hedgehogs must have a secret. For my part, I eat more in
-the winter than at any other time, and no amount of sleep would satisfy
-my hunger.”
-
-“Yes, the bat and the hedgehog have a secret in this matter. I am going
-to tell you this secret, but it is a little hard to understand, I warn
-you.
-
-“There is one need before which hunger and thirst are silent, however
-great they may be; a need that is never satisfied, and is always making
-itself felt, whether we wake or sleep, by night, by day, every hour,
-every minute. It is the need of air. Air is so essential to the
-maintenance of life that it has not been left to us to regulate its use
-as we do in regard to food and drink; and this is so in order that we
-may not be exposed to the fatal consequences that would follow the
-slightest forgetfulness. Therefore it is with little or no
-consciousness on our part and independently of our will that air gains
-entrance into our body to do its marvelous work there. On air more than
-on anything else do we live, our daily bread coming only second in the
-order of importance. Our need of food is felt at only tolerably long
-intervals; our need of air is felt unceasingly, always imperious,
-always inexorable. Let any one try for a moment to prevent its
-admission into the body by closing the entrance passages, the mouth and
-the nostrils; almost immediately he is suffocated and feels that he
-would surely die if this state were prolonged a little. And what is
-true of man is true of all forms of animal life: air is necessary to
-them all, from the smallest to the greatest.
-
-“What I am going to tell you now will explain this absolute necessity
-for air for the maintenance of life. Man and also every animal of a
-superior organization—a classification that includes mammals and
-birds—have a temperature of their own, a degree of bodily heat peculiar
-to them, a heat resulting from no external conditions, but from the
-functions of life alone. Whether under a burning sun or in the freezing
-cold of winter, whether subjected to the torrid heat of the equator or
-to the glacial climate of the poles, man’s body has a temperature of
-thirty-eight degrees, centigrade, and cannot be lowered without danger
-of death. The natural heat of birds attains forty-two degrees in all
-seasons and in all climates.
-
-“How is it that this heat is always the same, and whence can it come
-unless from some sort of combustion? There is, in fact, going on within
-us a perpetual combustion, respiration furnishing the necessary air,
-and food supplying the fuel. To live is to consume oneself, in the
-strictest sense of the word; to breathe is to burn. In a figurative
-sense man has long used the expression ‘the torch of life’; but this
-figurative term proves to be the exact utterance of the truth. Air
-consumes the torch; it consumes the animal no less; it makes the torch
-give out heat and light, and it produces in the animal heat and motion.
-Without air the torch goes out; without air the animal dies. From this
-point of view the animal may be compared to a highly perfected machine
-put in motion by heat. It feeds and breathes to produce heat and
-motion; it receives its fuel in the form of food and burns it in the
-inmost recesses of its body with the help of the air introduced by
-breathing. That explains why the need of food is greater in winter than
-in summer, the body cooling off more rapidly by contact with the
-outside cold air, and consequently an increased consumption of fuel
-being required to maintain the normal temperature. A low temperature
-creates a desire for food; a high temperature lessens the demand. To
-the hungry Siberians hearty food is necessary; they ask for bacon and
-other fats, with brandy to drink. But for the people of Sahara a few
-dates suffice, with a pinch of flour kneaded in the palm of the hand
-with a little water. Everything that lessens the loss of heat lessens
-also the need of food. Sleep, rest, warm clothing, all serve to some
-extent as substitutes for food. And so there is much truth in the
-saying that he who sleeps dines.”
-
-“That may be,” Jules assented, “but I don’t see how hedgehogs and bats
-can do without food for four or five months at a time. No matter how
-soundly I might sleep, I couldn’t go without eating so long as that.”
-
-“Wait until I finish, and for the present remember this: in every
-animal life depends on an actual and never-ceasing combustion. Air, as
-necessary to this combustion as to the burning of wood or coal in our
-stoves and fireplaces, is taken into the body by breathing. That is
-what makes breathing so urgent, so incessant. As to the fuel burned,
-that is furnished by the substance of the animal itself, by the blood
-made from digested food. Not a finger is lifted by us, not a muscle
-moved, that does not use up just so much of the fuel furnished by the
-blood, which itself is made by the food we eat. Walking, running,
-working, excitement, all forms of exercise or emotion—these literally
-burn up our blood just as a locomotive burns its coal in dragging
-behind it the immense weight of a train. That is why activity, hard
-work, increases our need for food, while rest, idleness, lessens it.
-
-“I will now put to you a question. Let us suppose that there are on the
-hearth some burning brands, but that they are few and small, and you
-wish to keep the fire as long as possible. Would you let these
-firebrands burn freely? Would you take the bellows and blow air on them
-to increase the blaze?”
-
-“No,” replied Jules; “that would be just the way to burn up the brands
-in no time. They must be covered with ashes. If the air comes to them
-very slowly and only a little at a time, they will burn gradually and
-the next morning we shall find the coals still alive.”
-
-“That is well said, my boy. To keep up a fire for a long time with a
-given amount of fuel, the draft must be reduced, the access of air must
-be largely cut off, but not intercepted altogether, because then the
-fire would be completely extinguished. Therefore the live coals are
-buried under ashes, and if the fire is in a stove the door of the
-ash-pit is nearly closed. With plenty of air, combustion is active but
-of short duration; with only a little air it is feeble, but lasts a
-long time.
-
-“As the maintenance of life is the result of a real combustion, any
-animal obliged to endure a long fast, or in other words to dispense
-with the regular renewal of the fuel needed in that combustion, must
-take into its body as little air as possible. It must reduce the draft
-of its furnace. This draft is respiration, breathing; and so, in order
-to go without food for months at a time and to make the small amount of
-fuel held in reserve in the veins last as long as possible, the animal
-has but one course to follow: it must breathe as little as it can
-without depriving itself entirely of air, for that would mean the total
-extinction of the vital spark, just as the complete cutting off of air
-from a lighted lamp means the speedy extinction of its flame. There you
-have the hedgehog’s and the bat’s secret for enduring their long fast
-through the winter season.
-
-“First of all, every precaution is taken to avoid all loss, all
-unnecessary expenditure of heat, and to economize as much as possible
-the reserves of fuel in their poor little veins. The hedgehog wraps
-itself up warm in a thick blanket of leaves in the heart of a
-stone-heap or in some hollow tree trunk, while the bats collect in
-compact groups in the warm shelter of a deep cave. But that is not
-enough: they must keep quite still, as every movement uses up a certain
-amount of heat. This requirement is scrupulously observed: their
-immobility is such that you would say they were dead. And yet all this
-is still insufficient: respiration must be reduced to a minimum. In
-fact, their breathing is so weak that the closest scrutiny can hardly
-detect that they breathe at all. This faint remnant of life is not to
-be compared, you can well see, to the blazing torch or the brightly
-burning fire, both of which, enjoying free combustion, send out waves
-of heat and light. It is rather the feeble glimmer of a night lamp
-husbanding its last drop of oil; it is the coal that glows faintly
-under the ashes. So profound is the torpor, so nearly complete the
-inanition, that were it not followed by an awakening this state would
-hardly differ in any respect from death.
-
-“The name ‘hibernation’ is given to this temporary suspension of
-vitality, or rather this slowing up of life, to which certain animals
-are subject during the winter. In the number of hibernating animals, or
-animals that indulge in this long winter sleep, are to be included,
-besides the hedgehog and the bat, the marmot, the dormouse, the lizard,
-serpents of various kinds, frogs, and other reptiles. Do you need to be
-told that in order to assume and maintain this torpid condition in
-which for whole months food is unnecessary, a special organization is
-required? Not every creature can hold its breath at will and thus
-escape the necessity of eating. The dog and the cat might sleep ever so
-deeply, yet as their breathing would go on almost as actively as in
-their waking hours, hunger would arouse them before long.”
-
-“Just as it would me,” said Emile.
-
-“No animals that have an assured supply of food for the winter
-hibernate, but those that would otherwise perish with hunger in cold
-weather are saved from destruction by the providential torpor that
-overtakes them at the approach of the winter season. Their food supply
-being cut off, they go to sleep. The marmot is wrapped in slumber while
-the turf on the high mountains is covered with snow; the dormouse when
-there is no longer any fruit; frogs, toads, snakes, lizards, bats, and
-hedgehogs, as soon as there cease to be any more insects to feed upon.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-THE MOLE
-
-
-Uncle Paul had just trapped a mole that for some days had been
-uprooting young vegetables and unearthing newly planted seeds in a
-corner of the garden. He called the children’s attention to the
-animal’s black coat, softer than the finest velvet; showed them its
-snout and made them note its peculiar fitness for digging; pointed to
-its fore paws, shaped like wide shovels for moving the earth with
-astonishing rapidity; and remarked on its eyes, so small as to be
-well-nigh useless, and its jaws armed with savage-looking teeth.
-
-“It is a great pity,” said he, “that we are prejudiced against the mole
-on account of its habit of mining, for there is not in all the world a
-more pitiless destroyer of vermin.”
-
-“I had always heard,” Louis remarked, “and had believed until now, that
-moles lived on a vegetable diet, chiefly of roots, and that they
-tunneled under the ground to get them.”
-
-“To forewarn you of the errors so widely current on the subject of the
-diet of certain animals, I described to you in some detail the
-formation of teeth, which always indicate the kind of food eaten. I
-showed you that one has only to examine an animal’s teeth in order to
-determine whether it is carnivorous or herbivorous. Remember the adage
-that summed up our talks on the subject: Show me its teeth and I will
-tell you what the animal eats.
-
-“The mole is a good illustration: it has forty-four sharply pointed
-teeth, not including the incisors. Do they look like millstones for the
-leisurely grinding of grain and roots, or sharp tools for making
-mincemeat of torn flesh?”
-
-“They are certainly the teeth of an animal that lives on prey,” Louis
-admitted; “the hedgehog and the bat haven’t sharper ones.”
-
-“To make you sure of this fact,” Uncle Paul went on, “I will tell you
-about some experiments made on the diet of moles. We owe them to a
-learned French naturalist, Flourens. If after you are grown up you ever
-have a chance to read his remarkable works, you will find them very
-interesting and valuable.
-
-“Flourens put two live moles into a cask and, believing them to be
-herbivorous, gave them for food a supply of roots, carrots, and
-turnips. As you see, the illustrious naturalist shared the accepted
-opinion, the false notion just repeated by Louis. But Flourens was soon
-undeceived. The next morning the vegetables were found untouched, while
-one of the moles had been devoured by its companion and there was
-nothing left of it but the skin, turned inside out.”
-
-“One of the moles had eaten the other?” cried Emile. “Oh, what a fierce
-creature!”
-
-“It had feasted on its own kind, a thing that hardly any other animal
-does. In devouring its comrade it had in the course of the night eaten
-its own weight of food; and yet the next morning it seemed restless and
-very hungry. Flourens threw it a live sparrow whose wings he had just
-clipped. The mole smelt it, walked around it, received a few hard pecks
-from its beak, then, pouncing on the bird, tore its stomach open and
-enlarged the opening with its claws so as to plunge its head into the
-midst of the entrails. With its pointed snout the horrible creature
-bored into them with frantic delight. In less than no time it had
-devoured half the contents of the skin, which with its feathers was
-left whole. Flourens then lowered into the cask a glass full of water
-and saw the mole stand up against the glass, cling to the edge with its
-fore claws, and drink eagerly. When it had had enough, the animal
-returned to the sparrow, ate a little more of it, and finally,
-completely full, lay down to sleep in a corner. The glass and the
-remains of the bird were then taken out of the cask.
-
-“Hardly six hours later the mole, hungry again, began to smell around
-the bottom of the cask in search of something to eat. A second sparrow
-was thrown to it. The mole immediately tore open the stomach to get at
-its entrails. When it had eaten most of the bird and taken another big
-drink of water, it appeared satisfied and remained quiet. This was its
-last meal for the day. Just think, boys, what a quantity of reeking
-flesh it took to satisfy one mole’s hunger! In the night its companion
-in captivity, and the next day two sparrows! The weight of the food
-eaten in twenty-four hours was nearly twice that of the eater.
-
-“Was the animal satisfied for long? By no means. The next morning the
-mole was wandering restlessly about in the bottom of its cask,
-apparently wild with hunger. Food, quick, quick! or it will die of
-starvation. The remains of the sparrow left over from the evening
-before, with a frog which it promptly disemboweled, quieted it for a
-while. Finally, a toad was thrown to it. As soon as the mole approached
-to rip it up the toad inflated its body, hoping perhaps to frighten the
-enemy with its repulsive appearance. At any rate, it succeeded. After
-sniffing at it, the mole turned away in disgust. Ah! you don’t want the
-toad, you greedy creature; then you shall have turnips, cabbages, and
-carrots. Plenty of these were given it. But fie on roots! Rather perish
-than eat turnips! The next morning the mole was found to have starved
-to death amid the vegetables. It had scorned to touch them with so much
-as a tooth.
-
-“Had this animal an exceptional appetite, a taste for unusual things,
-that it should have preferred to die of hunger rather than touch
-vegetable food? Not at all; it merely followed the preferences of all
-its kind. Many other experiments have been performed both by Flourens
-and by other observers. All the moles they have tried to feed with
-vegetable substances—with bread, lettuce, cabbages, roots, herbage of
-any description—have starved to death without touching their
-provisions. On the other hand, those that were fed with raw flesh,
-worms, larvæ, and insects of various kinds, remained alive.
-
-“Another very simple way to determine positively the kind of food eaten
-by this animal is to examine the contents of its stomach as it lives in
-the freedom of its customary haunts. Everything eaten by it must find
-its way to the stomach. Let us catch a mole, cut it open, and
-investigate. The stomach is found to contain, sometimes, red pieces of
-common earthworms, or it may be a pap of beetles, recognizable from the
-scaly remains that have not been digested; or still again, and rather
-oftener, we find a marmalade of larvæ, especially the larvæ of
-June-bugs—undigested bits of mandibles and the hard shell of the skull.
-In short, one is likely to come upon a mixed hash of all the small
-creatures inhabiting the soil, such as wood-lice, millipeds, cutworms,
-moths in the chrysalis state, caterpillars, and subterranean nymphs;
-but no matter how carefully we search we cannot find a bit of vegetable
-matter.
-
-“All possible observation points to the same conclusion: despite what
-is believed by so many it is certain that the mole’s diet is confined
-to animal substances. And could it, I ask you, be otherwise? Would the
-stomach’s contents belie the savage set of teeth you have just seen in
-the picture? Do not its teeth show that it is a flesh-eater?
-
-“Yes, the mole eats flesh and nothing else; everything proves this.
-Besides, remember its big appetite, if one may call appetite the raging
-demands of a stomach that in twelve hours requires a quantity of food
-equal to the weight of the animal. The mole’s existence is a gluttonous
-frenzy. This frenzy seizes the creature three or four times a day, and
-it dies of starvation if it has to go without food for more than a few
-hours. To satisfy its appetite, when its food melts away and disappears
-almost as soon as swallowed, what can the mole count on? Live sparrows,
-which it devoured with such zest in the experiments of Flourens, are
-evidently not for a hunter that burrows underground; at most, some
-stray frog, found in the field, may fall into its clutches. What, then,
-is left for it to count on? The larvæ buried underground, and
-especially those of the June-bug, tender and fat as bacon. That is very
-little, I admit, for such hunger; but the number to be had will make up
-for the smallness of the prey. What a slaughter of white worms must
-take place when the soil abounds in this small game! Scarcely is one
-meal finished when another begins, and each time, no doubt, other small
-insects are eaten by the dozen. To free a field of these destroyers of
-our crops there is no helper equal to the mole.
-
-“A valued destroyer of vermin—that is what we defend when we take the
-mole’s part and give to it, even if somewhat reluctantly, the honorable
-title of helper. That title, in truth, it only partly deserves. To
-catch the crickets, the larvæ, the white worms, and the insects of all
-kinds that it feeds on, the mole is obliged to disturb the roots amid
-which its prey is to be found. Many that interfere with it in its work
-are cut; plants have their roots laid bare and are even uprooted
-altogether; and, finally, the earth dug up by this untiring miner is
-piled on the surface in little mounds or mole-hills. With such
-upturning of the soil a field of vegetables may be speedily ruined and
-a crop of grain badly damaged. One night is enough for a mole to
-undermine a large tract; for the famished creature is singularly quick
-in boring the soil where it hopes to find something to eat.
-
-“It is well equipped for making its underground galleries, which often
-are hundreds of meters long. The body is stubby and almost cylindrical
-from one end to the other, so as to slip with the least resistance
-through the narrow passages bored by the animal. The fur is short,
-thick, and carefully curried so that it shall not catch the dust and
-may be kept perfectly clean even in the most dusty soil. The tail is
-very short and the external ears are wanting, although the hearing is
-remarkably acute. Ears like those of animals that live in the open,
-would be in the way underground; in the mole they are made very tiny,
-for the animal’s greater convenience. No luxurious outfit does it ask
-for, but only what is strictly necessary for its work of mining. Eyes
-wide open so that the dirt could get into them would be a perpetual
-torment to the creature; and, besides, what use could it make of them
-in the total darkness of its abode? The mole is not exactly blind, as
-is generally believed; it has two eyes, but these are very small and
-set so deep in the surrounding fur that they can be of little use. It
-is guided by the sense of smell, in which it rivals the pig; and like
-the pig it has a snout of the right shape for digging up a toothsome
-morsel. With its snout the pig finds and roots out the savory titbit
-buried in the ground; the mole in like manner discovers and digs up the
-plump white worm. To reach it amid a network of roots and under a
-considerable thickness of soil, the animal has its fore paws, which
-spread out like large strong hands with exceptionally tough nails.
-These hands—stout shovels which, if need be, can open a passage through
-tufa, a soft sort of rock—are the mole’s principal tools. As the animal
-advances, digging with its snout and clearing away with its hands, the
-earth is thrown to the rear by its hind feet, which are much weaker
-than the hands but strong enough for the far lighter task. If the mole
-proposes to return by the same road, the track must be kept clear;
-accordingly, the earth dug up is thrown outside to form mole-hills at
-intervals.
-
-“For the present these details will suffice. Now let us take up the
-much-discussed question of the mole’s usefulness. Should we,
-considering the undoubted services it renders us, let it live in our
-fields, or ought we rather, on account of its destructive digging, to
-look upon it as an enemy and wage war on it? Most people seem to feel
-we should make war on it—war to the death. Some persons make it a
-practice to destroy every mole they find and there is small pity
-bestowed upon the little creature unearthed by the spade. But I should
-like to remind the mole’s pitiless enemies that insects do far worse
-damage, and that for ridding a field of insects nothing is equal to
-this bloodthirsty hunter. Notwithstanding all opinion to the contrary,
-I believe that moles in moderate numbers are needed in a field, that it
-is unwise to destroy them all. Indeed, experience has proved this. I
-know of regions where the moles have been hunted down and destroyed
-until not one was left. Now, do you know what was the result? The white
-worms multiplied so that they ate up everything in the fields. To get
-rid of the worms it was necessary to let the moles come back and to let
-them stay so long as they did not become too numerous.
-
-“And there is something else to be said for the mole. Mole-hills are
-formed of well-worked earth which, when spread about with the rake, is
-very good for young grass. Further, the creature’s subterranean
-galleries serve as drains for keeping the soil in a sanitary condition,
-letting off the extra water just as regular drains would do. On the
-whole, then, after weighing the arguments on both sides, I am of the
-opinion that the mole ought not to be banished from our fields unless
-it multiplies to excess.”
-
-“And how about gardens?” queried Louis.
-
-“That is another question. In a few hours a mole can almost ruin a
-garden. Who would want such a digger among his growing vegetables? You
-carefully sow your seeds, set out your young plants, even off the
-ground, and make water-channels; the very next morning—plague take the
-creature! it has turned everything topsy-turvy. Quick, a spade, a trap,
-and let us get rid of the pest as soon as possible! Suppose, however,
-that cutworms and other destructive vermin abound; shall we gain
-anything by killing the mole? Certainly not. The insects will speedily
-do more harm than the mole has just wrought; greater mischief is in
-store, and that is all there is about it. If I had a garden infested
-with destructive insects, here is what I should do. In the spring I
-should let loose in my garden half a dozen moles taken alive in the
-field, and I should then leave them to pursue their hunting in peace.
-Their work done, the ground cleaned, I should take the moles away.”
-
-“You can catch them whenever you want to?” asked Louis.
-
-“Nothing easier. You shall see for yourself.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-THE MOLE’S NEST—THE SHREW-MOUSE
-
-
-“All that you know of the mole’s labors is confined to the little
-mounds of earth, the mole-hills, that it throws up, and the tunnels, of
-greater or less extent, that it bores just beneath the surface of the
-soil. These tunnels are hunting-trails, made by the animal in order to
-search amid the roots for the larvæ it lives on. If the ground is full
-of game, the mole halts there, probing to right and left, wherever it
-smells a grub. If the spot is a poor one it prolongs the tunnel or
-bores fresh ones hither and thither, in every direction, until it finds
-a place to suit it. But, however abundant the larvæ may be, one vein is
-soon exhausted, whereupon the old diggings are abandoned and fresh ones
-undertaken from day to day.
-
-“Near its hunting-ground, thus honeycombed with a succession of tunnels
-as called for, the mole has a burrow, a fixed abode, to which it
-retires to rest, sleep, and rear its young. This burrow is a work of
-art, a strong castle, in the making of which the cautious animal uses
-great skill, with a view to the utmost possible security. You must not
-think I am talking about the mole-hills, which are merely the dirt
-thrown out in the digging. The mole is never to be found lurking
-beneath these crumbling hillocks.
-
-“Its dwelling is something quite different. It is underground at a
-depth of nearly a meter, usually beneath a hedge, or at the foot of a
-wall, or amid the big roots of some great tree. This natural shelter
-makes it strong so that it will not cave in. Its main part is a chamber
-(c) shaped somewhat like an inverted bottle, carefully rough-coated
-with loam and made smooth on the inside. It is furnished with a warm
-bed of moss and dry grass. That is the mole’s resting-place, its
-bedroom, the family nest. Two circular tunnels run around it at a
-distance: the lower one (a) larger, the upper one (b) of lesser
-diameter. They serve as sentry-posts for the safeguarding of the main
-chamber. Stationed in the upper tunnel, which is reached by three
-passages leading from the large chamber, the mole listens to what is
-going on outside. If some danger threatens, half a dozen exits are
-provided for speedy descent to the lower tunnel, whence there are
-numerous outlets for instant flight. These lead in all directions, but
-soon bend back and into the main passage (p). If danger overtakes the
-mole in its inmost retreat (c), it escapes by the tunnel (h) which
-leads out from below, winds around, and rejoins the main passage (p).”
-
-“I get lost in all those tunnels and passages,” said Emile. “The mole’s
-house is very complicated.”
-
-“For us, perhaps, but not for the mole. It knows every twist and turn
-of these winding tunnels, and can get away at very short notice. You
-think you can catch it in its home, but in a twinkling it is gone and
-you don’t know in what direction.
-
-“The passages for flight, both those that go in all directions from the
-lower circular tunnel and those that run straight from the chamber, all
-lead finally into the passage marked p, the entrance-way to the mole’s
-abode; and this passage is the main one between the large chamber and
-the hunting-ground, the permanent highway over which the mole passes to
-and fro three or four times a day—in fact every time it goes on an
-expedition or returns home. This passage, meant to last as long as the
-dwelling remains in use, is much more carefully made than the simple
-burrows bored from day to day as the mole seeks its food: it is deeper
-down, wider, smooth and well beaten; no mole-hill is over it; its
-covering of earth is solid. Yet something betrays it to the searcher’s
-eye. On account of the mole’s incessant comings and goings the roots of
-any plants growing there are more injured than are those over the
-ordinary tunnels made by the animal; consequently, the grass has an
-unhealthy, yellowish look. Once this passage is known—and the strip of
-yellow grass points it out—the mole can be caught at any time. A trap
-is set inside the tunnel. Obliged to pass through either to get out or
-to come in, the mole cannot fail to be taken sooner or later.”
-
-“That is plain enough,” said Louis. “I see now how easy it would be to
-catch moles again whenever you want to after they have been let loose
-in a garden to rid it of insects.”
-
-“To conclude my account of insectivorous animals,” Uncle Paul went on,
-“I will now tell you about the very smallest of mammals, a tiny
-creature not more than two inches long. This cunning little animal
-looks somewhat like a mouse, but is much smaller. The tail is shorter,
-the head more tapering, and the nose ends in a sharper point. The ears
-are short and rounded. But the coat is almost the same as that of the
-mouse.
-
-“The shrew-mouse has the same tastes as the mole: it is an ardent
-hunter of small game, a devourer of larvæ and insects, as you can see
-by its finely serrate teeth. Its slender body, made for squeezing into
-the smallest hole, and its long snout, shaped for prying into the
-narrowest crannies and crevices, enable it to go wherever vermin may be
-lurking. Woe to the wood-louse rolled up like a tiny pellet in some
-crack in the wall, and to the slug hiding under a stone! The
-shrew-mouse will have no difficulty in catching them, being so small
-that it could make its home in a nutshell. It will not help them to
-hide, for the shrew-mouse does not need to see them in order to find
-them. It detects them by its subtle sense of smell, and hears them if
-they make the slightest movement. The burrows of the beetles, the
-warrens of the larvæ, the lurking-places of the tiniest worms hold no
-secrets from the shrew-mouse. It might be appropriately called the
-insects’ ferret.
-
-“These little creatures are to be found in fields and meadows and
-gardens, and in winter they come near our houses and make their nests
-under straw-stacks and dung-heaps. In very cold weather they even find
-their way into stables, where they live on cockroaches and wood-lice;
-but at the approach of summer they are off again to the open fields,
-where they complete the mole’s work of extermination. Or they may seek
-some garden, where they protect the wall-fruit and the vegetable
-patches from the devouring insect hordes without ever touching any of
-the growing crops themselves. The teeth of the shrew-mouse are not made
-for the chewing of vegetable food; like the mole, this tiny creature is
-carnivorous. Moreover, in their hunting-raids, which are so greatly to
-our advantage, shrew-mice never do us the slightest injury of any sort,
-as they never bore tunnels, but merely use the natural cracks in the
-soil. They cannot be reproached with severing roots or throwing up
-mounds of earth, as moles do; and yet they are perhaps more an object
-of general execration than the latter. It is considered a praiseworthy
-act to crush them every time one gets a chance.
-
-“How has so tiny, pleasing, and useful a creature managed thus to incur
-the hatred of man? We have here, my children, another instance of the
-foolish way we accept the first notion that enters our heads, without
-trying to test it by observation and reason. It is said that the
-shrew-mouse bites horses’ feet and leaves incurable wounds. But how can
-a shrew-mouse, whose head is at most no larger than a pea, bite a horse
-and pierce its hide which is the thickness of a finger or more? Again,
-they say the shrew-mouse is venomous even for man. Some time ago,
-children, I told you about the viper. [2] You know what its weapons
-are,—two long, sharp teeth or fangs having little channels through
-which it introduces a drop of venom into the wound it inflicts. Well, I
-assure you the shrew-mouse has no weapon like the viper’s; it has
-neither fangs nor a poison-sac, but is wholly harmless to man and
-horse. Insects alone need fear its fine teeth,—not that they are
-poisoned in any way, but because they crunch their little victims very
-neatly.
-
-“I think I see why the shrew-mouse has incurred the charge of being
-venomous. The pretty little creature exhales an odor; it smells rather
-strongly of musk. The cat, taking it for a mouse, sometimes chases it,
-but, repelled by its odor, never eats it. The first to observe this
-fact said to himself: ‘As the cat does not dare eat it the shrew-mouse
-must be venomous.’ Ever since then this false belief has passed for
-truth in the country, and no one has taken the trouble to look into the
-matter more closely; so that the poor little shrew-mouse, one of our
-most useful and harmless helpers, falls a victim to the stupidity of
-man, whose gardens it protects.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-THE EXPLOIT OF ONE-EYED JOHN
-
-
-It happened one day that One-eyed John caught an owl in his corn-crib,
-and he had just nailed the live bird to his house door as a bandit of
-the worst kind, worthy to be exposed to the jeers of all who passed and
-to dry up on the spot so as to serve as a scarecrow.
-
-John was very proud of his deed; he laughed at the click-clacking of
-the bird’s beak, at the desperate rolling of the eyes as the owl hung
-there crucified. Its grimaces and contortions, the convulsive efforts
-of the wings to free themselves from the big nails that pierced them,
-and the fits of impotent rage expressed by the spasmodic working of the
-talons put him in the best of humors.
-
-The children of the neighborhood, cruel and heartless as is usual at
-their age, and still more cruel when grown persons set the sad example,
-had gathered before the door and were joining in the laugh at the owl’s
-sufferings. John told them that his neighbor, old Annette, had died two
-weeks before because the owl came three times in quick succession and
-hooted on the roof of the house.
-
-“Those creatures,” said he, “are bad-luck birds. At night they fly into
-churches and drink the oil out of the lamps; they perch on the roofs of
-sick people’s houses and foretell their death; and they snuggle into a
-hole in the belfry and laugh when the bell tolls for a funeral.”
-
-All this of course frightened the children. “See,” said the youngest,
-pressing close to his brother, “how the owl threatens us with its big
-red eyes; it must be awfully wicked.”
-
-“It’s so ugly,” said another, “let’s hurt it. That will teach it to
-laugh when people die, and to drink oil out of the holy lamps. John,
-put its eyes out with this pointed stick, it looks at us so wickedly;
-and put this piece of glass in its claws so that it will cut its
-fingers.”
-
-And thus each one did what he could to harm the helpless creature; each
-tried to invent some new torture for it.
-
-Just then Louis happened to come along, and the children called to him
-to join them in tormenting the owl. More merciful than his comrades,
-especially since he had fallen into the way of visiting Uncle Paul’s
-house, Louis turned his eyes away from this frightful spectacle and
-begged John to end the bird’s agony instead of making it suffer still
-further tortures. But the boy’s entreaties were all in vain, and he
-went away much distressed.
-
-As he was going home he recalled something Uncle Paul had said in one
-of his talks; he had told the boys that when the ignorant crowd agrees
-to call a thing black it is always well to see whether after all the
-thing may not be white.
-
-“Here is One-eyed John,” said Louis to himself, “One-eyed John, known
-all about here for his ignorance; he has never in his life opened a
-book, and he glories in the fact; he can’t sign his name; and he
-rejects with mulish obstinacy every wise suggestion. At this very
-moment he is urging on the children against that poor owl he has just
-nailed to his door, and to make them think there is some reason why he
-should be so cruel he tells them it is a graveyard bird, a bad-luck
-bird that brings misfortune to people. According to his account the owl
-is an evil creature, full of malice, and deserves no pity. We must
-punish it for its wickedness, make it suffer torments as an example to
-others of its kind, and put it to death without mercy. But what if just
-the opposite of all this should be true? What if the owl were really a
-harmless creature or even a very useful one and worthy of our
-protection? I must find out.”
-
-Accordingly, that evening at Uncle Paul’s this was the first thing he
-asked about. At Louis’s description of the tortured owl Uncle Paul at
-once recognized its species.
-
-“The bird that John thought he must nail alive to his door,” said he,
-“is the belfry-owl, also called the barn-owl. The unfortunate creature
-in no way deserved the frightful treatment it received. I pity it for
-having fallen into hands made cruel by ignorance. Stupidity and malice
-go together, they say; and it is very true. He who is ignorant is
-deliberately cruel. Wild and foolish things are said against the
-barn-owl, and John repeated them. Having heard them from some one else,
-he now, in his turn, passes them on to the street urchins who were so
-eager to put out the bird’s eyes. It is not true that the barn-owl
-flies into churches and drinks the oil from the lamp that is kept
-lighted night and day in the sanctuary; it is not true that it laughs
-when it hears the passing-bell; it is not true that its hooting on the
-roof of a house means that some one in the house will soon die. False
-are all the sayings about its evil influence and its predictions of
-misfortune, and any one who believes these absurd stories simply shows
-that he has no common sense. We are in God’s hands, my children, and
-God alone knows when our last hour is to come. Let us pity those
-feeble-minded persons who believe the owl knows this tremendous secret;
-let us pity them, but never let us abuse our reasoning powers by
-believing that an owl, in expressing after its own fashion, on some
-house-roof, its satisfaction at having caught a mouse, is solemnly
-foretelling what is going to happen. Uncle Paul’s nephews must
-henceforth pay not the slightest attention to any such superstitious
-notions. Let us go on.
-
-“What would you say of John if he had taken it into his head to kill
-his cat by nailing the animal to the door by its fore paws?”
-
-“I should say,” answered Louis, “that if rats ever ate him up it would
-serve him right.”
-
-“What you saw him doing amounts to about the same thing: he was
-torturing one of the very best destroyers of mice, a bird in form, a
-cat in habits. The barn-owl went into the corn-crib to guard the poor
-man’s wheat from rats, and John, a prey to superstitious hatred and
-never thinking of the service the owl was doing him, made haste to nail
-the useful bird to his door.
-
-“What strange wrong-headedness is it that makes us all, as a rule,
-destroy the animals that help us most? Almost all our helpers are
-persecuted. Their good will must be very strong, else our ill treatment
-would long ago have driven them forever from our dwellings and fields.
-Bats rid us of a host of enemies, but none the less we look upon them
-with dislike. The mole and the shrew-mouse purge the soil of vermin,
-and we dislike them, too. The hedgehog makes war on vipers and white
-worms, and we make war on him. The owl and various other night-birds
-are fine rat-hunters, but that does not save them from mistreatment.
-Still other animals that I will tell you about later do the most useful
-work for us, and we persecute them all. They are ugly, people say, and
-for no other reason they are killed. But, blind slayers, shall you not
-at last have your eyes opened to the fact that because of an
-unreasonable dislike you have sacrificed your own defenders? You
-complain of rats—and you nail the owl to your door, where you let its
-carcass dry up, a hideous trophy! You complain of the white worms—and
-you crush the mole every time the spade brings one to light. You rip up
-the hedgehog and set your dogs on him just for fun. You complain of the
-ravages of moths in your granaries, and if a bat falls into your hands
-you seldom spare it. You complain, and yet you mistreat all the animals
-that offer to help you. Blind you are and sadly misguided in your
-wanton cruelty.
-
-“Regarded merely as it affects his own interests, it is a pitiful piece
-of work that John has done, but it is far more pitiful in respect to
-the tortures he has inflicted on the bird. It is not the mark of a man
-but of a brute to take pleasure in torturing an animal. It is a wicked
-act and one that good men despise; ignorance is the cause of the act,
-but ignorance is not an excuse. If an animal is harmful to us, let us
-get rid of it by killing it, but let us never think of inflicting
-needless pain, of causing suffering simply for suffering’s sake. That
-would be to smother in ourselves one of the noblest of sentiments,
-compassion; it would mean the arousing of savage instincts, which too
-often lead to crime. He who finds his pleasure in torturing dumb
-animals cannot take pity on the suffering of his own kind; his heart is
-hardened and prone to evil. How I pity those poor children who stood by
-and laughed at the barn-owl’s horrible sufferings, and who, led on by
-the man’s example, helped to put out the wretched bird’s eyes! How I
-pity them! Let them beware, let their parents take heed, for there is a
-bad streak in them.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-NOCTURNAL BIRDS OF PREY
-
-
-“The barn-owl, the horned owl, the gray owl, the white owl, and other
-similar birds are known under the general name of nocturnal birds of
-prey. They are called birds of prey because they live by hunting game
-of various sorts, especially such rodents as rats and mice. They are
-among birds what the cat is among mammals, untiring destroyers of those
-fur-covered creatures of which the mouse is the most familiar example
-to you. Our language has long since taken note of this resemblance in
-habits by coining the name chat-huant [hooting cat], which is applied
-to some of these birds. They are cats that fly, that hoot, or, in other
-words, that utter cries like mournful howls of distress. Also, they are
-nocturnal; that is, they remain during the day in some obscure
-hiding-place, which they leave only at nightfall to hunt in the
-twilight and moonlight.
-
-“Their eyes are very large and round and are placed in the front of the
-head instead of one on each side. A wide ring of fine feathers
-encircles each eye. The need for these enormous eyes is plainly seen in
-the birds’ nocturnal habits. Being obliged to seek their food in a very
-feeble light, they must, in order to see with any distinctness, have
-eyes that admit as much light as possible; that is, the eyes must be
-such as can open wide.
-
-“But this development of the organs of sight, so useful in the
-night-time, is a serious inconvenience in the bright light of day.
-Dazzled, blinded by the sun’s rays, the bird of darkness stays in some
-safe hole and dares not come out. If obliged to issue forth, it does so
-with extreme caution for fear of hurting itself. It wings its way with
-hesitation and in short slow flights. Other birds, birds of the day,
-seeing its uncertainty and awkwardness, come and vie with one another
-in offering insults to the clumsy stranger. The redbreast and the
-tomtit are among the first to hasten to the scene, followed by the
-finch, the blackbird, the jay, the thrush, and many others. Perched on
-a branch, the night-bird receives the aggressors with a grotesque
-balancing of its body, turning its big head this way and that in a
-ridiculous manner and rolling its great eyes as if thinking thus to
-terrify its persecutors. But all in vain. The smallest and weakest are
-the boldest in tormenting it; they assault their victim with beak and
-claw, pulling out its feathers before the hapless bird can muster
-courage to defend itself.”
-
-“Just think,” said Emile, “of a teasing tomtit and a saucy redbreast
-making sport of an owl blinded by the sun! Why do they behave so?”
-
-“From motives of revenge. The owl loses no opportunity to gobble up
-those little birds in the night, and shows no more compunction over it
-than if they were nothing but common mice. Therefore what a frolic it
-is for the little winged people when by good luck the night-bird strays
-into the light of day! The pecks fall thick as hail on the sufferer’s
-back, and it is nearly deafened with shrill screams of triumph and
-insulting cries of hatred. The redbreast pulls out a feather, the
-tomtit threatens the enemy’s eyes, the jay overwhelms it with abuse.
-The whole grove is in an uproar. But beware when night closes in; then
-the boldest will lose courage. These same saucy little birds, that come
-in the daytime and insult the owl, flee from it in wild alarm as soon
-as darkness allows it to move about and use its powerful talons and
-hooked beak.”
-
-“The redbreast had better get out of the owl’s way when the owl can
-see,” said Emile; “it would pay dearly if it tried then to pull out a
-feather.”
-
-“On account of the great size of their eyes, nocturnal birds of prey
-require a soft light like that of dawn and nightfall. Consequently,
-they leave their lurking-places to hunt for prey either soon after
-sunset or just before dawn. Then it is that their raids are most likely
-to be successful, for they find the small animals either fast asleep or
-on the point of falling asleep. Moonlight nights are the best for their
-purposes; those are their nights of veritable joy and feasting, when
-they can hunt for hours at a time and lay in large supplies of choice
-provisions. But when there is no moon they have only one scant hour in
-the early morning and another in the evening for hunting. That means
-they must fast for hours and that is why they are so greedy when they
-can get as much food as they want.”
-
-“They are very silly to fast like that,” Emile declared. “In their
-place I should hunt all night, even without a moon.”
-
-“You say that because you think the owl can see clearly in the blackest
-darkness. But you are mistaken. To see, we must not merely direct our
-gaze toward the object to be seen; we must receive into our eyes the
-light reflected from that object. In the act of seeing, nothing goes
-out from us; everything comes to us from the thing seen. We do not
-really throw our glance toward any given object; it is the object that
-throws its light toward us; or if it does not throw any light, it is
-for that reason invisible. What I am now saying about human beings
-applies to all animals. Not one, absolutely not one, can see in the
-absence of light.”
-
-“I had always thought,” said Louis, “that cats could see in
-pitch-darkness.”
-
-“Others think so too, but they are much mistaken. The cat can no more
-distinguish objects, if light is totally lacking, than any other
-creature can. It has an advantage over us, I grant you: it has large
-eyes, the pupils of which it can contract and almost close when it
-finds itself exposed to a bright light that would otherwise dazzle it,
-or open wide to receive more of the feeble light diffused in a dark
-room. These large eyes enable it to find its way in places which to us,
-with our poorer sight, seem pitch-dark. But in reality the darkness is
-not complete where a cat can manage to see well enough for its
-purposes. If light is totally lacking, the cat may open its eyes as
-wide as possible, but it will see nothing, absolutely nothing. In this
-particular, nocturnal birds do not differ from the cat: their large
-eyes, made for seeing in a dim light, can see nothing whatever when the
-night is perfectly dark.
-
-“Now let us follow the bird in its hunt. The night is a fine one for
-hunting; the air is calm, the moon shining. The hunt begins with a
-lugubrious war-cry. At that dreaded signal the tomtit hardly feels safe
-even in the deepest hollow of its tree, the redbreast trembles beneath
-its shelter of thick foliage, and the finch loses its head with fright.
-God of the weak, God of the little birds, protect them now! Make the
-owl, enraged as it still is from the insults of the day, miss them in
-its search! Blessed be Thy holy name if the rapacious bird turns in
-some other direction! It skirts the groves and skims over the open
-plain and the plowed fields. It inspects the furrows where the
-field-mouse crouches, the stretches of grass-land where the mole
-burrows, the tumble-down buildings in which rats and mice scamper to
-and fro. Its flight is silent, its soft wings cleaving the air without
-making the slightest sound to awaken its intended victims. This
-noiselessness of flight is due to the structure of the bird’s feathers,
-which are soft as silk and of finest texture. Nothing gives warning of
-its sudden coming: the prey is seized even before it has suspected the
-nearness of the enemy. The owl, on the contrary, with its exceptional
-acuteness of hearing, is kept informed of all that is going on in the
-neighborhood, its large, deep ears detecting even the rustle of a
-field-mouse in the grass. If the mouse begins to nibble a rootlet or a
-grain of wheat, the bird hears the sound of its incisors and pounces on
-it immediately.
-
-“The prey is seized by two strong claws warmly gloved in down as far as
-the roots of the nails. Each foot has four toes, three pointing
-habitually forward, and one backward; but, by a privilege peculiar to
-nocturnal birds of prey, one of the front toes is movable and can be
-turned back so that the set of talons is divided into two pairs of
-equal power whenever the bird wishes to grip, as in a vise, the branch
-on which it perches, or the victim struggling in its grasp. One blow of
-the beak breaks the head of the captured creature. This beak is short
-and very hooked. The two mandibles move with great ease, which enables
-them, in striking against each other, to give out a sharp rattling
-sound or clicking by which the bird expresses anger or fright. They
-stretch wide at the moment of swallowing, exposing a big opening
-leading into a very large gullet. When they are thus opened, the prey,
-which has already been kneaded into a compact mass between the claws,
-disappears entirely as if swallowed up by an abyss. All goes down,
-including bones and hair. Not a trace is left of the field-mouse, not
-even its coat of fur. But a single victim is seldom enough, and so the
-hunt continues. More mice follow the first one, and all are first
-killed by a peck on the head, all are swallowed whole. If the bird
-chances upon a fat beetle, he does not disdain it. It is a small
-mouthful, to be sure, but highly flavored with spices that will aid
-digestion. At last, having eaten all it possibly can, the owl returns
-to its lodging in the hollow of some rock, or in a decayed tree trunk,
-or in some ruined building.
-
-“Now follows digestion. Motionless in the quiet of its peaceful
-solitude, the bird gently closes its eyes to dream of the fine exploits
-it has just achieved and to plan others for the following night. Its
-slumbers are deep and long. In the meantime the stomach does its work.
-The food swallowed without any preparation or sorting must be divided
-into two parts, that which is really nutritious and that which is
-worthless. With the aid of its gastric juice the stomach carefully
-separates the bones and skins from the nutritious part of its contents.
-The flesh thus made semi-fluid disappears, to be converted into blood,
-and a confused mass remains, composed of skins turned inside out and
-wearing all their fur, bones as clean as if they had been scraped with
-a knife, and the hard wing-covers of beetles. This bulky mass could not
-be passed on by the stomach without danger. How then will the bird get
-rid of it? Let us watch and find out. Ah, the owl is waking up!
-Grotesque heavings of the body denote trouble within. The disturbance
-increases, something ascends through the outstretched neck, the beak
-opens, and it is all over: there drops to the ground a ball containing
-skins, bones, scales, fur, feathers—in fact, the entire mass of
-indigestible matter.
-
-“All nocturnal birds of prey practise this undignified method of
-freeing the stomach: they throw up in a ball the rejected remnants of
-what they have swallowed whole. If you ever find yourself near an owl’s
-retreat, examine the ground beneath it: the balls of little bones and
-hair will tell you from how many mice and other rodents of all kinds
-these birds deliver us.”
-
-“I have seen some of those balls near a rock all white with bird-dung,”
-said Louis.
-
-“Some owl certainly lived there. It was responsible for the dung and
-the balls of refuse that you saw.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-RATS
-
-
-“Let us return for a moment to the rodents, the habitual prey of the
-night-birds. You do not know them all, by any means, but we ought not
-to pass them by; for if some, like the hare and the rabbit, are useful
-to us, still more are very destructive. You remember those two pairs of
-incisors, so long and sharp, that I told you about when I described the
-rabbit’s teeth. All rodents have similar incisors. To keep them sharp
-and prevent them from overlapping too much by growing too long, which
-would make it impossible for the animal to feed itself, the rodent must
-wear them down by constant friction as fast as they grow. Consequently,
-these terrible incisors have, so to speak, no rest; they must always be
-nibbling something, no matter what. Thus the harm they do us is much
-greater than you would suspect from the size of the animal. How much
-actual food does a mouse need for one meal? Very little,
-unquestionably. A mouse is so small that a single nut will fill its
-stomach. Don’t think, however, that one day’s ravages are confined to
-that one nut. After the nut is eaten, the animal will proceed, perhaps,
-to gnaw a hole in a bag, reduce a piece of cloth to tatters, chew up a
-book, or drill a hole in a board, simply and solely to whet its teeth.
-And the damage caused by rats and mice in our dwelling-houses is
-matched by other damage caused by other rodents in the fields. You must
-make the acquaintance of all these destroyers.”
-
-“For my part,” Jules confessed, “I shouldn’t, if I saw it, know the
-field-mouse that you told us about in your talk on night-birds.”
-
-“I know rats and mice such as we have in the house,” said Emile, “but
-that’s all.”
-
-“And yet,” rejoined his uncle, “I very much doubt whether you have any
-real knowledge of the rat. I will begin with it.
-
-“The common or black rat is more than twice the size of a mouse. Its
-coat is nearly black above, and ashy gray underneath. It lives in
-granaries, thatched roofs, and abandoned ruins. If it fails to find a
-lodging to its taste, it burrows a hole for itself. It is not a native
-with us, but is thought to have come from Asia in the wake of the
-armies returning from the Crusades. To-day the common rat is seldom
-mentioned in our country; another foreign rodent has come in, the
-Norway or brown rat, which, being larger than the common rat, has waged
-war against it and almost wiped out the species. We have not gained by
-the exchange; quite the contrary, the Norway rat being a much more
-troublesome creature. The true rat, the black rat, is rare now,
-especially where the other abounds; and that is why I doubt that any
-one of you is familiar with it. What you call a rat is more than likely
-to be one of these Norwegian invaders. Don’t forget the color—black—and
-you will have no difficulty in recognizing the true rat.
-
-“The mouse is much more familiar to you. It has been known from the
-earliest times all over the world. Need I describe this little rodent,
-so well known for its liveliness, its wily nature, and its extreme
-timidity, which makes it scuttle away to its hole at the slightest
-alarm?”
-
-“We all know the mouse very well,” Jules assured him.
-
-“The Norway or brown rat, also known as the sewer-rat, is the largest
-and most troublesome of all European rats. It attains a length of
-nearly a foot, without counting the tail, which is scaly like the
-mouse’s and a little shorter than the body. The largest and strongest
-Norway rat can cope with a cat. Its presence in Europe dates only from
-the middle of the eighteenth century, and it seems to have been brought
-from India in the hold of ships, which it commonly infests. It has now
-spread all over the world. Its coat is reddish brown above and ashy
-gray underneath.
-
-“Norway rats frequent storehouses, cellars, sewers, slaughter-houses,
-and dumping grounds. Everything is food to these filthy and audacious
-creatures, and they even dare to attack a sleeping man. In large towns
-they multiply so fast as to cause serious alarm. The vicinity of the
-slaughter-house of Montfaucon in Paris is so undermined with their
-innumerable burrows that the buildings there are in danger of
-collapsing. To preserve them from this disaster it is necessary to
-protect their foundation against the attacks of the rodents by means of
-a deep enclosing belt of broken glass bottles.”
-
-“What attracts them in such numbers to these places?” asked Jules.
-
-“The abundance of food, the dead bodies of slaughtered horses. In one
-night, if left in the slaughter-house yards, dead horses are devoured
-to the skeleton. During severe frosts if the skin is not removed in
-time the Norway rats get inside the body, stay there, and eat all the
-flesh, so that when a thaw comes and the workmen begin to skin the
-animal, they find inside the skin nothing but a host of rats swarming
-among the bare bones.”
-
-“But don’t the people there have any cats to protect them?” asked
-Emile.
-
-“Cats! The Norway rats would eat them alive, my boy, in no time. They
-have something better, however—dogs, both terriers and bulldogs, that
-run the rats down in the sewers with astonishing cleverness and break
-their back with one bite. The bulldog—that’s the kind of cat you need
-for such mice. This hunt in the sewer, moreover, must be frequently
-repeated, for Norway rats multiply with frightful rapidity, and if we
-were not careful the town would sooner or later be endangered; the
-horrible creature, strong in its numbers, would devour all Paris. In
-December of the year 1849 two hundred and fifty thousand rats were
-destroyed in a few days as the result of a single hunt.
-
-“In the country the Norway rat frequents the banks of foul streams; it
-enters kitchens through sink-holes; it gets into hen-houses and
-rabbit-warrens by undermining the walls. It haunts cellars and stables,
-but rarely makes its way into high granaries, doubtless because of its
-liking for filthy drainage and any kind of offal, which can be found
-only on ground floors and in basements. It pounces upon eggs and young
-fowls, and even has the boldness to suck the blood of full-grown
-poultry and rabbits. When it cannot get animal food, which is its first
-choice, it will eat grain and vegetables of all kinds. No sort of food
-is rejected by this filthy glutton. To get rid of it you can hardly
-count on the cat, for usually pussy is afraid to attack it. Nor are
-night-birds strong enough to battle with it, except the eagle-owl,
-which does not abound in any numbers. The trap and poison are our only
-remaining means of overcoming this redoubtable foe.
-
-“The field-mouse is a little larger than the ordinary mouse. Its coat,
-which closely resembles that of the Norway rat, is reddish brown above
-and white underneath. Its eyes are large and prominent, its ears nearly
-black, and its feet white. Its tail, which is very long, like that of
-the common mouse, is thinly covered with hair and is black toward the
-end. The field-mouse frequents woods, hedges, fields, and gardens. It
-cuts down the stalks of grain to get at the ears, of which it nibbles a
-few kernels and wastefully scatters the rest. In its quest for food it
-unearths newly planted seeds, takes a taste of the young shoots that
-have just come up, gnaws the bark of shrubs, and feasts on growing
-vegetables. Its ravages are all the more serious because it lays up
-provisions against a time of need. In storage chambers more than a foot
-underground, beneath some tree trunk or rock, it collects grain,
-hazelnuts, acorns, almonds, and chestnuts, often going a considerable
-distance to get them. One such store-room is not enough; it must have
-several, for it has a way of foolishly forgetting where its treasure is
-buried. In winter the field-mouse ventures to approach our houses and
-makes its way into our cellars where fruit and vegetables are kept, or
-it establishes itself in great numbers in our granaries.
-
-“The dwarf rat or harvest-mouse is the smallest rodent of France. It is
-a graceful creature, smaller than the common mouse, and of a yellowish
-tawny color, which is brighter on the rump than elsewhere; but the
-belly, breast, and throat are a beautiful white, and the tail and feet
-a light yellow. The ears, which stand out but very little beyond the
-fur of the head, are rounded and hairy, and the eyes are prominent. The
-dwarf rat lives exclusively in grain-fields and feeds on grain. After
-the harvest it takes refuge in the stacks of grain, especially in
-oat-stacks, but is never bold enough to enter houses. I am telling you
-about this pretty little rodent not so much because I begrudge it the
-few grains of oats it steals from us as because I wish to acquaint you
-with its nest.
-
-“Other rats rear their young either in a hole in a rock or a wall or in
-a burrow dug for the purpose. The harvest-mouse, however, scorns these
-stifling quarters; it must have an aërial nest like that built by
-birds. So it brings together several wheat-stalks as they stand in the
-field, interlaces them with bits of straw, and builds, half-way up from
-the ground, a nest as beautifully made as any bird’s. This nest is
-spherical, interwoven with leaves on the outside and padded with moss
-on the inside. It has only one little side opening, through which the
-rain cannot enter. Suspended at the height of several feet on the
-flexible support of the grain stalks, it swings to and fro with the
-slightest wind.”
-
-“How, then,” asked Emile, “does the little mouse manage to get in and
-out of its nest?”
-
-“It climbs up one of the stalks, being so small that this serves it
-perfectly as a ladder.”
-
-“If I ever come across a harvest-mouse I sha’n’t have the heart to do
-it any harm. It may go on eating oats in its pretty little nest, for
-all I care; I sha’n’t try to stop it.”
-
-“Here,” concluded Uncle Paul, “I will end my account of the chief
-representatives of the rat family in these regions. They are five in
-number: the black rat, the mouse, the Norway rat, the field-mouse, and
-the harvest-mouse.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-MEADOW-MICE [3]—HAMSTERS—DORMICE
-
-
-“Another kind of rodent now calls for our attention: it is the family
-of meadow-mice, commonly confounded with rats. Meadow-mice are easily
-recognized by their short, slightly hairy tail.
-
-“The meadow-mouse is about as large as a common mouse. Its coat is of a
-yellowish hue mixed with gray above and dirty white underneath. The
-tail is only one-quarter as long as the body. The eyes are large and
-prominent, the ears rounded, hairy, and standing out but little from
-the fur. The head is large and less pointed than that of the ordinary
-mouse.
-
-“In its rapid and abundant breeding the meadow-mouse is one of the
-farmer’s chief foes. It overruns grain-fields especially, cutting down
-the stalks to nibble the ears. After harvest it attacks clover roots,
-carrots, potatoes, and the products in general of our kitchen-gardens.
-In winter it digs under the furrows to eat the seeds sown there. If the
-soil is so frost-bound as not to permit it to reach the buried seed, it
-retires to the stacks of grain, where it does great damage. It never
-makes its way into our dwellings. Meadow-mice appear to emigrate from
-one country to another in colonies when the country they have ravaged
-can no longer supply them with food; at any rate, from time to time,
-once or twice in a decade, they suddenly appear in countless droves
-that are a real scourge to the country visited. The best destroyers of
-these creatures are nocturnal birds of prey, as is proved by the
-presence of their skulls, bones, and skins in the balls that are thrown
-up by these birds after digestion. Some say diurnal birds of prey,
-buzzards in particular, are equally fond of them. It is not at all
-uncommon to find in a buzzard’s crop as many as ten or more
-meadow-mice.
-
-“The underground meadow-mouse is much less common in France than the
-one just described, from which it differs in its gray-and-blackish
-coat, its somewhat smaller tail, and its tiny eyes. But the greatest
-difference is in its habits. The first-mentioned lives in the fields,
-especially in grain-fields, while the second frequents meadows and
-kitchen-gardens. It feeds on various kinds of vegetables, such as
-celery, artichokes, carrots, potatoes, and cardoons. It seldom shows
-itself out of its underground tunnels, and on account of its habit of
-lurking beneath the surface it is called the underground meadow-mouse.
-
-“The amphibian meadow-mouse is commonly known by the name of water-rat.
-We can easily tell it from the black rat, which is of about the same
-size, by its red coat, its short tail (which is not quite half the
-length of its body), and its larger and less pointed head. It burrows
-under the banks of streams, ditches, and marshes, where it feeds
-chiefly on roots, but does not disdain small fish when it can catch
-them. It is a good swimmer and diver. Sometimes it makes its way into
-kitchen-gardens, where it does the same sort of harm as the underground
-meadow-mouse, and into orchards, where it gnaws the base of young
-trees.
-
-“The lemming is never seen around here. It frequents the coasts of the
-Arctic Ocean in Norway and Lapland. I will tell you something about it
-on account of its curious way of traveling from one country to another,
-of which our meadow-mouse offers us a far less striking example. The
-lemming, with its very short and hairy tail, its big head, and its
-stocky body, has the appearance of a small rabbit. Its coat is red
-marbled with black and brown.
-
-“At the approach of severe cold weather, and sometimes with no apparent
-reason, the lemmings leave their haunts in the high mountain chains of
-Norway and set out on a long journey toward the sea. The emigrating
-horde, composed of myriads of individuals, trot in a straight line over
-all obstacles, never allowing themselves to be turned from their
-course. In traveling in a line, one after another, says Linnæus, the
-great Swedish naturalist, they trace straight parallel furrows, two or
-three fingers deep and several ells apart. They devour everything
-eatable that obstructs their passage, all roots and herbage. Nothing
-turns them from their course. Let a man appear in their path, and they
-slip between his legs. If they come to a haystack they gnaw a tunnel
-through it; reaching a rock, they skirt it in a semicircle and then
-resume their original direction. Should a lake be encountered on their
-route, they swim across it in a straight line, however wide it may be.
-If a boat is in their way in the middle of a body of water, they
-clamber over it and jump into the water again on the other side. A
-swiftly flowing river does not stop them: they plunge into the foaming
-current even if they all perish.”
-
-“They must be very obstinate,” said Emile, “to prefer to drown rather
-than turn their procession out of a straight line.”
-
-“Animals sometimes show these examples of obstinacy, which we cannot
-understand, but which might easily be explained if we knew the motives
-that make them act thus. Perhaps by deviating from a straight line the
-lemmings might lose their way, a way provided with no finger-posts, but
-indicated simply by instinct. However, we will leave them to pursue
-their long pilgrimage, from which few will return, so numerous are the
-dangers and the enemies awaiting them on the way. Let them cross their
-rivers and lakes while we return to the rodents of France.
-
-“The hamster abounds in central Europe, notably in Alsace. It is also
-called the Strasbourg marmot or rye pig. It is almost as large as the
-black rat, but is more stocky. Its tail is short and hairy, its fur red
-on the back, black under the belly, with yellowish spots on the flanks,
-a white spot on the throat, and another on each shoulder.
-
-“Hamsters live on roots, fruit, and especially cereals, of which they
-store up a large supply. Each animal digs a burrow composed of several
-rooms, the largest of which is used as a granary. There they store rye
-and wheat, beans and peas, vetch and linseed. The hamster hoards like a
-miser, laying up far more than it will ever need, simply for the
-satisfaction of hoarding. In some of its store-rooms as much as two
-hundredweight of provisions may be found. What can a creature no bigger
-than your fist do with all these supplies? Winter comes, and the
-hamster shuts itself up in its underground quarters, assured of food
-and lodging, and grows big and fat. If the cold is very severe it goes
-to sleep like the marmot.”
-
-“And what about the two hundredweight of grain collected, a kernel at a
-time?” queried Emile.
-
-“The whole supply simply spoils and is so much waste; but little does
-the hamster care; he begins all over again the next year. The animal’s
-special business is, first and foremost, to ravage fields, as is proved
-by the pile of grain it stores up, out of all proportion to its needs.
-It hoards food to destroy it, far more than to be sure of something to
-eat, being very different in this way from most hibernating animals. In
-the midst of all its stores of food, if the winter is very cold, it is
-overtaken by the same torpor that saves the hedgehog and the bat from
-death by starvation. This miser has not even the excuse of want. Happy
-are those regions that it does not rob! Let us pass on to other
-rodents.”
-
-“There are, then, still more of these greedy animals?” Jules inquired.
-
-“Yes; they are somewhat like insects: after they are all gone there are
-still some left. The world seems to be a pasture delivered over to the
-mandibles of larvæ and the incisors of rodents.
-
-“Dormice, of many varieties, live in the woods and orchards and eat
-fruit. These rodents have the agility, elegance of form, and rich fur
-of squirrels. They make their home in hollow tree trunks, holes in
-walls, and crannies in rocks. During the winter, when fruit is lacking,
-they remain in a deep sleep.
-
-“The dormouse proper is found in Provence and Roussillon. It is a
-pretty creature, reminding one of the squirrel. Its tail is long and
-thickly covered with hair; its fur ashy brown on the back and whitish
-under the belly. At night it ravages the fruit-trees, and no one knows
-better how to pick out the pear, the peach, or the plum at just the
-right stage of ripeness. You have, let us suppose, looked over your
-fruit with satisfaction and decided to give it one more day of sunshine
-to bring it to perfection. The next morning you go out to gather the
-harvest and, lo and behold, it is gone; the dormouse has been there
-before you.
-
-“The garden dormouse is smaller, being about as large as the black rat.
-Its coat is a pleasing mixture of red, white, and black, the back being
-red, the belly, paws, cheeks, and shoulders white, and the parts about
-the eyes and down the sides of the neck black. This animal is scattered
-all over France. It lurks about dwellings, in gardens, and among vines
-and shrubbery, living chiefly on fruit, which it ruins in great
-quantities, tasting first one choice specimen and then another, without
-finishing any of them. Garden dormice spend the winter several in one
-hole, where they sleep all curled up amid the supplies of walnuts,
-almonds, and hazelnuts that they have laid up.”
-
-“Then if they sleep,” said Emile, “they don’t need any food.”
-
-“Pardon me, my boy; they do need food, and badly, though not while
-sleeping, but when they wake up. This awakening takes place at the
-beginning of spring, when the sun is first warming up the earth. At
-that time of year there is no fruit to be had; and the garden dormice,
-after their fast of several months, have a tremendous appetite, as you
-can easily imagine. What would become of them now, poor little things,
-if it were not for their supply of nuts?”
-
-“Those little dormice are very prudent,” Emile remarked. “They know
-that at the end of their long winter’s sleep they won’t find any fruit
-in the orchards, and so they lay up provisions beforehand. But why
-don’t they put by apples and pears if they are so fond of them?”
-
-“Because apples and pears would spoil, whereas almonds and hazelnuts
-keep very well.”
-
-“That’s so. I hadn’t thought of that, but the little dormouse had.”
-
-“No, it does not think of it, either. It does not know that pears spoil
-and nuts keep, because it has never tried to keep pears. It does not
-foresee that when it wakes up, the fruit-trees will not be bearing
-fruit, will hardly have their first leaves; it does not know how long
-it would have to wait to find a pear to nibble; it knows nothing of all
-these things, which it is now about to become aware of, perhaps for the
-first time, through experience. Some one else thinks for the dormouse
-and gives it the prudence to store up nuts in a hole in the wall; some
-one who understands, foresees, and knows everything. And that some one
-is God, the Father of the man who plants the pear-tree, and Father also
-of the little dormouse that is so fond of pears.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-HORNED OWLS
-
-
-“We have glanced in a cursory way at a number of our rodents that are
-harmful to crops. I pass over in silence the pretty squirrel, a lover
-of walnuts and beechnuts, and the industrious beaver, an animal which
-may still be found, here and there, along the Rhone. The hare and the
-rabbit, too, I willingly give over to the hunter’s rifle. What
-protection have we from the devouring hunger of the others—the rats,
-the field-mice, and the meadow-mice? How are we to hold them in check?
-In our homes we have the cat; outside we have the army of feathered
-cats—the nocturnal birds of prey. I will divide these latter into two
-classes, to make it easier to distinguish the various species. One has
-the head adorned with two tufts of feathers—plumicorns is the term
-sometimes used—while the other class lacks this ornament. Horned owls
-come under the first classification; hornless owls, or those that may
-be called simply owls, come under the second.
-
-“The largest of the horned owls is the eagle-owl. ‘It can easily be
-recognized,’ says Buffon, ‘by its burly form, its enormous head, its
-large and cavernous ears, the two egrets surmounting its head to a
-height of more than two inches and a half, its short hooked beak, black
-in color, its great clear eyes with their fixed gaze and large black
-pupils, encircled by an orange-colored ruff of feathers, and its face
-surrounded by hairs—or, rather, little rudimentary white feathers
-bordering a ring of other little feathers that are curled—also by its
-black hooked claws of great strength, its very short neck, its reddish
-brown plumage spotted with black and yellow on the back, its feet
-covered with thick down and reddish feathers to the very roots of the
-nails, and, finally, its hair-raising cry of whee-hoo, hoo-hoo,
-hoo-hoo, poo-hoo, which it sends forth in the silence of the night when
-all the rest of the world is still. Then it is that it awakens its
-intended victims, fills them with vague alarm, pursues and catches
-them, and carries them off to the caverns where it has its
-hiding-place. It lives among the rocks or in old deserted towers in the
-mountains, rarely descending into the plains and never willingly
-perching on trees, but rather on the roof of some sequestered church or
-ancient castle. Its favorite prey consists of young hares, little
-rabbits, field-mice, and rats, of which it digests the fleshy substance
-and throws up the hair, bones, and skin in round balls. The eagle-owl
-makes its nest in some rocky cave or in a hole in some lofty old wall.
-Its nest is nearly three feet in diameter, and is made of small dry
-branches interwoven with flexible roots and padded with leaves inside.
-Only one or two, or rarely as many as three, eggs are found in this
-nest. In color they somewhat resemble the bird’s plumage, and in size
-they are larger than hens’ eggs.’”
-
-“Those two things like horns that the eagle-owl has on its head—are
-they ears?” asked Emile.
-
-“No, my boy, they are egrets, upstanding feathers that give the bird a
-warlike appearance. Its ears are not visible, being hidden by the
-plumage. They are very large and deep, which explains why the
-eagle-owl’s hearing is so wonderfully acute.”
-
-“The eagle-owl,” Louis here observed, “eats field-mice and rats, for
-which it is to be thanked; but it also eats young hares and young
-rabbits. Isn’t that a pity?”
-
-“For the hunter, I admit; but for the farmer it is quite another thing.
-Don’t forget that the hare and the rabbit belong to the order of
-rodents; they have incisors which spare nothing in the fields. If they
-were left to breed in peace they would prove a serious menace to our
-crops. History tells of countries so ravaged by rabbits that it became
-necessary to send an army to help the inhabitants get rid of them. We
-shall never reach that condition, I am sure; but it is no cause for
-regret that the eagle-owl, jointly with the hunter, keeps the animals
-within tolerable bounds. Moreover, the bird is very scarce everywhere.
-One pair of these birds in a year is the most that you will find in the
-mountains about here. An extensive hunting-ground is required by such
-big eaters if they are not to starve one another out.
-
-“I have a more serious complaint to bring against the eagle-owl: when
-it cannot find its favorite game—meadow-mice, field-mice, and rats—it
-contents itself with bats, snakes, toads, lizards, and frogs, and thus
-deprives us of some of our best protectors. Be assured, once for all,
-that while we have some irreproachable helpers, there are also others
-that from our point of view are guilty of a good many misdeeds. Bear in
-mind the mole, which throws up the earth and cuts the roots of plants
-in its war on insects. No animal gives a moment’s thought to man—except
-the dog, who is our friend even more than he is our servant. No other
-pays any heed to our interests; all work for themselves and their
-young. If their instinct prompts them to destroy only species harmful
-to us, so much the better: they are excellent helpers; but if they hunt
-both harmful and helpful species, we must balance the total good
-against the total harm that they do. If the good tips the scale, let us
-respect the animal: it is a helper. If it does more harm than good, let
-us declare war on the creature: it is a ravager. The eagle-owl catches
-in the fields such formidable hoarders of grain as field-mice and
-hamsters; in gardens, dormice and other lovers of fruit; in the
-neighborhood of our houses, ordinary mice and rats, and even the
-horrible Norway rat. There you have the plea for the defendant. On the
-other hand, the hunter charges the bird with killing a certain number
-of young rabbits incautiously taking a taste or two of wild thyme by
-moonlight, and with appropriating a few young hares that would
-otherwise be eaten by human beings. For my part, I accuse it of feeding
-its young on the serviceable toad, the useful snake, and the
-cricket-eating lizard. There you have the prosecutor’s charge. But, the
-balance being struck, the bird’s services are found to outweigh its
-misdeeds, and I declare that the eagle-owl deserves well of the
-farmer.”
-
-“It is a unanimous verdict,” declared Jules.
-
-“The common horned owl, or lesser eagle-owl,” Uncle Paul continued, “is
-much like the bird we have been discussing, only it is far smaller,
-being very little larger than a crow, while the other is the size of a
-goose. It is the commonest of all the nocturnal birds of prey in these
-regions. In the night hours throughout the summer it keeps repeating,
-in melancholy accents, its long-drawn and doleful cry of cloo-cloo,
-which can be heard a long way off. Just as it takes flight it gives a
-sort of bitter sigh, made no doubt by the air expelled from its lungs
-by the effort of the wings at the moment of flying off. In the daytime,
-confronted by human beings, this bird wears a dazed and foolish
-expression. It snaps its beak, stamps its feet, and moves its big head
-abruptly up and down and from side to side. If attacked by too strong
-an enemy, it lies down on its back and threatens its foe with claws and
-beak. It inhabits ruined buildings, caves in rocks, and the hollow
-trunks of old trees. Seldom does it take the trouble to build a nest of
-its own, preferring to patch up one that has been deserted by a magpie
-or a buzzard. There it lays four or five round white eggs. I will
-remark in passing that the eggs of nocturnal birds of prey are not oval
-like hens’ eggs, but more nearly round. The hunting habits of the
-horned owl are like those of the eagle-owl: it has the same liking for
-rodents such as field-mice, rats, ordinary mice, and meadow-mice; it
-pounces upon young rabbits in the same manner, after patiently watching
-for them at the mouth of the burrow. Now let us pass on to another
-species.
-
-“The short-horned owl, or large sparrow-owl, resembles the lesser
-eagle-owl in plumage and size. The two egrets or plumicorns are very
-short, and they seldom stand erect as in the two preceding species.
-Because of the shortness of these ‘horns,’ the large sparrow-owl is
-often taken for a hornless owl. This species is seldom seen near
-dwelling-houses, preferring rocks, quarries, and ruined and solitary
-castles. It builds no nest, but is content to lay in a hole in some
-wall or rock two or three white eggs, shiny and round, and about as
-large as pigeons’ eggs. Its usual cry is goo, uttered rather softly;
-but if rain is coming the cry is changed to goyoo. Its diet is mostly
-confined to field-mice and meadow-mice.
-
-“The red owl is of about the blackbird’s size. Its plumage is ashy gray
-mottled with red and marked with little flecks of black running
-lengthwise and fine gray lines running around the body. It is the
-smallest and prettiest of our nocturnal birds of prey. When its fine
-egrets stand up well on the forehead they give it a bold and martial
-air that goes well with its eagerness for the chase.”
-
-“In the picture,” Emile pointed out, “its horns are not standing up.”
-
-“No, the bird is represented in one of its peaceful moments; there is
-nothing to arouse it, nothing to attract its attention. It has
-withdrawn into itself and is thinking of the fine feast it had when it
-last went hunting. It is digesting that feast. But let a mouse come and
-scratch anywhere near, and the red owl immediately ruffles its
-forehead—the first sign of attention. It straightens up and spreads out
-its egrets—a sign of the closest possible attention. It has heard, it
-has understood. Off darts the bird and the mouse is caught.
-
-“The smaller rodents are its delight. It seasons them with beetles and
-June-bugs—especially the latter which are an aid to digestion. When
-larger game is lacking it contents itself with a frugal meal of
-insects, hoping to make up for it soon with a good dinner of
-meadow-mice.
-
-“Red owls are great travelers. They assemble in companies, sometimes to
-migrate for the winter and seek a warmer clime, sometimes to search out
-a district where there is plenty of game, when their present haunts no
-longer offer enough to suffice them. If field-mice are on the increase
-in some particular region and are ravaging the fields of grain and hay,
-the red owls hear of it, I don’t know how. They spread the glad
-tidings, all club together, and start for the lands where feasting
-awaits them. With such zeal do they apply themselves to the work of
-extermination that in a few weeks the fields are cleared of the
-infesting hordes.
-
-“Red owls nest in hollow trees and clefts in rocks. Their eggs, from
-two to four in a nest, are of a shiny white.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-OTHER OWLS
-
-
-“Owls not belonging to the horned class lack, of course, the egrets or
-plumicorns characteristic of the latter. The largest of the hornless
-owls is the howlet or tawny owl, which is about as large as one of our
-domestic hens. The predominating color of its plumage is grayish in the
-male and reddish in the female, a difference that sometimes causes them
-to be mistaken for separate species. On this background color is a
-sprinkling of light brown spots, running lengthwise of the body and
-less numerous on the breast and stomach than elsewhere. The wings are
-marked with several large, white, round spots. The head is very large
-and nearly round, the face sunken in the surrounding feathers and
-partly concealed by them. The eyes, likewise sunken, are brown and
-surrounded with small gray feathers.
-
-“The name howlet is connected in its derivation with the word howl, and
-the bird called by that name is indeed remarkable for its cry, not
-unlike a wolf’s howl. When at the close of a somber winter day the wind
-whips the snow and moans in the trees, one may often hear a frightful
-cry, prolonged and mournful, rising from the dark depths of the
-forest—hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo. Then in the lonely cottage the
-frightened mother makes the sign of the cross, while her little ones
-press close to her, crying, and saying, ‘The wolves are coming.’ Don’t
-be uneasy, good people; it is not a wolf, it is an owl hoo-hooing,
-sounding its war-cry from the top of some hollow oak and getting ready
-for its nightly rounds.
-
-“In summer-time the howlet lives in the woods. It hunts by preference
-field-mice and meadow-mice, which it swallows whole, afterward throwing
-up the skin and bones rolled into a ball. The little birds that worry
-it so unmercifully in the daytime, whenever they get a chance to come
-upon it unawares in the sunlight, are not safe from its beak in the
-hours of darkness if the night-bird can pounce upon them after first
-frightening them with its terrible hoo-hoo. Keep as still as mice in
-your hiding-places, you finches and redbreasts and tomtits, and don’t
-betray yourselves by giving voice to your alarm. Let the owl hoo-hoo as
-much as it pleases. If you make a sound you are lost.
-
-“If the fields prove disappointing as a hunting-ground, the owl makes
-bold to approach dwelling-houses and finds its way into barns, there to
-play the part of cat and thus make good the title of ‘hooting cat’
-which has been given it. For patience and skill in catching rats and
-mice it rivals Raminagrobis [4] himself. It is a guest to be treated
-with respect when hunger compels it to visit our granaries. After
-completing its nightly rounds it returns to the woods early in the
-morning, hides in the densest thickets or in the trees having the most
-abundant foliage, and there passes the day silent and motionless. In
-winter its home is always in the hollow of some old tree trunk. It lays
-its eggs in the abandoned nests of magpies, crows, buzzards, and
-kestrels; and these eggs, of a dingy gray color, are about as large as
-a pullet’s, but nearly round.
-
-“The belfry-owl, also known as the barn-owl, is an ungainly bird rather
-smaller than the howlet. Its plumage, however, is not wanting in
-elegance, being red on the back, sprinkled with gray and brown and
-prettily dotted with white points alternating with dark ones, and white
-underneath, with or without brown spots. The eyes are deep-set and each
-is encircled by a ring of fine white feathers almost like hair. A
-little collar bordered with red frames the face. The beak is whitish,
-and the claws are covered only with a soft white down, very short,
-under which the pink flesh can be seen. This bird has none of the proud
-bearing of the eagle-owl and the red owl; it carries itself awkwardly
-with an embarrassed, almost shamefaced look. Humpbacked and with wings
-hanging down, face sad and scowling, and legs long and ungainly—such is
-the barn-owl’s appearance in repose. As if to complete its ungraceful
-attitude, the bird, whenever anything disturbs it, teeters from side to
-side in a ludicrous fashion, with haggard eyes and wings slightly
-raised.”
-
-“And what is the teetering for?” asked Jules.
-
-“No doubt to frighten its enemy. In time of danger the barn-owl utters
-a harsh, grating cry—craa! craa! craa!—which often frightens away the
-enemy. The owl’s habitual cry in the silence of the night is a
-mournful, heavy breathing not unlike the snoring of a man sleeping with
-his mouth open. To these cries add the darkness of the night, the near
-neighborhood of churches and cemeteries, and you will understand how
-the innocent barn-owl has managed to frighten children, women, and even
-men; you will be able to see why it has the reputation of being a
-funeral bird, the bird of death, summoning to the cemetery one of the
-persons living in the house it visits. The French name, effraie
-(fright), has reference to these superstitious terrors; it designates
-the bird that frightens with its nightly chant those who are foolish
-enough to believe in ghosts and sorcerers.”
-
-“It may practise its chant on our roof as much as it likes,” Jules
-declared boldly; “it won’t scare me a bit.”
-
-“Nor would it scare any one else if everybody would listen to reason
-instead of putting faith in ridiculous stories. Fear, like cruelty, is
-the daughter of ignorance. Train your reason, accustom yourselves to
-see things as they really are, and foolish fears will be banished.
-
-“The barn-owl also goes by the name of belfry-owl, because it likes to
-make its home in old church towers. Sometimes it will enter a church by
-night to hunt mice. Those who first came upon the ill-famed bird near
-the altar did not fail to accuse it of drinking oil from the lamp or,
-rather, of eating it when it is congealed by the cold. The charge
-itself proves its own falsity, as oil cannot congeal in a lamp that is
-always kept burning. But the slanderers do not trouble themselves about
-a little thing like that when they wish to blacken the bird’s
-reputation. They will continue for a long time, if not forever, to
-regard the owl as a profaner of holy lamps. In Provence they will
-always call this bird the oil-drinker.
-
-“In reality, the barn-owl lives on rats and mice, which it catches in
-barns and churches; on field-mice, meadow-mice, and dormice, which it
-hunts in gardens and fields. Here, beyond a doubt, we have a service
-rendered that ought to make people forget its false reputation, make
-them like and protect it as it deserves. Will the bird that gives us
-very real help and is guiltless of a single offense ever be declared
-innocent? I very much doubt it. Superstition is so deep-rooted that
-there will never be lacking a One-eyed John to nail a live owl to his
-door.
-
-“The barn-owl likes to live in inhabited regions. The roofs of
-churches, summits of steeples, high towers—these are its favorite
-haunts. All day it remains crouching in some dark hole, from which it
-does not come out until after sunset. Its manner of taking flight
-deserves mention. First it lets itself fall from the summit of its
-steeple like a dead weight, and it does not spread its wings until
-after a rather long vertical drop. It then pursues a zigzag course,
-making no more noise than if the wind bore it along. It is fond of
-nesting in abandoned ruins, in the hollow trunks of worm-eaten trees,
-occasionally in barns, high up on some beam. But it builds no nest to
-hold its eggs, which are laid on the spot that may have been selected,
-with no leaves, roots, or hair to serve as bedding. The laying takes
-place toward the end of March and is limited to five or six white eggs
-remarkable for their oval shape, an exceptional shape for nocturnal
-birds of prey. The little ones, with their large eyes, beak stretched
-open for food, and rumpled down, are the ugliest creatures imaginable.
-The mother feeds them with insects and bits of mouse-flesh.
-
-“The smallest of our hornless owls is the sparrow-owl. Like the red
-owl, it is about the size of a blackbird. It is dark brown in color,
-with large white spots of a round or oval shape. The throat is white,
-and the tail is crossed by four narrow whitish stripes. The sparrow-owl
-has a quick and light bearing, and it sees by day much better than
-other night birds; therefore it sometimes chases small birds, but
-rarely with success. When it has the good luck to catch one it plucks
-it very clean before eating it, instead of following the gluttonous
-example of the horned owls and the howlet, which swallow such prey
-whole and throw the feathers up later. Its hunting expeditions are much
-more fruitful when directed against field-mice and common mice, which
-it dismembers before eating. Other owls make but one mouthful of their
-prey; the sparrow-owl tears to pieces the animal it has caught, perhaps
-so that it may enjoy the flavor more. To express astonishment,
-surprise, fear, the barn-owl waddles in a most ridiculous manner; but
-the sparrow-owl adopts another method: it bows its legs, crouches down,
-and then abruptly rises, lengthening its neck and turning its head to
-right and left. You would say it was moved by springs from within. This
-performance is repeated over and over again, each time accompanied by a
-clacking of the beak. In flight the bird’s habitual cry is poo, poo,
-poo; at rest it says ay-may, aid-may, repeated several times in quick
-succession in a tone almost human.
-
-“The sparrow-owl lives in deserted buildings, quarries, old and
-dilapidated towers, but never in hollow trees. It frequents the roofs
-of churches and of village houses. Its nest consists of a hole in a
-rock or a wall, where it lays four or five round white eggs somewhat
-speckled with red.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-THE EAGLE
-
-
-“If it were my purpose to give you a systematic and scientific account
-of birds, instead of acquainting you with the various species useful to
-agriculture, I ought to have begun with birds that hunt by day and to
-have postponed my talks on those that hunt by night; in other words,
-the eagle, the falcon, and the hawk should have been described first.
-But should you ask me why, I should be rather at a loss for a
-satisfactory answer. For want of a better let us content ourselves with
-this one: the first do their work by day, the second at night. But the
-eagle and the others of that group live at our expense, while the
-horned owl and its kind render us a great service by holding in check
-what would else be a disastrous multiplication of rodents.
-Consequently, in point of usefulness, the night-bird comes first.
-
-“But this is contrary to all usage, both scientific and popular, which
-puts the eagle first in the list of birds. Do we not say of the eagle
-that it is the king of birds? Why has this title been given to the
-fierce bandit, the murderer of lambs? I should be puzzled to answer
-this question did I not know man’s inclination to glorify brute
-strength even though he himself may be its victim. You, my children,
-will find that out only too soon, to your sorrow. Plunder on a grand
-scale appeals, alas, to something in our faulty human nature that makes
-us excuse it; nay, more, that makes us glorify it; whereas productive
-toil, useful to all, leaves us cold or even disdainful. The falcon is a
-ravisher of our hen-houses, a bloodthirsty marauder of our dove-cotes;
-and we hold it in high esteem, calling it a noble bird. Shall we, then,
-never learn to judge animals and men by their true worth, their real
-usefulness? Let us hope that as so many fine minds have worked, are
-working, and always will work to bring about this miracle, you, my
-children, will some day follow their example. Work for this end with
-all your power, and blessings be upon you if you succeed in giving some
-additional strength, however little it may be, to this common effort
-put forth by all men of light and leading.
-
-“I shall discuss but briefly the birds of prey whose activities are
-confined to the daylight hours. They are nearly all bandits, nothing
-else, living at our cost by robbery and murder. From the fact that they
-hunt by day, never at night, they are called diurnal or day birds of
-prey. The brightest light does not dazzle them. It is even said of the
-eagle and others of this class that they can look straight at the sun,
-and this is credited to them as an added title of nobility. But there
-is no great merit in this performance when once you know how they shade
-their eyes in accomplishing it. They have three eyelids to each eye:
-first, two like ours, an upper and a lower, which close in sleep, and
-then a third, which is semi-transparent and is withdrawn completely
-into the corner of the eye when the bird has no use for it, but when
-needed comes out from under the other two, which remain open, and
-serves as a curtain. If the light is too bright or the bird wishes to
-look toward the sun, it has merely to draw over the eye this third
-eyelid, this eye-shade, through the semi-transparency of which the rays
-of light enter the pupil in a much subdued intensity. There you have
-the whole secret of the eagle’s bold look in facing the sun.”
-
-“I could do as much if I shaded my eyes with a curtain,” Emile
-declared.
-
-“All these birds are furnished with a very strong beak having hooked
-mandibles for dismembering their prey. Their claws are composed of four
-separate talons to each foot, three of these talons pointing forward
-and one backward. The talons are long, recurved, and grooved on the
-under side, the grooves having sharp edges that they may the better cut
-into flesh. The eagle’s bearing is bold, its looks stern, and its
-flight marvelously powerful. Eagles like to circle about in the air, to
-soar with scarcely a movement of the wings in the upper regions of the
-atmosphere beyond our view. Nevertheless, even from this immense height
-they can distinguish what is taking place on the earth’s surface below.
-They explore every farm with their piercing eyes and inspect every
-poultry-yard. Let a suitable prey show itself, and instantly the bird
-swoops down with whistling wing, faster than lead would fall. The
-unwary fowl is snatched from under the farmer’s very eyes.
-
-“Fortunately, the eagle, the chief of these bandits, is a very rare
-bird. In form it is large, measuring a meter and more from the tip of
-the beak to the tip of the tail, and it is covered with brown plumage.
-Its extended wings measure a span of nearly three meters. Its fierce
-eye, overshadowed by a very prominent eyebrow, glows with a somber
-fire. The eagle’s nest is known as its aery, and is flat instead of
-bowl-shaped like other birds’ nests. It is a sort of solid floor made
-of interwoven twigs and covered with a bed of rushes and heather. It is
-commonly placed on the face of some steep and forbidding precipice and
-between two rocks, the upper one of which overhangs and forms a kind of
-roof for the nest. The eggs, two in number—sometimes, though rarely,
-three—are of a dingy white spotted with red. The young eaglets are so
-greedy that at the time of their rearing the aery is strewn with bits
-of bleeding flesh. Some neighboring ledge of rock serves the parents as
-slaughter-house and cutting-up bench. It is there that the hares and
-rabbits, partridges and ducks, lambs and kids, seized in the plains and
-carried in rapid flight to the lofty heights where the eagle makes its
-home, are torn to pieces in order to be fed to the ever-hungry
-eaglets.”
-
-“Is the eagle really strong enough,” asked Emile, “to carry off a lamb
-like that? I had heard it, but couldn’t believe it.”
-
-“Nothing is less open to doubt,” his uncle assured him. “It would carry
-you off if it found you alone in the mountains.”
-
-“I could defend myself with a stick.”
-
-“Possibly; but let me tell you an incident, one of many to be found in
-the pages of an author whose word we may believe.
-
-“Two little girls, one five years old, the other three, were playing
-together when a medium-sized eagle suddenly swooped down upon the elder
-and despite her companion’s cries, and in the very face of some workmen
-who came hurrying to the spot, snatched her up into the air. Two months
-later a shepherd found, on a rock half a league distant, the body of
-the child half devoured and dried up.
-
-“What do you think now of the eagle, the king of birds?”
-
-“I think it’s a brigand of the worst kind,” affirmed Jules.
-
-“Would you like to see an eagle in the act of hunting, witness its
-fierce joy when it buries its hooked talons in the quivering flesh of
-its prey? Then listen to this fine passage from the pen of that ardent
-lover of birds, Audubon. The scene is laid far from here, in America,
-and the eagle belongs to a different species from ours; but never mind,
-the ways of these bandits are the same everywhere.
-
-“‘To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit me to place
-you on the Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while
-approaching winter brings millions of water-fowl on whistling wings,
-from the countries of the north, to seek a milder climate in which to
-sojourn for a season. The Eagle is seen perched in an erect attitude,
-on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad
-stream. His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse. He
-listens attentively to every sound that comes to his quick ear from
-afar, glancing now and then on the earth beneath, lest even the light
-tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His mate is perched on the opposite
-side, and should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to
-continue patient. At this well known call, the male partly opens his
-broad wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her
-voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment, he
-resumes his erect attitude, and again all around is silent. Ducks of
-many species, the Teal, the Wigeon, the Mallard and others, are seen
-passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the current;
-but the Eagle heeds them not: they are at that time beneath his
-attention. The next moment, however, the wild trumpetlike sound of a
-yet distant but approaching Swan is heard. A shriek from the female
-Eagle comes across the stream,—for she is as fully on the alert as her
-mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole of his body, and with a few
-touches of his bill, aided by the action of his cuticular muscles,
-arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird is now in
-sight: her long neck is stretched forward, her eye is on the watch,
-vigilant as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to
-support the weight of her body, although they flap incessantly. So
-irksome do her exertions seem, that her very legs are spread beneath
-her tail, to aid her in her flight. She approaches, however. The Eagle
-has marked her for his prey. As the Swan is passing the dreaded pair,
-the male bird, in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch
-with an awful scream, that to the Swan’s ear brings more terror than
-the report of the large duck-gun.
-
-“‘Now is the moment to witness the display of the Eagle’s powers. He
-glides through the air like a falling star, and, like a flash of
-lightning, comes upon the timorous quarry, which now, in agony and
-despair, seeks, by various manœuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel
-talons. It mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream,
-were it not prevented by the Eagle, which, long possessed of the
-knowledge that by such a stratagem the Swan might escape him, forces it
-to remain in the air by attempting to strike it with his talons from
-beneath. The hope of escape is soon given up by the Swan. It has
-already become much weakened, and its strength fails at the sight of
-the courage and swiftness of its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to
-escape, when the ferocious Eagle strikes with his talons the under side
-of its wings, and with unresisted power forces the bird to fall in a
-slanting direction upon the nearest shore.
-
-“‘It is then, reader, that you may see the cruel spirit of this dreaded
-enemy of the feathered race, whilst, exulting over his prey, he for the
-first time breathes at ease. He presses down his powerful feet, and
-drives his sharp claws deeper than ever into the heart of the dying
-Swan. He shrieks with delight as he feels the last convulsions of his
-prey, which has now sunk under his unceasing efforts to render death as
-painfully felt as it can possibly be. The female has watched every
-movement of her mate, and if she did not assist him in capturing the
-Swan, it was not from want of will, but merely that she felt full
-assurance that the power and courage of her lord were quite sufficient
-for the deed. She now sails to the spot where he eagerly awaits her,
-and when she has arrived, they together turn the breast of the luckless
-Swan upwards, and gorge themselves with gore.’” [5]
-
-“Poor swan!” was Emile’s pitying comment.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-HAWKS AND FALCONS
-
-
-“What are we to do with enemies like the eagle?” asked Louis when Uncle
-Paul had finished Audubon’s account of that bird’s fierce and
-destructive rapacity.
-
-“Destroy them,” was the reply, “destroy them by every possible means,
-for we can count on no assistance from other than human helpers. Eagles
-are the tyrants of the air, and no other bird dares attack them. The
-destruction of their nests is the surest way to put an end to the
-ravages they from time to time commit among our flocks. But it is an
-enterprise not without danger to make one’s way to the eagle’s aery and
-wring the necks of the young birds. The shepherds of the Pyrenees go
-about this work in couples, one armed with a double-barreled rifle and
-the other with a long pike. At daybreak, when the eagle is already away
-hunting, the two nest-destroyers climb to the top of the steep
-declivity where the aery is situated. The first man, the one armed with
-the rifle, posts himself on the rocky summit to fire at the eagle if it
-returns, while the second, his pike fastened to his belt, clambers down
-from rock to rock to the aery and removes the eaglets, which are still
-too young to offer serious resistance. But at their first cry of
-distress the mother hastens to the rescue and hurls herself furiously
-at her enemy, who receives her with blows of his pike until his comrade
-brings her down with a well-aimed shot. The male, until then soaring
-among the clouds, now descends like a thunderbolt and is on the
-hunter’s head before the man has time to use his pike. Fortunately a
-second bullet from the rifle-man stationed above breaks the bird’s
-wing.”
-
-“What if he had missed the bird?” asked Jules.
-
-“Then it would have been all over with his companion. His face torn by
-the eagle’s beak and his eyes pecked out, he would have fallen to the
-foot of the precipice, a mangled corpse. No, it is hardly a holiday
-diversion to go bird-nesting among the haunts of the eagle.”
-
-“I’m sure I shouldn’t care to undertake it,” was Jules’s comment.
-
-“Next to the eagle the goshawk is the largest of our diurnal birds of
-prey. It is a magnificent creature about the size of a well-grown
-rooster, brown above and white underneath, with numerous little dark
-stripes running around the body. The eye is adorned with a white
-eyebrow, the beak is blue-black, and the feet are yellow.
-
-“The goshawk is the scourge of pigeon-cotes, for which reason it is
-also called the pigeons’ falcon. It selects for itself a lofty perch on
-some tall tree and there keeps a watchful eye on the flocks of pigeons
-foraging in the fields. Woe betide the luckless one that forgets for a
-moment to be on its guard. The bird pounces upon it in oblique flight,
-almost skimming the surface of the ground, and in less than no time the
-pigeon is seized and carried off to some lonely rock, where the
-ravisher plucks its feathers and tears it to pieces while still warm.
-If the farmer is not on the lookout the goshawk attacks the poultry and
-does great harm. At the mere appearance of the bird’s shadow the
-rooster raises a cry of alarm and the little chickens hastily take
-refuge under their mother’s wing, while she, her feathers ruffled and
-her eyes blazing, sometimes succeeds in frightening off the enemy by
-her show of boldness. For lack of pigeons and barnyard fowls the
-goshawk hunts young hares, squirrels, and small birds, and in time of
-famine it will even eat moles and mice. Wooded mountains are its
-favorite abode, and it builds its nest in the tallest oaks and beeches.
-Its eggs, four or five in number, are slightly red or bluish and
-spotted with brown.
-
-“The common sparrow-hawk is about as large as a magpie. Its plumage
-somewhat resembles the goshawk’s, being ashy blue on the back and white
-underneath, with brown stripes running cross-wise. The throat and
-breast are reddish, and the tail is barred with six or seven dark
-bands. The legs and claws are of a beautiful yellow, and are long and
-slender.
-
-“The sparrow-hawk is a hunter of pigeons, which it tries to catch off
-guard by flying around the pigeon-cote and by watching from the
-concealment of some tree-top. The lark, the thrush, and the quail often
-fall into its clutches. Its flight is low and oblique like the
-goshawk’s, the wings of both being too short and too rounded at the tip
-to permit of lofty flight or sudden charges. The young, just out of the
-nest and as yet inexperienced in the cunning of the chase, are for a
-while trained by the parent birds for the career they are to follow;
-and indeed it is no rare occurrence to see the whole family hunting in
-company. The sparrow-hawk nests in tall trees and lays four or five
-white eggs ornamented with brown spots, which are larger and more
-numerous toward the big end of the egg. Both the goshawk and the
-sparrow-hawk, when they are attacked by an enemy stronger than
-themselves, do as the horned owl does: they lie on their backs and
-brandish their claws.
-
-“Of all our diurnal birds of prey, falcons are the most courageous and
-the best equipped for flying. As a distinctive characteristic they have
-a sharp tooth on each side of the tip of the beak, which itself is very
-powerful and curves downward in a notable manner from the very outset.
-Their wings are pointed at the tip and when folded they extend beyond
-or at least as far as the end of the tail. All falcons soar in their
-flight when hunting. To this class belong the common falcon, the hobby,
-and the merlin.
-
-“The common falcon, which is as large as a hen, can be recognized by a
-sort of mustache or black spot it has on each cheek. Its back is of a
-dark ashen hue crossed by narrow stripes of a still deeper shade; the
-throat and breast are pure white, with black markings running
-lengthwise; the stomach and thighs are light gray tinged with blue and
-striped with black; and the tail shows alternate stripes of dingy white
-and of black. The beak is blue with a black tip, and the eyes and legs
-are a beautiful yellow. But it should be added that the plumage of the
-common falcon varies a good deal with age, and not until the bird is
-three or four years old does it agree with the description I have just
-given.
-
-“The summits of the wildest and loftiest crags are the falcon’s home,
-whence it goes forth to hunt pigeons, quails, partridges, chickens, and
-ducks. It rises and soars some time in the air, searching for its
-victims, and then swoops down upon them like a missile hurled from the
-sky. With astonishing boldness it makes its way into the farmer’s
-pigeon-cotes and chases the pigeons themselves under the very eyes of
-passers-by, in the middle of crowded streets. It will even snatch
-partridges from before the hunter’s rifle and from under the
-hunting-dog’s nose. Its cry is strong and piercing, and it flies
-unwearied at the rate of twenty leagues an hour for hundreds of
-leagues; but its walk is jerky and awkward because its hooked claws,
-furnished with long and recurved nails, rest insecurely on the ground.
-The falcon nests on the southern face of rocky precipices, the nest
-itself being clumsily built and holding three or four eggs of a reddish
-hue spotted with brown.
-
-“The hobby is smaller than the common falcon. It is brown above and
-whitish beneath, with thighs and the lower part of the stomach red. Its
-boldness is equaled only by the falcon’s, for it gives chase to larks
-and quails even when the hunter is in the act of shooting them, and
-dashes into the midst of the fowler’s net to seize the decoy birds. It
-perches on tall trees and nests in their branches. Its eggs are whitish
-with a few red spots.
-
-“The merlin is the smallest of the diurnal birds of prey, being
-scarcely larger than a thrush. It is brown on the back, and whitish
-with brown spots underneath. Its nest, which is seldom found in our
-part of the country, is built in the hollow of a rock and contains five
-or six whitish eggs marbled at the larger end with brown and dingy
-green.
-
-“Despite its smallness it is a bold bandit. Little birds are
-terror-stricken at the mere sound of the merlin’s wings in their
-neighborhood. Even the partridge is not safe from its attacks. It
-begins by separating one of the birds from the rest of the covey, and
-then, circling about above it in a spiral, which grows smaller and
-smaller, it descends until it can reach its victim with its claws and
-knocks it down with a blow on the breast.
-
-“Such are the principal diurnal birds of prey that we have to make war
-upon without mercy. Up and after these savage bloodsuckers, destroyers
-of game, ravagers of poultry-yards and pigeon-cotes! Take your gun,
-vigilant farmer, watch for the falcon and the goshawk, and let fire at
-those brigands! Destroy their nests, break their eggs, and wring the
-necks of their young, if you wish to save your chickens, ducks, and
-pigeons.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-KESTRELS, KITES AND BUZZARDS
-
-
-“The kestrel belongs to the falcon family, as may be seen from the
-small, sharp tooth on each side of the tip of the beak. It is rather a
-handsome bird, about the size of a pigeon, red in color, with black
-spots, and a white tip to the tail. The beak is blue and the legs are
-yellow. The kestrel is the most widely scattered bird of prey and the
-one most often seen near human habitations. Its favorite haunts are old
-castles, lofty towers, and belfries. One often sees it flying with
-untiring wing around these buildings, uttering the while a piercing
-cry, plee, plee, plee! pree, pree, pree! which it sends forth to
-frighten the sparrows snuggling in holes in the wall, so that it may
-seize them when they fly out. It carefully plucks the little captured
-birds before eating them; but it has another kind of prey which gives
-it less trouble, and that is the mouse, which it enters open barns in
-order to catch, also the fat and savory field-mouse, which it spies
-from on high when holding itself motionless in the air in one position
-with tail and wings gracefully extended. What will it do with its
-catch? Will it skin the creature for the sake of cleanliness, as it
-plucks the sparrow? No, the common mouse and the field-mouse are dainty
-morsels of which the kestrel would be loath to lose a single drop of
-blood. The rodent is swallowed just as it is, whole if small, piecemeal
-if large. After digestion the skin and bones are thrown up through the
-beak in the form of little balls, just as in the case of the owl.
-
-“The kestrel nests in old towers, abandoned ruins, hollow rocks. Its
-nest, made of twigs and roots, holds four or five rust-colored eggs
-marbled with brown.
-
-“We will pass now to the kite, which is different from all other birds
-of prey, with its broad and forked tail, its very long wings, its
-rather slender claws, and its very small beak, a beak not at all in
-keeping with the bird’s size, which exceeds that of the falcon. This
-beak makes the bird cowardly to excess, frightened by the slightest
-danger, put to flight by a mere crow.
-
-“If pressed by hunger, however, the kite will venture into the
-neighborhood of pigeon-cotes and poultry-yards in order to seize young
-pigeons and little chickens. Fortunately, the hen, if she has time to
-gather her brood under her wings, can scare the invader away by simply
-showing her anger. For want of poultry, the kite, which is hated by
-thrifty country people, attacks reptiles, rats, field-mice, and
-meadow-mice; and if it can get nothing else it will content itself with
-carrion, such as dead sheep and spoiled fish.
-
-“The kite’s extended wings measure more than a meter and a half from
-tip to tip, and its flight presents a fine spectacle. When the bird
-sweeps in wide circles through the upper atmosphere, it is as if it
-were swimming, gliding without the least apparent exertion. Then all at
-once it stops in its flight and remains suspended in one position for a
-quarter of an hour at a stretch, held there by an invisible movement of
-the wings.
-
-“The kite is of a deep red hue on the back and rust-colored on the
-breast and stomach, with a whitish head and the large wing-feathers
-black. Its cry resembles a cat’s mewing. It builds its nest in tall
-trees or, still oftener, in the hollows of rocks. Its eggs, commonly
-three in number, are white shading into dingy yellow and speckled with
-a few irregular brown spots.
-
-“The birds known as harriers have a small semicircular collar of fine
-thick feathers projecting from each side of the face and reaching from
-beak to ear, much like the ring around the hornless owl’s eyes. In the
-contour of the breast, in the long legs and wings, and in the still
-longer tail, they have something of the falcon’s appearance and
-bearing; while in their large head and in the little collar around the
-face they are not unlike the nocturnal birds of prey. Harriers frequent
-marshes and the banks of stagnant bodies of water, where they lie
-concealed among the rushes in order to seize any small rodents,
-reptiles, or insects that may come within their reach. The farmer has
-no complaint to bring against them, as they show proper respect for his
-little pigeons, chickens, and ducklings. Indeed, they are welcome
-visitors on account of their strong liking for field-mice.
-Unfortunately, the hunter accuses them of killing game, especially
-water-fowl, hares, and rabbits.
-
-“In this connection it is to be noted that the weasel, a small
-carnivorous quadruped with a thirst for blood, is wont to make its way
-into warrens in quest of young hares and rabbits, in order to suck
-their blood, after which the dead bodies are left behind some bush.
-These murderous operations do not escape the harrier’s vigilance. In
-its leisurely flights it keeps a sharp eye on the surroundings of all
-warrens in the woods, for the purpose of carrying off any dead bodies
-and feasting on the weasel’s leavings. That it may occasionally be at
-fault and mistake a live rabbit for a dead one, I should not dare deny;
-but after all I forgive it willingly enough, and in consideration of
-its war on field-mice I should be inclined to bestow upon it the
-honorable title of farmer’s helper.
-
-“If we may feel some uncertainty about harriers, there is no such doubt
-concerning buzzards. In them we certainly have very valuable helpers,
-large eaters of field-mice and meadow-mice, and great destroyers of
-moles, those tireless burrowers whose numbers must be kept within
-strict limits. Buzzards have a short, wide beak, curving downward from
-the base; wings very long, but not pointed, reaching almost to the tip
-of the tail; strong legs, and the space between the eyes and nostrils
-bristling with hairs.
-
-“Buzzards are fond of repose and phlegmatic by nature; or it might be
-more accurate to say that they are endowed with a remarkable capacity
-for patient and motionless waiting, a gift very necessary for the
-successful hunting of the field-mouse, which must be watched for by the
-hour at the mouth of its burrow. For half a day at a time, if need be,
-the buzzard lies in wait without making the least movement or giving
-the slightest sign of impatience. One would take it to be asleep. Then,
-all of a sudden, the bird falls to hacking the soil with its beak and
-tearing the turf with its powerful claws. A disemboweled mole is
-brought to light, or perhaps a field-mouse is the prize, and in either
-event the victim is no sooner caught than swallowed.
-
-“Now do you know what reputation the buzzard has won by this habit of
-long and motionless waiting so indispensable in the quest of game with
-the acuteness of hearing characteristic of the mole and of rodents? The
-reputation of stupidity. We say of a person of limited intelligence
-that he is as stupid as a buzzard. Here again is an instance of that
-wrong-headedness which makes us think little of so many of our helpers
-and glorify those that prey upon us. Stupidity is the name we give to
-the buzzard’s peculiarities, and for no better reason than that the
-bird spares our poultry-yards and rids us of troublesome rodents;
-whereas we speak of the eagle, which steals our lambs, and of the
-falcon, plunderer of chicken-coops, as courageous, noble, and splendid.
-
-“The common buzzard is a large brown bird with a whitish throat,
-stomach-feathers marked with little lines alternately brown and white,
-and tail crossed by nine or ten dark stripes. Its beak is whitish at
-the base and black at the tip, its eyes and legs yellow. This species
-nests in tall trees, the nest being made of interwoven twigs and lined
-with wool and hair. It lays but three eggs at most, which are whitish
-and irregularly sprinkled with dingy yellow spots. It is the common
-buzzard especially that has won the reputation of stupidity with its
-leisurely flying and its patience in watching for prey. It usually
-watches on some mound of earth. Observers who have studied its habits
-say that sixteen is about the number of mice it commonly eats in one
-day, which makes nearly six thousand a year.”
-
-“That’s the kind of bird we should like to have about our houses if we
-could only tame it,” remarked Jules.
-
-“There is nothing to prevent our trying it,” his uncle rejoined. “The
-buzzard’s disposition is good enough. Other observers, who have studied
-its hunting of field-mice, estimate that it eats nearly four thousand
-of these in one year. From this number you can form some idea of the
-multitude of little rodents a whole flock of buzzards would be able to
-destroy. But we must not give the bird too much praise. I know that it
-does not hesitate, when occasion offers, to seize and carry off a
-wounded young hare; and I also know that when the snow is on the ground
-and the buzzard is pressed by hunger, it will pounce upon any stray
-chicken that may have got out of the poultry-yard. But what are these
-few acts of theft when compared with the thousands of rodents of all
-kinds that it clears away from our fields? Whatever the season of the
-year, one cannot open a buzzard’s crop without finding common mice,
-field-mice, and meadow-mice there by the dozen. If I owned a field that
-was ravaged by these rodents, I should lose no time in planting a few
-stumps there to serve as perches and watch-towers for buzzards in their
-patient hunt for their favorite game.
-
-“There is another variety of buzzard, the hawk-buzzard, that does us
-good service in its fondness for larvæ, caterpillars, and insects
-generally, particularly wasps.”
-
-“What, those wasps that hurt so when they sting?” asked Emile.
-
-“Yes, my boy; this buzzard feasts on the wasps whose sting is so
-painful to us; it swallows them without a thought of their sting, just
-as the hedgehog devours the viper and never worries about its venomous
-fangs. The bird attacks their nests with its beak and pulls out the
-nymphs from their cells, carrying them, fat and tender, to its little
-ones.
-
-“This buzzard is a somewhat smaller bird than the common buzzard. Its
-back is brown, its throat light yellow with brown stripes, and its
-breast and stomach white sprinkled with dark heart-shaped spots. The
-tail is crossed by three wide dark bands, the beak is black, and,
-finally, the head of the old male is bluish-gray. The bird nests in
-woods, in tall trees, and its eggs are rather small, being
-yellowish-white in color, but with so thick a sprinkling of large brown
-spots as sometimes almost to hide the color underneath.
-
-“The feather-legged buzzard has legs covered with long feathers, as in
-certain species of pigeons bearing the same qualifying name. It
-frequents river banks, uncultivated fields, and woods, and lives on
-field-mice, moles, reptiles, and if need be on insects.
-
-“Here let us bring to a close our talk on birds of prey. I have told
-you about the more important ones, both diurnal and nocturnal, about
-their habits, their food, and the services or the harm they do us. It
-is now for you to add to what these brief talks have taught you, by
-observing the things that come under your eyes every day. Do not fail
-to examine with some care the buzzard as you see it perched on a mound
-and patiently watching for a field-mouse; also the kestrel as it flies
-screaming around the belfry and pounces, sometimes on a mouse,
-sometimes on a sparrow; and the kite, too, as it soars on motionless
-wings in the blue sky. You will get from this sort of study, first, a
-great deal of pleasure, and, secondly, knowledge that will be highly
-useful if you ever have a farm or a garden.”
-
-“It seems to me,” said Jules, “that you have left out the very
-commonest of the birds of prey, the crows.”
-
-“Crows are not birds of prey,” replied Uncle Paul. “They have not the
-hooked beak, the clutching claws, or the sharp, curved nails of birds
-formed for a life of rapine. I will tell you about them to-morrow; or,
-rather, I will begin with that one of the crow family known as the
-raven.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-THE RAVEN
-
-
-“Their black plumage and similarity of shape make us mistake all sorts
-of birds for crows. Let us begin with one of these, the raven. This
-bird is of good size, being about as large as our domestic rooster, and
-it has a hoarse cry, uttered slowly,—craa, craa, craa. It is the raven
-that has won such a reputation with children from that famous fable
-about the raven and the fox.”
-
-“Yes, I know,” Emile hastened to interpose; “you mean the one that
-begins, ‘Master Raven, perched on a tree, held a piece of cheese in his
-beak.’ Where do you suppose he got that cheese?”
-
-“History remains silent on that important question, but my opinion
-would be that he stole it from some window-sill where the farmer’s wife
-had put out some newly made cheese to dry in a little wicker basket.”
-
-“The fox says good morning to Mr. Raven, and praises his plumage,”
-continued Emile; “and he goes on: ‘How trig and trim you are, how
-handsome you look to me!’ And so on and so forth. How could the raven
-help having a swelled head after such flattery?”
-
-“That fox was certainly a cunning rogue. To make sure that the bird
-will listen, instead of beginning with flattery that might have aroused
-his intended victim’s suspicions (for the bird was not altogether
-lacking in common sense), he began by praising what is really not
-without merit. On a near view the raven is seen to be not by any means
-of a dead black; it shows glints of purple and blue on the back, and a
-flickering greenish tinge on the stomach, the total effect being that
-of some highly polished metal. At the first flattering words you may be
-sure the raven cast a complacent glance at its costume and, seeing it
-brilliant with blue, purple, and green, found it quite as rich as the
-fox declared it to be. So now the bird was well prepared—ready for the
-fulsome flattery that was to follow. The fox would have it believe the
-offensive odor clinging to it from eating so much carrion to be the
-aroma of musk, and its hoarse croaking to be melodious warbling. But
-just there was the difficulty, to make it croak and thus open its
-mouth, which held the cheese.”
-
-
-        “And if that voice of thine
-        Can match thy plumage fine,
-    Thou art the very phenix of all the woods around,”
-
-
-quoted Emile.
-
-“Yes, that’s it,” said Uncle Paul. “Do you see how the sly rascal is
-making headway? He would have the raven believe itself a singer,
-mistake its raucous craa, craa for the note of the nightingale. Had he
-begun with any such extravagant compliment, he would have defeated his
-own ends; but he very cleverly led up to this supreme flattery and, to
-pique the raven’s foolish vanity still further, gave a doubtful tone to
-his admiration. ‘I know,’ was what he seemed to the bird to say, ‘that
-your voice is widely celebrated; but what I am not so sure of is
-whether it matches your splendid plumage, whether you can really sing
-in a manner worthy of so magnificent a costume. I must hear you, and if
-your vocal performance equals your outward appearance, then you will
-indeed prove yourself to be the paragon of birds, the very phenix of
-these forests.’ ‘Ah, you doubt it?’ said the raven to itself; ‘well,
-then, listen to this operatic trill: craa, craa, craa.’”
-
-Emile again took up the fable:
-
-
-        “And so to prove it could
-        Its boastfulness make good,
-    It opened wide its beak and thus let fall the cheese,
-    Which Master Fox did seize——”
-
-
-“Not so fast!” his uncle interrupted him. “Master Fox could not have
-gone on talking with the cheese in his mouth; he could not have pointed
-the moral in that neat little lesson with which the fable ends. I can
-see him putting his paw on the prize while he licks his chops and looks
-tauntingly at the shamefaced bird. ‘My good sir,’ he says, ‘let me call
-your attention to the fact that you are a conceited nincompoop.’”
-
-“He doesn’t call the bird Mr. Raven any more, now that he’s got hold of
-the cheese,” Emile observed.
-
-“No; to call him that was all very well in the beginning; it flattered
-the bird. But now the fox makes fun of his dupe and calls him ‘my good
-sir’ in a tone of patronizing condolence. To express pity for those we
-have cajoled and deceived—is not that the very perfection of roguery?
-There we have, most assuredly, a fox that will make his way in the
-world. Read in La Fontaine, the incomparable story-teller, the
-abominable tricks Master Reynard plays later on the goat, the wolf, and
-many others; or, better, wait a while and we will read them together
-next winter before the open fire. For the present we will leave the
-raven of the fable and try to learn something about the real raven’s
-manner of living.
-
-“Ravens do not flock together as crows do, but live alone or in pairs
-on rocky heights and in the tallest trees. The society or even the near
-neighborhood of its fellows is unbearable to a raven. With angry
-peckings it drives away from its chosen district any of its kind that
-may try to establish themselves there, even though they may have been
-born in the same nest. If the intruder is merely a bird of passage, it
-is conducted with menacing demonstrations to the frontiers of the
-domain and is jealously watched until it disappears in the distance.
-Crows, social creatures, are treated in the same way. The raven asks to
-be left alone, quite alone, on its bare rock, and woe to the
-ill-advised intruder that disturbs its solitude! It builds its nest in
-the topmost branches of a solitary tree or, still more to its liking,
-in some fissure that offers itself in the perpendicular face of a rocky
-precipice. The nest is made of sticks and roots on the outside, and of
-moss, hair, rags, and fine grasses within.”
-
-“I should like to know,” said Jules, “what ravens’ eggs are like.”
-
-“Birds’ eggs are usually remarkable for their beauty, both in shape and
-in color; and for this reason, if for no other, they merit our
-attention. But it is no idle or merely ornamental accomplishment to be
-able to distinguish one from another, to know whether any given egg
-belongs to a useful species that should be respected or to a harmful
-species that should not be allowed to breed in the vicinity of our
-fields and gardens. With this end in view I have already told you the
-characteristic marks of the eggs of our principal birds of prey, some
-of which eggs should be destroyed without any consideration, while
-others should be protected. As this is a matter that interests you, I
-will continue in the same way and will describe the eggs of those birds
-that we are still to talk about.
-
-“Know, then, that ravens’ eggs are much more beautifully colored than
-might be expected from the somber plumage of the bird. They are bluish
-green, with brown spots. This background of bluish green, sometimes
-lighter and sometimes darker, occurs again, together with the brown
-spots, in the eggs of crows, magpies, jays, blackbirds, thrushes, and
-fieldfares, birds that resemble one another closely in their bodily
-structure, despite their marked differences in size, plumage, and
-habits. The eggs of certain blackbirds and fieldfares are of a
-magnificent sky-blue color.
-
-“The raven is an omnivorous creature: fruit, larvæ, insects, sprouting
-grain, flesh, whether in a fresh condition or otherwise, all suit it
-equally well; but its favorite fare is carrion, which it knows how to
-find a long way off, guided by sight and smell. Wherever there is a
-dead animal, there the raven makes its appearance and contends for the
-loathsome quarry with dogs. The habit of gorging itself with this
-infected food gives it a repulsive odor. For lack of dead prey—the sort
-most acceptable to its tastes, its great appetite, and its
-cowardice—the raven hunts such live prey as young hares and young
-rabbits, and other small and destructive rodents. It pilfers from
-birds’ nests both eggs and new-born birds, a succulent banquet for its
-young; and it even has the boldness to carry off little chickens from
-poultry-yards. Without offering the slightest plea in its favor, I
-leave the raven to the hatred it has always incurred by reason of its
-funereal plumage, its forbidding aspect, its sinister croaking,
-repulsive odor, filthy greed, and savage disposition.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-THE CROW
-
-
-“In France we have four kinds of crows: the black crow, the mantled
-daw, the rook or harvest crow, and the jackdaw or little belfry crow.
-
-“The black crow has the same plumage and the same general appearance as
-the raven, but is one-quarter smaller. During the summer these birds
-live in pairs in the woods, which they leave only to get something to
-eat. In the spring their food consists of birds’ eggs, especially the
-eggs of partridges, which they know how to puncture skilfully so as to
-carry them to their young on the point of the beak. Like the raven,
-this bird is fond of decayed flesh and little birds still covered with
-down. Crows attack small, weak, or wounded game, and venture into
-poultry-yards to carry off any unwary ducklings or little chickens that
-may have strayed away from their mothers. Spoiled fish, worms, insects,
-fruit, seeds, according to season and locality, fill their crop. They
-especially like nuts, which they know how to break by letting them fall
-from a sufficient height.
-
-“In winter black crows gather in large flocks, either in an unmixed
-company or together with rooks and mantled daws. They go wandering
-about in the fields, mingling with the flocks and sometimes even
-alighting on a sheep’s back to hunt for vermin under the wool. They
-follow the plowman to feed on the larvæ turned up by his plowshare; and
-they explore the seeded ground and eat recently sown grain made tender
-and sweet by germination. Toward evening they fly together to the tall
-trees of some neighboring wood, where they chatter noisily as the sun
-sets, and smooth their feathers, and finally go to sleep. These trees
-are meeting-places where every evening the crows gather from different
-quarters, sometimes from several miles around. At daybreak they divide
-into flocks of greater or less size and disperse in all directions to
-hunt for food in the tilled fields.
-
-“At the end of winter this company is broken up, the crows pair off,
-and each pair chooses in the neighboring forests a district a quarter
-of a league in extent, from which every other couple is excluded, this
-arrangement ensuring sufficient subsistence for each establishment in
-the bird colony. The nest is built in some tree of medium size, and is
-made of small twigs and roots interwoven and rudely cemented with loam
-or horse dung, a mattress of fine rootlets being laid inside. If some
-bird of prey happens to come too near this nest, its owners assail the
-intruder with fury and crack its skull with a blow of the beak.”
-
-“Good for you, brave crows!” cried Emile. “Your enemies will think
-twice before they come and bother you.”
-
-“I admire the courage of crows in protecting their young,” Uncle Paul
-admitted; “but I cannot forgive them their plundering of poultry-yards,
-their thefts of young birds and eggs, and their upturning of seeded
-ground. We must then include the black crow among bandits that are to
-be destroyed.
-
-“In the same class, too, we must place the mantled daw, so called from
-the sort of grayish-white cloak that reaches from the shoulders to the
-tail both in front and on the back. The rest of the plumage is black,
-with glints of blue, like the raven’s. This bird comes to us toward the
-end of autumn, joins the company of black crows and rooks, and may be
-seen searching our fields for larvæ and sprouting grain. On the
-seashore, where its numbers are much greater than in the interior, it
-lives on fish and mollusks cast up by the waves or left by fishermen.
-Only under dire necessity will it touch carrion, the favorite food of
-the black crow and the raven. In March the mantled daw leaves us, to go
-and breed in the North.
-
-“The rook, which is a little smaller than the black crow, has the
-latter’s plumage, but with more of a violet and coppery luster. Its
-beak, too, is more nearly straight and has a sharper tip. It is readily
-distinguished from the crow and the raven by the characteristic mark of
-its occupation, the skin of its forehead and around the beak being bare
-of feathers and looking white and powdery, like a scar. Is the bird
-born like that? Not at all. Just as a workman handling rough and heavy
-objects makes his hands callous, so the rook acquires by its work the
-rough and scaly skin so noticeable on its forehead. It is a tireless
-digger and its beak is its pick, which it thrusts into the ground as
-deeply as it can. From constant friction with the soil the forehead and
-the base of the beak lose their feathers and become bald, or even have
-the skin itself worn away so as to leave a rough scar. The rook’s
-object in this toilsome operation is to capture white worms and all the
-destructive larvæ that are such a scourge to our cultivated fields. I
-saw some rooks one day hard at work in a waste tract of land, lifting
-up and turning over the stones scattered here and there. So eager were
-they that they sometimes threw the smaller stones as high as a man’s
-head. Now guess what they were looking for so busily. They were looking
-for insects and all sorts of vermin. In this work of turning over
-stones and digging in the soil rooks cannot fail to injure their tool,
-the beak, and they must rub the feathers off from its base.
-
-“I should have a high opinion of these birds if they contented
-themselves with hunting insects; but unfortunately they have a decided
-fondness for sprouting seeds, a dainty dish that they exert all their
-ingenuity to procure. It is said that they bury acorns and leave them
-in the ground until they begin to sprout and have lost their bitter
-taste, when they dig them up and eat them.”
-
-“What a bright idea!” Emile exclaimed. “The hard, bitter acorn is
-buried in the ground to get mellow, and when the rook thinks it has
-stayed there just long enough he has so good a memory he can go and
-find it again and dig it up. By that time it is just right to eat, soft
-and sweet and a fine feast for Mr. Rook.”
-
-“So far there is nothing to find fault with,” said Uncle Paul. “A
-bushel more or less of acorns is a small matter, and I willingly hand
-them over to the rooks to dispose of in their curious fashion. But
-other sprouting seeds suit them equally well, especially wheat, which
-they can so easily procure in winter in the recently sown fields. When
-I see a flock of rooks sedately pacing the furrows and plunging their
-beaks in here and there where the ground is softened by a thaw, I know
-well enough those birds might pretend they were hunting for June-bug
-larvæ, but he would be a simpleton indeed who accepted this explanation
-at that time of year, when the worms are all too deep in the ground for
-the rook’s beak to reach them. It is wheat they are really after, and
-as rooks go in very large flocks, which may even darken the sky in
-their flight, you can easily understand that such reapers make short
-work of their harvest. Nor is that all: in the autumn rooks consume
-great quantities of walnuts and chestnuts, and in the spring they dig
-up potato fields to obtain the newly planted tubers.”
-
-“Couldn’t they live on dead animals, as the black crow and the raven
-do?” asked Louis.
-
-“No; a rook, however hungry, will not touch a dead animal. It must have
-seeds and fruit or larvæ and insects; and as it chooses one or the
-other of these kinds of food, the rook is our foe or our friend. So
-there are two opinions about the bird. Some persons, remembering only
-its thefts, would wage a relentless war against it, feeling that each
-rook destroyed means a bushel of wheat gained. Others, mindful chiefly
-of its destruction of larvæ and insects, maintain that the rook
-deserves kind treatment at the farmer’s hands because it rids his
-fields of vermin, following the plowman to pick up white worms in the
-furrows and plunging its sharp beak into the ground for the grubs of
-the June-bug. For these excellent reasons they declare the rook worthy
-of our protection.”
-
-“Then which of the two opinions are we to accept?” was Louis’s query.
-
-“To my thinking, neither of them, but something half-way between, as in
-the case of the mole. If white worms abound, let us bear with the rook,
-as it makes war on these enemies of ours; but if we have no need of its
-help, let us chase the bird from our fields. In our warfare on
-destructive insects we have two real helpers, the mole and the rook;
-but unfortunately we have to weigh their ravages against their
-services. Accordingly, let us treat them with forbearance if we have a
-worse ill to dread, but rid ourselves of their presence if our fields
-are in good condition.
-
-“All the year round the rook lives with its own kind. It goes in flocks
-to seek food, and in flocks it chooses its breeding-place. Sometimes a
-single oak has a dozen nests, with as many in each of the trees around,
-over a large tract of ground. There is great commotion in this aërial
-city at the time of nest-building, for rooks are very clamorous and
-also much given to stealing from their neighbors. When a young and
-inexperienced couple suspend building operations for a moment, to go
-and get further material for construction, the neighbors pillage the
-half-completed nest; this one carries off a little stick, that one a
-blade of grass and some moss, to use in their own work. On their return
-the robbed ones are thrown into a terrible passion, accuse this one and
-that one, take counsel with friends, and attack the robbers furiously
-if the theft has not been cleverly concealed. Experienced couples never
-leave the nest unguarded, but one stays and watches while the other
-goes for building material.
-
-“The jackdaw or little belfry-crow is all black and about the size of a
-pigeon. Like rooks, these birds fly in flocks and nest with their own
-kind. High towers, old castles, and the belfries of Gothic churches are
-their favorite abode. Their nests, which are made of a few sticks and a
-little straw, sometimes are placed each by itself in a hole in the
-wall, and sometimes are very near together in huddled groups. The
-jackdaw when flying keeps uttering a harsh and piercing cry. It feeds
-on insects, worms, larvæ, and fruit, but never on decayed flesh. It
-renders us some service by clearing trees of caterpillars, but I
-complain of it for hunting the eggs of little birds. Although jackdaws
-are always to be found about our old buildings, they nevertheless move
-from place to place, usually in large flocks, sometimes of their own
-kind exclusively, at other times in company with rooks and mantled
-daws.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII
-
-WOODPECKERS
-
-
-In front of Uncle Paul’s house there is a grove of beeches several
-centuries old, its branches interlacing at a great height and forming a
-continuous canopy supported by hundreds of tree trunks as smooth and
-white as stone columns. In the autumn that is where Emile and Jules go
-and hunt in the moss for mushrooms of all colors to show to their
-uncle, who tells the boys how to distinguish the edible from the
-poisonous kinds. There, too, they hunt for beetles: the stag-beetle,
-whose large fat head bears enormous branching nippers; great black
-capricorn-beetles that may be seen at sunset running along the dead
-branches and clinging to them, as they go, with their jointed antennæ,
-which are longer than the insect’s body; and long-horn beetles,
-likewise furnished with antennæ of unusual length, and also remarkable
-for their wing sheaths richly colored with blue or yellow or red, with
-spots and stripes of black velvet.
-
-A multitude of birds of many kinds make this grove their abode. There
-the quarrelsome jay fights with one of its own species for the
-possession of a beechnut; there the magpie chatters on a high branch
-and then flies down and alights in a neighboring field, jerking up its
-tail and looking around with an air of defiance; crows have their
-evening rendezvous there; and there the woodpecker hammers away at old
-bark to make the insects come out so that it may snap them up with its
-viscous tongue. Listen to the bird at its work: toc, toc, toc! If it is
-interrupted in its task it flies away with a cry of teo, teo, teo,
-repeated thirty or forty times in quick succession and resembling a
-noisy burst of laughter.
-
-“What bird is it that seems to be making fun of us with such loud
-laughter as it flies off?” Emile and Jules asked each other one day
-when they were watching from their window the woodpeckers and the jays
-at play in the branches of the old beech-trees.
-
-Jacques, their uncle’s gardener, heard them as he was watering the
-cabbage bed. After finishing a series of little trenches to carry the
-water to all parts of the bed, he came up to the window for a talk with
-the boys.
-
-“That bird you see there,” said he, “with green plumage and a red head,
-is a woodpecker. It has several different cries. If it is going to rain
-it says plieu, plieu, in a long-drawn and plaintive tone. When at work,
-in order to keep up its spirits it every now and then gives a harsh
-cry, tiackackan, tiackackan, so that the whole forest echoes with it.
-In the nesting season it gives a quick teo, teo, teo, just like what
-you heard a moment ago.”
-
-“Then it has its nest now in the beech grove?” asked Jules.
-
-“It is at work on it, for all the morning I’ve heard it hammering away
-with all its might. You see, it makes its nest in a hole that it
-hollows out by pecking the trunk of a tree with its beak. It’s a fine
-beak it has, too, so hard and pointed that the bird is always afraid of
-going too deep into the wood. So after two or three good hard pecks it
-skips round to the other side of the trunk to see if it hasn’t bored
-clear through.”
-
-“Bah! you’re only in fun,” returned Jules.
-
-“Not at all,” protested Jacques; “it’s what I’ve heard said, and I’ve
-often seen the woodpecker hurry round to look at the other side of the
-trunk.”
-
-“But the bird must have some other reason than just to see whether or
-not the tree is bored through. I’m going to ask Uncle.”
-
-“Ask him, too, if he knows the ironweed that the woodpecker rubs its
-beak on to make it harder than steel.”
-
-“Your ironweed sounds to me like a fairy tale.”
-
-“Well, I’m only telling you what I’ve heard. I don’t know anything
-about it, myself; but they say it’s a very rare weed and that the
-woodpecker goes to look for it in the mountains so that it may harden
-and whet its beak on it. And anything you touch to that weed becomes as
-hard as the best steel. What a find that would be for my scythe and my
-hedging-bill, my sickle and grafting-knife! I know many a man that
-would give a bag of gold for the woodpecker’s secret.”
-
-The young cabbage plants had by this time received enough water, and it
-was now the lettuce’s turn. Jacques went back to his work and left the
-boys to puzzle over the question whether or not there was any truth in
-this story of the woodpecker’s fear lest it might bore through the tree
-trunk with each peck of its beak. They brought the matter up that
-evening in their talk with their uncle.
-
-“There is both truth and falsehood in what my good Jacques told you,”
-he said. “The true is what he saw with his own eyes, the false what he
-repeats from hearsay among the country folk. He told you correctly
-about the woodpecker’s different cries, which he knows so well from
-having heard them over and over again; and he was right about the
-bird’s way of running around to the other side of the trunk that it has
-just struck several times with its beak. All the rest is false, or,
-rather, an amusing legend with a basis of fact which we will now
-examine.
-
-“Woodpeckers live solely on insects and larvæ, especially those species
-of insects and larvæ that are found in wood. The large grubs of
-capricorn-beetles, stag-beetles, long-horn beetles, and others are
-their favorite dish. To get at them they have to clear away the dead
-bark and bore into the worm-eaten wood beneath. The instrument used in
-this rough work is the bird’s beak, which is straight and wedge-shaped,
-square at the base, fluted lengthwise, and shaped at the point like a
-carpenter’s chisel. It is so hard and durable that, in order to account
-for a tool of such perfection, some simple-minded wood-cutter made up
-the story that has been repeated ever since, the childish story of the
-ironweed. Need I tell you that there is nothing in the world that by
-its mere touch can give to objects the hardness of iron or steel?”
-
-“I had my doubts,” Jules declared, “when Jacques was telling us about
-it; I couldn’t believe in his wonderful weed.”
-
-“The woodpecker has no need to rub its beak against anything to give it
-the hardness necessary for the work to be done; it is born with a good
-strong beak, to begin with, and keeps it to the end, and that beak
-never has to be retempered. It is the continuation of a very thick
-skull which can withstand rather violent shocks, and it is operated by
-a short, strong neck which can keep up its hammering without fatigue
-even should the bird wish to bore into the very heart of a tree trunk.
-After it has drilled its hole the woodpecker darts into it an
-exceedingly long tongue, worm-shaped and viscous—that is, coated with a
-sort of mucilage made by the saliva—and armed with a hard barbed point
-with which it transfixes the larvæ that have been uncovered.
-
-“To climb the trunk of the tree to be operated upon and, for hours at a
-time if need be, to stay there where larvæ seem to be lurking, the
-woodpecker has short, muscular legs which end in stout claws, each foot
-having four talons or toes, two pointing forward and two backward,
-armed with curved nails of great strength. The bird’s way of standing
-on the vertical surface of a tree trunk is made possible not only by
-the division of its talons as I have described them, with their strong
-nails clinging to rough bark, but also by a third support furnished by
-the tail. The large tail feathers are stiff, slightly bent downward,
-worn at the tip, and supplied with rough barbs. When the woodpecker
-starts in on what promises to be a long job, it plants itself firmly on
-the tripod of its tail and two feet and holds itself steady even in
-positions that would seem to be highly uncomfortable. Without fatigue
-and without pause it can strip an entire tree trunk of its dried-up
-bark.
-
-“The objects of its persevering search are the insects hidden under
-this bark. It can tell by the sound made when it strikes the tree with
-its beak whether or not the wood is decayed and full of insects, a
-hollow sound being of good omen to the bird. If the wood does not give
-out this hollow sound, the woodpecker knows that further drilling at
-that point would be but so much labor wasted. In the first case it
-strips off the bark, makes the wood beneath fly this way and that in a
-shower of little chips, clears off the worm-hole dust, and finally
-reaches the plump grub in its snug retreat. In the second case it
-strikes two or three well-directed blows to start the dry bark and
-frighten any insects that may be lurking underneath. Immediately this
-insect population runs in alarm, some to the right, others to the left,
-toward the opposite side of the tree trunk; but the woodpecker, knowing
-well enough what is going on, reaches the other side in time to nab the
-fugitives.”
-
-“Now,” said Jules, “I understand what Jacques was saying. The
-woodpecker doesn’t run around the tree to see whether or not it has
-bored through to the other side, but to gobble up the insects that are
-trying to get away. I thought the woodpecker must be very silly to
-think it could drill right through the trunk of a tree with one peck of
-its beak; but now that I know the real reason of what it does, I see
-that it’s a wonderfully clever bird.”
-
-“I assure you once more that animals have more intelligence than they
-are given credit for. Let us beware of seeing an evil meaning in habits
-and aptitudes that we do not understand. Is it not said of the buzzard
-that it is a stupid bird, just because it shows such patience in
-watching and waiting, perfectly motionless, for the field-mouse it
-suspects to be lurking under the ground? And here we have the
-woodpecker accused of being so foolish as to think it can pierce a tree
-trunk with one blow of its beak, merely because it runs around to
-capture the insects fleeing to the other side! Bear this in mind: there
-is in animals no foolishness except what we ascribe to them from our
-own point of view. Whenever we are able to discover the real motive, we
-always find their actions perfectly logical. And that is only what
-might have been expected, for an animal has no choice in its acts, but
-is made to perform them according to its mode of life as determined
-from the beginning by Divine Wisdom. Man alone is free: by a sublime
-privilege he is left to choose between good and evil, between sound
-reason and blind passion. He seeks and chooses, at his own risk and
-peril, the true or the false, the just or the unjust, the beautiful or
-the ugly. But animals, having no spiritual battles to fight as we have,
-are now what they have always been and always will be; they do to-day
-what they did yesterday and will do to-morrow; for centuries and
-centuries they go on doing the same thing without improvement or
-deterioration, and with an unfailing sense given them by God.
-
-“Woodpeckers spend their lives running around tree trunks from top to
-bottom in order to start the old bark that shelters insects, and
-exploring all fissures with their long, pointed tongue, which is pushed
-down into every hole where worms may possibly be hiding. These birds
-are placed in our forests as keepers. They inspect sickly trees in
-particular, trees honeycombed by vermin, and they examine carefully the
-diseased parts. Occasionally they may chance to attack a healthy part,
-especially in making their nests, and they may thus injure the tree by
-drilling into the live wood. But this damage is more than atoned for in
-the long run, and so I do not hesitate to bestow upon our woodpeckers
-the title of forest-preservers, a title earned by their assiduous
-warfare on insects injurious to wood. Seldom do they leave their
-timber-yard—the trunk and the main branches of the tree—and descend to
-the ground, except when they chance to find an ant-hill, the inmates of
-which they devour with delight. They place their nests at a
-considerable height from the ground, deep down in a round hole bored
-with the beak in the heart of some tree trunk. The bedding consists of
-moss and wool, and the eggs, four to six in number, are in every
-instance white, smooth, and as lustrous as ivory.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII
-
-MORE ABOUT WOODPECKERS
-
-
-“The commonest of our woodpeckers is the green woodpecker, which is
-about as large as a turtle-dove. Its plumage has a richness rarely seen
-in that of any of our other birds. The top of the head and the nape of
-the neck are of a magnificent crimson; two mustaches of the same hue
-adorn the bird’s face; the back is green, the breast and stomach
-yellowish white, the rump yellow, and the large wing-feathers black
-with regular marks of white on the edge. The female has less brilliant
-coloring than the male and its mustaches are black instead of red.
-
-“It is the green woodpecker that you heard in the grove this morning,
-giving its cry of teo, teo, teo. I will not go over what Jacques has
-already told you about its different cries. The green woodpecker is
-passionately fond of ants, and when it discovers an ant-hill it posts
-itself near by and stretches its long viscous tongue across the path
-the ants follow. You know these little creatures’ way of marching in
-long files, one or more, following the exact path taken by the leaders.
-The woodpecker’s viscous tongue is extended across this line of march.
-The ants from behind come up, hesitate a moment before the barricade,
-and then venture upon the tongue, in order to follow their friends
-marching on ahead as if nothing had happened. Immediately we have one
-ant caught, then four, then ten, all struggling in the sticky mucilage
-covering the tongue. The woodpecker does not move, but remains quiet
-until its tongue is quite covered. Nor has it long to wait. Soon the
-living trap, laden with game, is withdrawn into the beak. Ah, that was
-a luscious mouthful! Without leaving the spot the ant-eater repeats
-this performance again and again, laying its tongue on the ground and
-then drawing it in black with ants, until its hunger is satisfied.”
-
-“Animals know more than one would think, as you said a while ago,”
-Emile remarked. “That trick of the woodpecker’s shows it plainly
-enough. Instead of picking the ants up one by one, which would be very
-slow work with such small game, the woodpecker takes them dozens at a
-time. It lays its tongue across their path on the ground, draws it in
-again when it is all plastered over with ants, and the thing is done.
-And the mouthful is well worth the trouble. Who would have thought of
-making a trap of one’s tongue, a trap that catches game with glue?”
-
-“But its passion for ants,” resumed Uncle Paul, “does not make the
-woodpecker neglect its duty as keeper of forests. It goes climbing up
-tree trunks, tapping the sickly parts, and pecking away with blows that
-at a distance sound like hammer strokes. If a passer-by interrupts it
-at its work it does not immediately fly away, but runs around the trunk
-like a squirrel, and from the other side sticks out its head a little
-to see who or what is coming. If the intruder advances, the woodpecker
-goes on around the tree, always keeping on the opposite side until it
-becomes frightened, when it flies off, making the woods ring with its
-sonorous tiackackan, tiackackan. It flies with swift darts and bounds,
-swooping down, then rising, describing a series of undulating arches in
-the air.
-
-“For its nest it bores out a deep hole in soft-wood trees such as firs
-and poplars. Male and female work with lusty blows of the beak, taking
-turns at the hardest part of the task, the piercing of the live wood of
-the trunk, until the worm-eaten center is reached. Chips, wood-dust,
-and decayed fragments are dug out with the feet, and at last the hole
-is deep enough and slanting enough to exclude the light of day. The
-young ones leave the nest before they can fly, and they may be seen
-exercising near it, learning to climb, to run around the trunk of their
-tree, and to cling to it upside down. You will be amused to watch them
-if you ever have the good fortune to be present at the frolics of a
-young family of woodpeckers.
-
-“The great spotted woodpecker is about as large as a thrush. It has a
-wide red stripe across the nape of the neck, the upper part of the body
-is prettily spotted with pure white and deep black, and the under part
-is white as far as the abdomen, which is red, as is also the rump. The
-female has no red on the nape of the neck. The food of this bird is the
-same as the green woodpecker’s. It strikes the tree with quicker,
-smarter blows, and if disturbed in its work it remains motionless in
-the shelter of a large branch with its green eyes fixed on the object
-of its distrust. Its cry is a kind of hoarse, grinding
-trer-rer-rer-rer.
-
-“The variegated woodpecker much resembles the great spotted woodpecker
-in plumage, but is a little smaller. It is adorned with a red cap which
-covers the whole of the upper part and the back of the head, while the
-great spotted woodpecker has only a stripe of this color on the nape of
-the neck. Both these birds are found in the large wooded districts of
-France, and they live on the same diet,—insects, wood-boring larvæ, and
-ants. Also, because of their velvet costume of black and white and
-their scarlet cap, they are both to be ranked among the prettiest birds
-we have.
-
-“Let us add to them the little spotted woodpecker. It is smaller than a
-sparrow, and its dress is that of the great spotted woodpecker. This
-bird is found almost exclusively in the fir forests of the East and of
-the Pyrenees.
-
-“The wryneck is closely akin to the woodpeckers in the structure of its
-feet, whose four toes or talons are divided into two pairs, one
-pointing forward and the other backward, and in its very long and
-viscous tongue which it pushes into ant-hills or stretches out on the
-ground to receive the insects as they pass. It is a small bird, being
-no larger than a lark. Its plumage is watered with black, brown, gray,
-and russet, somewhat like the woodcock’s, but with tints better defined
-and more beautiful in their combined effect. The wryneck is a great
-eater of caterpillars, and it is also passionately fond of ants, which
-it catches as does the woodpecker, with its sticky tongue laid on the
-ground across their path. Its name comes from the habit it has of
-twisting its neck and looking backward with a sort of slow and
-undulating movement like a snake’s.”
-
-“Why does it imitate a snake like that?” Emile inquired.
-
-“It is its way of expressing surprise and alarm; and perhaps it also
-hopes to frighten its foe with the motions. At any rate, it is
-sometimes successful. If a birdnest-hunter climbs up to its hole to
-steal its little ones, the wryneck emits, from the depths of its
-retreat, a sharp hissing and begins to make snake-like movements with
-its neck. The young birds, still featherless, imitate their mother to
-the best of their ability, and succeed so well that the hunter thinks
-he has thrust his hand into a nest of writhing and twisting flat-headed
-vipers. Thoroughly frightened, the boy clambers down, not without
-leaving some shreds of his breeches on the way.”
-
-“Serves the rascal right, too,” declared Emile.
-
-“The wryneck reaches us in April and leaves toward the end of summer.
-It haunts the outskirts of woods and visits gardens and orchards for
-caterpillars. It nests in a hole in a tree trunk and gladly avails
-itself of the woodpecker’s abandoned quarters after furbishing them up
-a little to suit itself. The eggs, which are white and polished like
-the woodpecker’s, rest on a simple little bed of wood-dust that the
-bird dislodges from the walls of its hole with a few blows of its beak.
-
-“Despite the structure of its feet, the wryneck does not climb tree
-trunks and rarely even perches on them, preferring to stay on the
-ground and hunt caterpillars or stretch out its tongue in the ants’
-path, which has given it, in the South, the name of stretch-tongue.
-
-“The nuthatch, on the contrary, though differing from the woodpecker in
-the formation of its claws, is a first-rate climber and spends its life
-running about on the trunks of trees, inspecting every crack and cranny
-for insects and pecking at the old bark. Three of its talons point
-forward, the fourth alone being turned in the opposite direction; but
-for firmness of support the last is worth two of the others, so thick
-and powerful is it, and the nail at the end so strong and hooked. The
-beak resembles the woodpecker’s, being straight, fluted lengthwise, and
-sharply pointed. It is an excellent tool for digging into wood and
-getting out the worms. The tongue cannot be projected like the
-woodpecker’s to catch insects with its glue, nor does the tail serve as
-a support.
-
-“The nuthatch examines old trees with painstaking care, going up and
-down the trunk repeatedly, or around it in a spiral, and sometimes
-visiting a branch above or below or on one side. Every crack is
-explored with the point of the beak, to the accompaniment of the bird’s
-resonant cry, tuee, tuee, tuee, repeated again and again in a
-penetrating tone. Very few insects can escape so careful a search. If
-grubs are lacking, the nuthatch makes a frugal meal of a hazelnut.
-First it fixes the nut firmly in the fork made by two branches, and
-then it hammers away at it, encouraging itself the while by uttering
-its cry, until the hard shell is pierced and the kernel exposed.”
-
-“It must take the bird a long time to crack a hazelnut with its beak,”
-was the opinion of Jules.
-
-“No, it is done very quickly, the beak is so hard and pointed. Very
-quickly, too, a caged nuthatch will break through the woodwork of its
-prison and make an opening large enough to escape through. Not even the
-woodpecker has a better carpenter’s chisel.
-
-“The nuthatch is about as large as a sparrow. All the upper part of its
-plumage is of a bluish ash color, the throat and cheeks are white, and
-the breast and stomach red. A black stripe, starting from the corner of
-the beak, passes over the eye and down the side of the neck. This bird
-nests in a hole in a tree trunk and it knows how, if need be, to make
-the opening of the nest smaller with a little moistened clay. Its eggs,
-from five to seven in number, are laid on moss or wood-dust and are of
-a dingy white dotted with red. It gets its name of nuthatch (which
-means nuthacker) from its way of hacking the nuts it is so fond of.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIV
-
-CLIMBERS—THE HOOPOE
-
-
-“I have been telling you about woodpeckers and the nuthatch,
-insect-eaters with chisel-shaped beaks for cutting into trees and
-getting out the worms hidden in the wood. Then I spoke of the wryneck,
-which does not use its beak for hacking old tree trunks, but can, like
-the woodpecker, stick out its tongue on the ants’ path and catch the
-insects with the glue of its saliva. Now we come to some more
-insect-eaters, but their work is less laborious than that of the
-woodpecker. They do not hack and hew tree trunks, but merely seek their
-prey in the cracks and crannies that serve as its refuge. For this kind
-of hunting they have a long and slender beak that curves slightly
-downward.
-
-“As their name implies, climbers show great agility in climbing. Their
-beak is very narrow, the better to penetrate the cracks in the bark of
-trees, and it is bent like an arch and has a fine point. Their feet
-have three talons pointing forward and one, much stronger, pointing
-backward. We have in France two climbers, one of which is furnished
-with a tail composed of a few long, stiff feathers that serve as a
-support to the bird in climbing, as the woodpecker’s tail serves that
-bird, while the other is not thus equipped.
-
-“The so-called common climber is a tiny bird with whitish plumage
-spotted with brown above and tinged with red on the rump and tail. Its
-life is a most laborious one. It frequents woods, orchards, and the
-trees of our public promenades, where you may see it always busily
-engaged in examining every square inch of the surface of tree trunks in
-order to thrust its slender beak into the cracks of the bark and catch
-any lurking gnats, bugs, caterpillars, or cocoons. It runs down the
-trunk as fast as it runs up, which woodpeckers cannot do, their
-progress always being upward, either in a straight line or spirally. It
-ascends in little leaps and bounds, and helps itself along by propping
-its tail against the tree. Arrived at the top of the trunk, it descends
-quickly and begins the same operations on the next tree. At every step
-it cheers itself up with its sharp, flute-like cry. At nightfall it
-retires into some hole in a tree trunk. There, too, it makes its nest,
-which is formed of fine grasses and bits of moss held together by
-threads from spiders’ webs. Its eggs, from five to seven in number, are
-pure white with red spots.
-
-“The wall-climber, or scaler, makes its way up the perpendicular faces
-of rocks, ramparts, and old walls, prying out all the various insects
-and their eggs that may be lurking in the fissures. With its large
-claws it clings to these vertical surfaces and does not use its tail as
-a support. This bird, which is of about the size of a lark, has
-unusually beautiful plumage of a light ash color, with touches of
-bright red, black, and pure white on the wings. The throat is black,
-and so is the tail, the latter being edged with white at the tip. The
-richness of its coloring and the habit it has of remaining stationary
-in its flight before the rock or other surface it is exploring, just as
-butterflies hold themselves motionless on their wings while they suck
-the honey of flowers with their trumpet, have given it the expressive
-name of butterfly of the rocks. It inhabits the Alps, the Pyrenees, and
-the Jura Mountains. In winter it visits old buildings in our towns.
-
-“The hoopoe is especially remarkable for its double row of long red
-feathers edged with black and white, which, at the bird’s pleasure, are
-made to lie down toward the back or stand upright on the head and
-spread out as a handsome crest. The rest of the plumage is
-wine-colored, except the tail and wings, which are black. The wings are
-also ornamented with white stripes running across them.
-
-“In size this bird is about as large as a turtle-dove. It lives alone
-and prefers to remain on the ground usually, rarely perching unless on
-the lower branches of trees. Its favorite haunts are moist fields,
-which it walks over at a sedate pace, every now and then erecting its
-beautiful crest either from satisfaction at having found a savory
-mouthful or because of being startled by something, for it is a very
-timid bird. With its long beak it digs in the ground for grubs,
-beetles, and crickets; or it gathers ants on its viscous tongue. When
-it has had enough it withdraws to some low branch and there digests its
-food at leisure. At the mating season it says, poo, poo, whence without
-doubt comes its familiar nickname of poo-poo.
-
-“Elegant though it is in appearance, the hoopoe is not at all
-particular about the condition of its nest, which it makes in the
-interior of a worm-eaten tree trunk. It lines the hole with a mortar
-composed of clay and cows’ dung, whereon it places a little bed of dry
-leaves and moss. This nest, so deep and so hard to keep clean, ought to
-be cleared out daily, but the parent bird does nothing about it,
-leaving the filth to accumulate until it forms a rampart all around the
-nest. This barricade may serve as an excellent defense against the
-birdnest-hunter, who would naturally hesitate to thrust his hand into
-the foul mess; and so I will not censure the bird too severely for its
-poor housekeeping.
-
-“The hoopoe is with us only in summer. Toward the first of September it
-crosses the Mediterranean to pass the winter under the warmer skies of
-Africa.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXV
-
-THE CUCKOO
-
-
-In an old pear-tree with dense foliage, at the foot of the garden, a
-black-headed warbler had built its nest. Day by day Jules had watched
-the bird as it brought blades of dry grass, one by one, and wove them
-into the shape of a cup, after which it furnished the interior with a
-hair mattress. Then came the eggs, to the number of five, light
-chestnut in color, marbled with darker streaks. Parting the branches
-very gently in the mother’s absence, and standing on tiptoe, Jules had
-peeped into the nest, but of course without touching anything; he had
-merely cast a rapid glance at the pretty cluster of five eggs lying
-together at the bottom. The laying was over, his uncle told him; now
-would begin the incubation, and in a few days five little creatures,
-blind and featherless, would at the slightest rustling of the foliage
-stretch their yellow beaks wide open in mute appeal for food. Already
-Jules was looking forward to the good time he would have in watching,
-from a distance, the bringing up of the brood, and was planning how,
-when the little birds should have grown a trifle larger, he would put
-some small caterpillars and worms on the end of a stick and drop them
-into the nest for the young ones to eat. Then before long the
-new-fledged warblers would leave the nest and the garden would have
-five more caterpillar-destroyers repaying with their services and
-joyful songs the kind-hearted attentions of their boy friend.
-
-That was what Jules was eagerly looking forward to yesterday, but
-to-day he returns from his visit to the nest with a troubled look on
-his face. A strange thing has happened: with the warbler’s five eggs
-there is a sixth one, a little larger and of a different color. Whence
-comes this strange egg? Who put it in the nest, and why?
-
-Uncle Paul, on being consulted, went to the nest and came back with the
-egg.
-
-“Your warbler’s nest, my dear child,” he said, “has had a fortunate
-escape; but for your visit this morning the young birds would have been
-lost almost as soon as they were hatched. This egg that I have brought
-back is a cuckoo’s egg.”
-
-“But I don’t see how it came to be in the warbler’s nest or what danger
-it threatened to the young birds that are coming.”
-
-“You will see when I tell you the cuckoo’s habits. It is a curious
-story. The cuckoo is the bird that in early spring, when the meadows
-are sprinkled with violets and the trees are just putting forth their
-leaves, keeps repeating its cry of cuckoo, cuckoo, in a clear and
-plaintive tone.”
-
-“I have often heard it,” said Jules, “singing on the edges of woods,
-but have never been able to get a good look at it.”
-
-“I have seen it flying away,” Emile put in, “and it seemed to me pretty
-large.”
-
-“The cuckoo is at least as large as a turtle-dove,” their uncle
-continued. “Its plumage is ashy gray on the back and white underneath,
-with numerous brown crosswise stripes resembling those seen on many
-birds of prey. The wings are long, as is also the tail, which is
-spotted and tipped with white. Despite its likeness to the goshawk and
-sparrow-hawk, the cuckoo is not to be classed as a bird of prey. Its
-talons lack the necessary strength, and its beak, which is rather long,
-is flattened and only slightly curved. Those are neither the hooked
-claws nor the savage beak of a bird living the life of a murderer. The
-cuckoo’s food consists entirely of insects and caterpillars. You
-remember the processionaries of the oak tree, those frightful black
-caterpillars that spin large silken nests against the trunk of a tree
-and bristle with barbed hairs that cause such terrible itching if you
-touch them?”
-
-“Yes,” answered Jules; “and you told us that the cuckoo eats those
-caterpillars.”
-
-“It feasts on them, as it does on all hairy caterpillars; but the hairs
-are rolled up into a ball in the stomach and thrown up through the
-beak. As a greedy devourer of insects and caterpillars the cuckoo
-deserves protection; the only regret is that a multitude of little
-birds most useful to us should be destroyed by it. Let us consider the
-facts of the case.
-
-“The female cuckoo never builds a nest, nor does she know how to hatch
-out her own young; but let us plead the best excuse we can for her. Her
-breast seems to be so formed as not to impart enough warmth to eggs to
-make them hatch; and, more than that, she lays so often throughout the
-summer as to leave her no time for making a home of her own. In short,
-this bird never knows the joy of taking care of her young. It is not
-because she will not hatch her own eggs, but because she cannot. She
-has to leave this work to other birds.”
-
-“Then the cuckoo’s egg I found in the garden nest was left there for
-the warbler to take care of?” Jules inquired.
-
-“Precisely. Now see by what wonderful planning the strange egg comes to
-be adopted by another mother. Bear in mind that the cuckoo lives
-exclusively on insects. The young cuckoo must have caterpillars. Where
-will food of this sort be found if not in the nests of birds that feed
-on insects, as for instance warblers, redbreasts, tomtits,
-nightingales, stonechats, wagtails, and others? It is to just these
-nests that the cuckoo goes. Sometimes it may chance to lay its eggs in
-the nests of birds that live on seeds, such as linnets, bullfinches,
-greenfinches, or yellow-hammers; but even then the choice is wise; for
-if the foster-parents are eaters of seeds they bring up their young on
-worms, which are easier to digest, and so the little cuckoo finds in
-these nests food suited to its needs. But the cuckoo’s eggs are never
-laid in the nests of quails, partridges, or other species whose young
-are granivorous from the beginning. In a brood whose habitual diet was
-not theirs the changelings would surely die of hunger.”
-
-“But how,” asked Jules, “does the cuckoo know what nests to choose and
-what ones not to choose, when it lays its eggs?”
-
-“If it knew why it laid its eggs where it does, I should have to admit
-that the cuckoo’s sagacity surpassed man’s; but it does not know at all
-the reason for its choice. A wise Providence has arranged everything
-for the bird. The egg—which, judged by the cuckoo’s size, should be as
-large as a pigeon’s or a turtle-dove’s—is hardly as big as a sparrow’s,
-so that it can easily find a place in the warbler’s or even the wren’s
-tiny nest without arousing the adoptive mother’s suspicions. Moreover,
-this egg is variable in its color, as if the better to harmonize with
-the coloring of those with which it will be incubated, whether in this
-or that or the other nest. Sometimes the cuckoo’s egg is ash-colored,
-at other times red, green, or pale blue. It may closely resemble the
-sparrow’s eggs, or it may be mottled with spots of smaller or larger
-size, in lesser or greater numbers; or, again, it may be marbled with
-black streaks. But, despite these variations, it is always easy to see
-the difference between the cuckoo’s egg and the others in a nest. If
-one of the eggs is found to differ from the others in shape and color,
-that one certainly came from the cuckoo. By that sign alone I
-recognized the egg we have here from the warbler’s nest.”
-
-“The other five,” Jules declared, “are as like one another as so many
-drops of water; but the sixth, which you have there, is very
-different.”
-
-“And that is why I am sure it belongs to the cuckoo,” replied his
-uncle.
-
-“The cuckoo seems to me,” said Louis, “very large to be able to get
-into such a small nest as the warbler’s, the redbreast’s, or the
-nightingale’s, so as to lay its egg there.”
-
-“That is not what the bird does. The egg is laid on the ground,
-anywhere; then the mother takes it up in her beak, puts it in a sort of
-pocket at the base of her gullet—a pocket provided for that purpose—and
-flies through the neighboring thickets on the lookout for a place for
-its final reception. When she finds a nest to suit her she stretches
-her neck over the edge, opens her beak, and lets the egg gently drop
-among the others. That done, the cuckoo flies away and never returns to
-learn the result. Other eggs are placed in the same way, here and
-there, one by one, in different nests.”
-
-“And do the owners of the nests make no objections?” asked Jules.
-
-“If they are at home they receive the cuckoo with angry pecks and chase
-her away; but she usually succeeds in choosing the right moment and
-approaches the nest by stealth when the owners are absent.”
-
-“But when they come back they must see at least that there is a strange
-egg in the nest and throw it out.”
-
-“Not at all. Whether or not the mother bird perceives that there is an
-egg too many, I could not say. But at any rate, as there must be
-cuckoos in the world, things are so arranged that their species shall
-not become extinct, and all the eggs in the nest are watched over and
-hatched with impartial care, until the last young bird is out. At first
-all goes well enough: the young ones need but little food, and for one
-more the parents can easily find enough worms. All are fed alike, with
-no more for the children of the house than for the stranger.
-
-“But pretty soon the young cuckoo is found to be growing faster than
-the others; it will soon need for itself alone all the food that its
-foster-parents can possibly secure with the utmost industry; it is
-always opening its wide beak, always complaining of hunger. Moreover,
-it is cramped for room in the little house of hair and wool. Its
-featherless body, squatting there flat and red, its large head, its
-bottomless abyss of a beak, its big, bulging eyes, all give it the
-appearance of a toad sitting at the bottom of the nest. There is no
-longer room in the house for all its inmates, nor yet enough food to
-live on. Then a dreadful deed is done. The young cuckoo slips under one
-of the little birds, takes it on its back, which is hollowed as if for
-the purpose, and holds it there by slightly raising its wings. Dragging
-itself backward to the raised rim of the nest, it rests a moment, and
-then throws the burden over.”
-
-“The horrid creature throws out of the nest the little one of the bird
-that feeds it?” exclaimed Emile incredulously.
-
-“Yes, in cold blood, so as to have more room for itself. With the tips
-of its wings it feels around for a moment to make sure the little bird
-is gone, and then returns to the bottom of the nest to go through the
-same process with another. And so they all go, one after another, to
-the very last; all are thrown out of the nest.”
-
-“I’d like to be there to catch him at it—the scoundrel!” was Emile’s
-comment.
-
-“What becomes of the poor little things pushed out of their own home by
-the ungrateful young cuckoo? If the nest is high above the ground all
-perish, crushed by their fall, and the ants immediately begin to suck
-their blood. If it is low, some live and take refuge in the moss, where
-the mother comes to console them and bring them something to eat. The
-cuckoo remains in sole possession of the nest.”
-
-“And the horrid toad will starve to death there,” said Jules. “The
-father and mother, now that their brood is destroyed, won’t bring it
-anything more to eat.”
-
-“That is where you are mistaken. They continue to feed it liberally, as
-if nothing had happened; they perform wonders to satisfy its big
-appetite; they do not allow themselves a minute’s rest in their efforts
-to fill that beak that is always open and is wide enough to swallow the
-nurses themselves.”
-
-“Then the warbler isn’t afraid of her greedy nursling that might gobble
-her up any moment?” queried Jules.
-
-“Although she is its mother only by chance, she is devoted to it. She
-comes joyfully with a caterpillar at the end of her beak while the
-cuckoo gapes at the edge of the nest, as ugly as a little monster. With
-no tremor of fear the warbler delivers the mouthful by putting her head
-into the yawning gulf. The gulf closes, swallows, and yawns again,
-demanding something more, and all haste is made to satisfy its needs.”
-
-“Kind warbler!” murmured Jules. “What self-denial in order to bring up
-the ugly rascal that has ravaged her nest!”
-
-“So it has to be,” Uncle Paul rejoined, “or we should long ago have
-been left with no cuckoos in the world to help us get rid of the
-processionary caterpillars of the oak-tree.”
-
-“All the same, I don’t like that bird.” And with this Jules took up the
-cuckoo’s egg he had found in the garden nest. “May I?” said he to his
-uncle, with a gesture.
-
-“Yes, I have no objection,” answered Uncle Paul, who preferred five
-warblers in his garden to one vagabond cuckoo. And smack went the egg
-as the boy dashed it to the ground.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVI
-
-SHRIKES
-
-
-“All sorts of absurd stories have been made up about the cuckoo and its
-curious habits, and thus fable has added to the actual facts, which are
-in themselves strange enough. Even to-day there are in circulation any
-number of fairy tales on the subject of this bird. I will tell you a
-few of them in order to put you on your guard against these childish
-notions.
-
-“First, they say cuckoos change their nature twice a year, being
-cuckoos in the spring and sparrow-hawks the rest of the year. According
-to this account, the bird comes to us from some distant country in
-April in its first form on the back of a kite that is so accommodating
-as to serve it as a mount. This mode of travel is adopted by the cuckoo
-to spare its own wings, still too weak to carry it. Undoubtedly the
-bird’s plumage—which, as I have told you, resembles in its brown
-crosswise stripes on the breast the plumage of certain birds of
-prey—has fostered this popular belief in the changing of the cuckoo
-into a sparrow-hawk and of the sparrow-hawk into a cuckoo. People have
-allowed themselves to be deceived by this variegated dress. When the
-bird sings in April and May it is a cuckoo because it has the cuckoo’s
-cry; but when it falls silent in summer it becomes a sparrow-hawk
-because it has the plumage of one. So the cuckoo is changed into a
-sparrow-hawk, and when spring comes again the sparrow-hawk is changed
-into a cuckoo once more. For thousands and thousands of years this
-nonsense has been believed by most people.
-
-“The cuckoo is a migratory bird: it remains with us from April to
-September, but departs for Africa at the approach of winter. To explain
-its reappearance in the spring some one invented the story of its being
-carried on the back of a kite; but I need not assure you that there is
-not a word of truth in this fairy tale. The cuckoo is always a cuckoo,
-and it returns from warmer climes on its own wings, as does the
-swallow. Another legend is that the cuckoo turns into a toad.”
-
-“Isn’t that because the cuckoo, when it is young and before it has any
-feathers, is very ugly and looks like a toad?” asked Jules.
-
-“Exactly. And, finally, the bird is accused of discharging on plants a
-fatal saliva that breeds insects. The truth of the matter is that a
-tiny insect, light green and shaped somewhat like a grasshopper, is in
-the habit of pricking the stems of plants with its sucker to make the
-sap run; and this sap presents the appearance of a white foam that
-looks like saliva. The insect takes its position in the midst of this
-cool and foamy froth to shelter itself from the heat of the sun and to
-drink at its leisure. There you have the real facts in the case.
-‘Cuckoo-spit’ is the name popularly given to the insect. It does little
-harm to plants. In reality, then, the supposed harmful saliva of the
-cuckoo is merely an ingenious means employed by an inoffensive little
-creature to keep itself cool. Many other ridiculous stories are told
-about the cuckoo, but it would be only a waste of time to dwell on
-them. Let us get on.
-
-“We have already had occasion several times to speak of our doubtful
-helpers, those co-workers whose valuable services are offset by certain
-grave offenses. You have just seen how that devourer of hairy
-caterpillars, the cuckoo, is guilty of the blackest ingratitude toward
-the warbler, its nurse, in brutally throwing out of their nest the
-little birds which would have become model caterpillar-destroyers. That
-is a rather high price to pay for the destruction of oak-tree
-processionary caterpillars. To finish the list of these birds whose
-conduct deserves, from an agricultural point of view, both praise and
-blame, I will tell you about the shrike, a great insect-destroyer, but
-also a barbarous slaughterer of small birds.
-
-“Despite their diminutive size—the largest shrike being hardly as big
-as a thrush—these birds have the fierce boldness of the most powerful
-birds of prey. They will even pursue any falcon that ventures near
-their nest. Their diet consists chiefly of large insects; but
-unfortunately they also pounce on little birds, greedily devouring
-their brains and afterward tearing their flesh to shreds and eating it
-too. For this life of rapine they have a strong hooked beak, toothed
-toward the tip of the upper mandible, and powerful talons ending in
-sharp nails that resemble in miniature the claws of birds of prey. We
-have in this country four species of shrikes.
-
-“The common shrike is of the size of a blackbird, and its plumage is
-ashy gray above and white underneath. A wide black stripe, starting
-from the beak, continues around the eye and runs down over the cheek.
-The wings and tail are black, ornamented with white. The bird likes to
-perch on lofty tree-tops, where it keeps repeating its cry of truee,
-truee, in a piercing tone. In flying from tree to tree it looks as if
-it were going to alight on the ground; but presently it rises again,
-describing a graceful curve in the air. Its food consists chiefly of
-field-mice and large beetles, but occasionally of small birds which it
-catches on the wing. It likes to build its nest in tangled and thorny
-hedges, and lays from four to six eggs, reddish in color and encircled
-toward the large end by a ring of brown spots. Similar rings are found
-placed in the same way on the eggs of our various other shrikes and
-furnish a distinctive and easily recognizable characteristic mark.
-
-“The black-headed shrike can be recognized, as its name indicates, by
-the wide black stripe that encircles the forehead. This bird is of
-about the lark’s size and has the plumage of the common shrike except
-on the stomach, which is reddish. The eggs, white tinted with red, have
-the ring at the large end formed of numerous little spots, red, brown,
-or violet in color.
-
-“The red shrike is slightly smaller. The top of its head and the back
-of its neck are bright red, the stomach and rump white. Otherwise the
-plumage is like that of the two species just described.
-
-“The red-backed shrike is the smallest and the best-known of our
-shrikes. It is ash color on the head and rump, chestnut red on the
-back, and light red underneath. A black ring encircles the eye, the
-throat is white, and the large tail-feathers and wing-feathers are
-black.
-
-“These last three shrikes that I have named can at will imitate the
-various cries of small birds, and they make use of this talent, it is
-said, to lure them to their destruction. The red-backed shrike is
-especially expert in this. It first hides in some dense shrubbery and
-then imitates the song of whatever species it hears chirping in the
-neighborhood. The imprudent ones come at its call, which they think
-proceeds from one of their own kind, and the red-backed shrike pounces
-on them as soon as it has them well within reach. But this trick
-succeeds only with inexperienced little birds, the older ones knowing
-it and taking care not to be deceived. The captured bird is skinned
-before being eaten, and that is the origin of the French name
-(écorcheur, flayer) given to this fourth species of shrike. The others,
-however, share this habit. As they lack the faculty of rolling the
-feathers into a ball and throwing them up after digestion, as do the
-hornless owls, these birds take the precaution to prepare the game
-beforehand by tearing off the skin in shreds. It is a quick way of
-plucking their victim. Notwithstanding its talent in imitating the
-calls of other birds, the red-backed shrike is not so lucky as to make
-dupes every day. In case of failure the shrike contents itself with
-common mice, field-mice, grasshoppers, June-bugs, and fat beetles. Such
-is the shrike’s passion for beetles that when it has eaten all it can
-it continues to hunt them just for the fun of hunting; and, not knowing
-what to do with the captured insects, it impales them on the thorns of
-bushes. Perhaps that is its way of stocking its larder with food and
-letting it acquire a strong flavor like venison, a flavor much to its
-taste.
-
-“The other shrikes also have this mania for laying up reserves of
-beetles stuck on thorns, reserves which the bird does not always come
-back for, and which often dry up on the spot without being touched. But
-this waste of game is of little consequence, as the final result is
-always to our advantage: we are delivered from a multitude of foes by
-these eager hunters. When they do us such service shall we count it an
-unpardonable crime that they sometimes allow themselves the pleasure of
-feasting on little birds? For my part I should be very reluctant to do
-so. I pity with all my heart the poor little bird that foolishly lets
-itself be caught by the shrike; but I also have a lively sympathy for
-the beautiful tree which, if bereft of its defenders, would soon be
-given over to the worms and honeycombed with holes all packed with
-filth.
-
-“The red-backed shrike frequents groves, orchards, and gardens. It
-nests in thick hedges, sometimes in the interlacing branches of
-apple-trees. Its eggs are white tinged with red. The ring at the large
-end is composed of brown, gray, and greenish spots. In building its
-nest the bird uses a kind of everlasting that grows abundantly in the
-fields and has stems all covered with a white cotton-like fluff. The
-inside of the nest is furnished with a couch of little twigs and fine
-rootlets interwoven and comfortably overlaid with wool, down, and
-horsehair. The other shrikes use in their nests the same materials,
-especially the everlasting with its white fluff.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVII
-
-THE TITMOUSE
-
-
-“At last we come to some caterpillar-destroyers that are never anything
-but helpful. First of all there is the titmouse, also known as the
-tomtit.
-
-“It is a graceful little bird, lively and quick-tempered, always on the
-go, flying continually from tree to tree, carefully inspecting the
-branches, hanging from the tip ends of the slenderest of them in all
-sorts of positions, often head downward, swaying this way and that with
-its flexible support and never letting go its hold, while it examines
-all buds that it suspects of containing worms, and tears these buds to
-pieces in order to get at the grubs and insect eggs they contain. It is
-calculated that a titmouse consumes three hundred thousand insect eggs
-a year, and certainly few birds have larger families to provide for!
-Twenty or more little ones all huddled together in the same nest are
-not too great a strain on the parent’s energy and industry. The mother
-bird has to examine buds and the fissures in the bark of trees in order
-to find grubs, spiders, caterpillars, worms of every kind, and feed a
-score of beaks always open and demanding food in the bottom of the
-nest. She comes with a caterpillar, the brood is all excitement, twenty
-mouths fly open, but only one receives the morsel, leaving nineteen
-still expectant. Then away flies the titmouse again without an
-instant’s pause, to seek more food. Thus back and forth she flies,
-without rest and without weariness; and by the time the twentieth mouth
-is fed the first one is again open, and has been open a good while,
-clamoring for more.
-
-“I will leave you to guess how many worms are eaten in a day by such a
-household; and I will also let you reach your own conclusions regarding
-the value of these birds as caterpillar-hunters among our fruit-trees.
-Complaint is made, I know, that they tear open the buds and destroy
-them; but the harm they do is only apparent. When they pluck a bud it
-is to get out some tiny larva lodged between two scales, and not to
-harm the young leaves or flowers that are forming. It is better that
-this wormy bud should perish; it would not have produced anything, and
-the enemy lodged within it would have produced countless others to
-ravage the tree the next year.”
-
-“Then the titmouse does not feed on vegetable matter?” asked Louis.
-
-“No, except perhaps occasionally on a few seeds, such as those of hemp.
-The bird requires animal food; small insects of all kinds, their eggs
-and larvæ, suit it best. Its appetite for prey is so keen that it has
-the courage to attack little, disabled birds or those caught in snares,
-pecking at their skulls and greedily devouring their brains. It is true
-that the titmouse is remarkably courageous despite its smallness of
-size; it is extremely quick and quarrelsome, and a regular little ogre
-in time of famine. Its beak is conical, strong, short, and pointed; and
-its claws end in hooked nails designed for seizing their victims, like
-the talons of birds of prey. With these the bird grasps its food and
-conveys it to its beak, like the parrot.
-
-“At the end of the brooding season the tomtits all assemble in
-companies of one or two families each and travel together by short
-stages. These companies appear to have a leader, probably the father or
-the mother, and every now and then they are called together from one
-tree to another, after which they separate again, only to reunite once
-more at the leader’s summons. Their flight is short and irregular: they
-scatter through the woods, gardens, fields, and orchards, inspecting
-trees and bushes on the way and picking up larvæ and insects.
-
-“The titmouse family is made up of many species. We have eight in our
-country, but I shall speak only of the principal ones.
-
-“The coal-tit is the largest, being of about the redbreast’s size. It
-is bluish gray on the back and yellow underneath. The head is of a
-beautiful glossy black, and a wide stripe of the same color runs down
-the middle of the chest and stomach and around the eyes, which are also
-set off by a large white spot. The large wing-feathers are edged with
-ashy blue.
-
-“This bird is very common in copses and gardens, and is the one we hear
-in autumn repeating, as it examines the bark of fruit-trees, its cry of
-titipoo, titipoo, titipoo. At times this cry has a harsh sound like the
-rasping of a file, and this has given to the bird, in some
-neighborhoods, the name of locksmith. It nests in a hollow tree trunk,
-lining its quarters with some soft, silky material, chiefly fine
-feathers. Its laying consists of about fifteen white eggs spotted with
-light red, especially toward the large end. Its family demands not
-fewer than three hundred caterpillars a day, or their equivalent in
-vermin of some sort. What the gardener, the nurseryman, and the
-forester owe this valiant caterpillar-destroyer by the end of the year
-cannot be calculated. Yet I have seen these very persons angrily thrust
-an arm into the hollow trunk of an old apple-tree to pull out the
-coal-tit’s nest and throw the whole thing to the winds,—eggs, feathers,
-and little birds only a day old. And they thought they were doing
-something worthy of praise, for according to them the coal-tit eats
-buds. But I declare that the coal-tit does not eat buds; it eats the
-little larvæ lodged in the bud’s scales, and its instinct never allows
-it to molest healthy buds, which contain nothing of any value to the
-bird. Leave it in peace, then, to pluck the wormy buds, which it can
-very easily tell from the sound ones.
-
-“The coal-tit sometimes eats hemp-seed or hazelnuts, picking out the
-edible part with a dexterity of beak and claw—I had almost said
-hand—possessed by no other bird. The sparrow, chaffinch, goldfinch, and
-others crush the hemp-seed between their mandibles; the coal-tit grasps
-it in its claw, carries it to the beak, and makes in the shell a small
-round opening through which it picks out the meat. The hazelnut is
-managed with the same skill.
-
-“The blue tit is a beautiful little bird that keeps company with the
-coal-tit and frequents orchards. It is olive-colored above and yellow
-underneath, with the top of the head an azure blue, the forehead white,
-and the cheeks white framed in black. A little collar of black also
-encircles the back and sides of the neck. The large feathers of the
-tail and wings are edged with blue. This titmouse, so elegant in
-plumage, so graceful in its bearing, always running about over the bark
-of tree trunks and around the branches, always hanging from the
-flexible boughs, and always pecking and searching, is no whit inferior
-to the coal-tit in its talent for catching caterpillars. It has been
-seen in a few hours to clear a rosebush of two thousand plant-lice.
-Caterpillars and the eggs of insects, especially of those that attack
-fruit, are its chief food. It is very fond of little birds’ brains, but
-if need be can get along with hemp-seed. Like the coal-tit, it nests in
-a hollow tree trunk, its nest being nothing but a heap of small
-feathers. No other species raises a larger family. The eggs are more
-than twenty in number, white with reddish spots, especially at the
-large end.
-
-“Two other tomtits, of less value as caterpillar-destroyers, build
-their nests with much art. They are the long-tailed titmouse and the
-penduline.
-
-“The first of these is different from all other tomtits in the length
-of its tail, which forms more than half the length of the body. This
-bird lives in the woods during the summer and visits our gardens and
-orchards only in the winter. It is a small bird, scarcely bigger than a
-wren, reddish gray on the back and white underneath, with a tinge of
-red on the stomach and with white nape and cheeks.
-
-“The nest is occasionally built in the fork of some branch in bush or
-hedge, a few feet from the ground, but oftener it is attached to the
-trunk of a willow or a poplar. Its shape is that of an elongated oval
-or, rather, an enormous cocoon enlarged at the base, with an entrance
-on the side about an inch from the top. The outside is made of lichens
-such as grow on old tree trunks, having thus the appearance of bark and
-deceiving the casual observer. Filaments of wool bind the whole
-compactly together. The dome or roof, ingeniously contrived for
-shedding rain, is a thick felt of moss and cobweb. The inside is like
-an oven with a bowl-shaped bottom and high arched top. Its shape and
-the thick layer of soft feathers lining it make the nest warm and cozy.
-From sixteen to twenty young birds are packed into the narrow space,
-which does not exceed the hollow of the hand. By what miracle of
-orderly arrangement do these twenty little creatures and their mother
-manage to find room for themselves in this tiny abode, and how can
-tails of such length develop there? It would be impossible to find
-anywhere a more economical use of space.”
-
-“How I should like to see the twenty little tomtits snuggling together
-in that tiny nest!” Emile exclaimed.
-
-“I have had that good fortune,” said his uncle, “and even now I am
-strangely moved whenever I think of those twenty little heads
-stretching up from the bottom of the nest, trembling and with open
-beaks as if their mother had come. I looked for a moment through the
-opening of the nest at the tiny creatures, and then withdrew. The
-parents were already at hand, ruffling their feathers with anxiety.
-Fear nothing, little birds, so watchful of your family; Uncle Paul is
-not one to commit the crime of touching your nest.”
-
-“Nor Emile, either,” chimed in the boy.
-
-“Nor yet Jules or Louis,” added the last-named.
-
-“I hope not, indeed; for otherwise Uncle Paul would tell you no more
-stories.
-
-“The penduline’s nest is still more remarkable. This titmouse is found
-hardly anywhere except along the banks of the lower Rhone. It hangs its
-nest very high, from the tip of some swaying tree branch by the
-waterside, so that its young are gently rocked by the breeze from the
-water. The nest is a sort of oval purse about as large as a quart
-bottle and pierced on the side near the top by a narrow opening that
-would hardly admit a man’s thumb. To enter its nest the tomtit, small
-though it is, must stretch the elastic wall, which yields a little and
-then contracts again. This purse-shaped abode is made of the
-cotton-like fluff that flies off in May from the ripe catkins of
-poplars and willows. The bird gathers this material and then weaves it
-together with a warp of wool and hemp. The resulting fabric resembles
-the felt of a coarse hat.
-
-“I am at a loss to understand how the bird manages to weave with its
-beak and claws a stuff superior to any that the unaided human fingers
-could produce; and yet it does this with no instruction, with no
-hesitation, and with no hints from the work of others. At its very
-first attempt the titmouse puts to shame the studied art of our weavers
-and fullers. The top or roof of the nest includes in its structure the
-tip of the branch from which it hangs and also the little twigs growing
-out of that tip end which serve as a framework for the vault; but the
-foliage emerges from the sides of the nest and furnishes shade from the
-sun’s heat. Finally, to secure the nest more firmly, cordage of wool
-and hemp binds the upper part to the branch and below is worked into
-the woof of the felt. The inside is lined with poplar fluff of the best
-quality. It takes a pair of pendulines three weeks of the hardest work
-to make this marvel.”
-
-“Doesn’t the rain ever get through the covering of the nest?” Emile
-inquired.
-
-“No; the felt is so thick and so closely woven that even with the
-hardest rain not a drop of water can leak into the cotton-lined
-interior.”
-
-“How comfortable the little birds must be in their snug nest! The wind
-rocks them gently over the water, and from their little window they can
-see the river flowing below. What is this clever penduline like?”
-
-“It is ash-colored, with brown wings and tail, and a black stripe
-across the forehead. Its dress is simple, you see, as is always the
-case with those that possess real merit. The blue tit has rich plumage,
-but when it comes to nest-building it can only pile feathers on top of
-one another at the bottom of a tree-hollow. The penduline is of modest
-appearance, but it builds the most wonderful nest it is possible to
-find. To each his portion, talent or fine clothes.”
-
-“All of us here choose talent,” declared Jules.
-
-“Never, my children,” urged Uncle Paul, “be untrue to that sentiment.”
-
-“We should have to forget your teachings,” the other replied, “before
-we could do that.”
-
-“And what are the eggs like?” asked Emile.
-
-“Emile is bound to have all I can tell him about the penduline. Does
-this builder of felt nests interest you, then, so very much?”
-
-“Yes, it does,” Emile assured him.
-
-“Well, the eggs are quite white and rather long. There are three or
-four of them to a nest.”
-
-“No more than that, when the other tomtits have twenty?”
-
-“No more; but to make up for it there are two layings a year.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVIII
-
-THE WREN AND THE KINGLET
-
-
-“Another highly talented architect, past master in the building of
-nests, is the wren, known in learned language as the troglodyte. If you
-ask me the meaning of this strange name I shall reply that it is a
-Greek word signifying ‘dweller in holes.’ Some inventor of names, more
-in love with Greek than desirous of being understood, thought he was
-doing a fine thing when he gave this big name to the little bird that
-worms its way into small holes as a mouse would. Perhaps my description
-will be more easily understood than his hard name. The troglodyte or
-wren is a fluffy bunch of plumage resembling that of the woodcock. With
-trailing wings, beak to windward, and tail erect over its rump, it is
-always frisking and hopping about, uttering the while its cheery cry of
-teederee, teeree, teeree.”
-
-“I know that bird,” Jules broke in. “It isn’t much bigger than a
-walnut, and every winter it comes flying about the house, hunting in
-the woodpile and in holes in the walls, and darting into the thickest
-parts of bushes. From a distance you would take it for a bold little
-rat.”
-
-“That is it, that is the wren. In summer it lives in densely grown
-woods. There, under the arch formed by some large upward-curving root
-coated with a thick fleece of moss, it builds a home for itself in
-imitation of the penduline’s nest. The materials it uses are bits of
-moss, which make the nest look like its support. It forms them into a
-large hollow ball with a very narrow opening on one side. It is lined
-with feathers. Occasionally the wren builds its nest in some chimney or
-a pile of fagots, a thick clump of ivy or a natural cavity in the bank
-of a shady stream. The laying consists of about ten white eggs dotted
-with red at the large end.
-
-“When the weather turns cold, the bird leaves the woods and approaches
-our farm-houses. You can see it then, always busy and on the move,
-prying into dark holes in woodpiles, old walls, dead trees, and thick
-bushes, looking in every crack and cranny for all kinds of vermin that
-take up their winter quarters in the fissures with which old bark is
-furrowed and in the cracks that occur in weather-beaten mortar. To gain
-an idea of their unceasing activity in this sort of research, you have
-only to watch them once as they go prying into a heap of brush, flying
-in and out on all sides of it without a moment’s pause for rest.”
-
-“Yes,” assented Jules, “but it is so tiny a creature it can’t do much
-work.”
-
-“If the wren hunted big game, certainly at the end of the day it would
-not have captured its prey by the dozen. What could such a little thing
-do with a June-bug? It would not come to the end of such a supply of
-food for several days.”
-
-“And the June-bug would be too hard for its beak, too,” remarked Jules.
-
-“What it needs is the smallest of caterpillars and the tiniest of
-gnats, which make a more delicate mouthful and are better adapted to
-the bird’s small throat. I need not remind you that the worst foes to
-our crops are the smallest. A grub too tiny to catch the eye endangers
-our cereals, and others equally small ravage our fruit while it is
-still in the bud. How much does it take to destroy a blossom that would
-produce a pear the size of your two fists? One single larva just
-visible to the naked eye. Well, the wren attacks these tiny foes of
-ours that are all the more troublesome because we cannot see them
-easily. Now guess how many little caterpillars a day the wren needs for
-feeding its brood. Observers whose patience I admire have calculated
-the number.”
-
-“Let us say ten caterpillars to each little bird,” replied Jules, “and
-ten little birds in the nest. That would make a hundred caterpillars a
-day, and it is certainly a lot.”
-
-“A lot! Ah, how far out you are in your reckoning! The mother wren
-brings something to her little ones at least thirty-six times an hour.
-She feeds them a mixed diet of insects, larvæ and eggs. At the end of a
-day the number of insects destroyed, of one kind and another, amounts
-to one hundred and fifty-six thousand. That leaves your paltry hundred
-a long way behind, my dear Jules.”
-
-“Then the caterpillars must be very small, or the brood of wrens would
-die of indigestion.”
-
-“Undoubtedly they are exceedingly small, and then a great many are not
-even hatched yet; but the result as far as we are concerned is just as
-important, so many eggs devoured meaning so many ravagers the fewer a
-little later.”
-
-“Supposing,” said Louis, “that the wren takes only the worms that
-attack pears, that would be one hundred and fifty-six thousand pears
-the little birds would save for us in one day?”
-
-“Evidently.”
-
-“But that is beyond belief.”
-
-“I admit that the result is very great in comparison with the means
-employed. A tiny bird that nobody notices goes pecking here and there,
-and we find that at the end of the day the caterpillar-eater has
-destroyed, either in the egg or in the nymph-stage or in the final
-form, thousands of insects which, if allowed to live, would have
-deprived us of enormous basketfuls of fruit and hundreds of bushels of
-grain. If we were to estimate the value of the crops saved by
-insectivorous birds, it would be a fabulous sum. Leave them, therefore,
-in peace, my children, and do all you can to protect them; for these
-busy little creatures ward off famine from our homes.
-
-“While we are on the subject let us speak of another little Tom Thumb
-of a bird, another caterpillar-destroyer as energetic as the wren. It
-is called the kinglet, that is to say, the little king, on account of
-the crown of golden yellow edged with black that encircles its head. It
-is the smallest of our birds. It is olive-colored above and
-yellowish-white beneath. Its beautiful crown feathers can stand up like
-a crest.
-
-“The kinglet breeds in the cold countries of Europe, and especially in
-the fir forests of Norway. Its nest is a little ball no bigger than
-your fist, open at the top, artistically fashioned outside with moss,
-wool, and spiders’ webs, and lined with the softest down. It rests flat
-on some fir branch at an inaccessible height. The eggs, from six to
-eight in number, are of a uniform flesh color.
-
-“Although very delicate in appearance, the kinglet stands the cold with
-great hardihood. It comes to us from the land of its birth in small
-flocks when the autumnal fogs are gathering and the leaves are falling.
-These flocks of five or six birds at most scatter through the woods,
-public promenades, and orchards, to examine the cracks in bark, to
-explore the heaps of dead leaves, and to inspect the buds while
-clinging to the tips of the smallest branches. Not even the tomtit
-shows itself a more expert gymnast in hanging with head downward and
-working in all sorts of attitudes. The task of destroying caterpillars
-is accompanied by a continual little rallying cry: zee-zee-zee,
-zee-zee-zee.
-
-“The kinglet has great confidence in mankind. With no sign of fear even
-when within hearing of the footsteps and conversation of persons
-walking about, it continues its evolutions, its hunting, its
-zee-zee-zee. It will let one come close, almost near enough to reach
-out a hand and take hold of it. But the knowing little creature,
-although it appears not to see you because it is so busy, darts
-suddenly away and mounts to the upper branches to carry on its work at
-a safer distance.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIX
-
-SWALLOWS
-
-
-“We have whole tribes of helpers that devote themselves to the patient
-search for insect eggs in the cracks of tree bark and in piles of dead
-leaves, for larvæ between the scales of buds and in the worm-holes in
-wood, and for insects lurking in narrow crevices where they hide from
-their pursuers. These invaluable assistants of ours embrace the
-magpies, nuthatches, wrynecks, climbers, tomtits, wrens, kinglets, and
-many others. In the kind of hunting here referred to the bird is not
-obliged to chase the game, to vie with it in swiftness; it is enough to
-know how to find it in its hiding-place. For this a sharp eye and a
-slender beak are necessary; wings are only of secondary importance.
-
-“But now we come to other species of birds that hunt in the air, chase
-their game on the wing, pursuing gnats and flies and butterflies, moths
-and mosquitoes and beetles. They require a short beak, but one that
-opens very wide and is pretty sure to catch insects as they fly—a beak,
-in fine, that may be depended on to work almost of itself and without
-an instant’s pause in the bird’s flight; a beak that, above all, is so
-sticky inside that as soon as an insect’s wing grazes this viscous
-lining it is caught fast in the glue-like substance. The beak of the
-bat, that other hunter of insects on the wing, the bat’s beak, I say,
-opening from ear to ear, may serve as a model in respect to the width
-of its opening. But above all else the hunter must have swift wings
-that never tire, that can fly as fast as the prey which is trying so
-hard to escape, that can follow the bewildering zigzags of a moth
-manœuvering to save its life. A cleft beak that opens wide and wings
-that are strong and tireless—such must be the equipment of the bird
-that pursues its prey in the open air.
-
-“Chief among these hunters is the swallow, which may be called the
-daylight bat, as the bat is the twilight swallow. Both chase flying
-insects, following them in their endless dodgings and doublings and
-snapping them up with yawning beak, then passing on without an
-instant’s delay to the pursuit of others. But how much more pleasing in
-appearance, how much swifter in flight is the swallow than that hunter,
-the sad-looking bat! While we may compare their work and their way of
-hunting, we cannot compare them in anything else. Buffon quotes Guéneau
-de Montbéliard as saying:
-
-“‘The air is the swallow’s appropriate element, and it is the nature of
-the bird to be ever on the wing. It eats flying, bathes flying, and
-sometimes even feeds its young when flying. It glides through the air
-with no effort, with perfect ease, conscious of being in its own
-domain. It explores aërial space in all its dimensions, as if to enjoy
-it to the utmost, and its delight in the act is expressed by little
-cries of rapture. It may be seen giving chase to flying insects and
-following with supple agility their evasive and tortuous course; or it
-may leave one to pursue another and snap up a third in passing; or,
-again, it lightly skims the surface of land and water to catch any that
-may be gathered there for the sake of coolness and moisture; or,
-finally, it may in its turn be driven to flee with all speed before the
-lightning-like onset of some bird of prey. Always in full control of
-its movements even when flying at topmost speed, it is continually
-changing its course, describing in the air a bewildering maze whose
-paths cross, interlace, recede from and approach one another, meet,
-wind, ascend, descend, interweave, and mingle in a thousand different
-ways and after a plan so complicated as to defy representation to the
-eye by the art of drawing and scarcely to lend itself to description
-for the imagination through the medium of speech.’
-
-“We have three kinds of swallows in France, of which the best known is
-the martin, black above with glints of blue, and white beneath and on
-the rump. It builds its nest in window-corners, under the eaves of
-roofs, and on the cornices of buildings. The materials it uses are fine
-soil, chiefly that which is deposited by earthworms, after digestion,
-in little mounds over our fields and gardens. The swallow carries it, a
-beakful at a time, mixes it with a little viscous saliva to make it
-stick together, and lays it by courses until it takes the shape of a
-hemisphere attached to the wall and provided with a small opening at
-the top. Bits of straw give additional firmness to the masonry; and,
-finally, the interior is lined with an abundance of little feathers.
-The laying consists of four or five pure white eggs without any spots.
-
-“The nests are used year after year by the same pairs of birds, being
-recognized by them on their annual return in the spring and made as
-good as new with a few repairs. If some are left vacant by reason of
-the owners’ death in distant lands, new couples profit by the fact.”
-
-“Don’t they ever quarrel over the old nests?” asked Jules.
-
-“Very seldom. Swallows like to live in colonies, and their nests touch
-one another sometimes to the number of hundreds on the same cornice.
-Each couple recognizes its own nest without the slightest hesitation,
-and scrupulously respects others’ property in order to have its own
-respected. There is among them a deep feeling of joint responsibility,
-and they help one another with as much intelligence as zeal.
-Occasionally it happens that a nest is no sooner finished than it gives
-way, either because the mortar used is not strong enough or because the
-masons were in too great a hurry and had not the patience to let one
-course dry before laying another, or for some other reason. On hearing
-of the disaster the neighbors hasten to console the unlucky pair and
-help them to rebuild. All set to work, bringing the best mortar, straw,
-and feathers, and in forty-eight hours the nest is rebuilt. Left to
-themselves, it would have taken the owners a fortnight to repair the
-damage.”
-
-“That’s the kind of friends in need I like to see!” declared Emile.
-
-“But I have something still better to tell you. Let us suppose a
-swallow has been so careless as to become entangled in a mesh of loose
-threads, and the more frantically it struggles to escape the more
-firmly it binds its fetters. With wings and claws held fast it is in
-danger of perishing. Uttering piteous cries, it calls on its comrades
-for help. All hasten to give aid, noisily making plans for relief and
-working away with beak and talons until they finally unsnarl the tangle
-and free the captive. The happy event is then celebrated with chirpings
-of delight. That is what I saw with my own eyes, right here in the
-garden, one day when Mother Ambroisine was bleaching some of the linen
-thread she spins on her distaff.
-
-“An author [6] of note tells us that he once witnessed something
-similar. These are his words: ‘I saw a swallow that had unfortunately,
-I know not how, caught its foot in a slip-knot tied in a string, the
-other end of which was fastened to a roof gutter. The bird’s strength
-was exhausted and it hung, crying, from the end of the string, with an
-occasional effort to escape. All the swallows in the neighborhood had
-assembled, to the number of several thousand. They formed a veritable
-cloud, each one uttering cries of alarm and pity. After considerable
-hesitation one of them hit on a plan for freeing their luckless
-companion and communicated it to the others, whereupon they all set to
-work. A space was cleared and every swallow within hail came, one after
-another, as in a ring-game, and gave in passing a peck at the string.
-These blows, all delivered at the same point, followed one another with
-only a second’s interval or less. Half an hour of this work sufficed to
-sever the thread and liberate the prisoner. But the entire company of
-birds, with a few exceptions, stayed there until night, chattering away
-incessantly, though no longer in anxious tones, but rather as if in
-mutual congratulation and animated comment.’
-
-“Again: ‘An insolent sparrow invades a swallow’s nest and likes it so
-well it wishes to stay. The owners assail the intruder, but the latter,
-having a stronger beak and being also protected by the ramparts of the
-nest, easily repulses their attacks. Ha! so you won’t budge, then?
-We’ll see about that. One of the two swallows remains to hold the
-blockade while the other goes for help. The neighbors hasten to the
-spot, consider the situation, deliberate on means to be employed, and
-finally conclude that it is out of the question to hope to dislodge by
-force an enemy so securely entrenched in the nest as in a strong
-redoubt. There is but one opinion: the invader cannot be ousted from
-the nest, but the proprietors must at least be avenged. No sooner said
-than done. While a few courageous ones posted at the opening intimidate
-the interloper with their cries, the others fetch a supply of their
-usual mortar, soil moistened with saliva, and little by little close
-the entrance to the nest.’”
-
-“Who was the fool that time?” cried Jules, in high delight.
-
-“It certainly was the sparrow, sealed up in its narrow prison and left
-to perish.”
-
-“Caught, you nest-robber!” Emile exclaimed, clapping his hands.
-
-“The chimney-swallow or house-swallow, also called barn-swallow, has
-chestnut-red forehead, throat, and eyebrows, a black back with violet
-sheen, and a white breast and stomach. Its name of house-swallow is
-given to it because it seeks man’s neighborhood and even nests inside
-our houses, especially where there is but little commotion or noise.
-Open and empty rooms, sheds and coach-houses, the eaves of roofs, the
-under side of balcony floors, and the inside of tall chimneys are its
-chosen nesting-places. The nest itself is made of moistened clay mixed
-with straw and hay and furnished inside with feathers and dry grass. It
-is in the shape of a half-cup wide open at the top. The eggs are five
-in number, white with small brown and violet spots.
-
-“The house-swallow is the most interesting of the tribe. It is the
-farmer’s cheery companion and the guest of the barn, while the martin
-prefers towns and the cornices of monuments. Its characteristic cry is
-a sweet little song which the father, perched on the edge of the nest,
-keeps repeating to the brooding mother to beguile the long hours of
-incubation. This bird is found all over the world. It reaches us after
-a long migration about the first of April, twelve days before the
-martin and a month ahead of the swift.
-
-“The sand-martin is smaller and of less frequent occurrence than the
-other two swallows of which we are speaking. Its back is mouse-gray in
-color, as are also its cheeks and a wide stripe across the chest, while
-breast and stomach are pure white. With its beak and claws—poor tools
-for such rough work did not energetic good will supply the
-deficiency—it tunnels into steep sand-banks by the waterside, or into
-the face of cliffs and the walls of quarries, making a hole with a
-narrow entrance and extending in a winding passage for nearly two feet.
-At the further end a little space is hollowed out and furnished with a
-thick bed of straw, dry grass, and feathers, all heaped together with
-no art. There are laid five or six slightly translucent white eggs. The
-sand-martin perches only on rocks, to which it clings easily with its
-long and pointed claws. It haunts the water’s edge, which it explores
-in rapid flight, darting to and fro and snapping up the gnats attracted
-by the coolness.”
-
-“It is said,” remarked Jules, “that swallows take long journeys.”
-
-“Yes, all our swallows migrate every year, not from a love of wandering
-but from necessity. Many other birds, particularly those that live on
-insects, do the same. Swallows, like bats, live entirely on flying
-insects, and when cold weather comes these are lacking. What does the
-bat do then to keep from starving?”
-
-“It goes to sleep,” answered Emile.
-
-“Yes, it closes as tightly as it can the draft in the vital stove—that
-natural stove, you know, that gives us heat, movement, and animation by
-burning up our blood with the help of air. The bat almost stops its
-breath in order to economize the fuel stored up in its little veins and
-make it last until the reappearance of insects at the approach of
-summer. In a word, it goes to sleep in the depths of some grotto,
-falling into an unconsciousness resembling death. Birds, however,
-cannot thus save their fuel. Their little stoves are always burning
-away under forced draft, because of the violent exercise of flying.
-Their temperature, summer and winter, is forty-two degrees, centigrade,
-whereas man’s is only thirty-eight. When such a fire has to be kept
-going, imagine if you can take a six months’ nap because there was
-nothing to eat in the larder. It is quite out of the question. What,
-then, do birds do?
-
-“Unable to do as the bat does, they form a bold resolve: they leave
-their native land, which is about to be stripped of flying insects by
-the cold, and go far away, sad to leave but not without the hope of
-returning some day. They migrate, the strong helping the weak, the old
-and much-traveled ones guiding the young and inexperienced. They form
-in flocks and fly southward to Africa, where abundant food and a warmer
-sun await them. With no compass but instinct to direct their course,
-they cross the sea, the vast expanse of water in which only an
-occasional islet offers them a halting-place. Many perish in the
-crossing, and many arrive faint with hunger and spent with fatigue, but
-they do arrive at last.”
-
-“It must be a trying time for the swallows when the day for starting
-comes,” Jules observed.
-
-“A very trying time indeed, for the bird has to tear itself away from
-its beloved haunts, the place where it was born, to face the fatigues
-and dangers of a tremendous journey, a journey never before taken by
-the greater number of the emigrants. In a general assembly the date of
-departure is fixed for about the end of August in the case of martins
-and sand-martins, and later, even as late as October, for
-house-swallows. This being arranged, the martins gather for several
-successive days on the roofs of high buildings. Every now and then
-small groups detach themselves from the rest and circle about in the
-air with anxious cries, taking a last look at their birthplace and
-bidding it farewell; then they return to their companions and, we may
-imagine, fall to chattering about their hopes and fears as they prepare
-for the journey by a careful examination of their plumage, which they
-oil a feather at a time. After several repetitions of these touching
-farewells a plaintive twittering announces the fateful hour: they must
-start. Launching themselves on their desperate adventure, they take
-flight in a body toward the south.
-
-“House-swallows, when the time for their departure approaches, hold a
-consultation on some leafless tree, and almost always in the rain. The
-emigrating flock numbers three or four hundred birds.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXX
-
-SWIFTS AND NIGHT-JARS
-
-
-“The swift is that large black swallow that flies in flocks on summer
-evenings and utters a shrill cry as it passes. Hunting insects on the
-wing is its occupation. It has a very short beak that opens wide, a big
-gullet, always coated with a glue that holds the captured game, long
-and pointed wings which enable it to cover in continuous flight eighty
-leagues an hour, and piercing eyes capable of seeing a gnat at a
-hundred meters’ distance, or even farther. Every insect that ventures
-into the upper air is lost: the swift’s open beak is a living trap, a
-trap that advances rapidly to swallow up the tiny prey.
-
-“If the bird has little ones, it sometimes stows away its prey in its
-cheek-pouches and, when they are full, returns to its nest to feed
-these provisions to the hungry mouths waiting to be filled, discharging
-through its beak the accumulated flies, moths, and beetles.
-
-“What a slaughter of twilight-flying insects takes place when the
-screaming flocks of swifts fly hither and thither, circling about in
-the calm glow of sunset! What an onrush of whirring wings! What dash
-and eagerness! How animated the scene! Some fly merely as chance
-dictates, letting themselves glide gently through the air for the mere
-pleasure of the motion; others describe intertwining circles without
-number; others, again, soar aloft on motionless wings or let themselves
-fall from dizzy heights as if wounded and helpless; still others follow
-a straight course, racing toward some distant goal and then returning
-for a fresh start; and, finally, there are those that go whirling in
-noisy companies about some lofty building. But what of this one that
-darts across our vision in such hot haste? It flashes past with three
-strokes of the wings and is lost in the haze of the distance. What
-impetuosity, children, what amazing speed!”
-
-“I have often wished I could fly when I was watching those birds,” said
-Emile. “If I only had their wings to carry me to those blue mountains
-we see from here, how I should like to go flying to the top of that
-highest peak and then come back as quickly as I went!”
-
-“That wish, my boy, is common to us all; every one must envy the swift
-its wings, but certainly no one would ever think of envying it its
-feet.”
-
-“Why?”
-
-“Because they are so misshapen and the legs are so short that they
-cannot be used for walking. All four toes point forward. That tells you
-the swift does not perch, being unable to grasp the supporting branch,
-but must cling to walls for a brief rest, after which it must take
-flight again, starting with a falling movement as bats do. Guéneau de
-Montbéliard tells us this:
-
-“‘Swifts have to be on the wing a great part of the time. They never
-voluntarily alight on the ground, and if by some accident they fall to
-earth they cannot rise again into the air without extreme difficulty,
-by dragging themselves up on to a little mound or by climbing with beak
-and claws upon a stone from which they can spread their long wings. If
-the ground is quite level they either lie prone on the stomach or sway
-from side to side with a balancing motion, or they manage to struggle
-forward a little by beating the earth with their wings. After repeated
-efforts they sometimes succeed in flying off. The earth, therefore, is
-to them a great danger that must be avoided with the utmost care. Any
-state between swift motion and absolute rest is hardly possible with
-them. Violent exercise in the air and perfect quiet in their place of
-retreat—these two, as a rule, make up their existence. The only
-variation known to them is to hang on to some wall near their hole and
-then drag themselves into the nest by clambering along with the help of
-beak and any chance support that they can find. Usually they enter
-their retreat in full flight. After passing and repassing its entrance
-more than a hundred times, all at once they dart in so quickly that
-they are lost to sight before you know whither they are gone. You feel
-almost inclined to believe they have vanished into thin air.’
-
-“Their nest is nearly always placed in a deep hole in the wall and at a
-great height. It is made of hemp threads, little wisps of tow, bits of
-straw, feathers, rags, and cotton-like down from poplar and willow
-catkins. These materials are stuck together with the viscous saliva
-that constantly oozes from the swift’s throat and serves as glue to
-entangle captured insects. The bird spreads it over the nest and
-thoroughly moistens the successive layers. In drying this saliva
-hardens and takes on the shiny appearance of gum, giving consistency
-and even elasticity to the whole structure. If you squeeze the nest
-between your two hands it will shrink up without breaking, and when the
-pressure is removed it will resume its former shape.
-
-“The swift, then, furnishes its own adhesive cement, but whence does it
-obtain the other materials it needs, such as tow, rags, straw, and
-feathers? Of course it is not so foolish as to go and pick them up from
-the ground, where it might find them as other birds do; for if it
-touched the ground it would certainly come to grief. Therefore it
-resorts to cunning. As it reaches us rather late in the season, it
-takes advantage of such holes as it finds already abandoned by the
-sparrows, and there it finds abundant materials which it uses in its
-own way by sticking them together with its glue. If the sparrows have
-not yet broken up housekeeping, it boldly invades their nests, steals
-bits of flock and tufts of hair, straw, and feathers, a little from one
-and a little from another, and makes with these its own nest in another
-hole in the same wall. The female lays from two to four eggs, pure
-white and rather elongated. Swifts seldom stay more than three months
-with us. Arriving after the swallows early in May, they leave at the
-end of July.
-
-“The white-breasted swift differs from the bird I have just described
-in being larger and having a white breast and stomach. It is found in
-the region of the Alps and of the Pyrenees and frequents the
-Mediterranean shores, especially where the waves beat against high,
-steep cliffs. Middle and northern Europe are not visited by this bird.
-Its flight is even swifter than that of its black cousin, and it flies
-habitually at a great height, descending only when bad weather
-threatens. It builds its nest at the summit of high, steep rocks,
-making it of straw and moss stuck together with the glue from its own
-throat.
-
-“The night-jar closely resembles the swift, having, like that bird, a
-short beak which is very broad at the base and opens very wide, while
-from the gullet comes a sticky saliva for holding fast any insects that
-are caught. Its size is about that of the thrush; its plumage is light,
-soft, and shaded with gray and brown; its eyes are large and prominent
-and very sensitive to light; the base of its beak bristles with long,
-stiff hairs; and its legs are short, but at the same time not ill
-adapted to walking.
-
-“As indicated by the sensitiveness of its eyes, which cannot endure the
-full light of day, and by the softness and lightness and gray color of
-its plumage, which resembles that of the hornless owl, the night-jar is
-a twilight bird: it is the swift of the evening, flying and hunting
-only when the sun is near setting. By the fading light of a summer
-evening it may be seen scanning the ground in low flight to and fro
-over its surface, after the manner of the swallow. It flies with mouth
-wide open, so that the air in striking the throat produces a low and
-continuous humming like that of a spinning-wheel.”
-
-“And is it from that humming sound that it gets its name of night-jar?”
-asked Jules.
-
-“Precisely. But it does not make this humming sound for the mere love
-of hearing it; its object is to snap up the twilight-flying insects as
-it passes with distended beak. Big beetles sporting in the evening air,
-June-bugs, and other plump winged creatures disappear in the viscous
-gullet, while small butterflies, moths, gnats, and mosquitoes become
-entangled by the dozen in the fatal glue. If the game is large, the
-bird swallows it at once, whole and still alive; if small, it waits
-until it has caught a certain number and then swallows them all in one
-mouthful.”
-
-“But does it really swallow big beetles and June-bugs alive?” Emile
-asked.
-
-“You can readily understand that in its headlong chase the bird has no
-time to dismember its captives. Pouncing upon the insect with wide-open
-beak, snapping it up, and gulping it down—all this it does as it flies,
-without a moment’s pause. No sooner is the plumpest prey captured than
-down it goes, alive and struggling, into the bird’s crop.”
-
-“A dozen of that sort of game must stir up a big rumpus in the bird’s
-crop,” was Emile’s opinion.
-
-“Almost any other creature in the night-jar’s place would have its
-digestion ruined by a brisk company of coleopters kicking about in the
-stomach and tickling its walls with their rough and prickly legs; but I
-am inclined to believe the bird has the means of quieting them
-immediately by smothering them with its digestive juices. As it carries
-on the business of stuffing its crop with large live beetles, it ought
-to know the secret of how to prevent their making a hole in its
-stomach. But that does not lessen my admiration for its digestive
-powers. No creature enjoys a more remarkable immunity from dyspepsia.
-
-“On a near view the night-jar is not a pretty bird. Its flat skull; its
-tremendously yawning beak, which seems to split the whole head in two;
-its wide-open gullet, red and slimy and powdered with the remains of
-moths recently devoured; its large and prominent eyes—all these give it
-somewhat the appearance of a toad. That is why it is sometimes called
-the flying toad. Another common name for it is goat-sucker, based on a
-false belief as to one of its habits. It likes to visit pastures and
-sheepfolds, where it chases the beetles to be found there. Noting its
-frequent appearance among the sheep and goats, shepherds imagined it
-came there to suck their milk. If they had watched it more closely they
-would have seen the absurdity of any such notion. A bird suck? What
-nonsense! But the more ridiculous an idea is, the more likely it is to
-spread, and the absurd name of goat-sucker is better known in many
-places than the appropriate and expressive one of night-jar.
-
-“This bird comes to us from warmer lands toward the beginning of May,
-and leaves us in September. It builds no nest, imitating in this
-various nocturnal birds of prey. Some hole in the ground or among
-broken stones, at the foot of a tree or a rock, and usually taken just
-as it happens to be, suffices to hold the bird’s eggs, which are two or
-three in number, white with tawny and bluish spots.
-
-“In closing let me beg you to remember what we owe these big-throated
-birds that hunt insects on the wing, and more especially the swifts and
-swallows, who defend our granaries and gardens, our wardrobes and our
-very persons. What would you think of any one who, possessing the
-terrible secret of creating by the bushel moths, gnats, mosquitoes,
-weevils, and other destructive insects, should let loose a swarm of
-these creatures in the air about us?”
-
-“I should say hanging was too good for him,” answered Louis.
-
-“But that is exactly what any one does who kills a swallow. It is true
-he does not create moths and mosquitoes and other insects, but he saves
-the lives of those that the swallow would have eaten, and thus he is
-guilty of as grave an offense as if he had created them on purpose to
-turn them loose on us. He does a wicked deed, for he receives with
-deadly shotgun the pretty, joyous creature, messenger of spring and
-sunshine, that comes trustfully asking his hospitality and the
-permission to build its nest under the eaves of his house. He causes
-famine, for he encourages the multiplication of those devouring hordes
-that levy every year on our farm products a tax that amounts to
-thousands of millions of francs in its total sum and is constantly
-increasing as insect-eating birds decrease. A wicked deed, I say, a
-deed which causes famine—that is what is really done by the murderer of
-swallows.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXI
-
-THE BIRD’S BEAK
-
-
-“There are many other small birds that live almost exclusively on
-insects, and in so doing render a great service to agriculture. A full
-account of them all would take too long; and, besides, you are familiar
-with the greater number, seeing them daily in the woods, fields,
-orchards, and gardens. I will confine myself, therefore, to the chief
-difference between insect-eaters and birds that live on seeds and
-grain; and then a glance at some of the habits of the most important
-species will complete our rapid review.
-
-“The food of small birds falls into two classes, seeds and insects.
-Certain birds require millet, hemp-seed, pips, and similar seeds of all
-kinds, while others need grubs, larvæ, insects. The choice of one or
-the other sort of food is determined by the shape of the beak, just as
-a mammal’s diet depends on the structure of the animal’s teeth. The
-molars of the horse and the ox call for forage to grind under their
-flat, wide crowns; but those of the wolf and the cat, with their sharp
-edges, need flesh to cut to pieces. In the same manner the bird’s beak,
-according to whether it is shaped this way or that, whether large or
-small, thick or slender, strong or weak, requires hard seeds that crack
-under the mandibles and in opening yield their kernels, or the tender
-grub that is swallowed without having to be crushed. Show me your
-teeth, we said to the mammal, and I shall know what you eat. Show me
-your beak, we might now say to the bird, and I shall know whether you
-live on insects or seeds.
-
-“The beak of the bird that lives on seeds or grain—that is, the
-granivorous bird—is thick, conical, wide at the base, and strong in
-proportion to the hardness of the seeds it has to crack open; but the
-beak of the bird that lives on insects—that is, the insectivorous
-bird—is thin, slender, delicate, and weak in proportion to the softness
-of the insects it catches. In our everyday speech we note this
-difference by applying to the small granivorous birds the general
-designation grosbeak, while the insect-eaters are often called
-slender-beaked birds. Let us remember these two expressive words and
-formulate the general principle thus: Seeds for the grosbeak, worms for
-the slender beak.
-
-“And now without further delay we will put the rule into practice. Here
-is a bird whose diet is perhaps a matter of uncertainty to you. If I
-ask you what, to judge from the shape of its beak, is its customary
-food, shall you be at a loss how to reply?”
-
-“That strong beak, so wide at the base, must be meant for crunching the
-very hardest seeds,” was Jules’s opinion.
-
-“Yes,” Emile chimed in, “that bird certainly lives on seeds; it is
-written all over its big face.”
-
-“It is, indeed, a consumer of all kinds of seeds; it is the greenfinch
-of our copses, greenish underneath and with a yellow border to its
-tail. The dominant color of its costume, green mixed with yellow, has
-given it the name of greenfinch. And this one?”
-
-“Seeds for the grosbeak, worms for the slender beak,” repeated Emile.
-“The beak has no strength; it is rather long but thin; the bird is an
-insect-eater.”
-
-“And one of the greediest, for it belongs to the family of warblers,
-those delightful songsters that would be afraid of getting hoarse if
-they ate dry, farinaceous grain. To keep their vocal cords flexible
-these artists must have the gentle lubricant furnished by caterpillars
-and the succulent flesh of larvæ. They take good heed not to touch
-coarse seeds, which would injure the voice. This bird is the
-reed-warbler, which lives on dragon-flies, small June-bugs, mosquitoes,
-and horse-flies, snapping them up on the wing. It builds its nest among
-the reeds in willow thickets. It is reddish brown above and yellowish
-white underneath.
-
-“Finally, let us look at this third one.”
-
-“Another slender beak,” said Emile; “another insect-eater.”
-
-“Yes; you see it isn’t difficult. The bird has three names among us:
-washerwoman, wagtail, and little shepherdess. Washerwoman, because it
-frequents the waterside in company with those that wash linen; wagtail,
-because it wags its tail at every step it takes; and little
-shepherdess, because it likes the society of shepherds and flocks. It
-is ash-colored above, white underneath, and black on the back of the
-head and also on the throat and breast.
-
-“Wagtails go hopping along in a lively manner over the sand at the
-water’s edge, looking for little worms. Every now and then they fly up
-a few feet into the air, balance, pirouette, and alight again on some
-slight elevation. They may also be seen skipping across the fields
-among the sheep and standing on the backs of the latter even in the
-shepherd’s presence, in order to get the parasitic insects lurking
-under the wool. They live on small slugs, moths, flies, and larvæ.
-
-“Midway between birds eating only seeds and those eating only insects
-must be placed, in respect to their food, those that have a mixed diet
-and eat, according to season, place, and circumstances, insects and
-seeds, larvæ and berries. Their beak has neither a strong, conical
-structure like that of purely granivorous birds, nor a delicately
-slender form like the beak of the insect-eaters, but is between these
-two extremes. This beak, instrument of general utility, is found in the
-lark, that bringer of gladness to our plowed fields; in the thrush and
-the blackbird, lovers of grapes and juniper-berries, but not less fond
-of insects; in the oriole, that superb black and yellow bird so
-appreciative of cherries flavored with toothsome larvæ; and in the
-starling, devourer of figs, grapes, insects, slugs, and various kinds
-of seeds.
-
-“The starling is a magnificent bird almost as large as a blackbird,
-brilliant with glints of metallic luster on a dark background. Its
-color is black with greenish sheen on head and wings and violet on
-breast and back. Most of the feathers are adorned with a reddish-white
-spot at the very end. It nests under the roofs of buildings, in
-dove-cotes, and in hollow tree trunks. The nest, composed on the
-outside of straw, and within of dry grasses and feathers, contains four
-spotless whitish eggs. Starlings come to us in the autumn. They fly in
-large flocks, whirling about like grain winnowed in a sieve and sending
-forth piercing cries from high up in the air. They alight in marshes
-and damp meadows, where they destroy much vermin.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXII
-
-INSECTIVOROUS BIRDS
-
-
-“Now let us go back to the principal slender-beaked birds, eaters of
-insects only and consequently our greatest helpers. They are all small
-in size, delicately and gracefully formed, and modest in dress. Among
-them we find the sweet singers that make the woods echo in spring with
-the refreshing songs of the opening season.
-
-“First there is the nightingale, clothed all in brown except the under
-parts, which are whitish in color. Listen to it some calm evening in
-May. All is quiet, so we need not lose a note of the bird’s hymn. It
-begins with a few timid and tentative phrases, thus:
-
-
-        Teoo-oo, teoo-oo, teoo-oo, teoo-oo,
-        Shpe, teoo-oo, tokooa.
-
-
-Then it becomes more animated:
-
-
-        Teo, teo, teo, teo, teo,
-        Koo-oo-teoo, koo-oo-teoo, koo-oo-teoo, koo-oo-teoo, Tskoo-o,
-        tskoo-o, tskoo-o, tskoo-o,
-        Tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee.
-
-
-Here the phrasing becomes more marked, the melody quicker:
-
-
-        Dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo,
-        Koo-e-oo, trrrrrrritz!
-        Lu-lu-lu, le-le-le-le, lee-lee-lee-lee.
-
-
-Enthusiasm then bursts all bounds and the bird indulges in the most
-brilliant roulades; but our harsh alphabet is powerless to show the
-sounds that come from this wonderful throat.
-
-“‘The nightingale,’ says Buffon, ‘begins with a timid prelude in weak
-and almost wavering tones, as if wishing to try its instrument and win
-the attention of those within hearing; but presently, gaining
-assurance, it gradually becomes animated and displays all the resources
-of its incomparable organ. Bursts of melody, lively volleys of rippling
-song in which clearness is equaled only by volubility, low and
-voiceless murmurs inaudible to the listener, but calculated to increase
-the brilliance of the notes about to be heard, vivid and rapid trills
-that sweep the gamut and are articulated with force and even with a
-certain hardness of effect not unpleasing to the ear, plaintive
-cadences softly modulated, notes struck without art but full of soul,
-enchanting and poignant chords that seem to come from the very heart
-and to convey a touching significance—such are the impassioned strains
-by which, in a tongue doubtless full of sentiment, this natural
-songster appears to try to charm its mate or, rather, to contend before
-her with his jealous rivals for the prize of supreme excellence in
-song.’
-
-“I have seen unfeeling barbarians cut short this pretty romance with a
-shot from a gun. They say that half a dozen nightingales make an
-excellent broiled dish. Horrors! What a frightful brute is man when he
-thinks of nothing but his stomach!
-
-“The nightingale builds its nest in bushes and rather near the ground,
-sometimes even among the roots. Coarse grasses and oak leaves are used
-for the outside, tufts of fleece and horsehair for the inside. The
-female lays five dark-green eggs.
-
-“With the nightingale, though less wonderful as singers, are to be
-classed the warblers, thirty or more species of which can be counted in
-Europe. All live on flies, caterpillars, small beetles, spiders, and
-larvæ of various kinds. Their nests are constructed with much art. Some
-nest in trees and hedges in our gardens; others prefer thickets and
-lonely groves; still others choose holes in tree trunks and walls.
-Others, again, build on piling that projects above the water in
-marshes; that is, they unite three or four slender reeds with a
-ligature and build their nest on this swaying support. Others, finally,
-content themselves with a little hole in the ground. Among the
-best-known of these birds is the black-capped warbler, so named on
-account of the black hood that covers the top of the head and the nape
-of the neck. You remember it is one of the cuckoo’s victims, as was
-proved by the egg found a few days ago, in the nest at the foot of the
-garden. Then we must include the babbling warbler, lover of copses,
-orchards, and gardens; the little red warbler, which visits our
-fruit-trees and says, zip-zap, zip-zap, zip-zap; the marsh-warbler,
-which builds its nest among the marsh reeds; and the Alpine warbler,
-guest of chalets and tuneful songster of high, snowy mountains.
-
-“Now let us look at the fallow-finch or whitetail, which flies from
-clod to clod in our fallow fields (whence its name of fallow-finch),
-and in flying spreads its white tail, a target for the huntsman and the
-reason for its second name. It is ash-colored on the back and reddish
-white underneath, with black wings and eyebrows. It frequents
-cultivated fields to catch the grubs turned up by the plow. Its nest,
-placed under a clod of turf, amid a pile of stones, or in a hole in
-some dry wall, is made of moss, grass, and feathers. The eggs, five or
-six in number, are light blue. The fallow-finch’s chosen haunts are
-dry, rocky uplands, where it may be seen in the autumn in large flocks,
-flying from one rock to another and from one clod to another, keeping
-close to the ground.
-
-“By the fallow-finch’s side let us place the stonechat, a little,
-lively, active bird always seen perched on the topmost branch of a bush
-or bramble, where it repeats, with frisky movements, its short cry of
-ooistratra, ooistratra. If from this place of observation it sees an
-insect on the ground, it flies down, seizes it, and returns in a trice
-to its perch by a short curving flight like that so characteristic of
-the shrike. Its plumage is brown, with red breast and black throat. The
-sides of the neck, together with the wings and the rump, are ornamented
-with white. Stonechats frequent hedges that border sown fields and dry
-pastures, and are never seen, any more than are fallow-finches, in damp
-lands along the banks of rivers. They build their nests, in which they
-lay five or six greenish-blue eggs, among the roots of bushes, in
-crevices in rocks, and among piles of stones.
-
-“I should count it almost a crime to omit here the robin redbreast, in
-my opinion the most pleasing of our smaller birds in its wide-awake
-manner, its gentle look, and its friendly curiosity, which makes it
-come and pick up the shepherd’s crumbs when he is eating his lunch. At
-the first dawn of day it begins its lively song, uttering now and then
-a note or two that recall certain parts of the nightingale’s more
-elaborate performance. Who does not know its alert cry from the depths
-of some clump of bushes, treet, tee-ree-tee-teet, tee-reet,
-tee-ree-tee-teet, and its call to some passing member of its kin,
-oo-eep, oo-eep?
-
-“The redbreast is greenish brown above, bright red on the throat and
-breast, and white on the stomach. It nests in the densest woods amid
-the moss-grown tree roots, and its nest, made of leaves, horsehair,
-tufts of wool, and feathers, contains from five to seven whitish eggs
-spotted with red.
-
-“In winter the redbreast leaves the forest, draws near our farms, and
-even ventures into our houses in quest of food. God forbid, boys, that
-you should ever betray its confidence when, on a stormy winter’s day,
-it comes discreetly tapping with its beak on the window-pane, asking
-hospitality. Welcome the poor little famished creature, and it will pay
-you a hundred times over with its gentle warbling and its zeal in
-defending the fruits of the earth.
-
-“But enough about the slender-beaks. You ought by this time to
-appreciate the immense help we receive from these legions of
-insect-eaters which share the work of the fields, hedges, meadows,
-gardens, woods, and orchards, and wage incessant warfare on every sort
-of vermin that would destroy our harvests unless others than ourselves
-were constantly on the watch—others cleverer and endowed with sharper
-eyesight and greater patience for the unending hunt, and also having
-nothing else to do. I am not exaggerating, I assure you; without our
-insectivorous birds we should soon suffer from famine. Who, then,
-except an idiot with a mania for destruction, would dare touch the
-nests of these birds of the good God that enliven the country-side with
-their varied plumage and protect us from insects? There are, I well
-know, unruly boys who, tired of their books and lessons, delight to
-play truant and make a pastime of climbing trees and searching hedges
-in order to toss the new-born birds out of their nests to a miserable
-death and to smash the eggs. The rural guard is on the watch for these
-wicked thieves, and the law punishes them, that our fields and orchards
-may enjoy the birds’ protection and continue to produce their sheaves
-and their fruit.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXIII
-
-GRANIVOROUS BIRDS
-
-
-“It might at first seem that I ought to be as lenient toward those who
-hunt granivorous birds as I have just shown myself severe toward the
-destroyers of insectivorous birds; for can it be denied that birds
-given to a vegetable diet are harmful to our crops, that they plunder
-our grain-fields and devour great quantities of seeds, buds, fruit, and
-young garden plants? Some of them know how to extract the wheat grains
-from the ear, and others boldly come to get their share of the oats
-thrown to the poultry in our barnyards. Others, again, prefer the juicy
-flesh of fruit and know before we do when cherries are ripe or pears
-are mellow, so that when we come to gather in the harvest all that we
-find is merely what they have left. There are even some that have a
-queer-shaped beak for splitting fruit open and dividing it into
-quarters so as to get at the pips, which are to them the very choicest
-of titbits. Look at this one’s beak and tell me if you have ever seen a
-more singular tool.”
-
-“The two mandibles cross each other,” said Jules. “Instead of meeting
-they go criss-cross like the blades of an old pair of scissors out of
-order.”
-
-“What can such a rickety beak be good for,” Emile asked, “with its tips
-pointing one up and the other down? It will never be able to pick up a
-seed from the ground.”
-
-“Consequently, it does not get its food from the ground. Its manner of
-proceeding is more complicated.
-
-“First I will say that the bird is known as a crossbill, from the
-position of the two mandibles. This odd arrangement is not the result
-of an accident to the bird, as for instance a sprain following some
-violent effort; it is not a crippled beak, nor is it a rickety beak, as
-Emile calls it, but a beak in its natural and perfect state. The bird
-is born with this odd beak and has never had any other. It is even
-extremely doubtful whether it would consent to make a change if it had
-the opportunity, so useful a tool is this beak for the work it has to
-do. The crossbill has a fondness for pine seeds above all other food.
-Take a pine-cone and lift the scales with the point of a penknife. You
-will find behind each scale two seeds full of oil and smelling slightly
-of resin. They are the titbits the bird is after. But how get at them
-under scales so hard and so firmly held in place? In vain would the
-grosbeak hammer at these scales with its strong tool; it would never
-succeed in opening them. Even we ourselves with the aid of a knife find
-it difficult. But the crossbill makes play of this hard work. It
-inserts the tip of one mandible under the scale and, using the other as
-a fulcrum, pries with a turning movement until the scale is lifted and
-the seed laid bare; and the whole thing is done in next to no time. A
-key turning in the lock does not push the bolt more easily.”
-
-“I must change my mind,” Jules acknowledged, “about this beak that at
-first seemed to me so awkward; it is a first-rate key to force the lock
-of a pine-cone.”
-
-“And it is not less useful,” proceeded his uncle, “in quartering apples
-and getting out the pips. I should not like to have crossbills by the
-dozen in any orchard of mine; they would soon tear all the fruit to
-pieces. Fortunately, it is not our level plains that these birds choose
-as their haunts, but cold, mountainous regions covered with dark
-forests of cone-bearing evergreens. Their plumage is bright red more or
-less tinged with green and yellow. Crossbills breed in the coldest
-countries of Europe and build their nests even in midwinter. Their
-materials are moss and lichens, made to shed the melting snow by a
-coating of resin.
-
-“I shall enter no plea for the crossbill: its taste for apple and pear
-seeds is a serious matter; but I will mention certain things that seem
-to plead for the granivorous birds as a class. First, the greater
-number of these birds feed on wild seeds of no value to us even if not
-actually harmful to our cultivated fields. We weed our tilled land,
-clearing it of all plants that exhaust it to no purpose. Many
-granivorous birds also weed, in their own way: they gather the seeds
-that would otherwise infest the soil. For example, must we not
-acknowledge the services of the goldfinch, which, when thistles have
-matured, alights on their prickly heads and searches for the seeds amid
-the thistle-down? I need not describe this pretty little bird, so well
-is it known to you all.”
-
-“It has a splash of red on its head,” said Emile, “with yellow, black,
-and white on its wings.”
-
-“Yes, that is the goldfinch. Its nest, which is one of the most
-carefully built to be found anywhere, is placed in the fork of some
-flexible branch. The outside consists of mosses and lichens with a
-padding of down from thistles and other plants bearing seeds that have
-silky tufts, as for example the groundsel and the dandelion. The
-inside, artistically rounded, is lined with a thick layer of horsehair,
-wool, and feathers. The eggs, five or six in number, are white with
-reddish-brown spots, chiefly at the large end. The goldfinch merits our
-gratitude: it cheers us with its singing and works diligently at
-weeding lands infested with thistles and groundsel.
-
-“I will say as much in favor of the linnet, which feeds on all kinds of
-small seeds in our fields and to that extent follows the honorable
-trade of weeding. At the same time I will not hide its liking for
-linseed, which has given it the name it bears. It is very fond of
-hemp-seed, also. But hemp and flax are not found everywhere, and the
-bird manages to get along very well without them by gathering a
-quantity of other seeds, more or less harmful to agriculture. It likes
-to breed in hilly country, choosing some thickly grown juniper-tree or
-bush. Its nest contains five or six white eggs with red spots. Its
-plumage is brown with a dash of crimson on head and breast.
-
-“To the part of weeders, seed-eating birds add a second even more
-praiseworthy one. Seeds, it is true, furnish their customary food; but
-most of the birds devour a great number of insects when these are
-plentiful and easy to find. If they lack the patience to hunt for worms
-in their most hidden retreats with the painstaking care of the
-slender-beaks, they at least profit by those that fortune places within
-their reach. A few grubs to season their regular diet of seeds are a
-godsend to them; and, moreover, their favorite seeds may by some
-mischance be lacking in their neighborhood. Not every day can the
-goldfinch find thistle-seeds nor the linnet flaxseed. What, then, is to
-be done except to have patience and in the meantime eat insects?
-
-“Last but not least, in their young days when, weak and featherless,
-they are fed from the parents’ beak, many granivorous birds are brought
-up on insects. The reason is plain enough. You can readily understand
-that the delicate crop of a young bird just out of the shell has not
-the strength to digest hard, dry seeds. It must have something more
-nourishing, something smaller and, above all, more succulent, such as a
-marmalade of grubs prepared in the mother’s beak. A few days later,
-with the first growth of down, will come little soft caterpillars
-served whole; then tougher insects will prepare the stomach for the
-more difficult digestion of seeds. I select a few examples at random.
-
-“The chaffinch, the gay chaffinch, is well known to be a granivorous
-bird, a lover of millet and hemp-seed. Now, what does it give its
-little ones while they are still in the nest? It gives them hairless
-caterpillars and tender larvæ, chosen as being the easiest food to
-digest. I can say the same of the greenfinch, a bird with plumage
-midway between green and yellow; of the bullfinch, known by its red
-breast and stomach; and of the various buntings that come in the winter
-in flocks, pecking around our straw-stacks. These last, however, feed
-perhaps more than the others on seeds, as they have on the inside of
-the upper mandible a small, hard excrescence intended expressly for
-crushing them.
-
-“I might add to these examples, but prefer to conclude with a bird that
-is one of the most familiar to you, the sparrow. Here, certainly, we
-have an undoubted seed-eater. It raids our dove-cotes and poultry-yards
-and steals the food of our pigeons and poultry. It goes a-harvesting in
-the grain-fields before our reapers have begun their task. A great many
-other misdeeds are laid at its door. It strips cherry-trees, plunders
-our gardens, forages for sprouting seeds, regales itself on young
-lettuce, and nips the first little leaflets of green peas. But when
-hatching-time comes this bold pilferer is transformed into a helper
-inferior to none. At least twenty times an hour the father and the
-mother, by turns, bring a mouthful to their young ones, and each time
-it consists of either a caterpillar or an insect large enough to
-require quartering, or perhaps a larva as fat as butter; or it may be a
-grasshopper or some other small game. In one week the brood consumes
-about three thousand insects, including larvæ, caterpillars, and grubs
-of all kinds. I have counted in the immediate vicinity of a single nest
-of these birds the remains of seven hundred June-bugs besides small
-insects without number. Behold what a store of food is needed for
-raising only one brood! What quantities of vermin, then, must all the
-broods of a community devour! After such services let him who will
-presume to raise a hand against our sparrows; as for me, I leave them
-in peace as long as they do not become too troublesome.
-
-“My closing word is this: eaters of seeds and eaters of insects,
-grosbeaks and slender-beaks, some in greater degree, some in less, all
-come to our aid. Peace, then, to the little birds, the joy of the
-country-side and the protectors of our crops!”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXIV
-
-SNAKES AND LIZARDS
-
-
-“I propose to-day to undertake the defense of reptiles, which many
-people fear and dislike, even look upon with horror. I have shown you
-what services are rendered by bats despite the repugnance we feel for
-them. These animals, regarded by us as hideous and treated as enemies,
-I have brought you to look upon as valuable helpers, veritable swallows
-of the night, devoted to the extermination of twilight insects. As soon
-as reason illuminates the darkness of prejudice the detested creature
-is found to be a very useful animal. In like manner I shall now try to
-make you separate the false from the true in respect to the reptiles.
-Let us begin with the snake.
-
-“If to explain our dislike for bats we mention their strange and
-repulsive appearance, we have not the same excuse in regard to snakes.
-Their slender form is not lacking in grace, the suppleness they display
-in their undulating movements is pleasing to the eye, and their scaly
-skin is decorated with well-defined colors that are prettily arranged.
-Our aversion, then, must be otherwise explained. Some serpents are
-venomous; they are armed with a formidable and death-dealing weapon.
-Certainly it is not for these that I ask your favor. Indeed, if it were
-in my power to exterminate them all I would gladly free the earth of
-their presence. But others—and these are far more numerous—are not
-venomous and consequently are perfectly harmless unless they are large
-enough to hurt us by muscular force, which is not rare in the hot
-countries of the equator, but never to be feared in our part of the
-world, where the largest snake is not so strong as a mere child. Thus
-it is that some are much to be feared on account of their venom, while
-others, at least those of this region, are not in the least dangerous.
-But we are all too prone to lose sight of this difference in serpents.
-The evil reputation of the one with venomous fangs is fastened on all
-the others, so that we abhor them all alike because we believe them all
-to be venomous. In France we have only one venomous serpent, the viper,
-and all the others, large as well as small, are perfectly harmless and
-we will refer to them simply as snakes.
-
-“In one of our former talks [7] I told you about the viper, describing
-its form and coloring, the structure of its venomous apparatus, and the
-effects of its bite. I here repeat the principal facts then related, in
-order to give you now a connected account of our serpents as a class.
-
-“All serpents dart back and forth between their lips, with extreme
-rapidity, something that looks like a black thread, of great
-flexibility and ending in a fork. Many persons believe this to be the
-reptile’s weapon, the sting, as they call it, whereas in reality it is
-nothing but the tongue—a quite inoffensive tongue, which the creature
-uses for catching insects to feed upon, and also for expressing in its
-own peculiar fashion the passions that agitate it. This last it does by
-shooting the tongue swiftly in and out between the lips. All serpents
-without exception have a tongue, but in our country it is only the
-viper that possesses the terrible apparatus for injecting venom.
-
-“This apparatus is composed, first, of two fangs or long, sharp teeth,
-situated in the upper jaw. Unlike ordinary teeth, these fangs are not
-fixed firmly in their sockets, but can at the creature’s will stand up
-for attack or lie down in a groove of the gum and remain there as
-harmless as a stiletto in its sheath. In this way the viper runs no
-risk of wounding itself. The fangs are hollow and pierced near the
-point with a very small opening through which the venom is discharged
-into the wound they give. Finally, at the base of each fang is a small
-pocket or sac filled with a venomous liquid. It is to all appearance a
-perfectly harmless liquid, odorless and tasteless, so that you would
-take it for nothing but water. When the viper strikes with its fangs,
-the venom sac discharges a drop of its contents into the tiny channel
-perforating the fang, and the liquid is injected into the wound. It is
-by mixing with the blood that the venom produces its terrifying
-effects.”
-
-“I remember all that very well,” said Jules, “and also what you said
-must be done to prevent the mixing of the venom with the blood in
-general that circulates through the body.”
-
-“And I also told you that the viper haunts by preference warm, rocky
-hills; it lurks under stones and in underbrush. In color it is brown or
-reddish, with a dark zigzag stripe along the back and a row of spots on
-each side, each spot fitting into one of the angles made by the zigzag
-stripe. Its stomach is slate-color and its head rather triangular in
-shape, being broader than the neck and running to a blunt point at the
-mouth. The viper is timid by nature and attacks man only in
-self-defense. Its movements are abrupt, irregular, and sluggish.”
-
-“What does it live on?” Jules inquired. “Does it eat nothing but little
-insects that it can catch with its tongue?”
-
-“Its chief food consists of larger prey, which calls for the use of its
-venomous weapon. Small field-rats, field-mice, meadow-mice, moles,
-sometimes frogs and even toads, are its usual victims. The animal
-attacked by the reptile is first stung with the venomous fangs,
-whereupon it is immediately overcome with agony. As soon as the prey is
-dead the viper twines its folds about the lifeless body, squeezes it
-tightly, and subjects it to a sort of kneading process in order to make
-it smaller; for the victim must be gulped down in one mouthful even if
-it exceeds the serpent itself in size. This preparation finished, the
-gullet opens to its utmost width and the two jaws, seeming almost to
-fly apart, seize with their sharp teeth, which point backward toward
-the throat, the head of the mole or field-mouse or whatever the small
-game may be. A flow of saliva then streams over the body to make it
-slip down more readily, but it is so large a mouthful that the viper
-manages to swallow it only by a violent effort. The throat dilates and
-contracts, the jaws move alternately from right to left and from left
-to right, to coax the unwieldy mass downward, and so it is that this
-laborious swallowing is protracted sometimes for hours, sometimes for a
-whole day. Indeed, it not seldom occurs that the forward half of the
-prey is already undergoing digestion in the stomach while the hind
-quarters still stick in the throat or protrude from the mouth.
-
-“Let us pass on to the common snakes. These have no venomous fangs in
-the jaw; their teeth are small and even and lacking in strength, useful
-as an aid in holding the captured prey and helping in the swallowing of
-it (which is as difficult as with the viper), but incapable of
-inflicting a serious wound. These creatures, too, are extremely timid,
-fleeing at the slightest alarm; but if retreat is cut off they put on a
-bold front to impose on the enemy, coiling themselves in a spiral,
-erecting the head, swaying this way and that, hissing, and trying to
-bite. There is no need, however, to be afraid; a scratch of no more
-importance than a pin-prick would be the worst that could befall one.
-You would suffer far greater injury by thrusting your hand into a
-bramble-bush.”
-
-“If it isn’t any more dangerous than that,” Jules declared boldly, “I
-shan’t mind taking up snakes in my hands.”
-
-“I do not tell you this to encourage you to capture these creatures and
-make playthings of them; on the contrary, I wish you to leave them
-alone, but I also desire to remove an unwarranted fear, the fear of
-snakes that is so prevalent in country districts. Fear, always an evil
-counselor, never does a good deed in prompting one to throw stones at a
-harmless creature found in a hole in the wall. The passer-by attacks it
-with his stick if he sees it crossing the road, and the mower in the
-hay-field cuts off its head with his scythe. Were they not listening to
-a foolish fear and yielding to an unreasonable dislike, they would
-leave the poor thing in peace and no one would be the worse for it, as
-snakes not only are harmless, but they render us excellent service by
-destroying numerous insects and small rodents such as meadow-mice and
-field-mice. From this point of view, snakes deserve protection and not
-the hatred that is commonly felt for them.”
-
-“But,” objected Louis, “they say snakes can charm birds by their gaze
-and draw them into their open mouth by first overcoming them with their
-poisonous breath. Helpless, the bird plunges headlong into the
-creature’s horrible gullet.”
-
-“There is a grain of truth in what you say, but far more untruth, the
-result of popular superstition which deliberately credits the serpent
-with sorcery. In the first place, the breath of a serpent, or of any
-reptile whatever, has nothing poisonous about it, nothing magically
-attractive, nothing supernatural. You all have too much common sense to
-make it necessary for me to dwell on these ridiculous tales. There
-remains only the belief that the bird is charmed by the reptile’s hard,
-fixed gaze. The marvel of this amounts in reality to very little.
-
-“Some of our snakes are very fond of birds’ eggs. They climb trees,
-search out the nests, and eat the eggs when the mothers are not there
-to protect them. More than one human nest-robber who thought he was
-seizing a jay’s or a blackbird’s brood has put his hand instead on the
-cold coiled body of a reptile in the bottom of the nest. I have even
-known instances in which the plunderers, seized with horror at this
-unexpected encounter, fell backward from the tree-top and did not come
-out of the adventure without broken bones. A warning to others. The
-larger snakes do not content themselves with eggs, but devour the young
-birds as well, even those that are outside the nest when they can catch
-them, which fortunately is not easy. Imagine an innocent little bird
-surprised by a snake in the underbrush. The poor little thing suddenly
-sees before it a mouth horribly wide open and glittering eyes regarding
-it steadily. Scared almost to death, the bird loses its head and is
-powerless to take flight. In vain it beats its wings, cries
-plaintively, and finally falls from the branch, paralyzed and dying.
-The monster lying in wait catches the poor thing in its mouth.
-
-“The power to charm that serpents are supposed to have is therefore in
-reality only the power so to terrify a bird that it cannot fly. We
-ourselves, on being suddenly confronted by an appalling danger—do we
-always retain the presence of mind necessary to face it? Are there not
-plenty of persons that get bewildered, lose their wits completely, and
-make matters worse by acting foolishly? The charm exerted by serpents
-all comes down simply to that. I am inclined to believe that a bird, on
-being surprised by a snake, usually is able to overcome the first
-feeling of terror and to take flight as soon as it sees the reptile’s
-horrible gullet yawning to receive the expected prey; and so the
-serpent’s attempt to paralyze its victim has a chance to succeed only
-with very young and inexperienced birds. What paralyzes with fright an
-ignorant young nestling hardly affects a bird that is master of itself;
-what terrifies a child or a person of weak character makes little
-impression on a man capable of keeping his head in time of danger.
-Acquire the habit, children, of keeping calm in times of danger or
-excitement, and you will avoid many calamities and escape many perils,
-just as the bird that does not lose its head escapes the snake lurking
-in ambush to catch it.
-
-“One of our common snakes is the water-snake, so called because it
-likes damp places and frequents still water, where it shows itself a
-good swimmer in its pursuit of little fish, water insects, and
-tadpoles. It lays its eggs usually in dunghills, where they will be
-hatched out by the heat. These eggs are of an elongated oval shape,
-with a soft shell resembling wet parchment. In size they are about as
-large as a magpie’s eggs. They are joined together in a string by a
-semi-liquid viscous substance. On stirring a heap of dung, country
-people often turn up with their forks these soft-shelled eggs whose
-origin is unknown to them and from which, to their great surprise, come
-young serpents. They declare them to be roosters’ eggs, unnatural eggs,
-magic eggs that produce snakes instead of chickens; and it would be
-difficult to convince them that this is not true. As for you, my
-children, if you ever happen to hear any one speak of eggs laid by
-roosters in dunghills and producing serpents, remember that they are
-simply the eggs of the water-snake.
-
-“Put no faith, either, in still another fable current in our villages.
-According to this, all snakes have a consuming desire to enter the
-mouth and then the body of any one sleeping on the cool grass. To rid
-the patient of this inconvenient guest the serpent must be lured from
-its retreat by the smell of warm milk. Of course this is pure nonsense,
-as no animal can wish to take refuge in the human stomach, where it
-would be digested, reduced to pap, by the same process that digests our
-bread.
-
-“One often meets in hay-fields or even in hay itself a small reptile
-differing from the snake in structure. It is known as the slow-worm or
-blind-worm. Its head is small and merges into the body without
-narrowing into a neck; furthermore, the tail is blunt, so that the two
-ends of the body are of nearly the same shape and leave us for a moment
-in doubt as to which is the head and which the tail. The slow-worm is
-covered with very smooth and shiny scales. The back is silvery yellow
-and marked from one end to the other by three black lines which change,
-as the worm grows older, to a succession of dots and even disappear
-entirely at last. The stomach is blackish. On being disturbed the
-slow-worm forcibly contracts, stiffens, and becomes almost as rigid as
-a lizard’s tail.
-
-“Many people believe that this little creature is venomous, and even to
-touch it or meet its eye is thought to be very dangerous. But its evil
-reputation is quite undeserved. The slow-worm is really the most
-harmless of reptiles: it does not even offer to bite in its own
-defense, but contents itself with stiffening until it is as rigid as a
-wooden rod. It lives chiefly on beetles and earthworms.
-
-“Now to conclude this brief account of snakes: vipers excepted, not one
-of our serpents is venomous, none can harm us, the bite of none is in
-the least dangerous. Snakes do us no injury whatever; on the contrary,
-they help us by destroying a multitude of insects and small rodents.
-Let us, then, conquer an unreasonable horror and hatred and suffer
-these helpers of ours to live in peace.
-
-“Equal consideration should be shown to lizards, those agile hunters of
-insects and even of small fur-bearing game such as rodents. Who does
-not know the little gray lizard, lover of sunny walls? It lies in wait
-for flies, darting its tongue in and out as if in play; and it ransacks
-one hole after another in quest of insects. It is the protector of
-wall-fruit.
-
-“When on a fine spring day the sun shines warm on some wall or
-hillside, the lizard may be seen stretched out comfortably on this wall
-or on the new grass covering the hillside. It steeps itself delightedly
-in the healthful warmth; it shows its pleasure by gentle undulations of
-its relaxed tail and by its shining eyes; and presently, perhaps, it
-darts like an arrow to seize some small prey or to find a spot still
-more to its liking. Far from fleeing at the approach of man, it seems
-to regard him with friendliness; but at the slightest alarming sound,
-as the fall of a leaf, it rolls over, falls, and remains motionless for
-some moments, as if stunned by the fall; or else it darts away,
-vanishes from sight, reappears, hides again, then comes forth once
-more, turns and twists until the eye can hardly follow it, folds itself
-over several times, and finally retires to some shelter to recover from
-its fright.
-
-“As useful as it is graceful in form, the little gray lizard lives on
-flies, crickets, grasshoppers, earthworms, and nearly all insects that
-prey upon our fruit and grain; thus it would be much to our advantage
-if the species were more widely scattered. The greater our supply of
-gray lizards, the faster should we see the enemies of our gardens
-disappear.
-
-“The green lizard so common everywhere—in hedges, on the skirts of
-woods, in thickets having an undergrowth of wild grass—attains a length
-of three decimeters. The back shows an elegant embroidery of green
-pearls set off with black and yellow dots. This little creature is
-marvelously swift of foot, darting into the midst of underbrush and dry
-leaves with a suddenness that always takes one by surprise and causes
-at first a little start of fear. When it is attacked by a dog it throws
-itself at the assailant’s snout and plants its teeth with such
-determination that it will let itself be carried along and even killed
-rather than relax its hold. But its bite is not at all venomous; it
-merely punctures the skin without leaving in the wound any kind of
-poison. In captivity it becomes very tame, very gentle, and willingly
-lets itself be handled. Its food consists chiefly of insects.
-
-“The olive-growing districts of France have another lizard, larger,
-stronger, heavier, and more squat in form than the common green lizard.
-The people of Provence call it the glass-bead, but scientists give it
-the name of ocellated lizard from the small black spots scattered like
-little eyes (ocelli, in Latin) on the bluish-green background of the
-creature’s back. This lizard haunts dry hillsides exposed to the full
-heat of the sun. It bores for itself a deep hole in some sandy spot,
-generally under the shelter of a projecting stone. Trusting to its
-formidable bite, it is very bold. Not only does it leap at dogs’
-snouts, but it will even attack man if it finds itself too
-hard-pressed. This courage has won for it a terrible reputation among
-country people, who think it very dangerous, more venomous than even
-the viper.
-
-“Now, Uncle Paul, who knows this lizard as well as he knows the bottom
-of his own pocket, who has watched its movements for whole days in
-order to learn its habits, who has examined its teeth very carefully so
-as to be able to report with authority on its bite, and who has even
-let himself be bitten by it in order to leave no doubt on the
-subject—Uncle Paul, I say, declares that this dreaded lizard does not
-deserve the reputation it bears. It is not venomous in the least; it
-bites hard, it is true, nipping the skin and even taking away a piece,
-but without poisoning the wound; in a word, it is no more to be feared
-than the common green lizard. Its food consists of beetles,
-grasshoppers, and small field-rats; and therefore, despite the fear it
-inspires, I have no hesitation in placing the ocellated lizard in the
-class of helpers.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXV
-
-THE BATRACHIANS
-
-
-“I have kept until the last the ugliest and the least esteemed of our
-helpers, the toad. With it must be classed the frog and the tree-toad
-because of their close resemblance to it in form and, still more,
-because of the similar change all three undergo in developing from the
-egg to the full-grown animal. Common language gives the name of
-reptile, from a Latin word meaning to creep or crawl, to the snake and
-the toad, the lizard and the frog, and all similar hairless animals
-having either no legs at all or very short ones and crawling on the
-stomach. Science, however, makes a difference; it limits the name
-reptile to the snake, the lizard, and other animals having a scaly skin
-and hatching from the egg in the form they are to keep; and it gives
-the name batrachian (from the Greek batrachos, a frog) to the toad,
-frog, tree-toad, and some others, which have a naked skin and whose
-first shape gives place later to a different one. Reptiles do not
-undergo a complete change; batrachians do. Just as the butterfly is
-first a caterpillar, quite different in structure, its way of living,
-and its diet from what it finally becomes in its perfect state, so the
-toad, the frog, and the tree-toad begin their existence as tadpoles
-with none of the structure and habits they are finally to have.
-
-“Tadpole or big-head, that is the word to indicate the batrachian in
-its transitory state. A very large head merging into a plump stomach
-that ends abruptly in a flat tail—such is the animal in the beginning.
-It has no limbs, no organs of locomotion unless it be the tail, which
-whips the water to push the creature forward and serves as oar and
-rudder at the same time. The toad tadpole is small and entirely black;
-the frog tadpole is much larger, silvery on the belly and grayish on
-the back. All tadpoles inhabit still waters, as ponds or pools warmed
-by the sun; but for toad tadpoles even shallow puddles or wagon-ruts
-with a few inches of rain will suffice, where they can gather in black
-rows or stretch themselves flat on the stomach in the tepid mud at the
-water’s edge. Frog tadpoles, however, thrive best in ponds of some
-extent, with various water-plants and sufficient depth for diving and
-swimming. Like fish, tadpoles breathe the air that is in water; and
-like them, also, they die if kept out of water a short time. Thus they
-are real fish as far as breathing is concerned. But in their final form
-batrachians breathe atmospheric air and die of suffocation in water.
-They are land animals in that state, and breathe like other land
-animals.
-
-“You have very often seen frogs and toads in the water, and no doubt
-you think they could live there indefinitely. Undeceive yourselves:
-they go to the water only to lay their eggs or to escape from some
-danger or to bathe in hot weather, but they could not remain under
-water any length of time without dying. They have to come up at
-intervals to breathe, which they do by getting at least the nostrils
-out. Here we have a difference between the tadpole and the full-grown
-batrachian, between the larva, so to speak, and the creature at its
-maturity: the tadpole lives in water and perishes in the air, whereas
-the frog that comes from it lives in the air and perishes in water.
-
-“And there is a still further difference: the tadpole lives exclusively
-on vegetable matter, its mouth is equipped with a sort of small horny
-beak to browse the foliage of water-plants, and in its big belly it has
-a very long intestine coiled about several times so as to prolong the
-passage of the food through the body and thus make sure that all the
-juices it may contain are extracted. The mature batrachian exchanges
-this horny beak for real jaws furnished with irregularities that serve
-as teeth, it lives solely on an animal diet, especially on insects, and
-its intestine is short because the food it eats is easy of digestion
-and readily yields what nourishment it contains.
-
-“To turn a tadpole into a frog or a toad it is not enough to change its
-respiratory and digestive organs; new organs form, organs of which
-there was not the least sign when the creature was hatched, while still
-others disappear without leaving any trace. The tadpole is born
-absolutely without legs. After a while the hind legs appear, later come
-the fore legs, and still later the tail shrinks and vanishes.”
-
-“I remember seeing tadpoles,” said Jules, “some with two legs, some
-with four; but every one of them had a tail.”
-
-“When the tail has disappeared the animal is no longer a tadpole, but a
-young toad or frog.”
-
-“Does the tail come off itself, or does the animal pull it off?” Emile
-inquired with eager interest.
-
-“Neither the one nor the other. The tail is too valuable when the
-change takes place to be thrown away in that reckless fashion. It
-contains a store of material suitable for making something else in the
-bodily organism. When the legs begin to put forth, when the organs of
-digestion and those of respiration begin to take a new form, these new
-creations, these transformations, require material with which to build.
-Fleshy substance is needed for the up-building of the body just as
-bricks and mortar are needed for the construction of the house. Of
-course the tadpole eats to make flesh and to provide a reserve for the
-work of transformation; but this method of accumulation is slow, and
-therefore, to save time, the organs useless to the future animal are
-destroyed, bit by bit, and their material is used in the construction
-of new parts. It is thus that the tail disappears. The blood
-circulating through it gradually eats it away, dissolves it, as we
-might say, at the proper time and carries elsewhere the fluid
-substance, which, turned again into flesh, helps to form the legs or
-other parts of the remodeled organism.”
-
-“What a deal of economy in getting rid of a tadpole’s tail!” exclaimed
-Emile. “Not a particle of it, even if no bigger than a pin’s head, must
-be thrown away, for it might be used to make the little toe on one of
-the feet.”
-
-“Yes, my boy, a wonderful economy, an economy careful of every atom of
-matter in order that life, the divine worker, may not fail to have at
-its disposal, undiminished by waste, the resources committed to its
-keeping by the Creator for works that are unceasingly being destroyed
-and then restored on a new plan.
-
-“I should add here that certain batrachians keep the tail as long as
-they live. To this class belong the salamanders, one species of which,
-the terrestrial or land salamander, is extremely ugly. In form it is
-half-way between a toad and a lizard, and its color is black with large
-bright-yellow spots. It is from one to two decimeters long. It haunts
-damp places near springs and eats insects and earthworms. Despite its
-repulsive appearance it is perfectly harmless.
-
-“The tadpole of the salamander breathes through fine tuft-like
-appendages which spread out in the water on each side of the neck.
-These tufts are called gills, and they correspond to the fish’s
-breathing organs or gills, which are likewise situated on each side of
-the neck under the tiny flap commonly called the ear. Tadpoles of the
-frog and the toad have, for the first few days, fringed gills floating
-out freely; but in a short time they are drawn in under the skin and
-become invisible like the gills of fish.
-
-“Frogs have a slender form not devoid of a certain grace. Their hind
-legs are very long and powerful, being especially good at jumping, the
-frog’s customary mode of progress. First gathering itself together, the
-animal suddenly relaxes like a spring and throws itself forward by a
-vigorous thrust of the thighs. The hind toes are very markedly webbed;
-in other words, they are united by a membrane as are the toes of
-swimming birds, the duck in particular. This arrangement of the toes so
-as to form a broad paddle or oar, together with the suppleness of the
-hind legs, which are alternately drawn up against the sides and then
-forcibly extended, makes the frog an expert swimmer.
-
-“The common or green frog is spotted with black on a green background,
-and it has three yellowish stripes on the back, the belly also being
-yellow. It abounds on the banks of all still waters, and to it we owe
-the noisy croaking that comes from every ditch on a summer evening.
-
-“The red frog is spotted with black on a reddish background, and is
-easily recognizable by the black stripe running from the eye over the
-ear. It likes cool places such as damp meadows and fields and
-underbrush. It is less fond of the water than the one just named, and
-it croaks much less.
-
-“Both live on live prey, as for example aquatic larvæ, worms, flies and
-other insects, and snails, and they never touch vegetable matter;
-therefore they are good helpers in our gardens.
-
-“Tree-toads—or, less correctly, tree-frogs—differ from ordinary frogs
-in having viscous cushions at the end of their toes, which enable them
-to climb trees, where they hunt insects. They stay all summer in the
-foliage and go to the water only to lay their eggs. Their cry, which
-gains force from a sort of pocket that shows plainly under the throat,
-is very loud and raucous. The tree-toad that we have around here, the
-common tree-toad, is of a beautiful delicate green hue on the back and
-yellowish-white on the belly.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXVI
-
-THE TOAD
-
-
-“What shall I say in defense of that poor creature, the toad, whose
-very name is enough to excite disgust? It is really loathed by all. It
-seems to us the ugliest and most disgusting of animals. What has it
-done, poor thing, to deserve the dislike every one feels for it?
-
-“It is ugly, the plaintiff asserts. Its flabby form is a shapeless
-lump, thrown together as if in careless haste, and its flattened,
-dirt-colored back is strewn with livid warts. Its legs, too short for
-symmetry or for effectual service, are unable to lift out of the mud
-its swollen stomach, which drags on the ground. Its big head merges
-into a hideous mouth, and heavy eyelids open to show large and
-prominent eyes which stare stupidly. If some danger threatens, it puffs
-itself up, forming under its skin an air-cushion which resists blows
-with its flabby elasticity.
-
-“It is venomous, the plaintiff further declares. Squatting in the mire
-at the bottom of some dark hole, it absorbs the unwholesome humors of
-the slime for use in filling the warts on its back with a milky venom
-which oozes out and moistens the entire body in time of peril. It also
-squirts into the eyes of any one who attacks it a liquid, its urine,
-which burns and stings. It infects the atmosphere with its foul breath.
-From its gullet drips a fluid that poisons the grass and fruit over
-which the animal passes, so that its track is as fatal as its
-appearance is loathsome. In a word, the toad is ugly and venomous; then
-war without mercy on the hideous creature that infects earth, air,
-water, and by its very appearance disgusts the beholder! There you have
-the charges against the toad.
-
-“Now what shall I say in my turn, in defense of the poor creature? I
-shall tell the truth, the simple truth, and the charges made against it
-will be reduced to nothing.
-
-“As to the ugliness of the toad I will not say a word; all are welcome
-to their own opinion on that subject. I only ask you to recall our talk
-about bats.”
-
-“I don’t think the toad so horribly ugly,” Jules ventured to assert.
-“Its golden-yellow eyes are full of fire, its voice is sweet, almost
-flute-like, while the frog’s croak is anything but musical. I admit
-that the toad’s bloated body is not graceful; but, after all, it has
-some good points.”
-
-“Little toads hopping about among the reeds at the edge of the pond,”
-said Emile, “are pretty to look at, and they make me laugh when they
-tumble heels over head every time they jump. I have taken them up in my
-hand, but I wouldn’t touch big toads; I am afraid of them.”
-
-“I wouldn’t either,” Jules agreed, “for fear of their venom.”
-
-“Ah, the venom! That is the serious side of the question, and not the
-creature’s ugliness, which is open to discussion. The toad has the
-beauty appropriate to it, the beauty of a toad, and it cannot have any
-other without ceasing to be what it is.
-
-“On being molested toads perspire through the warts that cover their
-skin a thick and viscous fluid that looks somewhat like milk. This
-secretion has a nauseous, burning taste and is unbearably bitter.”
-
-“Some one, then, has tasted the milky sweat that oozes from the toad’s
-warts?” asked Jules.
-
-“Yes, scientists have tasted it in order to tell us the truth about it,
-just as others have done with the viper’s venom. We must respect highly
-these courageous investigators, who are willing to make any sacrifice
-if only they may add to our knowledge and relieve our sufferings.”
-
-“The toad sweats this milky liquid when tormented; is that the way it
-defends itself?” Jules further inquired.
-
-“It hopes to defend itself by the horrid odor of its sweat and by its
-intolerably bitter taste; but this sweat is put to no further use. The
-animal would be truly dangerous if it could inject its sweat into our
-blood as the viper injects its venom through its fangs into the wound
-already made by them. I will now relate a few experiments made by the
-scientists I just referred to.
-
-“A drop of the toad’s milky fluid is introduced with a pointed steel
-instrument into the flesh of a little bird. In a few minutes the bird
-staggers as if intoxicated, shuts its eyes, gasps, and falls dead.”
-
-“Really and truly dead?” asked Emile.
-
-“Really and truly dead,” his uncle replied. “A dog is treated in the
-same manner, but with a stronger dose. In less than an hour the animal
-dies in a frightful frenzy.”
-
-“Then this white sweat of the toad must be a perfectly horrible venom,”
-Jules remarked.
-
-“Travelers tell us that certain South American Indian tribes poison the
-tips of their arrows with this venom. First they impale alive on a long
-stick a number of these animals, and then put them near the fire to
-make their warts sweat. The fluid that oozes out is collected in a
-large leaf, and into this fluid the savages dip their arrow-heads, a
-wound from which is then likely to prove fatal.”
-
-“Isn’t it the truth, then,” asked Jules, “that toads are venomous?”
-
-“Yes and no. Applied in any way but by injection, the toad’s sweat is
-harmless; to act as venom it must mix with the blood through a wound.
-But I will not repeat what I have already told you about the viper’s
-venom. The toad is powerless to make the slightest wound in our flesh,
-and therefore it is absolutely impossible for it to harm us. It
-possesses a poison without being able to make any use of it except to
-bedew its own body by perspiring, thus repelling its enemies by the
-horrid smell and taste of this sweat. You can handle a toad without any
-sort of risk if you wish to; wash your hands immediately afterward if
-they have become moistened by the contact, and there will be no further
-trouble. Unless the foolish fancy should seize you to collect a little
-of the venomous liquid on the point of a penknife and then prick
-yourself with the knife till you drew blood, I can assure you
-positively that the toad would cause you no injury whatever.”
-
-“That is plain enough,” Jules admitted, “for the toad has no means of
-making a wound to receive the venom from its warts; but they tell of
-other kinds of venom such as urine thrown to a distance and drivel
-running from the mouth.”
-
-“No drivel runs from the toad’s mouth, nor is there any truth in the
-animal’s poisoning fruit and grass with its saliva. That is pure
-calumny invented to blacken the detested animal.”
-
-“And the urine?”
-
-“The toad, when molested, discharges its urine as a means of defense,
-but not to any distance. You would have to hold your face close to the
-animal to receive the discharge in the eyes. If that should happen to
-some careless person, a temporary redness of the eyes would be the
-utmost result. But no one would think of putting his face so close to
-the animal, and so there is no cause for alarm on that score.”
-
-“What about the creature’s terrible breath?” was Jules’s next inquiry.
-
-“Another calumny on a par with that about the saliva. Its breath is no
-more harmful than any other animal’s. So there is absolutely nothing
-left of the charges brought against the toad. The poison it sweats in
-moments of danger to drive away its enemies cannot injure as venom
-injures, because the animal has no means of injecting it into a wound
-and mixing it with the blood, as venom must be mixed to take effect.
-The discharge of its urine falls too short to be dangerous, and even if
-it should reach its mark its effect would be so slight that it is not
-worth considering. Does any one give a thought to the hedgehog’s urine
-when that animal sprays itself with this liquid on being molested? The
-toad’s similar mode of defense is no more to be feared. The other
-complaints, such as the swelling of one’s hands after touching the
-animal, air poisoned by its breath, fruit and vegetables infected by
-the saliva and the creature’s tracks, all come from people’s prejudice,
-their imagination, which has given the poor batrachian a bad
-reputation.
-
-“The toad is harmless, but that is not enough to entitle it to our
-consideration. It is also a very useful helper, a devourer of beetles,
-slugs, larvæ—vermin of every description, in short. After spending the
-day under a cool stone or in some dark hole, it leaves its retreat at
-nightfall to make its rounds, hunching itself along on its big belly.
-Here is a slug making such haste as it can toward the lettuce bed,
-there a cricket chirping at the mouth of its hole, and there again a
-June-bug laying its eggs in the ground. Very softly the toad approaches
-and in three mouthfuls gobbles them all up with a gurgle of
-satisfaction. Ah, those tasted good! And now for some more.
-
-“It continues on its way, and by the time it has finished its rounds,
-at daybreak, you may imagine what a multitude of worms and other small
-prey the glutton has stowed away in its capacious stomach. And yet this
-useful creature is stoned to death because it is ugly! My children,
-never commit any such act of cruelty, at once foolish and harmful; do
-not stone the toad, for you would thereby deprive the fields and
-gardens of a vigilant guardian. Let it go its way in peace and it will
-destroy so many insects that you will in the end find it less ugly than
-you had thought.
-
-“So well known is the toad’s usefulness that in England the animal is
-an article of commerce. Toads are bought in the market at so much a
-head, carried home carefully so as not to come to any harm, and then
-allowed the freedom of the garden or placed in a hothouse, a crystal
-palace, perhaps, where wonderful plants are grown. The toad’s business
-is to lie in wait for beetles, slugs, and other destroyers that might
-nibble the valuable plants; and it does its duty with zeal. What a
-change of fortune for the maligned creature when it finds itself living
-in a warm atmosphere and surrounded by the most splendid flowers
-procured at great expense from all parts of the world and now exhaling
-the most fragrant odors! As a finishing touch to the honor done the
-poor thing in its floral palace of glass, there is offered the tribute
-of poetry, that flower of the human imagination and invention. Listen
-to this.
-
-“A wretched toad with head split open and one eye gouged out by some
-cruel hand was painfully dragging itself along through the mud of a
-public highway, when four small boys chanced to spy it as they were
-passing.
-
-
-                            “They spied the toad,
-    And one and all sent up a gleeful shout:
-    ‘Come on, come on, let’s kill the ugly lout!
-    But first we’ll have some fun.’ They laughed their fill,
-    As boys will laugh, hard-hearted, when they kill.
-    They pricked and goaded with a pointed stick,
-    Devising each in turn some cruel trick,
-    Flushed with their sport, egged on by passers-by,
-    While for the martyred toad none gave a sigh.
-    Poor ugly thing! But nature made it so;
-    For this alone its blood was caused to flow.
-    It tried to flee; one foot was severed quite,
-    Which gave the heartless band renewed delight.
-    Its gouged-out eye hung down; half-blind it sought
-    Some sheltering reeds; its efforts came to naught.
-    Its mangled form had been, you would have sworn,
-    Through some machine, to be so rent and torn.
-    And, oh, to think that hearts can be so base
-    As to wish ill to one in such sad case,
-    And to so great a load of suffering sore
-    To undertake to add one torment more!
-    Well-nigh exhausted now, hope almost gone,
-    The half-dismembered creature still toiled on.
-    E’en death itself would not, for pity’s sake,
-    So hideous a thing consent to take;
-    Or thus it seemed, and so with antics rude
-    The toad’s tormentors still their sport pursued.
-    Attempts to snare it next were made in vain:
-    It dodged, and sought a rut half filled with rain;
-    And, by its muddy bath somewhat restored,
-    Withstood the missiles that upon it poured.
-    Ah, what a sight was there, the beauty fresh
-    Of childhood, and its joy in bleeding flesh!
-    Such sport as theirs there surely ne’er had been:
-    ‘Come on,’ they called, ‘come John, come Benjamin!
-    And bring a stone, a big one, and we’ll see
-    If Master Toad is quite as smart as we.’
-    Accordingly a massive stone was found,
-    Of ponderous weight, unwieldy, large, and round;
-    But cheerfully the lads their muscles strained,
-    With ends so laudable to be attained.
-    Just then, by curious chance, there passed that way
-    An over-loaded, heavy-rumbling dray.
-    An aged donkey, deaf, half-starved, and lame,
-    Was harnessed to the cart—the more’s the shame—
-    And on its back a pannier also bore.
-    A long day’s march behind and home before,
-    The patient beast trudged on with labored breath,
-    Though each step more seemed like to be its death.
-    Its toil-worn frame was so exceeding thin
-    You would have said ‘twas naught but bones and skin.
-    It bore full many marks of cruel blows,
-    And in its eyes one read the tale of those
-    That suffer hardship without hope. Meanwhile
-    Its master heaped upon it curses vile,
-    Nor spared the cudgel; but the road was deep
-    In mire that clogged the wheels, the hills were steep.
-    Creaking and groaning in lugubrious tones,
-    The dray, thus pulled by thing of skin and bones,
-    Moved slowly forward till at length the road
-    Descended sharply, and thus eased the load;
-    But this now crowded on the nigh-spent beast
-    With force sufficient (so it seemed, at least)
-    To hurl him headlong. And yet, strange to tell,
-    The donkey paused, unheeding blows that fell
-    From wrathful hand. The boys broke off their play,
-    Content to yield the donkey right of way.
-    ‘Stand off!’ they cried; ‘let go there, Dick and Bob;
-    Let go the stone, the cart will do our job
-    With much more sport for us, so stand aside!’
-    All stood alert to see what should betide
-    Their wretched victim. But far otherwise
-    The thing fell out before their wondering eyes
-    Than they had thought: the donkey, bruised and lame,
-    At sight of woes that put his own to shame
-    Spared not himself, but gathered all his strength
-    And held the loaded cart until, at length,
-    Although remonstrant blows rained on his back,
-    He turned the dray from out the beaten track.
-    The grinding wheels, diverted, harmless pass,
-    And tortured toad is saved by tortured ass.
-    The driver cracks his whip, pulls at the reins,
-    And now the dray once more the road regains.
-    At that, one of the group engaged in play
-    (The very one who tells you this to-day)
-    Let fall the stone he’d been about to cast
-    Just as the laden wain came rumbling past;
-    And as he dropped it, lo, in accents clear
-    A mandate from on high fell on his ear,
-    A mandate that was quickly understood,
-    For it was brief, these simple words: ‘Be good.’ [8]
-
-
-“In closing I repeat, with the great poet: ‘Be good.’ Be good if you
-wish God to love you; be good that you may grow up to be noble-hearted
-men; be good to one another, helping one another; be good to the
-animals that give us their fleece, their strength, and their life, and
-those that protect the fruits of the earth for us by keeping vigilant
-guard over them. Be kind to them all, even to the humblest among them,
-the toad, which serves us uncomplainingly and asks in return no pay but
-a pitying glance.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXVII
-
-INSTINCT
-
-
-Jules and Emile had put a caterpillar into a glass and brought it to
-their uncle, who made it the subject of a little talk to his young
-hearers.
-
-“Examine the creature closely,” said he. “Its skin is delicate, so
-delicate that even a light touch hurts it; but here on the head, at the
-point called the skull, it has the hardness of horn, forming a sort of
-cap or helmet which can without injury endure friction with the hard
-texture of wood. The head is the part of the creature that opens the
-way, and it is therefore protected by armor, while the rest of the
-body, as it follows the head, does not need this casing of horn.”
-
-“I understand,” said Emile; “the creature works its way along by
-scratching and tunneling with its feet.”
-
-“No, my boy; the feet are not used for boring through wood. The
-caterpillar has eight pairs. The first three pairs, or those nearest
-the head, have quite a different shape from the others: they are
-slender and pointed, and it is they that in the change that takes place
-later become the butterfly’s legs, though in doing so they grow much
-longer and take another shape. Hence they are called the true legs. The
-next four pairs are placed toward the middle of the body, and the last
-pair is at the very end. These five pairs bear the name of false legs
-because they completely disappear when the caterpillar gives place to
-the butterfly or moth. They are short and wide, and are furnished
-beneath with numerous little hooks by which the caterpillar clings to
-the walls of its abode. The stiff hairs covering the body are also used
-for locomotion, the caterpillar wriggling and squirming in its tunnel
-somewhat as does the chimney-sweep in helping himself with knees and
-back as he makes his way up the inside of a chimney.”
-
-“Then what does the caterpillar use for boring through the wood?” asked
-Jules.
-
-“The tool for chipping away the wood consists of two curved fangs or
-teeth, almost black, one on each side of the mouth, which open and shut
-like a pair of cutting nippers. They are called mandibles and are in
-reality jaws or, more properly, teeth which, instead of meeting in a
-vertical plane as do ours, come together horizontally or sidewise. For
-precision of movement these mandibles are superior to our best cutting
-nippers, and for hardness they are almost equal to steel. They seize
-the wood, bit by bit, patiently and untiringly; they cut, saw, tear
-away a little at a time, and so bore a tunnel just large enough for the
-caterpillar to pass through.”
-
-“And what becomes of the wood-dust?” Jules further inquired. “I should
-think it would block the way, the passage being so narrow.”
-
-“The wood-dust passes through the creature’s body; the caterpillar eats
-it, and after digestion has taken from it the very small amount of
-nourishment it contains, it is ejected behind, molded into tiny
-pellets. Digestion in a caterpillar is soon accomplished. Just think of
-it: wood is an extremely meager fare, and so the worm must keep on
-eating its way forward, cutting, gnawing, digesting. To acquire the
-fatness necessary for the coming change the creature must have a
-good-sized pear-tree limb or lilac trunk to work on.
-
-“The wormhole dust left behind by the boring worm sometimes betrays the
-insect to its enemies. Whenever you see any of this dust left by
-digestion coming out at some little orifice in the bark of a pear-tree,
-apple-tree, or other tree, you may know the borer is at work, and the
-branch where he is at work should be cut off immediately, to prevent
-more serious harm. If the caterpillar has not gone too far, a pointed
-iron wire may be thrust into the opening and an attempt made to kill
-the creature in its hole. But as the passage is very winding, this
-method is by no means certain of success.”
-
-“Couldn’t the wire be pushed in through another opening?” queried
-Jules.
-
-“But, my boy, you don’t suppose the caterpillar is so simple as to make
-windows here and there in its dwelling and so make it easy for its
-foes, of which it has many besides man, to attack it! If it should take
-a fancy, let us say, to go out and get a little fresh air some fine
-day, a sparrow might spy it and carry it off as a choice titbit for its
-brood under the roof tiles. All these dangers it knows; or, rather, it
-guesses them vaguely, for every creature, even to the smallest worm,
-knows how to protect itself and preserve its species. Unquestionably it
-lacks the reasoning faculty, which belongs only to man; but it none the
-less acts as if it reasoned out its own interests with an accuracy that
-astounds the thoughtful observer. As a matter of fact, my dear
-children, Another has already reasoned for it, and that Other is the
-universal Reason in and by whom all live; it is God, the Father of men,
-and also the Father of lilacs and of the caterpillars that gnaw them.
-The creature knows, then, without ever having learned; it is master of
-its art without having been taught; and at the very first trial, with
-no experience to rely on, it does admirably the thing it was intended
-to do. This gift bestowed at birth, this unfailing inspiration that
-guides it in its work, is called instinct.
-
-“In its butterfly state the leopard-moth takes very little food, at the
-most a few drops of honey from the opening flowers. Its proboscis, so
-slender and so delicate, is fitted to get this food. Now that it no
-longer has its strong mandibles, how can the moth imagine that wood is
-eatable? Is it possible that it remembers what it liked as a
-caterpillar? Who can say? Moreover, how can the moth tell what trees
-have wood suitable for the larvæ, when we ourselves must have a certain
-degree of education in order to know the commonest varieties? The moth,
-with no previous education, never mistakes a plane-tree for a
-pear-tree, a box-tree for a lilac, an oak for an elm. Thus the eggs are
-always laid on the right sort of tree, never on any other. Where man
-might make a mistake, the insect never errs.
-
-“The young larva comes out of the egg. What does the poor little thing
-know from experience of the hard trade it is to follow? Nothing,
-absolutely nothing. No matter; as soon as it is born it attacks the
-wood it rests upon and hollows out a shelter for itself with the least
-possible delay. This most urgent business being attended to, it now
-leisurely gnaws its way ahead, nibbling a little here and a little
-there and shaping its course according to the quality of the wood. The
-passage lengthens, increasing in diameter as the creature grows, and
-sometimes ascending, sometimes descending, sometimes running
-horizontally quite through the trunk or branch. The mass of the wood
-may be attacked with little system and without economy, for the larva
-is assured of food enough in any event. One precaution, however, it
-invariably takes: it never bores through the bark, for fear of
-betraying its presence to hostile eyes. But how does the larva, working
-in total darkness, know when it is getting near the bark and must turn
-back? What gives it the fear it has of showing itself? What makes it so
-careful to remain in the heart of the wood and thus avoid the vigilant
-sparrow it has never seen? It is instinct, the inspiration that
-protects all animal-kind in the fierce battle of life.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXVIII
-
-THE GRAIN-WEEVIL
-
-
-Uncle Paul had sent old Jacques to town to buy the drug they were going
-to apply to Simon’s wheat. Meanwhile he took occasion to tell his young
-hearers about the wheat-devourer that was to have the benefit of the
-drug. The handful of grain left by Simon was in a plate on the table.
-The little weevils were running about in frantic endeavors to escape,
-while Emile with a straw was pushing them back into the middle of the
-plate, where they cowered among the kernels of wheat. Louis and Jules
-were also there, all attention to what was going on.
-
-“This ravager of our granaries,” began Uncle Paul, “is called the
-grain-weevil, or, in Latin, calandra. It belongs to the order of
-coleoptera or beetles. Its defensive armor is a hard brown casing
-finely engraved. It has no membranous wings under the elytra or wing
-sheaths. Hence it is unable to fly, but it runs fast enough and it
-clings to objects with a firm grip. You see how busy Emile is kept with
-his straw in preventing the prisoners’ escape. The grain-weevil is
-about four millimeters long, its body is of a uniform blackish brown,
-and its head ends in a long snout, a kind of slender trumpet. The
-corselet or thorax is long, marked with fine pricks or dots, and the
-wing sheaths are delicately furrowed. The insect’s most striking
-characteristic is its long, trumpet-shaped snout.”
-
-“It seems to me,” said Jules, “I have seen other beetles, and rather
-large ones, too, with the head ending in a trumpet like that.”
-
-“I’ve found them on hazels,” added Louis, “and they had a long, slender
-beak that would make you think the insect was smoking a long pipe.”
-
-“The trumpet beetles form a numerous class, and they are all weevils,
-but their mode of life varies for the different species. Some attack
-fruit-trees and grape-vines. We will speak of them one of these days.
-
-“With its pointed snout the grain-weevil makes a tiny hole in a kernel
-of wheat, and in this it lays an egg which it makes fast by means of a
-sticky liquid from its own body. Then it passes immediately to other
-kernels and treats them in the same way, until its store of eggs is
-exhausted. And all this is done with such delicate nicety that the
-sharpest eyes would fail to detect any trace of these mischievous germs
-in the kernels. But a weevil knows very well when a kernel has already
-received an egg, from whatever source, and never does it commit the
-blunder of laying a second one there, for the grain of wheat is too
-small for more than one eater. To each kernel its larva, to each larva
-its kernel, and no more.
-
-“Soon the eggs hatch. The tiny worm punctures the envelop of the grain
-and through the almost invisible opening makes its way into the mealy
-substance within. There it is at home, in perfect quiet, peacefully
-devoted to the pleasures of feasting. For its own exclusive use a grain
-of wheat, a whole grain of wheat! Thus it grows big and fat. In five or
-six weeks the flour is all eaten up, but the bran remains, for the
-clever larva is careful not to make a hole in it; it will need it to
-serve as a cradle during the coming change. The gnawed kernel appears
-quite whole, when as a matter of fact it is hollow and lodges a weevil.
-In this hiding-place the larva turns into a nymph, and the latter into
-a perfect insect. Then the fully developed weevil tears open the bran
-covering and leaves its home to explore the pile of wheat, select
-certain ungnawed grains, and lay its eggs in them, eggs that will in
-time produce a new population of ravagers.”
-
-Here Uncle Paul picked out a few grains, one by one, and submitted them
-to his hearers’ scrutiny.
-
-“What do you see that is at all unusual in those grains?” he asked.
-“Look at them well.”
-
-“I have looked and looked,” Emile replied after a little, “and I don’t
-see anything.”
-
-“I don’t see anything, either,” said Jules.
-
-“Nor I,” added Louis.
-
-“Those grains, boys, have no flour in them, despite their fair outside
-appearance; the weevil has emptied them.”
-
-“But how can you tell so easily?” asked Jules.
-
-“A kernel inhabited by the grain-weevil yields to the pressure of a
-finger and is also lighter in weight than one that is sound. From
-appearance alone one cannot tell infested kernels from uninjured ones,
-as the outside looks the same in both cases. Thus, without extreme
-vigilance, the inroads of the weevil pass unperceived until the
-developed insects show themselves; and then the evil is beyond remedy.
-Didn’t Simon think he had a fine lot of wheat when there was hardly
-anything but the bran left? A very simple experiment suffices to prove
-the condition of the wheat. Throw a handful of it into water and all
-the sound kernels will sink to the bottom, all the unsound ones float
-on the surface. We will perform this experiment with the wheat on the
-plate if Jules will go to the spring and bring a glass of water.”
-
-The water was brought and Uncle Paul threw the wheat into it. A few
-grains sank, many floated. These latter were opened with the point of a
-pin, and in some was found a little soft white worm, without legs, but
-furnished with strong mandibles. It was the larva of the grain-weevil.
-In others there was a white nymph, and in a few was the perfect insect
-all ready to leave its snug abode.
-
-“To judge by the number of grains that floated,” Jules remarked,
-“Simon’s pile of wheat, even if it is not a very big one, must contain
-millions of weevils. It must have taken a lot of the creatures to
-produce such an immense family, mustn’t it?”
-
-“Not so many as you might think. How many eggs do you suppose one
-weevil lays?”
-
-“A dozen, perhaps.”
-
-“Ah, how far out you are in your reckoning! In the course of one season
-a weevil lays from eight to ten thousand eggs, from which spring as
-many larvæ, each gnawing a grain. A liter measure [9] contains, on an
-average, ten thousand grains of wheat. To feed the family of one
-weevil, therefore, nearly a liter of wheat is needed. Suppose there are
-a thousand pairs of these insects in a granary; that would be enough to
-destroy ten hectoliters of wheat, rye, barley, or oats; for they attack
-all kinds of grain impartially.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXXIX
-
-THE COMMON CATERPILLAR
-
-
-“I remember,” said Jules, “one Sunday last winter—it was some time in
-December or January, I think—the mayor had just posted a notice on the
-door of the town hall, and the people were reading it as they came from
-church. The notice was something about caterpillars, and the mayor had
-ordered their nests to be destroyed.”
-
-“Yes,” rejoined Uncle Paul, “the mayor had in mind, luckily for us, the
-caterpillar law.”
-
-“What! Is there a law about caterpillars, with a fine for disobeying
-it?”
-
-“Yes, my boy, there is a law about caterpillars, and I thank the
-legislature that had the wisdom to pass it. God grant it may become a
-more general statute and include a greater number of our insect
-enemies, the June-bug especially, and that it may be strictly
-enforced!”
-
-“But that would put people out, to have to leave their business and go
-and hunt for caterpillar-nests and burn them. At least, that’s what
-One-eyed John said when he read the mayor’s notice.”
-
-“Leave their business, you say? Is it leaving one’s business to go and
-save the crops when they are threatened? Laws, my young friend, are
-rules made for the general good, and we should all obey them
-scrupulously. If there are any narrow-minded objectors or stupid
-grumblers—any One-eyed Johns, in short—that choose to take offense, so
-much the worse for them: they will have to obey in any event, for the
-common interest is not to be compromised by the foolishness of a few.
-
-“The mayor’s notice had especial reference to a caterpillar whose
-ravages are, in some seasons, truly calamitous. So abundant is this
-caterpillar in central and northern France that it is called, briefly,
-the common caterpillar. It is encountered everywhere, on fruit-trees
-and forest trees, in garden walks and on plants and hedges, and even on
-the bark of trees, sometimes in countless legions.
-
-“It is dark brown in color with six rows of little tubercles or pimples
-of the same hue, each bearing a tuft of long, red hair. The ring-like
-segment to which is attached the last pair of false legs, and also the
-following segment, have each a plump red nipple which can at the
-caterpillar’s pleasure recede under the skin or stand out prominently.
-The butterfly developing from this caterpillar is pure white except on
-the abdomen, which is brown. Furthermore, the female has a thick tuft
-of red hair at the end of the abdomen. Its purpose is shown when the
-eggs are laid: after these are deposited, to the number of three or
-four hundred, the butterfly rubs off the hair and places it over the
-eggs. The laying takes place in July and the eggs, deposited in a
-little heap on a leaf, are rose red.”
-
-“But if they are on a leaf,” objected Emile, “they must fall from the
-tree when the leaves fall, and then the wind might blow them away.”
-
-“The butterfly that lays its eggs on a leaf knows very well what it is
-about. On the other hand, those butterflies that lay eggs that are to
-go through the winter and hatch in the spring are very careful not to
-entrust their eggs to a leaf, which will soon fall to the ground. They
-make their eggs fast to the bark. But whence do they get their
-knowledge of the future? Who told them the leaves would fall and
-therefore would be insecure resting-places for the eggs? They do not
-learn this by experience, for they have never seen the autumnal
-shedding of leaves, having been born when the foliage is already well
-advanced for their nourishment, and laying their eggs and dying while
-it is still on the trees. If, then, experience cannot account for it,
-we must ascribe the insect’s mysterious foreknowledge to the
-incomprehensible inspiration of instinct, which sees the invisible and
-knows the unknown because there is a Sovereign Intelligence that knows
-all and orders all.
-
-“Our common caterpillar likewise is led by instinct when it lays its
-eggs on a leaf, for long before the fall of that leaf they will hatch,
-in the last fortnight of July.”
-
-“A cunning rascal, that caterpillar,” said Emile; “it knows the order
-of the seasons as if it had the almanac by heart.”
-
-“I haven’t told you all. Another motive acts in determining the
-butterfly’s course. In laying its eggs on a leaf the insect places them
-where the young caterpillars are sure to find food close at hand when
-they come out of the eggs, so that they will not have to go running
-about over the branches, a dangerous thing at their tender age. All
-anxiety as to food supply is thus removed at the outset, and this
-assurance against famine is so much to the good in this world of chance
-and uncertainty, whether for men or caterpillars.”
-
-“If the butterfly reasoned it all out,” said Jules, “it couldn’t do any
-better.”
-
-“Perhaps not so well, my child. Are there not plenty of people, alas,
-that show far less foresight? The butterfly leaves to its young a leaf
-as a heritage, a leaf to eat, whereas the spendthrift, the idler,
-leaves to his family nothing but poverty and suffering. He has not even
-the wisdom of an insect.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XL
-
-CATERPILLARS AT TABLE
-
-
-“In the latter part of July the eggs hatch and through the covering of
-down appear, here and there, little heads pushing aside the fluff that
-is in their way. The first caterpillar hatched out crawls forward and
-begins to browse on the upper surface of the leaf, grazing it lightly
-and without eating through to the under surface or touching the veins;
-it feeds only on the pulpy matter forming most of the leaf’s thickness.
-As the hatching continues, another little caterpillar advances and
-takes its place beside the first, then a third, a fourth, and so on
-until the whole width of the leaf is occupied. In this way is formed
-the first row of browsing caterpillars, all with heads in a straight
-line and leaving in front a certain unoccupied space. The next
-caterpillar to emerge from under the matting of down begins a second
-row by taking its station at the tail of one of the preceding ones,
-after which others place themselves at the right and left. This row
-completed, a third is formed in the same manner, and then others, so
-that in a short time the entire surface of the leaf except the forward
-end is covered with rows of eaters. If one leaf is not enough for the
-whole brood, the later comers establish themselves in like order on
-neighboring leaves.
-
-“There they are, then, all at table. The strictest discipline prevails
-in this leafy dining-hall: each caterpillar gnaws what is directly
-under its mandibles, without turning to right or left, as that would
-take from its neighbor’s share; without advancing ahead of its own
-line, as that would mean using the supplies of the future; and without
-falling behind, as that would throw the rear ranks into confusion.
-Under these conditions a few mouthfuls and no more fall to each
-caterpillar. That is very little for a larva’s appetite. It must have
-more, but how obtain it? Scatter abroad on other leaves, haphazard?
-Undoubtedly there is plenty of room for all on the tree. But that would
-be highly imprudent: they must keep together, for union is the strength
-of the weak; they must keep together to be able to offer some sort of
-formidable appearance to their enemies. It would be equally
-objectionable for each to be a law to itself and gnaw where it chose on
-the same leaf. The resulting confusion would cause waste, and also it
-would be very difficult for each to get its proper share, some stuffing
-themselves and others near by dying of hunger. In such absence of law
-and order they would come to blows and fight desperately for a footing
-on the leaf, so that civil war would soon thin their ranks, for there
-is no worse counselor in such emergencies than the stomach. Order is
-the only solution of their problem, order which safeguards human as
-well as insect communities.”
-
-“What do they do, then?” asked Jules.
-
-“We are coming to that. Each caterpillar, as I said, gnaws only the
-spot directly within reach. In this way there is left unbrowsed, first
-the part covered by each body, and then the forward part of the leaf,
-which is still unoccupied. The first row of caterpillars advances one
-step and finds a second ration in the part thus reached; but at the
-same time it uncovers in the rear a crosswise strip one step wide,
-which the second row now advances to feed upon, while in its turn it
-leaves a similar strip free for the third row; and so on. One step
-forward for the whole troop puts each row in possession of the strip
-left uncovered by the preceding row. As for the first row, it feeds
-little by little on the forward part of the leaf, designedly left
-unoccupied in the beginning. When step by step the very end of the leaf
-is reached, each caterpillar has gnawed a strip as long and as wide as
-its own body. By that time the first meal is finished. You see that
-with order and economy a hundred and more caterpillars all have a place
-in the dining-hall on the surface of the leaf, and all have as nearly
-equal rations as if these had been allotted by weight and measure.”
-
-“Animals with their instinct are wonderful creatures, Uncle,” observed
-Jules. “Every day brings some fresh surprise.”
-
-“It is not the creature itself that is to be wondered at, my dear
-child; the marvels it accomplishes are not the fruit of its reflection.
-A grub just out of the egg can have no ideas on method, economy,
-coöperation, when in order to acquire these ideas man needs the full
-maturity of his reason. Our tribute of admiration should be paid to the
-Infinite Wisdom which governs the world and leads a brood of
-caterpillars browsing the surface of a leaf.
-
-“Their first hunger appeased, the caterpillars construct a shelter from
-rain and the heat of the sun. On its gnawed side the leaf is dryer than
-on the other, and consequently has of itself taken a kind of concave
-shape by curling up, which makes it serve excellently for the floor and
-walls of the new abode. As for the ceiling, that is to be of silk. From
-one raised edge of the leaf to the other the caterpillars stretch
-threads to strengthen their shelter and serve as framework for the
-roof, and finally they weave a fabric on this network of threads. Thus
-is erected a tent under which the caterpillars take refuge for the
-night after roaming over the foliage most of the day, feeding sometimes
-on one leaf, sometimes on another. Thither also they retire when the
-heat is excessive or the weather threatening. It is a shelter hastily
-constructed and not of enduring quality, besides being too small to
-hold them all. So other tents are made of other gnawed leaves, and the
-caterpillars live for a while divided into small families.
-
-“But with the first rain-storms of autumn, in September or October, a
-large building is constructed for housing the whole colony through the
-winter. It is a bulky mass of dry leaves and white silk, with no
-definite shape. The inside is divided with silk partitions into
-numerous apartments to which there is access through holes that pierce,
-systematically, the several partitions. Each enclosure thus has its
-doors which, without being directly opposite each other, yet provide
-free circulation. In short, this common nest, though made of extremely
-fine silk, is substantial enough to be proof against wind and weather,
-for the caterpillars use many webs, placed one over another and each
-containing a great number of threads. With the coming of the first cold
-weather all shut themselves up, the doors are barricaded with silk, and
-everything is made snug for the winter. Now let the wind blow and the
-snow fall! Curled up together and snuggling against one another, the
-caterpillars sleep the deep sleep produced by the cold, lying torpid in
-their house of silk until the warmth of opening spring awakens them and
-sends them forth to browse on the growing leaves.”
-
-“And don’t they eat anything all winter?” asked Emile.
-
-“All winter as well as a part of the autumn and spring they take no
-food whatever. Their fast lasts six months, and it is an absolute fast
-that must leave them with very empty stomachs.”
-
-“They must be awfully hungry when they wake up.”
-
-“So hungry that they make a dash for the tender young leaves and
-opening flowers, and in less than no time strip an orchard bare. If the
-nests are very numerous whole forests are browsed to the last leaf.”
-
-“And then?”
-
-“To prevent these ravages the mayor’s notice is heeded. Some time in
-the winter these terrible bags of dry leaves and silk are detached from
-the trees, hedges, and bushes, and the nests with their occupants are
-burned. In spring it would be too late: the caterpillars would all have
-left their quarters.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLI
-
-ENEMIES OF THE GRAPEVINE
-
-
-One morning Jules was sent to the mill to give notice that his uncle’s
-wheat was ready to be ground. After he had left the village his road
-ran along beside a vineyard that showed signs of neglect, weeds and
-thistles springing up unchecked. Nevertheless the vines were pleasing
-to the eye in the spring freshness of their tender green shoots, with
-their clusters of blossoms still in the bud and their delicate tendrils
-reaching out for something to cling to. Here and there leaves of faded
-and ragged appearance, with others that were dried up and shriveled,
-took away somewhat from the general effect; but they were not very
-numerous and Jules failed to notice them at first. Afterward, for the
-last half of the way along the vineyard, these withered leaves became
-so abundant that the young vine shoots looked as if they had been swept
-by a fire.
-
-“Some ravager is at work here,” said the boy to himself, for his eyes
-were daily becoming more keenly observant. “Let’s look into this a
-little.”
-
-The vines were pitiful to behold, their young shoots showing more and
-more toward the growing end, where the grape clusters were forming,
-dried and crumpled leaves, some of these being rolled up like cigars.
-Under closer scrutiny there was often to be seen an insect with a long
-beak, a weevil of a brilliant metallic green color. Without question
-this beautiful weevil was the cause of the mischief. Insects and
-cigars, especially the former, sparkling creatures in the bright light
-of the sun, were soon collected by Jules as specimens to take home.
-Just then One-eyed John, the owner of the vineyard, came along.
-
-“What are you doing there?” he demanded.
-
-“Catching a few of these insects that are ruining your vines,” the boy
-replied.
-
-“Let me see them.”
-
-“Here they are.”
-
-“And you say they are ruining my vines?”
-
-“I think so. I have just seen some of them making these cigars.”
-
-“Oh, bosh, you silly! Do you think they would take the trouble to make
-cigars out of leaves? They don’t smoke. It’s the moon that has burned
-my vines, the moon.”
-
-And so, satisfied with his explanation, One-eyed John turned on his
-heel and went off, whistling a tune. But he would stop whistling when,
-three years later, he had to pull up those vines, exhausted as they
-were by the cigar-rollers. Nevertheless he would not take back what he
-had said: the moon had caused all the mischief.
-
-Returning from the mill, Jules picked up Louis on the way and brought
-him back to share in the benefit of what Uncle Paul might have to say
-concerning the specimens Jules had collected.
-
-“The insect found on the vine,” said he, after examining one of the
-brilliant creatures, “is a weevil. You all remember that this name is
-given to various beetles with a head tapering into a sort of trumpet.
-This one is the rhynchites, as entomologists call it, or the vine-grub,
-as it is known to vine-growers. It is of a magnificent lustrous green
-on the back, and underneath it shines like gold. Some dark-blue ones
-are also found, but they are more rare. The male has on each side of
-the thorax a little pointed protuberance directed forward. The larva is
-a small, white, legless worm that begins life in a roll made by the
-mother with a vine leaf. In the month of May she begins operations by
-cutting the stem of the leaf three-quarters through to arrest the flow
-of sap, so that the leaf may wither and be the easier to roll. Then the
-weevil rolls it up and lays three or four eggs in its folds. When in
-the process of drying the leaf has assumed the color of tobacco, you
-would take it for a cigar hanging from the vine. The young larvæ soon
-abandon this first shelter, let themselves fall, and burrow into the
-ground, where they finish developing. The vine-grub saps the vigor of
-the vine by destroying its leaves, and therefore the cigar-like rolls
-should be picked off and burned in May or June. In this way the infant
-insects are destroyed in the cradle and much future damage is
-prevented.”
-
-“Along with the shiny green weevil that rolls vine leaves into cigars I
-found this other insect,” Jules announced, displaying the creature.
-
-“That is not a weevil, as you can see from the shape of its head, which
-has no tapering beak. Its wing sheaths are chestnut red, the rest of
-the body being black. It is known as the eumolpus or, more commonly,
-the vine-fretter, or, in our language, the scrivener because in gnawing
-the surface of the vine leaves it traces fine lines that look somewhat
-like intricate handwriting. It attacks in the same way the stems of
-grape leaves and of grape clusters, the young shoots of the vine, and
-the grapes themselves. If the insects are numerous, all these incisions
-and lacerations cause the vines to wither away and produce but little
-fruit, and that of poor quality.
-
-“The larvæ of the vine-fretter live in the ground, and to destroy them
-the soil thus infested is turned over in the winter, as exposure to the
-cold kills the grubs. When the insects are fully developed it is
-exceedingly difficult to rid the vines of them. At the slightest alarm
-the little creature, busy with its destructive writing on the leaves,
-draws its legs up under its belly and lets itself drop to the ground,
-where it cannot be easily seen because of its dull hue; and it also
-keeps perfectly still, playing dead.”
-
-“Does it think it can escape by not moving?” asked Emile.
-
-“Doubtless, because then, even if it should by any chance be
-discovered, it would probably be mistaken for a grain of earth.”
-
-“Wouldn’t it be better for it to fly away or run away than to play
-dead?”
-
-“Its flight is too heavy and its legs too short. All insects that
-cannot take instant flight and are without means of defense do as does
-the vine-fretter in time of danger: they remain perfectly motionless.
-Nearly always this expedient succeeds with them because their color,
-commonly a dull one, causes them to be confounded with the soil.”
-
-“Ah, the sly rogues!”
-
-“Well, then, this ruse of the vine-fretter must be turned to account by
-us in our efforts to exterminate the insect. Under the vine we stretch
-a cloth, after which a sharp blow is given to the main stem. The
-vine-fretters let themselves fall, they play dead, but they can be seen
-on the cloth and not one escapes the sad fate awaiting it.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLII
-
-CLEVER MISCHIEF-MAKERS
-
-
-“Here is another weevil I have to show you,” began Uncle Paul the next
-day. “What do you think of it? Note its shiny violet coat with glints
-of blue that bring out the delicate down with which the whole body is
-covered. The purple of our richest silks is not so magnificent.”
-
-“Oh, the pretty little thing!” cried Emile. “What can it do with its
-beautiful clothes?”
-
-“Nothing to our advantage, my boy. Fine clothes do not make useful
-citizens, either among insects or among men. The bee’s dress is a
-modest brown, and the bee works at honey-making; the dress of the
-weevil I show you here is very handsome, but the elegant creature lives
-at our expense. If you have in your garden any fine plums or pears or
-apples, it gets ahead of you in harvesting the crop; it does not even
-wait for the fruit to ripen, so fearful is it of being too late. In
-June it punctures with its pointed snout the young apple or pear or
-plum and lays an egg in the unripe flesh. The fruit thus treated feeds
-the larva for some time, and then dries up and falls off. Then the worm
-emigrates, leaves the plum that has nourished it, and buries itself in
-the ground to reappear the next spring as a perfect insect.”
-
-“I should like to know the name of this plum-pricker; I’d teach it to
-behave if I got hold of it.”
-
-“It is called, very inappropriately, the rhynchites bacchus.”
-
-“Bacchus, if I remember rightly,” said Jules, “is the god of wine.”
-
-“Exactly; and that is where the word is out of place here. No doubt the
-first observers confounded the weevil of our orchards with that of our
-vineyards, giving to the former the name that should belong to the
-latter. But the mistake has been made and we can’t do anything about it
-now. Let us keep the names as they are, but not confound the two
-weevils so different in appearance and habits. The weevil that rolls
-the vine leaves is hairless and of a golden-green color; the other is
-all covered with hairs and its color is a lustrous violet. To avoid
-confusion in our talk, why should we not call this latter insect the
-plum-weevil, or the pear-weevil?”
-
-“That would be a good name for it,” assented Louis.
-
-“I shall just call it the plum-pricker,” declared Emile.
-
-“There is no reason why you should not,” his uncle agreed. “Now let us
-pass on to another member of the family. See what widely dissimilar
-habits there are in a group of insects in which the expert eye can
-nevertheless perceive close resemblances, I might almost say a near
-relationship. Some roll grape or oak or poplar leaves; others puncture
-fruit with the beak; this one here that I am going to tell you about
-severs—partly, never wholly—the tips of young and tender shoots of
-various fruit-trees. Hence they are commonly known as bud-cutters. It
-is a weevil, but much smaller than that of the grapevine. The adjective
-conical is given to it on account of the shape of its thorax or
-breastplate, which tapers a little toward the front like a sugar-loaf.
-It is rather lustrous and of a blue color shading into green.
-
-“It shows remarkable cleverness in its operations. Establishing itself
-in spring on a pear, cherry, apricot, plum, or hawthorn tree,
-indifferently, it selects one by one the shoots that suit it, and in
-the not yet unfolded terminal bud it bores with its beak a tiny hole,
-in which it lays an egg. But it appears that the young larva requires a
-diet especially prepared for it, one that is slightly decomposed, and
-not the bitter juices of the vigorously growing shoot. Have not we
-ourselves similar tastes? Do we eat medlars and sorb-apples just as
-they come from the tree? No indeed; they must first be left to ripen on
-straw, even to decay a little.”
-
-“Then they are first-rate,” was Emile’s pronouncement; “but before that
-they are horrid.”
-
-“That is what the larva of the weevil would say about the shoot on
-which it has just hatched out. Before being treated it is bitter, it
-rasps the throat and sets the mandibles on edge; after treatment it is
-delicious.”
-
-“Yet it doesn’t put the branch to ripen on straw as we do medlars?”
-
-“No. In most cases larvæ show no ingenuity whatever; they eat like
-gluttons and without a thought for anything but eating. You know well
-enough that giving oneself up to gorging is hardly the way to improve
-the mind. For these larvæ, then, a ready-made pap has to be provided,
-as otherwise, not knowing how to prepare it themselves, they would
-stupidly starve to death. And who prepares the food and makes it just
-right for them? The mother, if you please, the mother whose great and
-only occupation it is to provide for the future needs of her unborn
-young. She makes it her business to find for them food that not only
-has no nourishment in it for herself, but which she dislikes; she
-denies herself the enjoyment of flowery fields and summer sunshine to
-devote all her energies to arduous labors that are of no advantage to
-her personally; and when she has spent her little span of life at this
-hard task she retires into a corner and dies content: the table is set,
-the young larvæ will not lack for food.
-
-“When you see the weevil on a vine leaf, sparkling like a precious gem,
-do not think it is there to enjoy itself. It is spending itself in the
-difficult undertaking of sawing the leaf half-way through at the stem,
-after which it will roll the leaf into a sheath to serve as lodging and
-first food for the larvæ. Its whole life of two or three weeks is given
-to this work. How can it benefit the insect itself to saw leaf stems
-and make the leaves wither in the sun and then roll them up? In no way
-whatever; the weevil does not eat these leaves or lodge in the sheath
-made by rolling one of them up. It spends its energies in this work
-solely for the larvæ that are to be hatched out after its death. Have
-you ever reflected, my children, on this perpetual miracle,—the miracle
-of a mother living only for her little ones, little ones that she is
-destined never to see? I will not conceal from you that every time I
-think of this maternal foresight, this laborious preparation for a
-future unknown to the mother herself, I feel myself deeply moved. The
-All-seeing Eye is there.
-
-“In a way peculiar to itself the conical weevil makes ready the pap
-that is to feed its family. The larvæ, as I said, require the mild
-juices of a shoot that has been deprived of its natural vigor. What
-does the mother do to put the branch in the proper condition? Under the
-spot where the egg is laid she cuts away the bark and some of the wood
-in a circle, with her fine mandibles, leaving the shoot supported only
-by the central portion of the stem. The sap no longer circulating
-beyond this girdle, the leaves affected soon wither and the entire tip
-of the shoot turns black and acquires that state of decay best liked by
-the new-born grub.”
-
-“I knew how to ripen medlars on straw,” said Emile, “but I should have
-been puzzled to tell how to ripen a branch of a tree. What curious
-creatures those are, with their clever ways of doing things! One can do
-one thing and another can do another, and it is always ingenious and
-never the same.”
-
-“It is vexatious that all too often the insect’s labors involve harm
-and loss to us. When a fruit-tree has been operated on by the conical
-weevil you can see, in the month of May, the tips of the shoots hanging
-withered and blackened, after which they dry up and fall.”
-
-“Do the larvæ stay in the tips of the fallen branches?” asked Jules.
-
-“What would they do there? Food would fail them, and so they bury
-themselves in the ground to finish their growth and pass the winter
-there snugly and safely. In the spring their metamorphosis takes
-place.”
-
-“Then to guard against insect ravages for the next year,” said Louis,
-“the withered shoots that hang from the trees should be collected and
-burned while the larvæ are still there.”
-
-“Yes, that is the best thing to do.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLIII
-
-NUT-WEEVILS AND FLOWER-WEEVILS
-
-
-“Ha, you rascal, I’ve caught you at it now, eating my hazelnuts!” cried
-Louis one day on seeing a weevil piercing with its long beak a still
-tender young nut. “I’ve caught you at it. But first I’ll learn all
-about you, and then we’ll have a reckoning.”
-
-The weevil was placed in a paper cornucopia together with some pierced
-hazelnuts, and in his first spare moment Louis hastened to Uncle Paul’s
-house, his cheeks flushed with excitement. Little Louis was very fond
-of hazelnuts, and to catch in the very act the insect that attacks them
-was a very serious matter, to his thinking. In the evening Uncle Paul
-had his usual audience around him to listen to his account of the
-hazelnut-weevil.
-
-“Here is the little insect Louis has caught,” he began. “Look at its
-beak a moment.”
-
-“What a nose!” exclaimed Emile. “Oh, what a nose! It is as slender as a
-hair and very long and turned back at the end.”
-
-“Doesn’t it look as if it were smoking a long pipe, as I said the other
-day?” asked Louis.
-
-“See, Uncle,” Emile pointed out, “how close together its eyes are; they
-almost touch each other, and the insect seems to be squinting. How
-funny it is, with its nose like a pipe-stem and its squinting eyes!”
-
-“Where is its mouth?” asked Jules.
-
-“At the very end of what Emile calls its long nose,” his uncle replied.
-
-“How does it manage to eat? Food must have a hard time getting through
-that stem not so big around as a thread.”
-
-“Yes, how does it manage to eat?” Emile chimed in. “I should be in a
-terrible fix if I had to take my food through a straw as long as
-myself.”
-
-“The weevil is obliged to exercise moderation; at the most it drinks
-with its beak only a few drops of sap from the hazelnut-tree it
-inhabits. But if the weevil is temperate in its diet, the larva of the
-weevil eats with a good appetite: it demands the whole kernel of a
-hazelnut, and it is on purpose to give the larva this food that the
-weevil is provided with the long beak that astonishes you. The perfect
-insect, I repeat, lives much more for its future family than for
-itself, its equipment being designed with reference to the future of
-its young. If the weevil had to think merely of its own food its
-trumpet would be highly inconvenient; but it must above all look out
-for the well-being of its larvæ, and to make provision for that, the
-creature’s long and slender beak is a wonderful tool, serving as a fine
-gimlet for boring through the nutshell so that the egg may be laid in
-the very meat itself and the larva be hatched out in the lap of
-plenty.”
-
-“That must be a long, hard job for so fine a gimlet,” Jules remarked.
-
-“Not at all. The tiny mandibles at the end of the trumpet bite the
-shell almost as easily as an edged tool of steel would do it; and
-moreover the weevil chooses its time. It is in May, when the hazelnuts
-are beginning to grow and their shells are soft, that the task is
-undertaken. The insect attacks the nut at the base through the green
-covering called the cup. As soon as the hole is made, an egg is laid
-inside the nut and in a week the larva is hatched out. It is a legless
-worm, white with a red head. As the grub eats very little at first, the
-hazelnut continues to grow and its kernel to ripen, though gnawed
-little by little. When August comes, the store of provision is
-exhausted and the wormy nut lies on the ground. Then the worm, its
-mandibles strong by this time, makes a round hole in the empty shell
-and, leaving the nut, buries itself in the ground, where it undergoes
-transformation the following spring.”
-
-“When I am cracking nuts with my teeth,” said Emile, “I once in a while
-bite into something bitter and soft.”
-
-“That is the grub of the weevil.”
-
-“Pah! The nasty thing!”
-
-“How can I keep the creatures off my hazelnut-trees?” asked Louis.
-
-“That is very simple. Gather the wormy nuts, which sooner or later fall
-to the ground just as does fruit attacked by insects. If they are not
-pierced with a large hole the worm is still there. By burning them you
-destroy the weevils of the following year.”
-
-“But this year’s weevils will be left.”
-
-“No, for it is a rule that insects die soon after laying their eggs.”
-
-“You haven’t told us the name of this hazelnut-eater,” said Jules.
-
-“It is called the hazelnut-balaninus or hazelnut-weevil, and you can
-easily recognize it by its very fine, long, and recurved beak, as also
-by the yellowish-gray down that covers the whole of the insect.
-
-“Another balaninus, smaller but of the same shape and color, lives in
-acorns in its larva state, and is known as the oak-balaninus. A third,
-not very often seen around here, lives in cherry-stones. It is the
-cherry-balaninus.”
-
-“How different they all are in their ways of living!” Jules remarked.
-“The grain-weevil gnaws the kernels of grain; the vine-weevils and
-fruit-weevils roll leaves or prick pears and plums or cut the buds; and
-now here are the nut-weevils that attack the hazelnut-meat, the
-cherry-stone, and the acorn. Are there any that eat flowers?”
-
-“Indeed there are. No part of a plant is spared by insects. The
-apple-tree, the pear-tree, and the cherry-tree have each its peculiar
-weevil that in its larva state lives at the expense of the flower buds.
-These ravagers are called by a Greek name meaning flower-eaters. See
-this apple-tree weevil, the one most familiar to us. It is brown, with
-a small white stripe edged with black and placed slantwise on the end
-of each wing sheath. Beginning in April, it spreads over the
-apple-trees and pierces the flower buds with its fine beak, laying an
-egg in each one. A week later the larva is hatched out, and immediately
-the little worm begins to gnaw the flower that is curled up in the bud.
-Only the outside covering is left intact by this devourer. Of course a
-bud that has had its heart eaten out cannot blossom, and so flower and
-fruit are both lost. The damaged buds, being gnawed only within, keep
-their shape and take in drying the appearance of cloves.”
-
-“Those cloves that Mother Ambroisine puts in stews?” asked Emile.
-
-“The same.”
-
-“What are cloves?”
-
-“They are, as I have already told you, [10] the buds or unopened
-flowers of the clove-tree, an aromatic bush growing in hot countries.
-They are gathered before opening and are dried in the sun.”
-
-“I see why buds pricked by the flower-weevil look like cloves. In both
-cases they are buds that have dried up without opening.”
-
-“The larva of the flower-weevil, like those of weevils in general, is a
-tiny legless worm, white in color. It does not leave the bud it has
-gnawed when this falls from the tree. The larva of the nut-weevil
-leaves its nut by boring a hole through the shell, that of the conical
-weevil leaves the fallen shoot, the vine-weevil lets itself drop out of
-its rolled leaf, and all three bury themselves in the ground to pass
-the winter in safety and be transformed the following spring. The larva
-of the flower-weevil is more expeditious: its change into an insect
-takes place as soon as it has eaten its bud, so that there is no need
-for it to leave its quarters. As animals never do anything without a
-purpose, the grub remains shut up in the dry bud. Six weeks after the
-egg is laid the larva emerges transformed into a perfect insect and
-flits from one apple-tree to another all summer. Then comes the
-winter.”
-
-“That must be a trying time,” said Jules.
-
-“Many perish, but others survive, hidden under moss, in the cracks of
-bark, or among dry leaves. Indeed, there are plenty of them left to
-destroy the buds on our apple-trees when spring comes.
-
-“The flower-weevil of the pear-tree and that of the cherry-tree
-resemble the one I have just shown you, and their habits are exactly
-the same.
-
-“It is not easy to get rid of these flower-destroyers. If one had only
-a few trees to take care of, and those easy to get at in every part,
-one could if necessary gather and burn the dry buds inhabited by the
-larvæ. By this painstaking process some of the following year’s fruit
-might be saved; but not even so should we get rid of all the
-flower-weevils, as these insects fly well and far and they would come
-from the surrounding region after we had destroyed all our own.
-Besides, the gathering of injured buds is impracticable on a large
-scale.”
-
-“Will these little flower-eaters come to be masters of our orchards?”
-asked Jules. “Will they destroy our apples and pears in the bud, and
-can’t we do anything to prevent it?”
-
-“They would indeed be masters had we not vigilant guards, sharp-eyed
-helpers, that from sunrise to sunset lie in wait for insects and hunt
-them with a patience, skill, and industry that none of us would be
-capable of.”
-
-“You mean the birds?” said Emile.
-
-“Yes, the birds. When you see on an apple-tree in bloom a little bird
-hopping from branch to branch, warbling and pecking, thank God, my
-children, for giving us the charming creature that with every peck of
-its beak delivers us from an enemy.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLIV
-
-ENEMIES OF CLOVER
-
-
-“Would you like to see another little creature that by reason of its
-very smallness and its countless numbers braves our wrath and commits
-ravages that can be checked only by our agricultural helpers, the foes
-of our foes? Here it is.”
-
-“I see it, with its long beak,” cried Jules; “it is another weevil.”
-
-“Oh, how tiny it is!” exclaimed Emile. “Surely it can’t eat very much.”
-
-“It is small, but so numerous that to feed its larvæ it requires whole
-fields of clover; not the entire plant, but only the blossom, as with
-the larvæ of the flower-weevil.”
-
-“What gluttons! They think they must have blossoms, tender and
-sweet-smelling.”
-
-“It is the clover-weevil, and it measures scarcely three millimeters in
-length. The body, of a uniform black, is slightly globular behind. You
-know clover well enough, with its blossoms massed in a round head.
-Well, the clover-weevil lays its eggs on the flower-head before the
-blossoms open.”
-
-“Without boring into each flower separately to lay its eggs in?” Jules
-inquired.
-
-“The weevil does not take that trouble. The larvæ must manage for
-themselves. As soon as it is hatched out each one pierces the base of
-the flower that suits it and works its way inside. Once there, it eats
-the heart of the bud, especially the part that would have become fruit,
-the little pod with its seeds. That done, it takes on its insect form.
-
-“Another weevil, equally small and equally numerous, runs neck and neck
-with this one in destroying clover blossoms. It is black, with yellow
-legs. Both abound in cultivated fields. In winter they can be found
-gathered at the foot of trees, waiting for the clover to bloom before
-they go to work.
-
-“You might think these two weevils enough to destroy this useful forage
-plant; but there are others still, some larger and some smaller, and
-all eager to get at the poor clover. It would almost seem as if insects
-had agreed to attack especially those plants that are useful to man.
-They set to work, by threes, by fours, by tens, and even by hundreds if
-need be, to carry out their ruinous operations, some on the flowers,
-others on the roots, and still others on the leaves and stems of our
-most valuable plants. The grapevine has its caterpillars, beetles, and
-lice; wheat feeds destroyers still more numerous and varied, such as
-weevils, moths, white worms, gnats, and many others; and for the
-pear-tree alone we can count five hundred ravagers, perhaps more.”
-
-“Do they want to starve us, then?” Jules again inquired.
-
-“What shall I say? They go to work in a way to frighten one. You ask
-their motive. I will try to show you some other time; but now let us
-finish our talk on the enemies of clover.
-
-“This one, here in my hand, is known by the learned as the
-clover-hylast. It is a tiny brown beetle with truncated wing sheaths
-like those of the bark-beetle, which it closely resembles. In fact it
-belongs to the same family. While the clover-weevil is busy destroying
-the blossoms, this creature stays in the ground and gnaws the roots of
-the plant.
-
-“We have now the roots, the blossoms, and the young shoots devoured.
-Who will look after the leaves? ‘I,’ replies a little beetle with a
-rounded back and a flattened stomach, and called the globular lasia; ‘I
-will do it so that man shall not find anything to mow after we get
-through with the clover.’
-
-“You are familiar with the ladybird or ladybug, that little red beetle
-with tiny black spots on its back, the good God’s insect. Never molest
-it when you find it in the garden. It works for us, going from one
-plant to another, devouring lice, those pot-bellied creatures that in
-countless swarms infest the tender shoots of plants and suck the sap.
-The ladybird eats our enemies, plant-lice; it dotes on them. Do not
-disturb it.
-
-“The insect known as the globular lasia is of the same family as the
-ladybird, and like the latter it is round and red and has black spots,
-but they are placed differently and usually number about a dozen on
-each wing sheath. The larva is yellow and all bristling with little
-hairs that stand up like tiny thorns. Both the larva and the mature
-insect live, not on lice, but on leaves, whether of clover, vetch,
-lucerne, or some other plant. The marks they make on the gnawed leaves
-look like furrows made by a four-toothed comb.
-
-“Finally, who is to take in hand the stems of the clover? This task
-will fall to various caterpillars equipped with good teeth and strong
-jaws, as for example the glyphic noctua, a rather pretty moth with
-upper wings bearing irregular spots encircled each by a light-gray
-thread on a brown background, and lower wings brightly spotted with a
-light shade of yellow.
-
-“On every part of the clover, on stems and blossoms, leaves and roots,
-ravenous devourers are now installed. Have I exhausted the list? By no
-means. There are others in plenty, if only to take the leavings of
-those I have named.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLV
-
-CABBAGE-EATERS
-
-
-One day Jacques came in from the garden with a cabbage root all covered
-with warts having the shape and size of a pea. In each wart was a
-little worm.
-
-“Some of the cabbages are withering away,” announced the old gardener,
-“though there are no worms on the leaves. I think the trouble comes
-from the warts on the roots.”
-
-“You have guessed right, my good Jacques,” replied Uncle Paul. “Leave
-me that root and pull up all the cabbages that appear to you to be
-affected. Of course you will burn all the diseased roots. By so doing
-you will arrest the evil in the beginning, as the insect causing the
-mischief is rare with us. The important thing is not to let it multiply
-in the garden, even if we have to throw away many of the cabbages in
-exterminating it.”
-
-Uncle Paul’s instructions were followed, and no more warty roots have
-been seen since. Next day the cabbage’s enemies were the subject of
-conversation.
-
-“Cultivated plants,” said Uncle Paul, “are more exposed to the ravages
-of insects than the same plants in a wild state, because they are of a
-finer flavor, tenderer, and of more luxuriant growth. Let us first
-consider the cabbage, now that Jacques has furnished us the occasion.
-
-“Look at this root, quite covered with ugly warts, hollow inside. I
-open one. What do we find within? A small worm, a larva that would, if
-left undisturbed, develop into a weevil with a beak that lies down on
-the breast between the forelegs when the insect curls up and plays
-dead. This weevil is known to men of science as belonging to a genus
-called ceuthorhynchus, a name formed from two Greek words and meaning
-snout-hider. It is black, with grayish hairs on the back and white
-scales on the belly. Its thorax has a deep furrow and its wing sheaths
-are ornamented with fine parallel grooves.
-
-“It lays its eggs about the beginning of summer. The insect works its
-way down to the root and punctures it here and there with its beak,
-laying an egg in each puncture. In flowing around the wounded part the
-sap of the plant forms a knob or fleshy wart in which the larva grows
-until the end of October, when the worm leaves this nest to bury itself
-in the ground, safe from the cold, and undergo transformation. The
-punctured root exhausts its energies in bleeding sap to form the warts
-occupied by the larvæ, so that the cabbage rapidly withers away; and in
-this manner the cabbage-weevil makes itself an enemy much to be feared,
-especially in England where it is extremely common. Nor does it confine
-its depredations to cabbages; it attacks turnips also, and radishes and
-rape.”
-
-“This weevil seems to eat a good many things,” said Jules. “I thought
-each kind of insect always fed on one particular plant.”
-
-“You were not far wrong, my boy. In most cases insects have very
-exclusive tastes, each confining itself to one kind of plant and
-disdaining all others. Sometimes, however, they vary their diet, and as
-they are connoisseurs, very well up on vegetable flavors, in changing
-their food they choose plants having nearly identical nutritive
-properties, taste, and smell. Do not we ourselves find in the radish
-and the turnip something of the smell and taste of the cabbage?”
-
-“That’s so,” assented Louis.
-
-“We find more or less similarity in the qualities characteristic of a
-great many other plants grouped together by botanists in the family of
-cruciferæ and including, for instance, the cress, the radish, and
-colza.”
-
-“Botanists, cruciferæ—I don’t know very well what those are,” said
-Emile.
-
-“No, those are strange words to you. Botanists are learned persons who
-spend their time studying plants and who tell us their names and
-properties, differences and resemblances, where they grow and when they
-blossom, with other matters of that sort.”
-
-“And cruciferæ?”
-
-“That word means cross-bearers and is applied to a large group of
-plants with blossoms having four pieces or petals placed two by two,
-opposite each other, so as to form a sort of cross. A good example is
-the colza blossom. Plants with cross-shaped flowers include the
-cabbage, rape, turnip, radish, clove, colza, cress, and many others.”
-
-“They are all cruciferæ?”
-
-“Yes, all cruciferæ. But their likeness is not confined to the shape of
-the blossom; their inner properties also, such as smell, taste, and the
-rest, are the same, or very nearly so. Consequently, the
-cabbage-weevil, as knowing a little creature as can be found, goes to
-the turnip when there are no cabbages to be had, to the colza if
-turnips also are lacking, or to other plants still, but always to some
-member of the cruciferæ family. Other insects show this same
-peculiarity, each species having its particular group of plants and
-going from one to another without ever making a mistake as to family.”
-
-“Then they are expert botanists, I should say,” Jules remarked.
-
-“One might almost think so; at least they show in their choice so keen
-a discernment that often men of science go to school to them to learn
-the various degrees of relationship in the plant world.”
-
-“Oh, Uncle Paul, you are joking!” exclaimed Jules.
-
-“Joking? Listen. You know the nasturtium, that beautiful orange-colored
-flower ending at the bottom in a kind of horn; and you know the
-mignonette, that sweet-smelling plant that Mother Ambroisine grows in
-the window.”
-
-“Yes, I know them.”
-
-“Then tell me whether you find between mignonette, nasturtium, and
-cabbage any resemblance, any sign of plant-relationship.”
-
-“No, indeed! Those three plants are wholly unlike one another: their
-flowers haven’t the same shape, nor their leaves, nor yet their fruit.”
-
-“Well, my dear boy, you, who rather pride yourself on knowing something
-about flowers, really know much less about them than a poor little
-green caterpillar very common in our gardens; and many persons of far
-more learning than you could take lessons from this same caterpillar.
-It feeds indifferently on various cruciferæ, such as the cabbage, rape,
-and the turnip; but it also feeds on the nasturtium and the mignonette.
-Why? You must ask the scientists who make a thorough study of plants
-and are determined to find out the minutest details concerning them.
-They would tell you that there is something in their innermost
-structure, something invisible to our untrained eyes, that makes the
-nasturtium and the mignonette very nearly akin to the cruciferæ without
-looking like them. It is enough to puzzle anybody, I admit. A worthless
-caterpillar has, from the beginning of the world, eaten mignonette as
-well as turnip, cabbage as well as nasturtium, and has been familiar
-with plant-relationships unsuspected by science until our own time.”
-
-“I should like to see this caterpillar that knows so much about
-plants.”
-
-“Your desire shall be gratified without delay.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLVI
-
-A DESTRUCTIVE FAMILY
-
-
-They went out to the garden and Uncle Paul hunted for some time in the
-cabbage bed before he found what he wanted.
-
-“Here is the caterpillar we were talking about,” he announced at last.
-“It is of a delicate green color with three yellow stripes running
-lengthwise. Now you must make the acquaintance of the butterfly. Jules,
-go and bring me the net.”
-
-Uncle Paul had a large gauze net, the mouth of which was attached to a
-hoop of coarse iron wire fastened to the end of a long stick. That was
-his butterfly-net, and in his leisure moments he used it for catching
-butterflies, that he might destroy them before they laid their eggs on
-the plants in the garden. The more butterflies destroyed, the fewer
-hundreds of caterpillars a little later. Jules came back with the net,
-but the chase did not accomplish the desired result, though another
-butterfly was caught very much like the one they were after.
-
-“We must be content with this,” said Uncle Paul. “My butterfly-hunting
-of the last few days seems to have left us none of the sort I am
-looking for; so we will not waste any more time.
-
-“The insect I have just caught is known as the cabbage-butterfly. Its
-wings are white, the forward ones having black tips and two or three
-spots of the same color in the middle.”
-
-“I see that butterfly everywhere,” declared Emile.
-
-“It is in fact one of the most widely prevalent species. Its
-caterpillar is greenish, marked with black dots and three longitudinal
-yellow stripes. It does not spin a cocoon for its metamorphosis. The
-chrysalis is spotted with yellow and black, and is found near where the
-caterpillar lived, suspended from a wall or a tree in a very ingenious
-manner. Before shedding its skin the caterpillar emits its small supply
-of liquid silk, gluing the end of its tail to the spot it has selected
-and then spinning a fine band which it passes across its body,
-fastening the two ends at right and left on the stone or the bark to
-which it is clinging. These preliminaries concluded, the chrysalis
-stage is reached, the chrysalis being held firmly in place with its
-lower end glued to the supporting object and its upper half kept from
-falling by the silk band.”
-
-“Without any cocoon to protect it?” asked Emile.
-
-“Without any cocoon whatever; hence it is called a naked chrysalis.
-Many other caterpillars adopt the same method: having only a scanty
-little drop of liquid silk, much too small a quantity for spinning a
-cocoon, they content themselves, when their metamorphosis approaches,
-with gluing their tail to some object and supporting themselves further
-with a narrow band. It is to be noted that butterflies from
-caterpillars that do not spin cocoons all have very slender antennæ
-ending abruptly in a rounded protuberance or swelling, and that they
-fly by day in the brightest sunshine. They are butterflies proper, as
-distinguished from moths. These latter have the chrysalis enclosed in a
-cocoon, and their antennæ are sometimes of a feathery appearance,
-sometimes spindle-shaped, or they may take the form of elongated clubs,
-or, finally, they may be thread-like, tapering but little toward the
-end. They fly mostly in the evening twilight, or even in the night.
-Compare the antennæ of the cabbage-butterfly with those of the
-silkworm-moth or the leopard-moth and you will see how easy it is to
-distinguish a butterfly from a moth, a cocoonless from a
-cocoon-spinning insect.”
-
-“Then that’s all you have to do—just see whether the antennæ end in a
-little round swelling,” said Jules.
-
-“With something on the antennæ,” repeated Emile, “no cocoon; without
-that, a cocoon. How easy it is!”
-
-“As the youngest and giddiest of my hearers has understood my
-explanation so well, I will pass on. Let us return to the butterfly
-whose caterpillar is so interesting to Jules because it eats
-indifferently cabbages, turnips, radishes, nasturtiums, and mignonette.
-This butterfly is very much like the cabbage-butterfly. It too is
-white, with black spots on the forward wings, but not of so deep a
-shade. Furthermore it is about a third smaller. It is called the
-radish-butterfly. To distinguish these two species, so much alike in
-coloring and both feeding on the same plants, gardeners call the former
-the big cabbage-butterfly, and the latter the little
-cabbage-butterfly.”
-
-“I know those butterflies,” Jules interposed. “Many a time I’ve seen
-both kinds on the flowers in the garden, and I got them mixed because
-there is hardly any difference in their color. Now I shall know how to
-tell them apart. The larger one is the cabbage-butterfly, the smaller
-the radish-butterfly.”
-
-“You must bear in mind that the words cabbage and radish used to
-designate the two butterflies do not mean that the caterpillar of the
-one eats exclusively cabbages and that of the other only radishes. As a
-matter of fact, the names could be reversed without any impropriety,
-for both caterpillars, as occasion offers, feed on either the cabbage,
-the radish, the turnip, or some other cruciferous plant. But let it be
-noted also that these two terms have been chosen as substantially true
-to the facts, though likely to mislead if taken in too literal a sense.
-
-“The same remark applies to a third species, the turnip-butterfly,
-whose caterpillar feeds not only on the leaves of turnip plants, but
-also on those of the nasturtium, the mignonette, the radish, cabbage,
-and many other crucifers. It is of about the size of the
-radish-butterfly, and its wings are white with greenish veins
-underneath. The forward wings have also black spots on their upper
-surfaces. The caterpillar is slightly hairy and of a uniform green
-color with no yellow stripes running lengthwise.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLVII
-
-FLIERS WITH WINGS OF GAUZE
-
-
-Questioned as to the means to be adopted in order to protect from their
-insect enemies the various plants he had mentioned in his last talk,
-Uncle Paul was forced to acknowledge the inadequacy of any preventive
-measures at our command.
-
-“For protecting a few square yards of cabbage-patch from these
-devourers,” he explained, “a rigorous search for worms and an incessant
-chase after butterflies on that particular piece of land might prove
-effective; but how keep watch over acres and acres, with butterflies
-and moths of many kinds flying all about and alighting every moment to
-lay their eggs? The cost of any such watchfulness would far exceed the
-value of the crop. And so it is in general, with all raising of farm
-products on a large scale: when once the enemy is in possession it is
-all but impossible to drive him out if we depend on our own resources,
-however much we may spend in the attempt. Because of their infinite
-numbers the insects always have the advantage of us. But fortunately
-there are others fighting for us, and they wage valiant warfare against
-our insect foes, especially against worms and caterpillars.”
-
-“You mean the birds?” asked Jules.
-
-“Yes, and other equally useful helpers that you have never heard of,
-notwithstanding the immense service they render us. I refer to the
-insects belonging to the order known as hymenoptera.”
-
-“Hymenoptera? I’ve never heard that word before.”
-
-“And for that reason I hasten to explain its meaning to you. You are
-familiar with the honey-bee, the bumblebee, and the wasp. Like
-butterflies, they have four wings for flying; but these wings, instead
-of being covered with scales—those scales that come off on your hand
-and look like dust—are simply membranes of a transparent or gauzy
-appearance. Hence the name hymenoptera that is given to these insects,
-a Latin name that may be translated as ‘membranous-winged creatures.’
-Furthermore, they have at the end of the abdomen a very fine sting
-which comes out of its sheath when the irritated insect seeks to defend
-itself by pricking the venturesome fingers that have seized it. In
-other species this sting is represented sometimes by a kind of saw or
-cutlass, sometimes by a blade, more or less long and slender, hidden in
-a fold of the stomach or else projecting and open to view. Well,
-insects thus armed with a sting, a saw, or a blade, and having four
-membranous wings as fine and transparent as those of the honey-bee, the
-bumblebee, and the wasp, are called hymenoptera. They form an order
-just as butterflies and moths form the order of lepidoptera, and
-insects with sheaths protecting the lower pair of wings form the order
-of coleoptera.”
-
-“The grasshopper,” Jules observed, “has a kind of sword on the end of
-its body, but it hasn’t the bee’s fine, transparent wings.”
-
-“Therefore it is not one of the hymenoptera.”
-
-“The grasshopper doesn’t hurt any one with its sword, does it?” asked
-Emile.
-
-“No; it uses this tool simply for placing its eggs in the ground where
-they are to hatch. It is a sort of conveyor for the eggs, and is called
-a terebra. The saw, the blade, the cutlass, and other like implements
-that terminate the body of various insects have also this name. They
-serve to deposit the eggs in suitable places where the larvæ can find
-food. But this implement, dangerous though it looks, never stings when
-the insect is molested; it is not a defensive weapon. Only the
-honey-bee, the bumblebee, the wasp, and some others have for their
-defense a sting that inflicts a painful wound.”
-
-“So painful,” Emile interrupted, “that I still remember how once, when
-I wanted to see what was going on in the beehive, I was stung by the
-bees.”
-
-“The wasp’s sting is much worse,” remarked Louis. “When I was gathering
-the grapes last year I took hold of a bunch where there were some
-wasps, and my hand was swollen all day and pained me so I should have
-cried if there had been nobody around.”
-
-“How wonderful that such small creatures really hurt like that!” Jules
-exclaimed. “I should like to know why.”
-
-“I will tell you. The sting of these insects is a slender lancet, hard
-and sharp-pointed, a kind of dagger finer than the finest needle. It is
-situated at the end of the abdomen. In repose it is not seen, being
-concealed in a sort of scabbard let into the creature’s body; but in
-time of danger it comes out of this scabbard. Now, it is not exactly
-the wound made by the sting that causes the smarting pain you know so
-well. This wound is so slight, so subtle, that we cannot see it, and we
-should hardly feel it if it were made by a needle or a thorn as fine as
-the sting. But the sting communicates with a venom-sac lodged in the
-insect’s body, and through a tiny channel running the length of the
-sting there is injected into the very heart of the wound a minute
-quantity of a highly dangerous liquid. After this injection the sting
-is withdrawn, while the venom remains in the wound; and that is what
-causes the pain.
-
-“Learned men who have studied this curious subject relate the following
-experiment, which was performed in order to prove that it is the
-venomous liquid introduced into the wound, and not the wound itself,
-that causes the pain. When one pricks oneself with a very fine needle
-the pain is of no consequence and passes almost immediately. Well, the
-prick of a needle, insignificant in itself, can be made very painful
-indeed if the little wound is poisoned with venom from a bee or a wasp.
-The learned men I just spoke of dipped the point of a needle into the
-bee’s venom-sac and with the needle thus moistened lightly pricked
-themselves. The pain that followed was severe and protracted, even
-severer and of longer duration than if the insect itself had stung the
-experimenters. This difference is to be explained by the fact that the
-needle, large in comparison with the insect’s sting, introduced into
-the wound much more venom than the sting itself could have conveyed.
-Now you understand, I hope, that it is the injection of the venom into
-the wound that causes all the mischief.”
-
-“That is plain enough,” assented Jules.
-
-“The bee’s sting is barbed,” continued Uncle Paul; “that is to say, it
-is furnished with teeth somewhat like those of a saw and pointing
-backward. In its haste to fly away after stinging, the bee does not
-always succeed, on account of these teeth, in drawing out the sting
-from the wound it has inflicted; and thus the sting is wrenched from
-the bee’s body, to the endangering of the insect’s life. The venom-sac
-is left behind also; it is that little white globule one sees outside
-the wound and at the base of the sting. If the person stung, hastening
-to extract the sting, is awkward enough to press on the little sac, a
-great part of the venom is likely to be injected into the wound, with a
-corresponding increase of pain. This is a warning to you, whenever you
-are stung by a bee, to draw out the sting cautiously and to be careful
-not to press on the venom-sac.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLVIII
-
-BENEFICENT PARASITES
-
-
-Continuing the subject of the day before, Uncle Paul laid emphasis on
-the distinction between those hymenopterous insects that sting and
-those that do not.
-
-“At the end of the abdomen,” said he, “the one class have a poisoned
-weapon for self-defense, as in bees and wasps, while the other class
-are furnished simply with the implement called a terebra, sometimes
-concealed in a fold of the skin, sometimes standing out in full view,
-and used, not for stinging, but for introducing the creature’s eggs
-into such places as will provide the nourishment required by the future
-brood. Insects of this latter class are called by the general name of
-ichneumons. This morning Emile caught one, which I will show you.”
-
-“I found it on a flower,” said Emile, “and I wrapped a handkerchief
-round my hand for fear of being stung. The thing it has sticking out at
-the end of its body looks rather dangerous.”
-
-“The precaution was needless,” his uncle assured him. “No ichneumon,
-however long its terebra may be, can sting your hand. The hymenopters
-that are to be feared have their sting hidden, and they bring it out
-only at the moment of attack.”
-
-“Those three thread-like things as long as the insect’s body—what are
-they for?” asked Jules.
-
-“The two lateral ones unite and form a scabbard for holding and
-protecting the middle one, the most important of the three, for it is
-used to deposit the eggs at the point chosen as suitable by the
-insect.”
-
-“I’ve seen ichneumons very much like this one,” said Louis, “with the
-terebra stuck right into the thick bark of a poplar. They must have
-been laying their eggs in the wood under the bark.”
-
-“No, they were doing something better than that. The larvæ of
-ichneumons live in the bodies of other larvæ, which they devour little
-by little without killing them until the very last. They are
-carnivorous larvæ: they must have fresh meat that is renewed about as
-fast as they eat it. The ichneumons Louis speaks of were engaged in
-depositing their eggs in the bodies of plump worms that live in the
-wood of the tree and turn into beetles.”
-
-“But these beetle-worms,” Jules pointed out, “were not in sight. They
-were under the bark and perhaps in the wood itself.”
-
-“The ichneumon does not need to see them to know where they are.”
-
-“Does it hear them then?”
-
-“No more than it sees them. The worm stays quietly in its little
-tunnel, being careful not to make any noise that will attract the
-attention of its enemy.”
-
-“Then the ichneumon must at least smell them.”
-
-“That is very doubtful. A live larva has no odor. And, besides, the
-most difficult part is not to find out whether or not a suitably plump
-larva is there under the bark, at such and such a depth; it is also
-necessary to ascertain whether another ichneumon egg has not already
-been laid in the body of the coveted worm, as one larva would be
-insufficient for two nurslings. An egg deposited in some fat worm is
-not seen, heard, or felt; that is very evident. Nevertheless the
-ichneumon never plunges its terebra through the bark into a larva
-already occupied. What guides it? I do not know; nobody knows. Instinct
-has ways and means unsuspected by our wisdom. An ichneumon alights on
-the trunk of a tree. The perfectly healthy bark betrays to the sharpest
-eyes no sign of what the hymenopter is after. Never mind; the insect
-soon satisfies itself as to whether or not the place is a good one for
-its purpose. It makes a careful examination, tapping with its antennæ
-and keeping up a continual vibratory movement. A spot is chosen. The
-insect plants itself firmly on its legs, draws up its abdomen, and,
-holding its terebra in a vertical position, plunges the point of it
-into an imperceptible fissure in the bark. The little auger pierces the
-bark, though not without effort and occasional pauses, for there are
-difficulties to be overcome; nevertheless it goes as far as its length
-permits. The end is attained; the point of the instrument penetrates
-the flesh of the worm hidden under the bark. The egg being deposited in
-the incision thus made, the insect withdraws its blade carefully, so as
-not to break it, and proceeds to lay eggs in the bodies of other
-larvæ.”
-
-“Then the great length of this blade,” Jules remarked, “though at first
-it seems unhandy for the creature, is on the contrary perfectly fitted
-for the work to be done. With too short a terebra the ichneumon
-couldn’t reach the larvæ under the bark and even in the wood itself.”
-
-“From the length of the terebra one can estimate at what depth, as a
-rule, the eggs are laid. Ichneumons with a long terebra lay their eggs
-in larvæ protected by a thick layer of bark or wood or earth or other
-material; those with a short terebra seek larvæ living in the open air,
-such as caterpillars for example. However, if the caterpillar is
-covered with long hairs, thus keeping the ichneumon at a distance from
-the skin of its victim, a long implement is still necessary to convey
-the eggs into the flesh. But for smooth-skinned caterpillars without
-any defense the ichneumon is furnished with a very short terebra, often
-invisible when not in action, so that the end of the insect’s abdomen
-must be pressed in order to make the egg-conveyer show itself, be it
-lancet, saw, fine blade, or other instrument of that sort.
-
-“The ichneumon on the hunt is one of the most curious sights
-imaginable. Caterpillars are peacefully browsing on leaves. An
-ichneumon comes along, flies about over them, selects the ones that
-look best for its purpose, and never fails to exclude those that
-already have eggs in their bodies. At the sound of their enemy’s wings
-the terrified caterpillars stop eating and begin to move their heads in
-a startled manner from side to side, doubtless in the hope of
-frightening off the foe. But the latter pays no attention to these vain
-threats; it alights on the caterpillar of its choice and, so quickly
-that you hardly have time to see the operation, darts its terebra and
-lays an egg in the wound.”
-
-“And doesn’t the caterpillar make any resistance?” asked Emile.
-
-“It performs some lively antics, but that is all. The poor creature
-cannot defend itself against an enemy in the air, a winged enemy that
-can always keep at a safe distance and is always ready to fly away. The
-other eligible caterpillars in the group are attacked in the same
-manner, one by one, until the ichneumon has laid all its eggs.”
-
-“Each caterpillar gets only one egg?” asked Jules.
-
-“That depends on the size of the egg-layer. If it is large it lays but
-one egg in each caterpillar, so that the larvæ may each have enough
-food; if small, it lays several.”
-
-“And then what happens?” Emile inquired.
-
-“The ichneumon gone, the pricked caterpillars soon recover their
-composure and resume their eating. The prick, not being poisoned with
-venom, causes very little pain; besides, it would take a good deal more
-than that to affect their appetites. All goes well for a few days, as
-long as the eggs are unhatched.”
-
-“Do those eggs hatch in the caterpillar’s body?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“And as soon as they have hatched do the little larvæ set to work
-devouring the caterpillar’s inside?”
-
-“That’s the way of it.”
-
-“What an awful stomach-ache for the poor caterpillars!”
-
-“Nevertheless, even with such pain as may result from the gradual
-consumption of their flesh, the caterpillars continue to eat as if
-nothing had happened, the satisfaction of their appetite making them
-forget their sufferings, so imperious is their need of food. And
-furthermore, for a reason that I will explain, the parasitic worms
-observe a certain caution in their ravages.
-
-“In the body of every animal are certain organs more indispensable than
-others for the maintenance of life, and if they are injured, even
-though slightly, death follows. Such are the heart and brain in the
-higher animals. In a caterpillar’s body there are, it is true, no heart
-or brain like those of animals higher in the scale; but there are
-analogous organs just as necessary to the ongoing of the vital
-functions. If the ichneumon’s larvæ, in eating their victim’s flesh,
-were to injure these vital organs, the caterpillar would quickly die,
-and the larvæ would perish too, for they must have fresh meat, not
-decayed flesh. It is a question of life or death to them whether the
-grubs avoid biting in the wrong place or not. The caterpillar must live
-in order that they may live; it must prolong its miserable existence
-until they are ready for their metamorphosis. So the little parasites
-scrupulously respect any organ indispensable to the maintenance of life
-and feed on the rest; guided by instinct, they distinguish admirably
-between what they may attack and what they must let alone. A time
-comes, however, when because of their approaching transformation they
-do not need to exercise further self-restraint, and they accordingly
-devour the parts until then left intact. Thereupon the caterpillar
-dies, being reduced to an empty skin which the larvæ promptly abandon
-in order to spin their cocoons and turn into nymphs and finally into
-ichneumons.
-
-“Sometimes the caterpillar is spared until it has shut itself up in a
-case and turned into a chrysalis, with the result that the larvæ
-inhabiting the caterpillar find themselves, without any labor on their
-part, provided with snug quarters for the winter. Out of every such
-wormy chrysalis, consumed to the skin, there emerges in the spring, not
-a butterfly, but a swarm of ichneumons.”
-
-“Last autumn,” said Jules, “I found in the garden a large brown cocoon,
-and I hoped to see a beautiful butterfly come out of it; but this
-spring, to my great astonishment, out came a swarm of little flies.”
-
-“What you took for flies was a brood of ichneumons. Yet there are
-flies, real flies, that lay their eggs in the bodies of caterpillars,
-just as the hymenopterous butterflies do with their terebra.”
-
-“With their strange way of living on other creatures,” observed Louis,
-“ichneumons must destroy lots of caterpillars.”
-
-“They destroy so many that often, if you take a hundred caterpillars
-haphazard from cabbages or other growing vegetables, you will find not
-more than two or three that are sound and in a condition to undergo
-metamorphosis.”
-
-“Can those that have eggs in them be told from the rest?” asked Louis.
-
-“Easily. The point pierced by the ichneumon’s terebra is surrounded by
-a little black spot. When you are gathering caterpillars it is well not
-to crush those that you see are pricked, nor yet those that look
-diseased and have a loose skin. They are ichneumon-feeders, and their
-preservation means so many more swarms of ichneumons the next summer
-for the destruction of caterpillars.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XLIX
-
-APPLE-EATERS
-
-
-“Please tell us about the worm we find in apples and pears,” was
-Louis’s request one day when the children were gathered about their
-uncle.
-
-“That worm, my lad,” he began, “as I have already briefly explained, is
-the grub or larva of a small moth.”
-
-“Seems to me,” interrupted Jules, “the moth is responsible for a good
-deal of mischief.”
-
-“Yes, moths do more harm than any other insects; but not as moths, for
-these never give us any cause for complaint, being content to suck a
-little honey through their slender trumpet from the flowers growing on
-every side. It is in the larva state, with appetites of the most varied
-sort, that they commit their ravages. I have already told you about
-worms that gnaw wood and those that eat woolen stuffs, those that
-browse the foliage and those that attack roots. Now we come to some
-that give their attention to fruit.
-
-“The best-known of these is the worm that lives in apples and pears. We
-usually call it the apple-worm, and its moth is known as the
-apple-pyralis. The term pyralis is new to you; it comes from a Greek
-word meaning fire, and was long ago ignorantly applied to the
-apple-moth because that insect was supposed to eat fire as its regular
-diet. Its forward wings are ash-gray streaked crosswise with brown and
-ornamented at the tip with a large red spot encircled by a golden-red
-border. The rear wings are brown. When the fruit is just beginning to
-form, the pyralis lays an egg in the blossom end of apple or pear, no
-matter which, and the little worm that soon comes from this egg takes
-up its abode close to the seeds. The narrow channel by which it entered
-skins over so that the wormy fruit appears intact for some time.
-Meanwhile the worm is living in the lap of luxury, with an abundance of
-its favorite food all around; but it must have a passage communicating
-with the outside so as to get air and make the abode sanitary,
-encumbered as it is with refuse and excrement. Accordingly the worm
-bores a little tunnel through the flesh of the fruit to the skin and
-through this also; there the tunnel ends in a round hole. Through this
-passageway the larva receives fresh air and throws out from time to
-time the chewed and digested pulp, in the form familiar to us as
-reddish wormhole dust. The translucent quality of its skin causes the
-worm to vary in hue according to the color of what it eats, being
-sometimes white, sometimes brown or yellow, and sometimes pink. It is
-ornamented with little black tubercles or pimples arranged in pairs.
-The head and the first ring-like section of the body are brown.
-
-“Apples and pears containing worms continue to grow; indeed, they ripen
-sooner than the others, but it is a sickly maturity that hastens the
-fall of the fruit. As a rule, the larva in wormy fruit that has fallen
-to the ground is by that time fully grown; accordingly, it leaves its
-domicile by the passage already made and creeps into some crevice in
-the bark of a tree, or sometimes it retires underground, after which it
-makes for itself a shell of silk mixed with fragments of wood or dead
-leaves, and turns into a moth the next year, when all the young apples
-and pears are ready to receive its eggs for the new generation.
-
-“In plums and apricots is found a worm closely resembling that
-infesting apples and pears; another occurs in chestnuts, and a third in
-pea-pods, the tender young peas furnishing excellent food for the
-intruder. All these worms are the larvæ of moths commonly named from
-the fruit or vegetable they infest. The pea-worm, after it has devoured
-the best part of the pod’s contents, passes into another pod by boring
-a round hole. Its moth appears in June, and the larva in July and
-August. Consequently, spring peas are never wormy, while those of late
-summer very often are. This example shows you how, in certain
-instances, a crop can be saved by hastening or delaying the sowing,
-according to the time when the ravagers may be expected to appear.”
-
-“But no such plan can be carried out with chestnuts,” said Emile. “That
-is plain enough, for chestnut-trees bear their nuts at a fixed time,
-and we can’t hurry them up or keep them back. The chestnut-moth comes
-just when the table is set for its young ones. What disgusting-looking
-worms they are, too—all red and soaked in their own juice in the
-chestnut-meat!”
-
-“We can’t do anything, either, for the apple-trees and the pear-trees,
-can we?” Louis inquired.
-
-“Not much. Some people gather the wormy apples and pears fallen from or
-still on the trees, and crush them to kill the worms inside. That makes
-so many enemies the fewer for the following year; but again it has to
-be admitted that, left to our own resources, we could never defend
-ourselves against the pyralis and other similar moths that produce
-larvæ from which hardly anything is safe. Fortunately the swallow
-catches these moths on the wing, bats chase them assiduously in the
-twilight, and the little gray lizard snaps them up when they alight on
-the trunks of trees. These are so many friends, protectors of our
-gardens and orchards.”
-
-“The moths you call by that queer name, pyralis—are there a good many
-of them?” asked Jules.
-
-“There are numerous species, and each species is represented by
-countless legions of individual moths. Some of these attack fruit; I
-have just told you about the principal ones. Others have a different
-mode of life, and of these I will speak to-morrow. But they are all
-very small moths, and some are beautifully colored. Their antennæ are
-fine and their wings, rounding at the shoulders, spread out in the form
-of a cape and are folded together in repose like the two halves of a
-sloping roof; that is, they incline to right and left. Their grubs have
-a smooth and shiny skin. These worms draw back quickly when molested
-and let themselves fall to the ground, deadening the shock of the fall
-by means of a silk thread that holds them suspended by the lip.”
-
-“That’s a clever trick,” Emile observed. “As soon as the worm is
-frightened it glues the end of the thread to something and down it
-drops, but gently and only as fast as the thread is let out by the
-spinneret.”
-
-“This morning,” said Jules, “Mother Ambroisine was picking over some
-dried peas. A few were pierced with a round hole, and others had a
-little brown insect spotted with white. Peas, then, have two enemies:
-the pyralis-worm that eats fresh fruit and the insect I am speaking of
-that eats them dry.”
-
-“The insect that eats dried peas is a small beetle, a weevil with a
-wide and very short snout. It is known as the pea-weevil. Another
-weevil eats beans, and still another lentils. It is always the larva
-that does the mischief. Once arrived at the perfect state, the weevil
-bores a round hole in the seed and gets out. These weevils have the
-same habits as the grain-weevil. They are destroyed by the use of
-sulphide of carbon, or simply by the action of heat if the seeds they
-infest are not to be sown, for the temperature required to kill the
-insects and their larvæ would also destroy the germinative principle of
-the seed.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER L
-
-LEAF-ROLLERS
-
-
-“Many of the moths bearing the name of pyralis have a curious habit in
-their larva state, of rolling up the leaves of trees, or of folding
-them lengthwise, or of uniting several in the form of a sheath by means
-of silk threads, so as to make a shelter in which they may nibble away
-in safety at the interior of their green abode. For this reason they
-are called leaf-rollers. The one best known, on account of the damage
-it does, is the grapevine-pyralis.
-
-“It is a small moth with yellow wings having the metallic sheen of
-copper and crossed by brown stripes. Its larva is greenish, bristling
-with short hairs and having a head of a dark lustrous green color. In
-August the moth lays its eggs on the vine leaves in little slabs of
-twenty at most. Hatching takes place in September. At this advanced
-season of the year caterpillars do not eat; they suspend themselves by
-a thread and wait for the wind to drive them against the vine or one of
-its supports. As soon as they get a foothold on the desired object they
-take refuge in cracks in the bark and fissures in the wood, and there
-they lie torpid through the winter. At the reawakening of vegetable
-life and the first pushing forth of the new vine shoots they leave
-their winter quarters, invade the vines, and entwine with silk threads
-the young grape clusters and the tender leaves, after which they feed
-upon them with an appetite sharpened by a fast of five or six months.
-With such ravenous eaters devastation proceeds apace, and in a few
-weeks, if the worms are numerous, the most flourishing vine is reduced
-to a pitiful condition and all hope of a harvest is abandoned. The
-ravages wrought by this moth between 1835 and 1840 in the vineyards of
-Bourgogne will long be remembered. Over immense tracts of land, when
-vintage-time came, there was not a single bunch of grapes to go into
-the basket. The greedy caterpillars ruined the country.”
-
-“Didn’t the people try to get rid of the creatures?” asked Louis.
-
-“They tried various methods, but with little success until finally one
-proved effective, and that the simplest and cheapest of all. Let us
-note by the way, my little friends, what an advantage it is to be
-acquainted with the habits of an insect that does us harm. If this
-moth’s peculiarities had not been studied, if it had not been known
-that its larvæ hide themselves in the fissures of the vines and the
-trellises, there to lie torpid all winter, our vineyards might still be
-suffering from this terrible enemy. This fact being known, the remedy
-was not far to seek.
-
-“It is this: in winter the vines and trellises are scalded with boiling
-water, the water being heated over a fire in the middle of the
-vineyard. “With a coffee-pot about a liter of hot water is poured on
-each vine so as to reach all the parts where worms may be lurking.
-Protected by its tough bark, the vine itself does not suffer from this
-scalding bath, while the caterpillars are completely destroyed. By this
-method the vineyards of Bourgogne were so entirely rid of the dreaded
-moth that no further ravages of any account have been reported.”
-
-“Couldn’t the moths come back again some time, as many as ever?” asked
-Jules.
-
-“That is hardly possible if at their first appearance the coffee-pot of
-hot water is brought into play.
-
-“The other leaf-rolling moths of this family are of less importance.
-The leaf-roller of the plum-tree lives first on the blossoms of the
-tree; later it makes a roll of leaves and lines it with silk. The moth
-has a large white spot at the tip of each fore wing.
-
-“The cherry-tree leaf-roller has about the same habits. Its moth is
-recognized by two wide oblique stripes of the color of rust on its fore
-wings. On the pear-tree lives a leaf-roller with a triangular white
-spot in the middle of each fore wing.”
-
-“I don’t remember ever having seen the moths you are telling us about,”
-said Jules.
-
-“They are too small to be noticed by any one who is not on the lookout
-for them.”
-
-“I have often seen the nests of leaf-rolling caterpillars on
-fruit-trees and bushes and all sorts of plants. There are leaves folded
-lengthwise so that the edges join and make a sort of tunnel; others are
-in twos or threes or more; and there are some fastened together in a
-big bunch, all twisted and ragged, with silk threads holding them
-together. On opening these nests of leaves and silk I have sometimes
-found a caterpillar and sometimes a spider.”
-
-“Various spiders with too little silk to spin a large web for catching
-flies make an ambush by bringing the edges of two or three adjacent
-leaves together. Like the leaf-rolling caterpillars they use silk
-threads to hold the pieces of their abode in place, but their ultimate
-object is quite different. The rollers bring the leaves together so as
-to nibble them in peace, safely hidden away in the shelter thus formed;
-the spiders bring them together to make a simple abode for themselves
-and an ambush from which they can pounce upon such insects as come
-within their reach.”
-
-“The spiders that make a nest of leaves joined together do not harm
-trees?”
-
-“I should rather say they are helpful to trees. They are vigilant
-guardians, always on the watch for flies, gnats, little moths, and
-other ravagers that would come and infest the trees with their eggs.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER LI
-
-THE HOP-MOTH
-
-
-“What is that pretty butterfly in your box, next to the pyralis?” Emile
-asked his uncle when the latter was showing the children some of his
-specimens of moths and butterflies. “It has silver wings bordered with
-red.”
-
-“That is not a butterfly, my boy,” replied Uncle Paul; “it is a moth
-that infests hop-vines.”
-
-“Are hops those things they make beer with?”
-
-“Beer is not made from hops, my boy; it is made from barley. First the
-barley is slightly moistened, after which it is kept at a mild
-temperature. The grain begins to sprout just as it would do if sown in
-the field. For the nourishment of the little plants, which have no
-roots as yet, a special food already prepared is needed, just as the
-young kitten, not yet big enough to catch mice, needs its mother’s
-milk. All grain, in beginning to grow, whether it be wheat or oats or
-rye or any other, requires a special form of nourishment, ready
-prepared. But where do you suppose it is to be found? You hadn’t
-thought of that. I will tell you. The grain has it in itself. In a
-kernel of barley or wheat or oats or rye there is a white substance
-which, when ground to powder, is known as flour.”
-
-“Then the sprouting plant feeds on flour?”
-
-“Not exactly; flour is too coarse a food for it. The little plant takes
-its nourishment much as we do when we are very small. It sucks up water
-holding in solution the substances needed for its growth. But flour
-will not dissolve in water, as you very well know; consequently, the
-little plant would die of hunger right beside its store of provision if
-the flour were not prepared for it—I might say, cooked for it—in a way
-suited to its needs.”
-
-“That must be a funny arrangement—food cooked for a plant!”
-
-“It is more wonderful than you can imagine. As the sprout pushes upward
-the flour in the grain is being turned to sugar, real sugar, very sweet
-and easily dissolved in water; so that the young plant has for its
-nourishment a sufficient supply of sweetened water or, to express it in
-another way, a sort of milk.”
-
-“Oh, yes!” cried Emile. “Now I understand. Last Christmas Mother
-Ambroisine put some wheat to sprout in a plate and kept it moist on the
-mantelpiece. When the little blades began to show, the wheat was all
-soft and would crush under your fingers; and it gave out a sort of very
-sweet milk.”
-
-“This wonderful transformation of flour into sugar during germination
-is turned to account by man in making beer. He causes barley to
-germinate, and when he judges that all the flour substance it contains
-has turned to sugar he quickly kills the little plants, as otherwise
-the sweetened liquid would be taken up by them and would undergo
-another transformation by being turned into plant substance.
-Accordingly, the grain is promptly dried in an oven, after which it is
-ground in a mill, and this ground barley is called malt. By adding
-water and keeping it at a mild temperature we induce a fresh change:
-the sugar turns to alcohol, which is the essential element of beer and
-wine.”
-
-“The flour of the grain, then,” said Jules, “turns to sugar or to plant
-substance or to alcohol, according to the way it is treated; is that
-it?”
-
-“Yes, and it can be converted into many other things. Boiled with water
-it becomes paste. After entering into the composition of beer it can be
-turned into vinegar by being left exposed to the air and allowed to
-sour. But we will not now dwell on these various changes. Let us return
-to the subject of beer. In order to impart to that beverage the bitter
-taste and the aroma peculiar to it, we use hops. Barley is the
-fundamental ingredient of the drink, hops are the flavoring.
-
-“The hop-plant is a long, slender vine unable to hold itself up without
-supporting poles, around which it twines to the height of perhaps ten
-meters. Its leaves are lobed somewhat like those of the grape, and its
-fruit takes the shape of cones or catkins similar to those of the
-pine-tree, but much smaller and composed of thin scales coated with a
-sort of bitter resin. It is these cones that are used in making beer.
-Hops are extensively cultivated in Alsace and in Germany. The chief
-enemies of the hop-vine are two worms, one of which nibbles the roots
-and the other the inside of the stem or vine.
-
-“The epialidæ are distinguished from all other moths by their very
-short antennæ. Their larvæ live in the ground and feed on roots. The
-most important member of this family is the hop-moth, of which the male
-has white wings touched with silver and edged with a reddish border,
-and the female has fore wings of bright yellow with tawny edges and two
-tawny oblique stripes. The grub is whitish, covered with little yellow
-tubercles overgrown with black hair. It does great damage to hop
-plantations by gnawing the roots. To destroy it the hop-grower is
-advised to spray the base of the vine with water in which hog-manure
-has been left to steep—an application that is said to kill the worms.
-
-“Within the stem of the plant lives the grub of the pyralis that I show
-you here. The moth has dark-yellow fore wings edged with a scalloped
-stripe of a lighter shade and marked with a number of red spots. The
-hind wings are white with purple spots and yellowish edges.”
-
-“Alongside of that moth there are two more in your box,” Emile pointed
-out.
-
-“They are the madder-moth and the woad-moth. Madder used to be
-cultivated for its root, which yields a red dye, the most beautiful and
-lasting of all red dyes.”
-
-“Isn’t Mother Ambroisine’s Sunday kerchief dyed with madder?”
-
-“Yes; and with the red there are black, pink, garnet, and violet on the
-kerchief, all obtained from madder. In the methods formerly in use
-various drugs were first applied to the goods to be dyed, this being
-done by means of wooden blocks engraved with the desired patterns,
-after which a bath of boiling water containing powdered madder root
-brought out all the different colors, at once, their respective tints
-depending on the drugs previously applied. These colors, of which there
-were many varieties, had the great advantage of never fading in the sun
-and of resisting soap; hence madder used to be the most highly prized
-of dyestuffs and was a source of much profit to Alsace and the
-department of Vaucluse, the only districts devoted to its culture. Its
-insect foe was the moth I now show you. At weeding-time it was the
-custom to destroy the caterpillars, which fed on the leaves of the
-plant.
-
-“Woad is another plant used in dyeing. Prepared in a certain way, the
-green matter of its leaves gives a fine blue color. The caterpillar of
-a leaf-rolling moth eats first the woad leaves and then the stalk.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER LII
-
-THE INCHWORM
-
-
-One day Uncle Paul was in his garden engaged in an operation on his
-pear-trees that greatly puzzled Emile and Jules. He had a pot of black,
-sticky stuff with a strong smell, and was smearing it with a brush all
-around the base of the trees. Oh, how One-eyed John would have laughed
-if he had peeped through the hedge and seen Uncle Paul daubing the foot
-of his pear-trees with black! But he would have been greatly in the
-wrong, as is proved by what the boys’ uncle said to them that same
-evening.
-
-“What do you call that stuff you were putting on the trees this
-morning?” Jules inquired.
-
-“It is called tar, and is a substance derived from coal. To make
-illuminating gas coal is put into large cast-iron vessels and heated
-red-hot, all outside air being excluded meanwhile. The heat decomposes
-the coal, which cannot burn for want of air. The products of this
-decomposition are illuminating gas, tar, and coke, this last being a
-kind of coal of metallic appearance, very porous and light. The gas and
-the tar are drawn off through a pipe, the coke remaining in the
-cast-iron vessel. Tar is a very black, sticky substance with a strong
-odor repugnant to insects.”
-
-“Then you put a coating of it around the tree trunks to keep off
-insects?”
-
-“Certain moths whose caterpillars I fear came through my hedge. The
-girdle of tar put on at the base of the trunk is to prevent their
-climbing to the branches to lay their eggs. In that way I protect the
-fruit-trees from the caterpillars that a little later would destroy the
-foliage.”
-
-“But moths can fly well enough, and your tar wouldn’t stop them. If
-they can’t reach the branches by climbing the trunk they will fly up to
-them.”
-
-“For a moth that flies, agreed. If on the contrary it cannot fly, but
-has to content itself with walking, is it not true that the coating of
-tar encircling the foot of the tree trunk will prove an impassable
-obstacle? In the first place, the smell of tar is offensive to the
-moth, and then if it ventures on the sticky girdle it will infallibly
-become entangled and die, stuck fast in the tar.”
-
-“That is plain,” assented Louis. “But are there any moths that can’t
-fly?”
-
-“There are.”
-
-“Are the lazy things afraid to use their wings?” asked Emile. “Perhaps
-they think it’s too much trouble.”
-
-“How could they use them? They haven’t any to use, poor things.”
-
-“That accounts for it, then. Moths without wings!”
-
-“Yes, my boy, moths without wings. You shall see some. This one is
-called by learned men phalæna geometra, which means geometer-moth You
-will soon see why it is so named.”
-
-“But it has wings, magnificent ones, all dotted with brown spots on a
-yellowish background.”
-
-“Yes, and I will add that the forward ones have dark stripes. Now what
-do you think of this other moth?”
-
-“That ugly thing isn’t a moth.”
-
-“You judge by appearances, my dear child, and not by reality. This
-ungainly creature laboriously dragging along its big, naked, yellowish
-abdomen, with large black spots, is the female of the other moth.”
-
-“I should never have guessed it.”
-
-“Neither you nor a great many others. Henceforth you will know that
-there are numerous species of moths whose females are either wingless
-or equipped with such mere stumps of wings that they are unable to fly,
-whereas the males invariably have well-developed wings. Now, the male
-is not the one to be feared; it is the female with her eggs. The office
-of the tar girdle at the foot of the tree is to arrest the moth when it
-tries to climb to the branches where the laying takes place. Repulsed
-by the odor, it turns back; or if it persists in its endeavors to pass,
-it sticks to the tar and so perishes.”
-
-“If the female laid her eggs somewhere else,” suggested Jules, “instead
-of on the branches—for instance, on the ground—wouldn’t the
-caterpillars know enough to climb the trees by themselves?”
-
-“The tar barrier would still be there to stop them. Besides,
-caterpillars hatched on the ground would hardly think of climbing the
-tree to the place where, in the usual order, the hatching would have
-taken place. As long as the customary conditions remain unaltered,
-insects show an astonishing instinct; beyond these conditions they do
-not know how to act.
-
-“The caterpillar of the geometer-moth is gray with a yellow stripe
-running lengthwise on each side. It has a curious way of walking common
-to it and other caterpillars of the same group.
-
-“These caterpillars are long and cylindrical in shape, and they usually
-have but two pairs of false legs, at some distance from the true front
-legs. In walking they first rest themselves on the forward legs and
-then bring up the others by curving the body into a loop or ring. The
-next movement is to raise the forward legs and advance them in a stride
-as long as the creature itself, after which the body again bends into a
-loop by the bringing up of the hind legs as before. These peculiar
-strides give the worm the appearance of a pair of dividers getting over
-the ground by alternately opening and closing its two legs. You might
-say the creature surveys or measures the road it travels, and that is
-why its moth is known as the geometer-moth. The common name of inchworm
-applied to the caterpillar is familiar to you as referring to the
-caterpillar’s length.
-
-“Further characteristics are to be noted. Clinging to the branch solely
-by their hind creepers, these worms remain for hours in the strangest
-postures, the body stiff and motionless. You will see some stretched
-out straight, some turned up behind, some arched in a semicircular
-position. Not one moves, not one shows weariness in these uncomfortable
-attitudes which demand an incredible amount of strength. You have
-witnessed the feats of those strong-armed acrobats who, in the
-side-show at the fair, seize a vertical bar with both hands and without
-further support sustain themselves in the air, the body horizontal.
-Inchworms do the same thing, but with this difference: whereas the
-acrobats are exhausted in a few moments, the caterpillars keep their
-balance all day if necessary.”
-
-“Why do they do all those stunts?” was Emile’s question.
-
-“They are not doing stunts, as you call it; they are simply using their
-natural means of escaping observation on the part of their enemies. By
-reason of their complete immobility, rigid posture, and grayish hue
-they are confounded with the small dry twigs which they closely
-resemble. Unless examined at very short range they deceive all eyes,
-even those of birds, whose sight is so keen.”
-
-“Ah, the crafty rogues! To stiffen themselves and stay perfectly still
-so as to look like little dry twigs and in that way fool the birds that
-would come and snap them up, is a very clever trick.”
-
-“The name of leaf-stripper, which is also given to this moth, indicates
-its way of living before it is transformed into the perfect insect. The
-caterpillar gnaws the leaves of all fruit-trees without distinction,
-and even of other trees, such as oaks, birches, and lindens. For trees
-that have not been smeared with a tar girdle to stop the moths at
-laying time there is but one mode of defense left, and that is not
-nearly so good as the first: it is to shake the infested trees so as to
-make the caterpillars fall, and then crush them.”
-
-“I prefer the tar girdle,” said Louis.
-
-“Yes, but it must be applied in time, in the autumn when the moths are
-about to make their appearance.
-
-“Another moth of this group, sometimes called the winter moth, has fore
-wings of a grayish wine-color dotted with brown and striped crosswise
-in a darker shade. The female is a little better favored than that of
-the one we have just been considering, having wings of a sort, but too
-rudimentary to admit of flying. It may be seen running over the ground
-toward the end of autumn, when cold weather is approaching. Its tardy
-appearance has earned it the name of winter moth. Like the moth of the
-inchworm it climbs trees to lay its eggs, but can be prevented by the
-use of tar on the trunk. Its eggs hatch in the spring, and the
-caterpillars are full-grown by May. They are generally blackish, with
-white, yellow, or green stripes running lengthwise. On leaving the egg
-these caterpillars bore the buds of pear, apple, apricot, and other
-fruit trees. Later they install themselves, one by one, between two
-leaves, the edges of which they unite with threads of silk.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER LIII
-
-SAP-SUCKERS
-
-
-“What do plant-lice eat?” asked Jules one day. “I have never seen them
-feeding on leaves.”
-
-“They do not feed on them,” his uncle replied; “they drink the sap
-through a very fine, short, pointed sucker which they carry against the
-breast when not in use. The insect plunges it into the plant and for
-whole days without moving drinks the sap at the point pricked. When
-this place is sucked dry it passes to another, but without much change
-of position. The plant-louse is a sedentary creature; to move around a
-stem no bigger than your little finger is for the louse a long journey
-fraught with perils not lightly to be faced, a few steps forward to
-make room in the rear for some fifty children as fast as they are
-brought into the world being about all that the boldest of these
-creatures dares to undertake. But plant-lice of the last generation of
-the year have wings and lay eggs which in the spring renew the race
-annihilated by the cold of winter. These winged lice are no timid
-stay-at-homes like the others: they gladly quit the natal leaf to see a
-bit of the world. It is their business to travel hither and yon and lay
-their eggs in many places so that in the following spring all plants
-shall have their share of lice, and it is to fulfill this duty that
-they are expressly provided with wings. Clouds of these traveling
-plant-lice, dense enough to obscure the light of day, have been
-observed.
-
-“Many other insects have, like the plant-louse, a straight, pointed
-sucker which they plunge into the substance they wish to drain of its
-juice, and which they hold against the breast when not in use. The
-cicada furnishes us a very good example, as do also the large bugs
-found on trees and on many plants. The cabbage feeds two of them: the
-harlequin cabbage-bug, which is red with numerous black spots, and
-still another cabbage-bug of a bluish-green color with white or red
-spots.
-
-“Bugs of this class have four wings, the upper pair covering the other
-pair when in repose. The forward half of each upper wing is hard like
-the beetle’s wing sheaths, but the other half is membranous and of fine
-texture. This structure makes them half sheaths for protection and half
-wings for flying, and it is because of this peculiarity that insects of
-this sort are called hemiptera, or half-winged creatures. The cicada is
-a half-winged insect, as is also the plant-louse, although its upper
-wings (I am speaking of winged plant-lice, of course), instead of being
-one half hard and the other half of a more delicate texture, have the
-same fineness and transparency throughout. But the most striking
-characteristic of these insects, and the one that determines their mode
-of life, is the beak for sucking. So we will call hemiptera all insects
-equipped with a pointed sucker which lies against the breast when in
-repose, and we will not concern ourselves with the question of wings,
-whether half or entirely membranous.”
-
-“Do the hemiptera form an order by themselves?” asked Jules.
-
-“They form an order in the same way that coleoptera, lepidoptera,
-hymenoptera, diptera, and so on, form each an order. But hemiptera do
-not undergo so thorough a transformation as other insects, being born
-with very nearly the form they will always have. The chief change
-consists in the growing of wings, which the insect does not have at
-first, but acquires later when it has attained sufficient size. In some
-species several generations succeed one another before the winged
-state, which is the perfect one, is reached. Plant-lice belong to this
-class, the earlier generations of the year having no wings, and only
-the last being equipped with them.
-
-“A hemipterous insect with habits somewhat like those of the plant
-louse causes considerable damage to pear-trees. It is commonly called
-the flea-louse of the pear, and is a small reddish insect with
-diaphanous wings that fold at an angle like the two sides of an
-acute-angled roof. It is found on pear-trees, and more rarely on
-apple-trees, toward the end of April. The eggs are laid one by one in
-slight gashes made in the leafstem by the female with a little auger
-situated at the end of the abdomen. The larvæ that come from these eggs
-grow rapidly and differ from the perfect insect only in their lack of
-wings. By sloughing the skin these larvæ become nymphs, short and
-stubby and already having on each side a rudimentary wing. In its final
-form the insect acquires perfect wings. In all three of its successive
-stages the insect plunges its sucker into the tender bark, or into the
-leaves, and sucks the sap. The best way to destroy these creatures is
-to use a hard bristle brush on those parts of the bark where they are
-to be found in multitudes.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER LIV
-
-QUEER MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS
-
-
-Uncle Paul had placed in the lettuce bed two large pots half full of
-water and set into the ground flush with the surface. He said they were
-a trap for mole-crickets, which, from the withered appearance of some
-of the plants, he suspected were in the garden. One morning, on going
-to look into the pots, Emile found three drowned mole-crickets in them.
-That evening Uncle Paul told the children about these creatures.
-
-“The insects Emile found in the trap,” said he, “are called
-mole-crickets from their habit of burrowing into the ground like moles
-and from their resembling in certain other ways ordinary crickets. The
-mole-cricket has the common cricket’s long and slender antennæ, its two
-flexible filaments at the end of the abdomen, and its rough wings which
-are rubbed against each other so as to make a sort of singing noise. It
-is a formidable ravager of our gardens.”
-
-“Do crickets really chirp with their wings?” asked Emile, in surprise.
-
-“Yes, my boy. In chirping the cricket raises its wings, which are dry
-and wrinkled, and rubs the edges together vigorously. The other
-chirping insects do about the same. The vineyard grasshopper, the one
-with the large green and yellow belly, has on its back two round scales
-which fit together and rub against each other. They constitute its
-musical instrument. Other grasshoppers play the violin; that is to say,
-they scrape the rough edges of their wings with their big curved thighs
-as bows or fiddle-sticks. The cicada has under its stomach in a double
-cavity, protected by covers capable of being raised more or less, two
-dry and shiny membranes stretched as taut as drumheads. The insect
-sings by making these vibrate in their cases.”
-
-“Does the mole-cricket say cree-cree like the ordinary cricket?”
-
-“No; its song has a monotonous sound, being a sort of sharp buzzing,
-rather subdued, and continuous.”
-
-“And why does the mole-cricket sing? What an ugly creature with its
-little crafty eyes, short wings, big stomach, and frightful fore feet!”
-
-“It sings to cheer its solitude and call its mate. You think it ugly; I
-find it admirably equipped for the work it has to do. It lives in the
-ground, just as moles do, and like them it is provided with a special
-tool for digging in the earth and cutting the roots that bar its way.
-Have you ever noticed a mole’s fore feet? They are broadly
-shovel-shaped and furnished with strong claws. The mole-cricket’s fore
-feet are very much like them, being short and wide and edged with
-saw-teeth. With this pair of powerful tools the insect digs its
-subterranean tunnels.”
-
-“Then that,” said Jules, “must be the reason for calling it a
-mole-cricket: it has the mole’s wide feet for digging.”
-
-“I should like to know,” Emile interposed, “what the mole and
-mole-cricket do under the ground.”
-
-“They hunt for worms and all kinds of insects for food. In their
-subterranean operations both cut with their fore feet the roots that
-obstruct their progress, but the mole, exclusively carnivorous, does
-not eat them, whereas the mole-cricket, living on both animal and
-vegetable matter, nibbles them at its pleasure. Nor does it disdain a
-tender lettuce leaf when at night it comes up above ground to get a
-little air and cultivate the acquaintance of its neighbors. Hence the
-mole-cricket does a great deal of damage in gardens by laying bare the
-roots of young plants when it is boring its tunnels, or by severing
-these roots with the saw-like edges of its feet, or by nibbling them
-when hungry.
-
-“Not far beneath the surface of the ground the female makes her nest,
-which is in the form of a hollow ball of earth about as large as your
-fist. In this cavity, after it has been carefully smoothed and
-prepared, she lays her eggs, to the number of three or four hundred,
-after which she remains in the neighborhood as if to watch over them.
-When first hatched the young ones are white all over and look like big
-ants. When the ground is spaded these nests should always be destroyed.
-
-“The mole-cricket’s domain is composed of passages running down to a
-greater or less distance, with hunting galleries just under the
-surface. To dislodge the insect from its retreat a little oil is poured
-into the hole where it is thought to have taken refuge, and then plenty
-of water from the watering-pot, until all the passages are inundated.
-Threatened with suffocation by the oil, which interferes with its
-breathing, the mole-cricket soon comes to the surface. One can also use
-the trap that I have found serviceable. A wide and deep vessel is set
-into the ground, level with the surface, and half filled with water.
-Attracted by the coolness, the mole-crickets fall in and drown in the
-course of their nocturnal promenades. Sometimes, again, at the approach
-of cold weather holes are dug here and there and filled with horse
-manure. The warmth of the manure is agreeable to the mole-crickets, and
-they come and hide in it for the winter. When cold weather begins,
-these lurking-places are searched and the foolish occupants destroyed.
-
-“The mole-cricket, the house-cricket, the locust, and the grasshopper
-belong to a family of insects called orthoptera, so named from their
-straight wings; that is, the lower wings, those used for flying, are
-folded lengthwise in a straight line when in repose, like a closed fan.
-Look at the red or blue wings of the crickets that abound in autumn, in
-dry grass, and you will see them neatly folded lengthwise, while the
-upper wings, which are somewhat leathery, are usually brought together
-in the shape of a roof. Many, but not all, of the orthoptera have thick
-thighs ending in long and bristly legs that serve for jumping. Finally,
-some of these insects have at the end of the abdomen a terebra,
-commonly called a sword, its office being to lay the eggs in the
-ground.
-
-“One of these orthoptera commits terrible ravages in Africa. It is the
-migratory locust, so named because it assembles in immense swarms and
-migrates to another region when food fails. The migrating swarm takes
-flight as at a given signal and moves through the air like a great
-cloud, even intercepting the light of the sun. Sooner or later the
-devastating hordes swoop down like a living storm on the cultivated
-fields of some province, and in a few hours leaves, grain, pastures,
-fields, all are browsed bare as if swept by a conflagration, the ground
-showing not a green blade of any kind surviving.”
-
-“If those ravenous locusts travel like that,” said Jules, “couldn’t
-they come here?”
-
-“Driven by a favorable wind, clouds of locusts do sometimes cross the
-Mediterranean and alight in our southern departments. At various times
-the territory of Arles has suffered this terrible visitation. It should
-be added that if the country suits them where they chance to alight,
-the locusts lay their eggs there, and from these there springs a legion
-of devourers more numerous than the first. To lessen the ravages of
-this second generation search is made for the eggs, which the locust
-lays in a cylindrical hole running a few centimeters into the ground.
-In 1832, in the neighborhood of Arles, nearly four thousand kilograms
-of eggs were gathered besides bagfuls of the insects themselves. It
-takes eighty thousand eggs to make a kilogram; hence in that harvest of
-eggs there were three hundred and twenty million locusts destroyed
-before they were born. Imagine the ravages of such a swarm of devourers
-alighting on the vegetation of any given district. Before so terrible a
-scourge man bows his head and acknowledges his powerlessness, the
-insect ravager overwhelming him by its very numbers.
-
-“How many other ravagers there are, my children, besides locusts, that
-by their inconceivable multitude defy our attempts to defend ourselves!
-You are now in a position to realize somewhat the serious nature of
-these devastations when you think of all the moths and caterpillars and
-worms, all the creeping and burrowing and flying insects, of all shapes
-and sizes and appetites, that attack our gardens and fields. They would
-certainly gain the upper hand if we had to depend on ourselves in
-combating them. But fortunately we are most ably assisted in this
-contest.”
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-NOTES
-
-
-[1] See “Field, Forest, and Farm.”
-
-[2] See “The Story-Book of Science.”
-
-[3] The French campagnol is translated in this book by meadow-mouse.
-The term vole, another rendering, is purely British and too
-uncommon in America to warrant its use in these pages.—Translator.
-
-[4] A name given to the cat in La Fontaine’s “Fables.”—Translator.
-
-[5] Audubon: “Ornithological Biography,” I. 160–162.—Translator.
-
-[6] Dupont de Nemours.
-
-[7] See “The Story-Book of Science.”
-
-[8] From “Le Crapaud” (“The Toad”), by Victor Hugo.—Translator.
-
-[9] A liter is slightly more than a quart, a hectoliter a little more
-than one hundred quarts.—Translator.
-
-[10] See “The Secret of Everyday Things.”
-
-
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-
-<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Animal Life in Field and Garden, by Jean-Henri Fabre</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-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="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Animal Life in Field and Garden</p>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jean-Henri Fabre and Florence Constable Bicknell</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 16, 2021 [eBook #66755]</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div>
-
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANIMAL LIFE IN FIELD AND GARDEN ***</div>
-<div class="front">
-<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
-<p class="first"></p>
-<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="Original Front Cover." width="492" height="720"></div><p>
-</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="div1 frenchtitle"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
-<p class="first xd31e93">ANIMAL LIFE<br>
-IN<br>
-FIELD AND GARDEN
-</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
-<p class="first"></p>
-<div class="figure titlepage-imagewidth"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="Original Title Page." width="438" height="720"></div><p>
-</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="titlePage">
-<div class="docTitle">
-<div class="mainTitle">ANIMAL LIFE<br>
-<span class="xd31e111">IN</span><br>
-FIELD AND GARDEN</div>
-</div>
-<div class="byline">BY<br>
-<span class="docAuthor">JEAN-HENRI FABRE</span>
-<br>
-Author of “<span class="sc">The Story-Book of Science</span>,” “<span class="sc">Our
-Humble Helpers</span>,” “<span class="sc">Field, Forest and
-Farm</span>,” “<span class="sc">The Secret of Everyday
-Things</span>,” etc.
-<br>
-TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH<br>
-BY<br>
-<span class="docAuthor">FLORENCE CONSTABLE BICKNELL</span></div>
-<div class="docImprint">NEW YORK<br>
-THE CENTURY CO.</div>
-</div>
-<p></p>
-<div class="div1 copyright"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody">
-<p class="first xd31e149">Copyright, 1921, by<br>
-<span class="sc">The Century Co.</span>
-</p>
-<p class="xd31e149">Printed in U.&nbsp;S. A.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb.v">[<a href="#pb.v">v</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="main">CONTENTS</h2>
-<table class="tocList">
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">CHAPTER</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7">
-</td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">PAGE</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">I</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch1" id="xd31e174">What Uncle Paul Proposes to Talk About</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">3</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">II</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch2" id="xd31e184">Teeth</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">6</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">III</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch3" id="xd31e194">The Different Shapes of Teeth</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">13</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">IV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch4" id="xd31e204">Bats</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">24</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">V</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch5" id="xd31e214">The Bat’s Wings</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">36</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">VI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch6" id="xd31e224">The Bat’s Senses of Smell and Hearing</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">43</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">VII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch7" id="xd31e234">The Hedgehog</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">49</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">VIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch8" id="xd31e244">Hibernation</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">58</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">IX</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch9" id="xd31e254">The Mole</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">67</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">X</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch10" id="xd31e264">The Mole’s Nest—The Shrew-Mouse</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">77</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch11" id="xd31e275">The Exploit of One-Eyed John</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">84</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch12" id="xd31e285">Nocturnal Birds of Prey</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">90</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch13" id="xd31e295">Rats</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">93</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XIV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch14" id="xd31e305">Meadow-Mice—Hamsters—Dormice</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">106</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch15" id="xd31e315">Horned Owls</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">114</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XVI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch16" id="xd31e325">Other Owls</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">122</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XVII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch17" id="xd31e335">The Eagle</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">129</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XVIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch18" id="xd31e345">Hawks and Falcons</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">137</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XIX</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch19" id="xd31e355">Kestrels, Kites, and Buzzards</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">144</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XX</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch20" id="xd31e365">The Raven</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">154</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch21" id="xd31e375">The Crow</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">160</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch22" id="xd31e386">Woodpeckers</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">168</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch23" id="xd31e396">More about Woodpeckers</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">177</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXIV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch24" id="xd31e406">Climbers—The Hoopoe</a></span> <span class="pageNum" id="pb.vi">[<a href="#pb.vi">vi</a>]</span></td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">184</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch25" id="xd31e417">The Cuckoo</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">188</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXVI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch26" id="xd31e427">Shrikes</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">197</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXVII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch27" id="xd31e437">The Titmouse</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">204</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXVIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch28" id="xd31e447">The Wren and the Kinglet</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">214</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXIX</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch29" id="xd31e457">Swallows</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">220</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXX</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch30" id="xd31e467">Swifts and Night-Jars</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">231</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch31" id="xd31e477">The Bird’s Beak</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">240</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch32" id="xd31e487">Insectivorous Birds</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">245</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch33" id="xd31e498">Granivorous Birds</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">253</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXIV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch34" id="xd31e508">Snakes and Lizards</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">260</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch35" id="xd31e518">The Batrachians</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">273</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXVI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch36" id="xd31e528">The Toad</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">280</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXVII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch37" id="xd31e538">Instinct</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">290</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXVIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch38" id="xd31e548">The Grain-Weevil</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">295</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XXXIX</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch39" id="xd31e558">The Common Caterpillar</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">300</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XL</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch40" id="xd31e568">Caterpillars at Table</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">304</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch41" id="xd31e578">Enemies of the Grapevine</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">310</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch42" id="xd31e588">Clever Mischief-Makers</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">315</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch43" id="xd31e598">Nut-Weevils and Flower-Weevils</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">321</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLIV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch44" id="xd31e609">Enemies of Clover</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">328</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch45" id="xd31e619">Cabbage-Eaters</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">333</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLVI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch46" id="xd31e629">A Destructive Family</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">338</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLVII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch47" id="xd31e639">Fliers with Wings of Gauze</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">343</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLVIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch48" id="xd31e649">Beneficent Parasites</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">349</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">XLIX</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch49" id="xd31e659">Apple-Eaters</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">358</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">L</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch50" id="xd31e669">Leaf-Rollers</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">363</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">LI</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch51" id="xd31e679">The Hop-Moth</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">368</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">LII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch52" id="xd31e689">The Inchworm</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">374</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">LIII</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch53" id="xd31e699">Sap-Suckers</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">381</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="tocDivNum">LIV</td>
-<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <span class="sc"><a href="#ch54" id="xd31e709">Queer Musical Instruments</a></span> </td>
-<td class="tocPageNum">385</td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb1">[<a href="#pb1">1</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="body">
-<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e174">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="super">ANIMAL LIFE<br>
-<span class="xd31e111">IN</span><br>
-FIELD AND GARDEN</h2>
-<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb3">[<a href="#pb3">3</a>]</span></p>
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER I</h2>
-<h2 class="main">WHAT UNCLE PAUL PROPOSES TO TALK ABOUT</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“In these talks that we shall have together,” said Uncle Paul, as he sat with his
-nephews one evening in May under the big elder tree in the garden, “I propose to designate
-as ‘friends’ those forms of animal life that, though not domesticated or cared for
-by us, nevertheless come to our aid by waging war on insects and various other devouring
-creatures which would in the end, unless their excessive multiplication were kept
-in restraint by others besides ourselves, eat up all our crops and lay waste our fields;
-and it is these ravagers of the farmer’s carefully tilled acres that I shall speak
-of as ‘foes.’
-</p>
-<p>“What can man’s efforts avail against those voracious hordes, multiplying as they
-do every year to an extent beyond calculation? Will he have the patience, the skill,
-the keenness of vision necessary for waging successful warfare on the tiniest species,
-often the most formidable, when the June-bug, despite its far greater size, baffles
-all his endeavors? Will he undertake to examine his fields and inspect <span class="pageNum" id="pb4">[<a href="#pb4">4</a>]</span>every lump of soil, every spear of wheat, every separate leaf on his fruit-trees?
-For so prodigious a task the whole human race would be inadequate, even if it united
-all its efforts to this one end. The devouring hordes would reduce us to starvation,
-my children, had we not able helpers to work for us, helpers endowed with a patience
-that nothing can tire, a skill that foils all ruses, a vigilance that nothing escapes.
-To lie in ambush for the enemy, to track it to its remotest retreats, to hunt it unceasingly,
-and finally to exterminate it—that is their sole care, their never-ending occupation.
-Urged on by the pangs of hunger, they are relentless in their pursuit, both for their
-own sake and on behalf of their progeny. They live on those that live on us; they
-are the enemies of our enemies.
-</p>
-<p>“Engaged in this work are the martins that just at present are circling over our heads,
-the bats that fly around our house, the owls that call to one another from the hollow
-willow trunks in the meadow, the warblers that sing in the grove, the frogs that croak
-in the ditches, and many more besides, including the toad, which is an object of loathing
-to most people. Thanks be to God who has given us, to serve as guardians of our daily
-bread, the owl and the toad, the bat and the viper, the frog and the lizard! All these
-creatures, wrongfully cursed and shamefully abused by us, and foolishly looked upon
-with repugnance and hatred, in reality lend us valiant assistance and should take
-a high place in our esteem. To repair the injustice they have suffered <span class="pageNum" id="pb5">[<a href="#pb5">5</a>]</span>shall be my first duty as we come to each of them in turn. Thanks be to God who, to
-protect us from that great eater the insect, has given us the swallow and the warbler,
-the robin redbreast and the nightingale! These, the delight of our eye and ear, creatures
-of infinite grace—must I again raise my voice in their defense? Alas, yes, for their
-homes are ravaged by the barbarous nest-hunter.
-</p>
-<p>“It is my purpose now to acquaint you, my children, with these various helpers of
-man in his labors as tiller of the soil. I will tell you about their ways of living,
-their habits and their aptitudes, and the services they render us. My object will
-be attained if I succeed in imparting to you a little of the interest they deserve.
-I will begin with those that have teeth. But first let us take a glance at the shape
-and structure of teeth in general; for it is this that determines the kind of food
-required by the animal.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb6">[<a href="#pb6">6</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e184">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER II</h2>
-<h2 class="main">TEETH</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Is it not true,” resumed Uncle Paul, “that each kind of work demands its own special
-tool? The plowman must have the plow, the blacksmith the anvil, the mason the trowel,
-the weaver the shuttle, the carpenter the plane; and these different tools, all excellent
-for the work to which they are applied, would be of no use in any other. Could the
-mason rough-cast his wall with a shuttle? Could the weaver weave his cloth with a
-trowel? Evidently not. Is it not true, then, that from the tool one may easily guess
-the kind of work it does?”
-</p>
-<p>“Nothing could be easier, it seems to me,” replied Jules. “If I see planes and saws
-hanging on the wall, I know that I am in a carpenter’s shop.”
-</p>
-<p>“And I should know,” said Emile, “from seeing an anvil, a hammer, and a pair of tongs,
-that I was in a blacksmith’s shop. But if I saw a mortar-board and a trowel, I should
-look around for the mason.”
-</p>
-<p>“Well,” Uncle Paul went on, “every creature has its special task in creation’s great
-workshop, where all take part, all work, according to the design of Divine Wisdom.
-Each species has its mission—I might say its trade to follow—a trade that requires
-special tools just as does any work done <span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span>by man. Now, among the innumerable trades of animals there is one that is common to
-all without exception, the most important trade of all, as without it life itself
-would be impossible: it is the business of eating.
-</p>
-<p>“But all animals do not take the same kind of food. Some need prey, raw flesh, others
-fodder; some eat roots, others seeds and fruit. In every instance teeth are the tools
-used in the work of eating; so they must have the shape appropriate to the kind of
-food eaten, whether that be tough or tender, hard or easy to chew. Therefore, just
-as from his tool the artisan’s work may be inferred, so from the shape of its teeth
-one can usually tell the kind of food eaten by any animal.
-</p>
-<p>“Herbivorous animals are those that live on grass, fodder, hay; and carnivorous animals
-are those that eat flesh. The horse, the donkey, the ox, and the sheep are herbivorous;
-the dog, the cat, and the wolf, carnivorous. The food of the herbivorous animal is
-tough, hard, fibrous, and must be ground for a long time by the teeth in order to
-be reduced to a paste-like mass suitable for swallowing and, after that, for easy
-digestion. In this case the teeth in both upper and lower jaw must have broad and
-almost flat surfaces that will come together and grind the food as millstones grind
-grain. On the other hand, the flesh eaten by the carnivorous animal is soft, easy
-to swallow, and easy to digest. All that the animal has to do is to tear it apart
-and cut it into shreds. So the teeth here must have sharp <span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>edges that come together and operate like the blades of a pair of scissors.
-</p>
-<p>“I think I have said enough on that subject. Now, which of you will tell me what kind
-of food goes with each of the teeth I show you here?”
-</p>
-<p>And Uncle Paul laid before his hearers the two teeth pictured on these pages, with
-others to follow.
-</p>
-<div class="figure p008width"><img src="images/p008.png" alt="Tooth of a Horse" width="516" height="347"><p class="figureHead">Tooth of a Horse</p>
-<p class="first"><i>A</i>, the tooth entire; <i>B</i>, cross-section of an unworn tooth; <i>C</i>, cross-section of a worn tooth; <i>e</i>, enamel; <i>c</i>, cement; <i>i</i>, ivory; <i>p</i>, dental pulp.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The first tooth,” said Emile, “is flattened and very wide at the top; it must crush
-and grind by rubbing against a tooth of the same kind in the opposite jaw. So it is
-the tooth of an animal that eats fodder.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is indeed,” Uncle Paul replied, “the tooth of an herbivorous animal, a horse.”
-</p>
-<p>“The second,” continued Emile, “is composed of several broad points with edges almost
-as sharp as knife blades. It must be meant for cutting flesh.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Those winding folds that you see in the horse’s tooth—what are they for?” asked Jules.
-“There is nothing like them in the wolf’s tooth.”
-</p>
-<p>“I was going to tell you about them,” his uncle replied. “If the horse’s teeth had
-perfectly smooth surfaces, without any roughness to act as a grater, is it not true
-that in pressing and rubbing, each against the opposite tooth, they would simply crush
-the fodder or hay as you would crush it between two smooth stones without changing
-it into fine powder? Millstones, if they were polished like marble tables, would flatten
-the grain without making flour of it; they must be rough on the surface in order to
-seize the wheat during the grinding of the upper stone on the stationary lower one
-and to make it into powder. When by long use the surface is worn smooth, the stones
-are of no service until they are dented again with the hammer. Well, the folds of
-a horse’s teeth may be likened to the roughness of a millstone: they project a little
-above the general surface of the tooth, making a sort of coarse file that tears to
-pieces blades of grass or hay when rubbed by the opposite tooth.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p009width"><img src="images/p009.png" alt="Tooth of a Wolf" width="279" height="196"><p class="figureHead">Tooth of a Wolf</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, the tooth entire; <i>b</i>, cross-section; <i>e</i>, enamel; <i>c</i>, cement; <i>i</i>, ivory; <i>p</i>, dental pulp.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“I think I see a danger threatening the herbivorous animal,” put in Jules at this
-point. “Those <span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>projecting folds must soon be worn down by rubbing against one another, just the same
-as the roughness on the millstone. If smooth millstones can’t make flour without being
-roughened again, no more can the herbivorous animal’s worn teeth go on grinding.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is provided for, admirably provided for, my boy. Everything in the world is
-arranged so that it can do its work: a wisdom that nothing escapes watches over the
-smallest details; everything, even to a donkey’s jaw, shows this to be so. Listen,
-and judge for yourselves.
-</p>
-<p>“There are two different substances in a tooth: one very hard, a little like glass
-and called enamel; the other quicker to wear out, but very difficult to break, and
-known as ivory. These two substances are combined in different ways, according to
-the animal’s diet. In the horse, the sheep, the ox, the donkey, and many other herbivorous
-animals the ivory makes up the main part of the tooth, while the harder substance,
-the enamel, extends in winding sheets throughout the former, projecting a little above
-its surface in a fold which varies in form in the different kinds of animals. So,
-then, it is the enamel, a substance as hard as a pebble, that composes the folds in
-the herbivorous animal’s teeth. From the rubbing of the lower teeth against the upper
-the ivory wears away faster than the enamel, so that the folds of the latter embedded
-in the mass of the tooth have their cutting edges brought above the general level
-as fast as required, and thus the grinding surfaces are kept in constant repair. You
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>see how it is: in the donkey’s food-mill, for instance, the millstones re-roughen
-themselves as fast as necessary for the chewing of a thistle; the machinery is self-repairing
-even while at work.”
-</p>
-<p>“What you tell us, Uncle, is wonderful,” commented Jules. “I never should have guessed
-that such an arrangement was necessary for chewing a thistle.”
-</p>
-<p>“And only the other day,” put in Louis, “I kicked out of my way a jaw-bone that was
-lying in the road. How gladly should I have looked at it closely if I had known all
-these things!”
-</p>
-<p>“Ignorance always kicks things aside like that, my boy, but science is interested
-in everything, knowing that it can always learn something. But let us return to the
-teeth of the carnivorous animals and examine those of the wolf.
-</p>
-<p>“Here the irregularities of the nutmeg-grater, the parallel ridges of the file, and
-the roughness of the millstone would be of no use, since the animal’s food is to be
-torn into shreds and not chewed into paste. For the wolf’s food cutting blades are
-needed—sharp scissors which are hard enough not to become blunt. Hence the working
-edges of the wolf’s teeth are not flat like millstones, but shaped rather like pointed
-chisels. The ivory forms the central body of the tooth, making it tough and strong,
-while the enamel, harder but more brittle, is spread as a continuous layer over the
-tooth and furnishes the requisite cutting edges. In like manner a skilful cutler,
-when he wishes to make an edged tool that will cut well and <span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>at the same time withstand violent blows, makes its central mass of iron, a tough
-material that bears considerable violence without injury, but is not hard enough to
-furnish a keen cutting edge. He then overlays it, to obtain such an edge, with fine
-steel, which combines excessive hardness with the fragility of glass. The best that
-man can contrive in the making of edged tools is met with in perfection in the teeth
-of carnivorous animals.”
-</p>
-<p>“If I understand you, then,” said Jules, “ivory, which is not so hard as enamel, but
-less brittle, forms the interior of the teeth of carnivorous animals, and enamel,
-which is harder and more brittle, forms the outside layer. Ivory makes the teeth strong;
-enamel makes them cut.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, that is it.”
-</p>
-<p>“Now, I don’t know which is the more wonderful, the donkey’s or the wolf’s set of
-teeth.”
-</p>
-<p>“Both are wonderful, as both are admirably adapted to the kind of work they have to
-do.”
-</p>
-<p>“What surprises me most,” Emile interposed, “is that a lot of things we should never
-pay any attention to turn out to be very interesting when Uncle Paul explains them
-to us. I never should have thought that the time would come when I should listen with
-pleasure to the history of a tooth.”
-</p>
-<p>“Since that interests you,” said Uncle Paul, “I will continue the subject a little
-further and will tell you about human teeth, about yours, my boy, so white and so
-well arranged, and so admirably adapted for biting a slice of bread and butter.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e194">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER III</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE DIFFERENT SHAPES OF TEETH</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Man has thirty-two teeth, sixteen to each jaw,” Uncle Paul continued.
-</p>
-<p>Emile already had his finger in his mouth, passing it from one tooth to another, to
-count them. His uncle paused until he had finished the count.
-</p>
-<p>“But I have only twenty, all told,” declared the boy; “twenty, and not thirty-two.”
-</p>
-<p>“The other twelve will come some day, my boy; at present you have the right number
-of teeth for a child of your age. They do not all come at one time, but one after
-another. We begin with twenty, and no more. They are called milk teeth, or first teeth.
-When we are about seven years old they begin to fall out and are replaced by others
-stronger and set in more firmly. In addition to this second score of teeth there appear
-later twelve others, bringing the total number up to thirty-two. Those farthest back,
-in the inmost cavity of the mouth, come late, when we are eighteen or twenty years
-old, or even older, for which reason they are called wisdom teeth to signify that
-they appear at an age when the reason is well developed. These thirty-two last teeth
-constitute the second cutting. I call them last because they are never replaced by
-any others; if <span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>we lose them, that is the end of our teeth; no more will come.”
-</p>
-<p>“I have two now that are loose,” said Emile.
-</p>
-<div class="figure p014width"><img src="images/p014.png" alt="Human Teeth" width="529" height="196"><p class="figureHead">Human Teeth</p>
-<p class="first"><i>I</i>, incisors; <i>C</i>, canine tooth; <i>m</i>, small molars; <i>M</i>, large molars; <i>a</i>, cross-section showing, <i>e</i>, enamel; <i>c</i>, cement; <i>i</i>, ivory; <i>p</i>, dental pulp.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“They must come out soon to leave room for the new teeth that are to take their place.
-The others will get loose, too, and the twenty that you have now will be succeeded
-by twenty others, to which, sooner or later, will be added twelve more which come
-only once. These last occupy the back part of the jaws, three on each side, top and
-bottom. Thus the final number will be thirty-two.
-</p>
-<p>“These thirty-two teeth are divided into three classes according to their shape and
-the work they must do. The same names being repeated top and bottom and right and
-left, I show you merely the eight teeth of half a jaw. In every tooth there are two
-parts to be distinguished, the crown and the root. The root is the part that is embedded
-in the jaw-bone like a nail hammered into wood; the crown is the part that comes into
-view, and it may be likened to the head of a nail. The root holds the <span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>tooth in place, fixes it firmly; the crown cuts, tears, and grinds the food.
-</p>
-<p>“In the two front teeth in each half-jaw the crown grows thinner toward the top. The
-edge is straight and sharp, fitted for cutting food, dividing it into small mouthfuls.
-Therefore these teeth are called incisors, from the Latin <i lang="la">incidere</i>, meaning to cut. Their root is a simple pivot. The next tooth is called canine. Its
-root is a little longer than those of the preceding teeth, and its crown is slightly
-pointed. The dog, the cat, the wolf, and carnivorous animals in general have this
-tooth shaped like a powerful fang, which serves to catch and hold prey, but above
-all acts as a weapon in attack and defense. It is the canine teeth that you see crossing
-one another, long and pointed, two on each side, when you raise the upper lip of a
-cat or a dog. Because of these remarkable fangs of carnivorous animals, especially
-the dog, which in Latin is <i lang="la">canis</i>, the name canine has been given to the teeth that in man are like them, if not in
-form and use, at least in the position they occupy.
-</p>
-<p>“The next five teeth are the most useful of all. They are called molars, from the
-Latin <i lang="la">mola</i>, a millstone, because they play the part of millstones in grinding the food. For
-this purpose their crowns are blunt and broad and slightly irregular, not flat like
-the horse’s molars or with sharp cutting edges like the wolf’s, because man’s food
-is not composed exclusively of either vegetables or flesh, but of both at the same
-time. For food as varied as man’s there <span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span>is need of molars fit for all sorts of service: they must grind like those of the
-herbivorous animals and cut like those of the carnivorous; in short, they must be
-like those of both. And, indeed, their wide crowns are suited to vegetable food, and
-their rather sharp irregularities are adapted to animal food.
-</p>
-<p>“The first two are called little molars or, in more learned language, bicuspids, because
-they have each two cusps or points. They are the least strong of the five and have
-only one root each. The two little molars, the canine tooth, and the two incisors
-(of each half-jaw) are the only teeth that are renewed. Multiply them by four and
-you will have the twenty teeth of the first cutting, teeth that begin to fall out
-toward the age of seven and are gradually replaced by others. That is the state of
-Emile’s teeth at present, there being but twenty of them.
-</p>
-<p>“The other three teeth, in each half-jaw, come only once. They are the large molars,
-of which the very end one is also called the wisdom tooth. As in the act of mastication
-the large molars have to bear strong pressure, the root is composed of several pivots
-or prongs reaching down each into a special cavity or socket. This makes them strong
-and firm, so that they can stand pressure both downward and sideways.
-</p>
-<p>“To sum up, the grown man has thirty-two teeth in all, sixteen to each jaw; namely,
-four incisors, two canines, and ten molars. These last are divided into four bicuspids
-or little molars and six large molars; the milk teeth do not include these last six.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span></p>
-<p>Here Jules had a question to ask. “Ivory and enamel,” said he, “those two substances
-of different degrees of hardness that you told us were arranged in such a wonderful
-way in horses’ and wolves’ teeth—are they in our teeth, too?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, they are there. Ivory forms the entire root, which must serve as a firm support,
-and it also fills the crown, while enamel merely covers the outside as a hard protecting
-layer.”
-</p>
-<p>“I am going to get the cat and look at her teeth,” said Emile. “Has she twenty, like
-me, or has she thirty-two?”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p017width"><img src="images/p017.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Wolf" width="359" height="225"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Wolf</p>
-<p class="first"><i>i</i>, incisors; <i>c</i>, canine teeth; <i>m</i>, small molars; <i>r</i>, large molars; <i>s</i>, salivary glands.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Neither twenty nor thirty-two, but thirty when full-grown. Dogs and wolves have forty-two;
-horses and donkeys forty-four. In fact, the number varies with different animals as
-much as the shape. Perhaps a few words on this subject will not be out of place.
-</p>
-<p>“First, here is the picture of a wolf’s mouth. If one did not already know, one could
-easily guess the animal’s diet by merely looking at its teeth. Those deeply indented
-molars, those strong, curved canines—surely they call for wild prey and show great
-strength. The whole set indicates clearly enough a <span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span>carnivorous appetite. At <i>i</i> are the incisors, six in number. They are small and of slight use, for the animal
-does not cut its prey into little mouthfuls, but swallows it gluttonously in great
-strips. At <i>c</i> are the canines, veritable daggers which the bandit plunges into the sheep’s neck.
-The little molars are at <i>m</i>. The large molars come next. The first, marked <i>r</i>, is the strongest, and it is with this that the wolf and the dog crack the hardest
-bones. Finally, the picture shows the salivary glands; that is, the organs that prepare
-the saliva and let it ooze into the mouth through the canal <i>s</i> as the animal eats. Without dwelling on this point, which would take me too far from
-my subject, I will merely say that saliva serves to soak the food and make a soft
-mouthful that can be easily swallowed, and it also plays an important part in the
-stomach in reducing to a fluid pap the food taken in; that is to say, it helps to
-digest the food.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p018width"><img src="images/p018.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Cat" width="173" height="226"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Cat</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Let us pass on to the cat, another typical flesh-eater. Six small incisors are ranged
-in the front of the jaw like a row of elegant but useless pearls. They are ornamental
-rather than useful to the animal. A mouse-hunter needs very long and pointed canines
-for piercing the prey seized by the claws. In this respect the cat is armed in a very
-formidable manner. What do you think of it, Louis?”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“I think,” he replied, “a rat must be very uncomfortable between those curved canines
-the picture shows us.”
-</p>
-<p>“One day,” said Emile, “when I was pulling the cat’s mustache, she gave me a bite
-that felt like the sharp prick of a needle. It was done so quickly I had no time to
-draw my hand back.”
-</p>
-<p>“The cat brought her canines into play and wounded you with one of them as quickly
-as a steel point could have done.
-</p>
-<p>“Now look at the molars. There are four above, the last one very small, and three
-below. Their cusps or points are still sharper than the wolf’s; so, too, the cat’s
-appetite—like that of its kindred, the tiger, the panther, the jaguar, and others—demands
-more flesh than that of the wolf and animals like it, such as the fox, the jackal,
-and especially the dog. Have you ever noticed how disdainful the cat is when you throw
-her only a piece of bread? Scarcely has she smelt it when she makes a movement of
-superb scorn, tail in the air, back raised, and looks at you as if to say: ‘Are you
-making fun of me? I want something else.’ Or, if very hungry, she reluctantly bites
-the bread, chews it awkwardly, and swallows it with distaste. The dog, on the contrary,
-our good Azor for example, catches the bread joyfully in his mouth without letting
-it touch the ground, and if he finds any fault with the piece it is for being too
-small. You call the cat a glutton. I take her part and maintain that it is not the
-vice of gluttony she shows, but that her teeth <span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>must have meat. What could you expect her pointed canines and keen-edged molars to
-do with a crust of bread? They demand, above all, a prey that bleeds, a quivering
-bit of flesh.
-</p>
-<div class="figure p020width"><img src="images/p020.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Horse" width="402" height="255"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Horse</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“What a difference between the teeth of the hunter and those of the peaceful chewer
-of grass! Let us examine this picture of a horse’s head. Here the incisors, six in
-number, are powerful; they seize the forage and cut it, a mouthful at a time. The
-canines, of no use here, show only as little knobs on the jaw-bone. Next beyond comes
-a long vacant space called the bar; that is where the bit is held in the horse’s mouth.
-Back of the bar you see the real grinding mechanism, composed of twelve pairs of strong
-molars with square, flat crowns furnished with slightly projecting folds whose usefulness
-I have already pointed out to you. If I am not much mistaken, here we have a mill
-capable of grinding tough straw and fibrous hay.
-</p>
-<p>“Finally, here is a rabbit’s head. Each jaw is furnished with two enormous incisors
-set deep into the <span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>bone, bent backward above, and ending each in a sharp-edged crown. What are such incisors
-as those made for?”
-</p>
-<p>“I know,” Jules quickly replied. “The rabbit is always nibbling. For want of better
-food it will gnaw the bark of a tree and even the wood. It uses its incisors to cut
-its food very fine, to gnaw it.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure p021width"><img src="images/p021.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Rodent" width="393" height="186"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Rodent</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, hamster’s jaws and teeth; <i>b</i>, upper incisor of a rabbit.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“To gnaw it—that is the right word; hence we give the name of rodents or gnawers to
-the various animals having incisors of that kind. Such are the squirrel, the hare,
-the rabbit, the rat, and the mouse, those poor creatures which must gnaw the toughest
-vegetable substances and fill their bellies with wood, paper, rags even, when there
-is nothing better for supplying the mill that is kept always going. But it is not
-merely to satisfy their hunger that these animals are almost incessantly gnawing;
-there is another reason for their doing it. Their incisors grow all their lives and
-tend to lengthen indefinitely; consequently, the animal must wear them away by continual
-friction, as otherwise their crowns would at last so far overlap that they could not
-be made <span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>to meet. Then the poor beast would be unable to seize its food and would perish. In
-order to be able to eat when hungry, the rat and the rabbit must eat when not hungry,
-so as to sharpen their incisors and keep them the right length. It is true that they
-often turn their attention to very poor fodder. A splinter of wood, a straw, a mere
-nothing suffices to maintain the play of their indefatigable incisors. Remember, children,
-the expressive term <i>rodents</i> (which means <i>gnawers</i>), applied to a whole class of animals akin to the rabbit and the rat; remember their
-curious incisors, for we shall have occasion to speak of them again hereafter. For
-the present let us finish our examination of the rabbit’s teeth.
-</p>
-<p>“The canines are lacking; in their place the jaw shows a bar or, in other words, a
-large open space. At the extreme back of the mouth are the molars, few in number but
-strong, with flat crowns and several folds of enamel. In fact, they make an excellent
-grinding machine.
-</p>
-<p>“In giving you these details concerning the different shapes of teeth in different
-species of animals, I wished particularly to point out the following truth: Each species
-eats a particular kind of food for which the teeth are especially formed, so that
-one might say of any animal, ‘Show me its teeth and I will tell you what it eats.’
-In many instances where we cannot examine the teeth we do not know what such and such
-a creature feeds on, and in our hasty judgment we mistake a friend for an enemy, a
-helper for a destroyer. If the animal <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>is ugly we condemn it on the spot and hate it, accusing it of any number of misdeeds.
-We declare war against it, and never suspect, in our foolishness, that it is a war
-at our own expense. But there is a very simple precaution by which we can avoid these
-regrettable mistakes: let us yield to no prejudice, however wide-spread, and before
-condemning an animal as harmful let us find out what sort of teeth it has. They will
-tell us the animal’s way of living, as you shall soon see for yourselves.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e204">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">BATS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Which of you three can tell me what bats feed upon?” asked Uncle Paul the next day.
-</p>
-<p>At this question Emile put on his thinking-cap, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead;
-but no ideas came. Nor were Jules and Louis any prompter with an answer.
-</p>
-<p>“Nobody knows? Well, then, so much the better, for you will have the satisfaction
-of finding it out for yourselves, from the shape of the teeth. The incisors, small
-and weak, which you see on an enlarged scale in this picture of a bat’s set of teeth—do
-they look as if they were made for gnawing vegetable substances, after the manner
-of rats and rabbits? Could they cut any such tough fodder?”
-</p>
-<p>“Certainly not,” replied Jules; “they are too weak to be of much use. And then it
-seems to me those two sharp, curved fangs must belong to a flesh-eating animal.”
-</p>
-<p>“The long, pointed canines do indicate as much, but the molars show it perhaps still
-more plainly. With their strong and sharp indented crowns fitting so well into the
-sharp-edged depressions of the opposite jaw—are those molars designed to crush grain,
-to grind, slowly and patiently, fibrous substances?”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“No,” said Jules; “they are the teeth of a flesh-eater, not the grist-mill of an herbivorous
-animal.”
-</p>
-<p>“I am sure now,” affirmed Louis, “that the bat lives on prey.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is a greedy hunter of flesh and blood,” Emile declared. “The cat’s teeth are not
-more savage-looking.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p025width"><img src="images/p025.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Bat" width="202" height="163"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Bat</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“All that is quite correct,” said Uncle Paul. “The teeth have taught you the chief
-thing about the animal’s habits. Yes, the bat is a hunter, an eater of live prey,
-a little ogre always demanding fresh meat. It only remains to find out the kind of
-game it likes. Evidently the size of the prey must suit the size of the hunter. A
-bat’s head is no bigger than a large <span class="corr" id="xd31e995" title="Source: hazlenut">hazelnut</span>. It is true the mouth is split from ear to ear and can, when wide open, swallow mouthfuls
-larger than the smallness of the animal would lead one to suppose. Nevertheless the
-bat can attack only small creatures. What can it be that it goes chasing through the
-air when, after sunset, it flies hither and thither unceasingly?”
-</p>
-<p>“Gnats, perhaps, and night-moths,” Jules suggested.
-</p>
-<p>“Exactly. Those are its prey. The bat lives on insects exclusively. All are food for
-its maw: hard-winged beetles, slender mosquitoes, plump moths, flying insects of all
-sorts; in fact, all the little winged foes of our cereals, vines, fruit-trees, woolen
-stuffs<span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span>—all those creatures of the air that come in the evening, attracted by our lighted
-rooms, and singe their wings in the flames of our lamps. Who would undertake to say
-how many insects bats destroy when they fly around a house? The game is so small,
-and the hunter is so hungry.
-</p>
-<p>“Notice what happens on a calm summer evening. Lured abroad by the balmy atmosphere
-of the twilight hours, a host of insects leave their lurking-places and come forth,
-guests at life’s garden party, to sport together in the air, hunt for food, and mate
-with one another. It is the hour when the sphinx-moths fly abruptly from flower to
-flower and thrust their long probosces into the depths of the corollas, where honey
-is stored; the hour when the mosquito, thirsting for human blood, sounds its war-cry
-in our ears and selects our tenderest spot to stab with its poisoned lancet; the hour
-when the June-bug leaves the shelter of the leaf, spreads its buzzing wings, and goes
-humming through the air in quest of its fellows. The gnats dance in joyous swarms
-which the slightest breath of wind disperses like a column of smoke; butterflies and
-moths, in wedding-garments, their wings powdered with silvery dust and their antennæ
-spread out like plumes, join in the frolic or seek places in which to deposit their
-eggs; the wood-borer comes forth from its hidden retreat under the bark of the elm;
-the weevil breaks its cell hollowed out in a grain of wheat; the plume-moths rise
-in clouds from the granaries and fly toward the fields of ripe cereals; other moths
-explore here the <span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>grape-vines, there the pear-trees, apple-trees, cherry-trees, busily seeking food
-and shelter for their evil progeny.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p027width"><img src="images/p027.png" alt="A Bat in Flight" width="334" height="185"><p class="figureHead">A Bat in Flight</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“But in the midst of these festive assemblies suddenly there comes a killjoy. It is
-the bat, which flies hither and thither, up and down, appearing and disappearing,
-darting its head out this side and that, and each time snapping up an insect on the
-wing, crushing and swallowing it immediately. The hunting is good; gnats, beetles,
-and moths abound; and every now and then a little cry of joy announces the capture
-of a plump June-bug. As long as the fading twilight permits, the eager hunter thus
-pursues its work of extermination. Satisfied at last, the bat flies back to its somber
-and quiet retreat. The next evening and all through the summer the hunt is resumed,
-always with the same ardor, always at the expense of insects only.
-</p>
-<p>“To give you an idea of the multitude of harmful insects, especially of moths, from
-which the bat delivers us, I will quote a passage from the celebrated French naturalist
-Buffon, the most graphic historian of the animal kingdom. But first I must tell you
-that bats are in the habit of making their homes in old towers, grottoes, and abandoned
-quarries. There, in great numbers, they pass the daylight <span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span>hours, hanging motionless from the roof, and thence they sally forth at the approach
-of darkness. The floor of these retreats becomes covered at last with a deep layer
-of droppings, from which we can learn the kind of food eaten by bats and judge of
-the importance of their hunting. Now here is what Buffon has to say of a grotto frequented
-by these creatures:
-</p>
-<blockquote>
-<p class="first">“Having one day descended into the grottoes of Arci, I was surprised to find there
-a kind of earth of a singular nature. It formed a bed of blackish matter several feet
-thick, almost entirely composed of parts of the wings and feet of flies and moths,
-as if these insects had gathered here in immense numbers, coming together for the
-express purpose of dying and rotting in company. It was nothing but bats’ dung that
-had been accumulating for years.”</p>
-</blockquote><p>
-</p>
-<p>“What a curious kind of soil, made up entirely of the remains of dead insects!” Jules
-exclaimed.
-</p>
-<p>“I will add that sometimes this soil of flies and moths at the bottom of old quarries
-and caves is abundant enough for the farmer to take account of it and use it as a
-rich fertilizer. It is called bats’ guano.”
-</p>
-<p>“To make such heaps of it, then,” remarked Louis, “bats must destroy insects by millions
-and millions.”
-</p>
-<p>“Five or six dozen flies or moths are hardly enough for a bat’s evening meal; if a
-few June-bugs should make their appearance, they would be eagerly <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>snapped up. If the band of hunters is a large one, judge of the thousands of harmful
-insects destroyed in a single season. Next to the birds we have no more valiant helpers
-than bats; and so I beg you to be friendly to these creatures which, while we are
-asleep and perhaps dreaming of our rich crops of pears and apples, peaches and grapes
-and grain, proceed with their silent warfare against the enemies of our harvests,
-and every evening destroy by myriads moths, mosquitoes, beetles, bugs—in short, the
-greater part of the insect throng that always threatens us with starvation if we do
-not keep vigilant watch.”
-</p>
-<p>“I see now that the bat does us a good turn,” Emile admitted. “All the same, it is
-frightfully ugly; and, besides, they say if it touches you it will give you the itch.”
-</p>
-<p>“There are any number of other sayings about it that are just as foolish, my boy.
-One is that the bat pricks with its pointed teeth the she-goat’s udders so as to suck
-her blood and milk; another is that it gnaws the sausages and bacon hung under the
-chimney mantel; also, that its sudden entrance into a house means misfortune. I have
-heard persons cry out because a bat had accidentally grazed them with the tip of its
-wing; and I have seen others pale with terror because they had found one of the innocent
-creatures fastened by a claw to their bed curtains.
-</p>
-<p>“Here, as in many other things, my dear children, you must take into account the folly
-of mankind, <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>which is more given to error than to truth. If you were old enough to understand me,
-I should add that wherever I find a general agreement that a thing is black I think
-it well to look into the matter and find out whether, on the contrary, it may not
-be white. We are so stuffed with false notions that very often the exact opposite
-of the common belief is the real truth. Do you ask for examples? There are plenty
-of them.
-</p>
-<p>“The sun, we generally say, according to all appearances revolves from east to west
-around the stationary earth. No, says science, no, it is the earth, on the contrary,
-that rotates from west to east before the stationary sun. The stars, we say again,
-are small bright points, little lamps in the arch of the firmament. No, answers science,
-the stars are not tiny sparks; they are enormous bodies which compare in light and
-size to the sun itself, a million and a half times as large as the earth. The bat,
-it is commonly asserted, is a harmful, hideous, venomous creature of ill omen that
-must be crushed without mercy under the heel. No, affirms science, a thousand times
-no; the bat is an inoffensive creature that, instead of doing us harm and bringing
-misfortune, renders us an immense service by protecting the good things of the earth
-from their countless destroyers.
-</p>
-<p>“No, we should not vent our hatred upon it and pitilessly kill it; on the contrary,
-we should like and respect it as one of our best helpers. The poor creature does not
-deserve the bad reputation that <span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>ignorance has given it. Its touch does not communicate either lice or the itch; its
-teeth do not pierce the goat’s udders or attack our stores of bacon; its chance entrance
-into a room is no more to be dreaded than a butterfly’s. For my part I should like
-to have it visit my bedroom often at night, for then I should soon be rid of the mosquitoes
-that torment me. All things considered, we have nothing, absolutely nothing to reproach
-it with, and we are indebted to it for very valuable services. That is the answer
-of science to ignorant prejudice. Henceforth, then, crush the bat under your heel
-if you dare.”
-</p>
-<p>“I will take good care,” said Louis, “never to do such a thing now that I know what
-an army of enemies we are guarded against by the bat.”
-</p>
-<p>“But what a pity,” Jules remarked, “that it is such a hideous creature!”
-</p>
-<p>“Hideous?” his uncle repeated. “That is a slander which I hope to make you take back.”
-</p>
-<p>“Surely you can’t deny that the bat is horribly ugly,” persisted the boy.
-</p>
-<p>“Perhaps I can.”
-</p>
-<p>“I should like to know,” said Emile, “how you can make out that the frightful shape
-of the creature is beautiful.”
-</p>
-<p>“To discuss ugliness and beauty with you, my children,” replied Uncle Paul, “is not
-an undertaking that I should care to enter upon. To follow me in such a discussion
-you would need a maturity of mind that does not go with your years. Even if you <span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>were grown up, it might still be impossible for us to come to an agreement, inasmuch
-as it is not with the bodily eyes that ugliness and beauty should be judged, but with
-the eyes of reason ripened by reflection and study and free from the trammels of first
-impressions, which are generally erroneous. Also, how few possess that intellectual
-clearness of vision that remains untroubled by prematurely conceived opinions and
-can thus contemplate things in all the clarity of truth! Trusting the testimony of
-our eyes and yielding to daily habit, we call beautiful the creatures whose general
-structure shows a certain conformity with that of the animals most familiar to us
-and unthinkingly accepted as standards for all future judgments. We call ugly those
-that differ from these accepted models, and if very unlike we call them hideous. Enlightened
-reason refuses to be hemmed in by the narrow circle of first impressions; it rises
-above petty prejudices and says to itself: Nothing is ugly that God has made; everything
-is beautiful, everything is perfect in itself, as everything is the work of the Creator.
-</p>
-<p>“An animal’s form should not be judged by its greater or less resemblance to the forms
-that are already familiar to us and serve us as standards of comparison, but rather
-by its fitness for the kind of life for which it was created. Where the structure
-is in perfect harmony with the functions to be performed, there too is beauty. From
-this higher point of view ugliness no longer exists; or, rather, it exists all too
-abundantly, but only in the moral world. Intemperance, <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>laziness, stupid pride—all forms of vice, in short—constitute ugliness and hideousness.
-To tell the truth, I know of none besides.
-</p>
-<p>“But I must return to the bat, if not in the hope of making you find it beautiful,
-at least with the certainty of interesting you in its remarkable structure. I will
-wager, too, that not one of you knows what a bat is.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is a kind of bird,” declared Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“It is an old rat that has grown a pair of wings,” Jules ventured to assert.
-</p>
-<p>“You are both talking nonsense,” returned their uncle. “That is the way with us all:
-we speak at random of animals and persons, giving to one our esteem, to another our
-scorn, without knowing what they are, what they do, what they are good for. You don’t
-know the first thing about the bat, and yet you overwhelm the poor animal with abuse.
-</p>
-<p>“The bat has nothing in common with birds; it has neither beak nor feathers; nor is
-it a rat that has acquired wings in its old age. It is really a peculiar creature
-that is born, lives, and dies with wings, without in any way belonging to the bird
-family. Its body has the size, the fur, and somewhat the shape of a mouse; but its
-wings are bare.
-</p>
-<p>“The most highly organized animals have as a distinctive mark teats or udders, which
-furnish milk, the first food of their young. These animals do not feed their young
-family from the beak, as birds do; they do not abandon their offspring to all the
-hazards of good or ill fortune, careless of their <span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>future, as do the stupid races of reptiles and fish. The females rear their young
-with maternal care, feeding them from time to time with milk from their udders. All
-the various species that suckle their young, all that are provided with udders, are
-classed together by men of learning and called mammals, from the Latin <i>mamma</i>, a breast or teat. I will add that in the great majority of instances these animals
-have the body covered with fur or hair, and not with feathers or scales. Feathers
-belong to birds, scales to reptiles and fishes. As examples of mammals you will immediately
-think of our domestic animals, the dog, the cat, the cow, the sheep, the goat, the
-horse, and others.”
-</p>
-<p>“I have often noticed,” said Emile, “how carefully the cat raises her family. While
-the kittens press her teats with their little pink paws to make the milk flow faster,
-the old cat washes them with her tongue and shows her happiness by her soft purring.”
-</p>
-<p>“Well, then,” resumed Uncle Paul, “the bat is a mammal just as much as is the cat,
-and like that of the cat its body is protected from the cold by fur, and the female
-has teats for nursing her little ones. The number of teats varies widely in the different
-kinds of animals, being greater in the species that have many young at a birth, and
-less in the others; which is as it should be, in order that the nurslings may all
-be suckled at the same time. The bat has only two, situated on the breast and not
-under the stomach. The female bears only a single young one <span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>at a time. Emile rightly admires the love of the cat for her kittens; yet the bat
-is a still tenderer mother. When in the evening she goes out in search of food, instead
-of leaving her nursling in some hole in the wall after suckling it, she carries it
-with her, clinging to her breast; and it is while weighted with this load that she
-chases the nimble moths on the wing. Doubtless the pursuit of prey is thus rendered
-less fruitful and more difficult; but no matter, the loving mother prefers not to
-abandon her feeble charge, and allows it to continue peacefully sucking during the
-evolutions of the hunt. With the deepening darkness the bat regains its retreat, suspends
-itself from the roof by a toe-nail, and holds its nursling by wrapping it in her wings.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is not so bad a way to behave,” admitted Jules. “I begin to find the bat less
-ugly than I thought.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is what I just told you,” returned his uncle. “Ugliness is begotten of ignorance;
-it diminishes as knowledge increases. But let us continue our theme.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e214">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER V</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE BAT’S WINGS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Wings, real wings, perfectly adapted to flying, are the bat’s most striking feature.
-How can a mammal, an animal whose general structure is that of a dog or a cat for
-example, possess the flying-apparatus of a bird? How can two organs so entirely different
-be combined? In the bat’s wing, my children, we find an admirable example of the infinite
-resources at the command of the Creator, who, without adding to or subtracting from
-the fundamental plan, has adapted the same organs to the most widely different functions.
-The fore feet of mammals—of the dog, or the cat we will say—are changed into wings
-in the bat without the addition or the loss of a single part in this incredible transformation.
-More than that, the human arms, our arms, children—are there represented, piece by
-piece, bone by bone. You all look at me as if you did not believe it, unable to understand
-how there can be anything in common between our arms and a bat’s wings.”
-</p>
-<p>“The fact is,” Jules confessed, “it takes all my faith in your words to make me admit
-that there can be the least likeness between a man’s arm and a bat’s wing.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“I do not propose to make you admit it because of your faith in me; I propose to prove
-it to you. Follow along your arm so as to grasp the demonstration better.
-</p>
-<p>“From the shoulder to the elbow the framework of the human arm consists of a bone
-known as the humerus. From the elbow to the wrist there are two bones of unequal size
-running side by side the whole length. The larger is the cubitus, the smaller the
-radius. Then comes the wrist, composed of several little bones which I will not now
-describe. Next is the palm of the hand, its framework formed of a row of five bones
-almost alike and each serving to support a finger. Finally, each finger contains a
-succession of small bones called phalanges, of which the thumb has two, and all the
-others three each. I will add that two bones serve to attach the arm to the body.
-One is the shoulder-blade, a broad triangular bone situated on the back behind the
-shoulder; the other is the collar bone, slender and curved, situated in front and
-extending from the shoulder to the base of the neck. Those are the collar-bones that
-you can feel with your hand at the right and left above the breast.”
-</p>
-<p>While thus enumerating the parts of the arm, Uncle Paul guided the hand of each listener
-and made it feel the several bones as they were named. Emile had some difficulty with
-the learned terms “humerus” and “cubitus,” which he now heard for the first time;
-nevertheless, by paying close attention <span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>he found that he could easily remember them. When the boys had all learned the name
-and the position of each bone in the human arm, their uncle continued:
-</p>
-<p>“Now examine with me this picture of a bat’s skeleton. The bone marked <i>o</i> is the shoulder-blade. As with us, it forms the back of the shoulder, and it is triangular,
-wide, and flat.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure p038width"><img src="images/p038.png" alt="Skeleton of a Bat" width="427" height="258"><p class="figureHead">Skeleton of a Bat</p>
-<p class="first"><i>o</i>, shoulder-blade; <i>cl</i>, collar-bone; <i>h</i>, humerus; <i>cu</i>, cubitus; <i>r</i>, radius; <i>ca</i>, carpus or wrist; <i>po</i>, pollex or thumb; <i>ph</i>, phalanges.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p><span class="corr" id="xd31e1114" title="Source: ‘">“</span>Then the part marked <i>cl</i> is the shoulder, and the bone that goes from there to the base of the neck is the
-collar-bone?” queried Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Precisely.”
-</p>
-<p>“I see how the rest goes,” Louis hastened to interpose. “The bone marked <i>h</i> is the humerus, and the elbow is at the angle made by this bone with the next.”
-</p>
-<p>“My turn now,” put in Jules. “The two bones running side by side from the elbow to
-the wrist are marked <i>cu</i> and <i>r</i>. The first is the cubitus, the other <span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>the radius. Consequently <i>ca</i> is the wrist. But there I get lost.”
-</p>
-<p>“The wrist, I told you,” explained Uncle Paul, “is composed of several small bones.
-That structure we find at <i>ca</i>, the bat’s wrist.”
-</p>
-<p>“But, then, the hand?” queried Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“The palm of the hand and the five fingers which it supports are represented by the
-ribs of the wing and by <i>po</i>, which is the thumb. This is the shortest of the five fingers, as with man. It forms
-no part of the framework of the wing, but is free and is furnished with a hooked nail
-which the animal uses to cling by and also in walking. Finally, this thumb has two
-phalanges, as in the human thumb, and at the base is a small bone which in man forms
-a part of the palm of the hand. So much for the thumb.
-</p>
-<p>“Now let us look at those four long bones that start from the wrist (<i>ca</i>) and spread out through the greater part of the wing. Together with the similar but
-shorter bone of the thumb they represent the series of five bones composing the framework
-of the human palm. Next come the fingers with their phalanges (<i>ph</i>). In short, except for a few slight differences, the bat’s wing reproduces, piece
-by piece, the structure of the human arm.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes,” Jules admitted, “it’s all there, even to the small bones of the wrist and fingers.
-Is it possible that a poor bat can pattern after us so closely? The horrid creature
-copies our arms to make itself wings.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Your pride need not suffer from this close resemblance, which you will find in different
-degrees in a multitude of other animals, especially among the mammals, our next of
-kin in bodily structure. In the formation of his body man enjoys no monopoly; the
-dog, the cat, the donkey, the ox—each and all of them—share with us a common stock
-of organs, modified in details and suited to the kind of life of each species. We
-recognize in the bat’s wings the fundamental plan of our arms; we see it also no less
-plainly in the fore legs of the cat, the dog, and many other animals, and we can trace
-a rude resemblance to our hand even in the donkey’s homely hoof. I tell you these
-things, my children, not to lessen in your eyes the undeniable superiority of man,
-but to inspire in you a fellow feeling for animals that are formed like us, suffer
-as we do, and are far too often the victims of our stupid cruelty. Whoever needlessly
-causes an animal to suffer commits a barbarous act, an inhuman act, inasmuch as he
-inflicts torture on flesh like our own; he brutally misuses a body having the same
-mechanism as our own and the same power of suffering. As to our superiority, it is
-established preëminently by an exceptional characteristic that places us above all
-comparison even with creatures that in their physical structure most closely resemble
-us. This characteristic is reason, the torch that lights us in our search for truth;
-it is the human soul, which alone knows itself and enjoys the sublime privilege of
-knowing its divine Author.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“In bats four of the five bones similar to those of our palm are greatly elongated,
-as are also the corresponding fingers, and they together constitute the four ribs
-on which is stretched the membrane of the wing, just as silk is stretched on the ribs
-of an umbrella. Thus it is at the sacrifice of what might have been a hand that the
-wing is formed. Therefore the scientists call all mammals of like structure with the
-bat ‘chiropters,’ meaning hand-winged creatures, from two Greek words signifying hand
-and wing.
-</p>
-<p>“Of the five fingers one only, the thumb, is left free in the bat, and it is very
-small. It is furnished, as I said before, with a nail or claw. The four others, destitute
-of nails, are lengthened to serve as supports to the membrane of the wing. This membrane
-is a fold of the skin which starts from the shoulder, stretches between the four long
-fingers of the hand, and then attaches itself to the hind leg, the toes of which are
-all furnished with hooked nails or claws and do not depart from the ordinary shape
-of such members. By virtue of the free thumb already described the wings are able
-to serve as feet in walking, when these members are folded close to the animal’s sides.
-The bat grips the ground by thrusting in first the right claw and then the left, and
-pushes itself forward with its hind feet in laborious and awkward leaps. Thus it gets
-over the ground at what might be called a fast pace, but is soon tired out with the
-exertion; hence it does not walk except when sure it will not be molested or when
-it is compelled <span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>to do so by its position on a level surface where it cannot launch itself into the
-air. Then as soon as possible it gains an elevated point, from which it flies off.
-For in order to unfold the hampering membranes that serve as wings and to throw itself
-into the air, the bat needs considerable free space, which it cannot get except by
-hurling itself from a height. Consequently, in the caves inhabited by bats they never
-fail to secure an unimpeded drop. With the hooked talons of a hind foot they cling
-to the roof, head downward. That is the way they rest, the way they sleep. At the
-slightest alarm the claw lets go, the wings spread, and the animal is off.”
-</p>
-<p>“What a queer way to sleep,” Emile exclaimed, “hanging from the roof by one foot,
-head downward! And do they stay that way long without getting tired?”
-</p>
-<p>“If necessary, a good half of the year.”
-</p>
-<p>When he went to bed that night Emile thought again of the bat’s way of sleeping; but
-he preferred his own.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e224">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE BAT’S SENSES OF SMELL AND HEARING</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Bats are nocturnal,” Uncle Paul continued the next day; “that is, they leave their
-lurking-places only at nightfall, to hunt in the evening twilight. As a rule, animals
-addicted to nocturnal hunting have very large eyes that take in as much light as possible,
-and thus these animals can see with very little light. Night-birds, such as owls of
-all kinds, will furnish us a remarkable example a little later. By a singular exception,
-however, despite their nocturnal habits bats have very small eyes. How, then, are
-they able to direct themselves in their swift flight, so abrupt in its changes of
-direction? How, above all, are they aware of the presence of their tiny game—moths
-and gnats?
-</p>
-<p>“They are guided especially by their senses of smell and hearing, which are extraordinarily
-acute. What do you say to the bat’s ears in this picture? What animal of its size
-can show anything like them? How they flare, like enormous hearing-trumpets, to receive
-the slightest sound! The bat that bears them has the expressive name of long-eared
-bat.”
-</p>
-<p>“Long-eared bat,” repeated Jules; “that’s the kind of name I like; it describes the
-animal and <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>shows what there is about it that is out of the ordinary.”
-</p>
-<p>“Such prodigious ears are certainly made to hear sounds inaudible to us by reason
-of their excessive faintness. They enable their possessor to hear at a distance the
-beating of a moth’s wings and the fluttering of a gnat dancing in the air.
-</p>
-<p>“Other bats which have smaller ears have as a substitute a sense of smell unequaled
-for its acuteness. The high state of perfection of this sense is the result of the
-abnormal development of the nose, which covers a good part of the face and gives the
-animal a very strange appearance. For example, here is the head of a bat called the
-horseshoe bat. This broad, distended formation of curious shape that occupies almost
-the whole space between the eyes and the mouth is the nose. It ends above in a large
-triangular, leaflike expanse; laterally it spreads out in folded laminæ, all together
-taking the shape of a horseshoe, whence the name of the creature. What odor, however
-faint, could escape such a nose? The dog, so famous for its keenness of scent, chases
-the hare without seeing it, guided solely by the odor left behind by the animal, heated
-in the chase; but how much keener the scent of the horseshoe bat must be when it chases
-in the same manner a moth that leaves no odor for any nose but its pursuer’s! I sometimes
-wonder whether such a nose, so abnormally developed, may not be able to detect certain
-qualities that are and always will be unknown to us for want of the means to perceive
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>them. The horseshoe bat’s grotesque nose makes you laugh, my little friends; it makes
-me think. I think of the thousand secrets that nature hides from our senses and that
-would be as easy for us to learn as they would be valuable if we possessed the scent
-of a poor bat. Perhaps (who can tell?) the horseshoe bat foresees with its nose the
-coming storm several days in advance; it may scent the future hurricane, smell the
-rain-clouds coming from the other end of the earth, know by detecting their odor what
-winds are about to blow, foretell in similar manner what the weather is going to be;
-and, guided by perceptions of which we can form no idea, it may make its plans for
-hunting insects that are sometimes abundant and sometimes scarce according to the
-state of the atmosphere.”
-</p>
-<p>“If the horseshoe bat’s nose can do all that,” said Jules, “we must agree that it
-is a first-rate sort of nose.”
-</p>
-<p>“I make no positive assertions,” his uncle rejoined. “I merely have my suspicions.
-The only thing that seems to me beyond doubt is that such an organ as the bat’s nose
-serves its owner as a source of sensations unknown to man.”
-</p>
-<p>“You say so many wonderful things about it, Uncle,” Emile interposed, “that I shall
-end by thinking the horseshoe bat’s nose much more curious than ugly. There’s another
-thing, too, I’ve just noticed. Why does the creature have such fat cheeks? See what
-a puffed-up face it has in the picture.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“With the bat,” Uncle Paul explained, “the chase is a short one, lasting only one
-or two hours—in fact, the short interval between sunset and dark. The remainder of
-the twenty-four hours is passed in rest, in the quiet of some cavern or grotto. Does
-the animal, then, have but one meal in all this time? And what if there are evenings
-when hunting is out of the question, the sky being overcast, the wind too strong,
-or rain falling, so that the insects keep under cover? The bat would then be subjected
-to long fasts if it were impossible for it to lay in supplies beforehand. But these
-supplies must be collected hastily, on the wing, with no interruption to the hunt
-which lasts so short a time. Hence it is that pouches are indispensable, deep pouches
-in which the hunter can put his game as fast as he catches it. The cheeks exactly
-fill this office: they can be enlarged at the creature’s will—distended so as to form
-roomy pockets in which the insects killed with a snap of the teeth can be stowed away.
-These reserve pockets are called cheek-pouches. Gluttonous monkeys have them. That
-is where the she-ape, fond of sweets, puts the lump of sugar given her and lets it
-slowly melt so as to prolong the enjoyment of it. Well, when the bat is out hunting
-it first satisfies its hunger, and then—especially when its nose, the famous nose
-that we have just been talking about, predicts unfavorable weather for the following
-days—it redoubles its exertions and stows away moth after moth in the depths of its
-elastic pouches. It returns to its quarters with cheeks all <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>distended. Now without fear of famine it can remain idle for several days if necessary.
-Hanging motionless by a hind claw, it feeds on its store of provisions, nibbling one
-at a time, as hunger prompts, the insects softened to taste in the reservoir of its
-cheeks.
-</p>
-<p>“But it is high time we finished with the bats; their history would be too long if
-I were to tell you all about them. I will only ask Jules what he thinks now of the
-animal he at first called hideous.”
-</p>
-<p>“Frankly, Uncle,” answered the boy, “these creatures interest me now more than they
-disgust me. Their singular wings, formed at the cost of what might have been hands,
-their prodigious nose and immense ears which make up for their poor eyesight, their
-cheeks swollen so as to make pouches for their supply of food—all these have interested
-me very much.”
-</p>
-<p>“The cheek-pouches,” said Emile, “where the bat puts its game to soak, and the nose
-that scents the coming storm, seemed to me the most curious things about the animal.”
-</p>
-<p>“And I,” said Louis, “shall never forget how many enemies bats deliver us from.”
-</p>
-<p>“Now you understand,” Uncle Paul rejoined, “or at least I hope you are beginning to
-understand, that bats, being so useful to us in destroying a multitude of ravaging
-insects, and noteworthy for their singular structure, should not inspire us with an
-unjustifiable repugnance and still less with a stupid rage to exterminate them. Let
-us leave in peace these <span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>poor creatures that so valiantly earn their living by protecting our crops. Do not
-let us harm them under the foolish pretext that they are ugly, for their supposed
-ugliness is in reality an admirable adaptation of bodily structure to the creature’s
-mode of life.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e234">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE HEDGEHOG</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">In his walled garden Uncle Paul allowed a couple of hedgehogs, which he had brought
-from the neighboring hills, to wander at large. One evening the children noticed them
-poking about in a lettuce patch.
-</p>
-<p>“Why,” asked Emile, “has Uncle Paul put those animals in the garden and told us to
-leave them alone if we happened to come across them?”
-</p>
-<p>“No doubt to make war on harmful insects,” answered Louis. “Stop, look there! One
-of them is turning up the earth with its little black snout. Ssh! Let’s keep still
-and see what it’s after.”
-</p>
-<p>The children crouched down behind a row of peas so as not to be seen. The hedgehog,
-now scratching with its paws, now rummaging with the tip of its snout, which resembles
-that of a pig, finally unearthed a big, fat white larva which had probably been clinging
-to the root of a lettuce plant. The children ran to look at the captured game. The
-hedgehog, thus taken by surprise, hastened to roll itself up into a ball bristling
-with spines. In the disinterred worm Jules easily recognized a June-bug larva, one
-of that ravenous and destructive race that Uncle Paul had already told them about.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1212src" href="#xd31e1212">1</a>
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span></p>
-<p>In the evening, when they were all gathered together, the hedgehog naturally became
-the subject of conversation.
-</p>
-<p>“Several years ago,” said Uncle Paul, “as I was returning home one evening at a late
-hour, I chanced upon two hedgehogs coming out from a pile of stones. I tied them up
-in my handkerchief so as to bring them home and let them loose in my garden. Ever
-since then they have never failed to render me certain services that you can appreciate
-by examining the jaws in this picture.”
-</p>
-<p>“Pointed teeth like those,” Jules remarked, “were never made for browsing grass. The
-hedgehog must feed on prey. Its teeth are just right for crunching June-bug worms
-such as I saw dug up in the garden this morning.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p050width"><img src="images/p050.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Hedgehog" width="281" height="186"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Hedgehog</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Notice how sharp the points of the teeth are,” resumed his uncle, “both in the upper
-and in the lower jaw. Those two rows of teeth fit into each other when the animal
-bites, and they plunge like so many fine daggers into the captured victim’s flesh.
-With this complicated dental mechanism evidently the hedgehog cannot triturate tough
-food; it must have a kind of diet that is soft, juicy, capable of being reduced to
-marmalade by a brief chewing. The animal is therefore preëminently a flesh-eater.
-Several other species, particularly the mole and the <span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span>shrew-mouse of these regions, have, like the hedgehog, teeth tapering to conical points
-and interplaying in the two jaws. Their food, too, is about the same as the hedgehog’s.
-All three—hedgehog, mole, and shrew-mouse—live on small game—insects, larvæ, slugs,
-caterpillars, worms. They belong to the group of mammals known to naturalists as the
-order of insectivorous animals, or, in other words, the order of insect-eaters. On
-and under the ground they carry on the same kind of hunt that bats do in the air.
-In their way of living bats, too, are insectivorous; but their peculiar bodily structure
-causes them to be placed apart in the order of chiropters. Thus the mammals furnish
-us two orders of helpers: the chiropters, which hunt on the wing, and the insect-eaters—the
-insectivorous animals properly so called—which hunt on and under the ground. To the
-latter belong the hedgehog, the mole, and the shrew-mouse.
-</p>
-<p>“The hedgehog, the largest of the three, requires the largest and most plentiful prey.
-Tiny vermin are disdained, but a June-bug larva or a good fat mole-cricket is an excellent
-find. When they are not buried too deep he digs with his paws and snout to unearth
-them. You have to-day seen my hedgehogs at work in the lettuce bed. All night they
-go prowling about the garden, sniffing and rummaging in every nook and corner, and
-crunching no small number of my foes without doing me much harm. In them I have two
-vigilant watchmen who make their <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>rounds every night for the greater security of my growing vegetables. However, despite
-the interest I take in them, I must, to be candid, acknowledge their faults.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p052width"><img src="images/p052.png" alt="Hedgehog" width="257" height="200"><p class="figureHead">Hedgehog</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The hedgehog’s natural food consists unquestionably of insects; but when a good opportunity
-presents itself the greedy creature is easily tempted by larger and more highly flavored
-prey. In its wild state the hedgehog does not hesitate to suck the blood of young
-rabbits caught in their hole during the mother’s absence. The eggs of quail and partridge,
-too, it esteems as a most delicious feast, but its supreme delight is to wring the
-necks of a brood of little chickens. One night last year I heard a great commotion
-in the hen-house. The roosters were raising cries of alarm, the hens were cackling
-in desperate fright. I ran out to see what the trouble was. One of my hedgehogs had
-crept in under the door, and I found the rogue regaling himself on some little chickens
-almost under their mother’s wing, she being powerless to help them in the dark. With
-one kick I sent the assassin rolling outside, and the next day thorough repairs were
-taken in hand. The holes on a level with the floor were closed up, and since then
-I have had no further trouble from my insect-hunters. With proper precautions against
-their <span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>thirst for blood, I have two larva-devourers of great value for my garden.”
-</p>
-<p>“But won’t they do damage of another kind?” asked Louis. “I have heard that hedgehogs
-climb trees and shake off the ripe fruit, and then roll on it so as to spit it with
-their spines, after which they carry it off to their holes and eat it at their ease.”
-</p>
-<p>“Pay no attention to any such stories, my boy. It is utterly impossible for a hedgehog
-to climb a tree. Clumsy and stubby as it is, with legs so short and claws useless
-for climbing, how could it manage an athletic feat that calls for agility, hooked
-claws, and supple limbs? No, my friend, the hedgehog does not climb trees, neither
-does it carry off fruit transfixed with its spines. The only vestige of truth in that
-old wives’ tale is that hedgehogs do not live exclusively on prey; if they find fruit
-that they like on the ground, a very ripe pear or a juicy peach, for example, they
-munch it with as great contentment as they would a beetle or a June-bug.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is also said,” Louis added, “that if kept in a house the hedgehog will drive away
-rats.”
-</p>
-<p>“Ah, that I am quite willing to believe. By day the animal crouches in a corner and
-sleeps, but at night it is on the move, always hunting for slugs, fat beetles, and
-other insects. Consequently it may well be that its noisy hunt for prey as it goes
-poking its pointed snout into every hole and cranny frightens the rats and mice and
-drives them away, especially as the nocturnal prowler exhales a disagreeable odor
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>calculated to betray its presence. Having neither the cat’s light paw nor that animal’s
-great patience in lying in wait for game, the hedgehog does not indulge in hunting
-rats; but if by good luck one falls into its clutches, it is accepted with delight,
-for the hedgehog’s great feast is blood, freshly killed flesh. When I wish to give
-my two hedgehogs a special treat I throw them a bleeding beef liver or a chicken’s
-entrails. Anything of that sort is eagerly devoured. Tastes so undisguisedly carnivorous
-tell you what must happen to a mouse caught by one of these animals. I attribute to
-them the disappearance of some nests of rats that used to trouble me.
-</p>
-<p>“To satisfy its devouring hunger the hedgehog appears to attack all sorts of prey
-alike, even planting its teeth in a viper without any thought of the reptile’s venom;
-and in still other respects the animal enjoys a remarkable immunity. You have seen
-the Spanish fly, that magnificent, strong-smelling insect that lives on ash-trees
-and is distinguished by sheath wings of a superb golden green.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, I remember it,” said Jules. “It is used for raising blisters after being dried
-and ground to powder.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is correct. If, then, this powder eats into the skin so readily, what effect
-ought it to have on the delicate lining of the stomach if introduced into that organ?
-What animal could swallow it without suffering torture and speedy death? Well, by
-an exception that I cannot undertake to explain the hedgehog can feed on this horrible
-poison without <span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>the slightest apparent injury. A celebrated Russian naturalist, Pallas, has seen it
-make a meal on Spanish flies with no ill results. For a repast of that sort a stomach
-peculiarly constructed is certainly necessary.
-</p>
-<p>“Once upon a time there was a king, very well known in history, named Mithridates.
-Being aware that he was surrounded by enemies capable of poisoning him some day, in
-order to obviate the danger he gradually accustomed himself to the most noxious drugs.
-By increasing the dose little by little he finally rendered himself immune against
-poison. The hedgehog is the Mithridates of the animal kingdom; but how far it surpasses
-the suspicious king! Without practice it dares swallow the poison of the Spanish fly
-and the viper’s deadly venom.
-</p>
-<p><span class="corr" id="xd31e1254" title="Not in source">“</span>I like to believe that the hedgehog has not received these exceptional gifts only
-to leave them unused. It must delight to frequent the haunts of the viper; in its
-nocturnal rounds in the underbrush it must occasionally come upon the reptile in its
-retreat and crush its head with those pointed teeth that are so well adapted to such
-work. What service may it not render in localities infested with this dangerous breed!
-And yet man rages at the hedgehog, curses it most heartily, and treats it as an unclean
-beast of no use but to arouse the fury of dogs, which cannot attack it because of
-its spines. He subjects it to the torture of an ice-cold bath to make it unroll itself;
-and if the animal refuses to do so he prods it with a pointed stick, goads it, disembowels
-it.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“We will never meddle with hedgehogs, Uncle Paul,” Jules assured him. “We are too
-much afraid of snakes to drive away this valiant defender.”
-</p>
-<p>“What are the hedgehog’s spines?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Hairs, nothing else, but very coarse, and stiff, and pointed like needles. Together
-with other hairs, fine, soft, and silky, they cover all the upper part of the body.
-The under part has only a coat of soft hair; otherwise the animal would wound itself
-in rolling up into a ball. When the hedgehog scents danger—and it is a very wary beast—it
-ducks its head under its stomach, draws in its paws, and rolls itself into a ball,
-presenting everywhere an armor of spines to the enemy. The fox has long been famous
-for its many ruses; the hedgehog has only one, but it is always effective. Who would
-dare grapple with the creature when it has assumed its attitude of defense? The dog
-refuses; after a few luckless essays that make its mouth bleed it declines to go further
-and contents itself with barking. Sheltered under the safe cover of its spines, the
-hedgehog turns a deaf ear to these futile threats and remains quiet.
-</p>
-<p>“But if the dog, urged on by its master, returns to the charge, the hedgehog has recourse
-to a last expedient of war which rarely fails of effect: it discharges its strongly
-offensive urine, which flows from the inside of the ball and wets the outside. Repelled
-by the unbearable odor of the ill-smelling <span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>beast and pricked on the nose by its spines, even the most eager dog now abandons
-the attack. The enemy gone, the hedgehog slowly unrolls itself and trots off to some
-safe retreat.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1212">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1212src">1</a></span> See “Field, Forest, and Farm.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1212src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e244">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">HIBERNATION</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Our bats,” continued Uncle Paul, “live exclusively on insects, and these constitute
-the hedgehog’s chief food, but it also hunts larger game or even eats fruit. In winter
-there are no longer any plump insects to be had, most of them having died after laying
-their eggs, and the few surviving ones having taken refuge from the cold in hiding-places
-where they would be very hard to find. The larvæ, too, the hope of future generations,
-are lying torpid, far out of sight under the ground, in the trunks of old trees, snugly
-hidden away. The white worm has bored several feet into the ground to escape the frost,
-there are no more June-bugs for the long-eared owl, no more night-flying moths, and
-no more beetles for the hedgehog. What, then, is to become of these insect-eaters?”
-</p>
-<p>“They will die of hunger,” answered Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“They would indeed all die, were it not for the providential arrangement I am now
-going to try to make you understand.
-</p>
-<p>“You know the proverb, ‘He who sleeps dines,’—a very true proverb in its simple statement
-of an undeniable fact. Well, the hedgehog, the bat, and other animals put the principle
-into practice with <span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>a wisdom quite equal to that of man. Not being able to dine, for want of insects,
-they go to sleep; and so deep and heavy is their sleep that to designate it we use
-a special word, lethargy.
-</p>
-<p>“Another proverb says, ‘As you make your bed, so must you lie.’ Our dumb animals,
-never lacking in wisdom in ordering their own affairs, take good care not to forget
-this proverb, but to adopt wise precautions before abandoning themselves to their
-long winter sleep. The hedgehog chooses for itself a secure retreat amid the great
-roots of some old tree stump. Toward the end of the autumn it carries grass and dry
-leaves to deposit there, and arranges them in a hollow ball, in the middle of which
-it rolls itself up and goes to sleep. Bats assemble in great numbers in the warm depths
-of some cavern where nothing can disturb their slumbers. Heads down and bodies packed
-close together, they hug the walls, covering them with a sort of velvet tapestry;
-or, clinging to one another, they hang in bunches from the roof. Now the winter may
-do its worst and the winds may rage; the hedgehog in its warm blanket of leaves and
-the bats in their sheltered caves sleep a deep sleep until summer returns and with
-it insects, food, animation, life.”
-</p>
-<p>“But don’t they eat anything all winter long?” asked Emile, incredulously.
-</p>
-<p>“Nothing whatever,” his uncle assured him.
-</p>
-<p>“Then bats and hedgehogs must have a secret. For my part, I eat more in the winter
-than at any <span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>other time, and no amount of sleep would satisfy my hunger.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, the bat and the hedgehog have a secret in this matter. I am going to tell you
-this secret, but it is a little hard to understand, I warn you.
-</p>
-<p>“There is one need before which hunger and thirst are silent, however great they may
-be; a need that is never satisfied, and is always making itself felt, whether we wake
-or sleep, by night, by day, every hour, every minute. It is the need of air. Air is
-so essential to the maintenance of life that it has not been left to us to regulate
-its use as we do in regard to food and drink; and this is so in order that we may
-not be exposed to the fatal consequences that would follow the slightest forgetfulness.
-Therefore it is with little or no consciousness on our part and independently of our
-will that air gains entrance into our body to do its marvelous work there. On air
-more than on anything else do we live, our daily bread coming only second in the order
-of importance. Our need of food is felt at only tolerably long intervals; our need
-of air is felt unceasingly, always imperious, always inexorable. Let any one try for
-a moment to prevent its admission into the body by closing the entrance passages,
-the mouth and the nostrils; almost immediately he is suffocated and feels that he
-would surely die if this state were prolonged a little. And what is true of man is
-true of all forms of animal life: air is necessary to them all, from the smallest
-to the greatest.
-</p>
-<p>“What I am going to tell you now will explain this <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>absolute necessity for air for the maintenance of life. Man and also every animal
-of a superior organization—a classification that includes mammals and birds—have a
-temperature of their own, a degree of bodily heat peculiar to them, a heat resulting
-from no external conditions, but from the functions of life alone. Whether under a
-burning sun or in the freezing cold of winter, whether subjected to the torrid heat
-of the equator or to the glacial climate of the poles, man’s body has a temperature
-of thirty-eight degrees, centigrade, and cannot be lowered without danger of death.
-The natural heat of birds attains forty-two degrees in all seasons and in all climates.
-</p>
-<p>“How is it that this heat is always the same, and whence can it come unless from some
-sort of combustion? There is, in fact, going on within us a perpetual combustion,
-respiration furnishing the necessary air, and food supplying the fuel. To live is
-to consume oneself, in the strictest sense of the word; to breathe is to burn. In
-a figurative sense man has long used the expression ‘the torch of life’; but this
-figurative term proves to be the exact utterance of the truth. Air consumes the torch;
-it consumes the animal no less; it makes the torch give out heat and light, and it
-produces in the animal heat and motion. Without air the torch goes out; without air
-the animal dies. From this point of view the animal may be compared to a highly perfected
-machine put in motion by heat. It feeds and breathes to produce heat and motion; it
-receives its fuel in <span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span>the form of food and burns it in the inmost recesses of its body with the help of
-the air introduced by breathing. That explains why the need of food is greater in
-winter than in summer, the body cooling off more rapidly by contact with the outside
-cold air, and consequently an increased consumption of fuel being required to maintain
-the normal temperature. A low temperature creates a desire for food; a high temperature
-lessens the demand. To the hungry Siberians hearty food is necessary; they ask for
-bacon and other fats, with brandy to drink. But for the people of Sahara a few dates
-suffice, with a pinch of flour kneaded in the palm of the hand with a little water.
-Everything that lessens the loss of heat lessens also the need of food. Sleep, rest,
-warm clothing, all serve to some extent as substitutes for food. And so there is much
-truth in the saying that he who sleeps dines.”
-</p>
-<p>“That may be,” Jules assented, “but I don’t see how hedgehogs and bats can do without
-food for four or five months at a time. No matter how soundly I might sleep, I couldn’t
-go without eating so long as that.”
-</p>
-<p>“Wait until I finish, and for the present remember this: in every animal life depends
-on an actual and never-ceasing combustion. Air, as necessary to this combustion as
-to the burning of wood or coal in our stoves and fireplaces, is taken into the body
-by breathing. That is what makes breathing so urgent, so incessant. As to the fuel
-burned, that is furnished by the substance of the animal itself, <span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>by the blood made from digested food. Not a finger is lifted by us, not a muscle moved,
-that does not use up just so much of the fuel furnished by the blood, which itself
-is made by the food we eat. Walking, running, working, excitement, all forms of exercise
-or emotion—these literally burn up our blood just as a locomotive burns its coal in
-dragging behind it the immense weight of a train. That is why activity, hard work,
-increases our need for food, while rest, idleness, lessens it.
-</p>
-<p>“I will now put to you a question. Let us suppose that there are on the hearth some
-burning brands, but that they are few and small, and you wish to keep the fire as
-long as possible. Would you let these firebrands burn freely? Would you take the bellows
-and blow air on them to increase the blaze?”
-</p>
-<p>“No,” replied Jules; “that would be just the way to burn up the brands in no time.
-They must be covered with ashes. If the air comes to them very slowly and only a little
-at a time, they will burn gradually and the next morning we shall find the coals still
-alive.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is well said, my boy. To keep up a fire for a long time with a given amount
-of fuel, the draft must be reduced, the access of air must be largely cut off, but
-not intercepted altogether, because then the fire would be completely extinguished.
-Therefore the live coals are buried under ashes, and if the fire is in a stove the
-door of the ash-pit is nearly closed. With plenty of air, combustion is active but
-of short <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>duration; with only a little air it is feeble, but lasts a long time.
-</p>
-<p>“As the maintenance of life is the result of a real combustion, any animal obliged
-to endure a long fast, or in other words to dispense with the regular renewal of the
-fuel needed in that combustion, must take into its body as little air as possible.
-It must reduce the draft of its furnace. This draft is respiration, breathing; and
-so, in order to go without food for months at a time and to make the small amount
-of fuel held in reserve in the veins last as long as possible, the animal has but
-one course to follow: it must breathe as little as it can without depriving itself
-entirely of air, for that would mean the total extinction of the vital spark, just
-as the complete cutting off of air from a lighted lamp means the speedy extinction
-of its flame. There you have the hedgehog’s and the bat’s secret for enduring their
-long fast through the winter season.
-</p>
-<p>“First of all, every precaution is taken to avoid all loss, all unnecessary expenditure
-of heat, and to economize as much as possible the reserves of fuel in their poor little
-veins. The hedgehog wraps itself up warm in a thick blanket of leaves in the heart
-of a stone-heap or in some hollow tree trunk, while the bats collect in compact groups
-in the warm shelter of a deep cave. But that is not enough: they must keep quite still,
-as every movement uses up a certain amount of heat. This requirement is scrupulously
-observed: their immobility is such that you would say they were dead. And yet all
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span>this is still insufficient: respiration must be reduced to a minimum. In fact, their
-breathing is so weak that the closest scrutiny can hardly detect that they breathe
-at all. This faint remnant of life is not to be compared, you can well see, to the
-blazing torch or the brightly burning fire, both of which, enjoying free combustion,
-send out waves of heat and light. It is rather the feeble glimmer of a night lamp
-husbanding its last drop of oil; it is the coal that glows faintly under the ashes.
-So profound is the torpor, so nearly complete the inanition, that were it not followed
-by an awakening this state would hardly differ in any respect from death.
-</p>
-<p>“The name ‘hibernation’ is given to this temporary suspension of vitality, or rather
-this slowing up of life, to which certain animals are subject during the winter. In
-the number of hibernating animals, or animals that indulge in this long winter sleep,
-are to be included, besides the hedgehog and the bat, the marmot, the dormouse, the
-lizard, serpents of various kinds, frogs, and other reptiles. Do you need to be told
-that in order to assume and maintain this torpid condition in which for whole months
-food is unnecessary, a special organization is required? Not every creature can hold
-its breath at will and thus escape the necessity of eating. The dog and the cat might
-sleep ever so deeply, yet as their breathing would go on almost as actively as in
-their waking hours, hunger would arouse them before long.”
-</p>
-<p>“Just as it would me,” said Emile.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“No animals that have an assured supply of food for the winter hibernate, but those
-that would otherwise perish with hunger in cold weather are saved from destruction
-by the providential torpor that overtakes them at the approach of the winter season.
-Their food supply being cut off, they go to sleep. The marmot is wrapped in slumber
-while the turf on the high mountains is covered with snow; the dormouse when there
-is no longer any fruit; frogs, toads, snakes, lizards, bats, and hedgehogs, as soon
-as there cease to be any more insects to feed upon.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e254">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IX</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE MOLE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">Uncle Paul had just trapped a mole that for some days had been uprooting young vegetables
-and unearthing newly planted seeds in a corner of the garden. He called the children’s
-attention to the animal’s black coat, softer than the finest velvet; showed them its
-snout and made them note its peculiar fitness for digging; pointed to its fore paws,
-shaped like wide shovels for moving the earth with astonishing rapidity; and remarked
-on its eyes, so small as to be well-nigh useless, and its jaws armed with savage-looking
-teeth.
-</p>
-<p>“It is a great pity,” said he, “that we are prejudiced against the mole on account
-of its habit of mining, for there is not in all the world a more pitiless destroyer
-of vermin.”
-</p>
-<p>“I had always heard,” Louis remarked, “and had believed until now, that moles lived
-on a vegetable diet, chiefly of roots, and that they tunneled under the ground to
-get them.”
-</p>
-<p>“To forewarn you of the errors so widely current on the subject of the diet of certain
-animals, I described to you in some detail the formation of teeth, which always indicate
-the kind of food eaten. I showed you that one has only to examine an animal’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>teeth in order to determine whether it is carnivorous or herbivorous. Remember the
-adage that summed up our talks on the subject: Show me its teeth and I will tell you
-what the animal eats.
-</p>
-<p>“The mole is a good illustration: it has forty-four sharply pointed teeth, not including
-the incisors. Do they look like millstones for the leisurely grinding of grain and
-roots, or sharp tools for making mincemeat of torn flesh?”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p068width"><img src="images/p068.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Mole" width="270" height="186"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Mole</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“They are certainly the teeth of an animal that lives on prey,” Louis admitted; “the
-hedgehog and the bat haven’t sharper ones.”
-</p>
-<p>“To make you sure of this fact,” Uncle Paul went on, “I will tell you about some experiments
-made on the diet of moles. We owe them to a learned French naturalist, Flourens. If
-after you are grown up you ever have a chance to read his remarkable works, you will
-find them very interesting and valuable.
-</p>
-<p>“Flourens put two live moles into a cask and, believing them to be herbivorous, gave
-them for food a supply of roots, carrots, and turnips. As you see, the illustrious
-naturalist shared the accepted opinion, the false notion just repeated by Louis. But
-Flourens was soon undeceived. The next morning the vegetables were found untouched,
-while one of the moles had been devoured by its companion and <span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span>there was nothing left of it but the skin, turned inside out.”
-</p>
-<p>“One of the moles had eaten the other?” cried Emile. “Oh, what a fierce creature!”
-</p>
-<p>“It had feasted on its own kind, a thing that hardly any other animal does. In devouring
-its comrade it had in the course of the night eaten its own weight of food; and yet
-the next morning it seemed restless and very hungry. Flourens threw it a live sparrow
-whose wings he had just clipped. The mole smelt it, walked around it, received a few
-hard pecks from its beak, then, pouncing on the bird, tore its stomach open and enlarged
-the opening with its claws so as to plunge its head into the midst of the entrails.
-With its pointed snout the horrible creature bored into them with frantic delight.
-In less than no time it had devoured half the contents of the skin, which with its
-feathers was left whole. Flourens then lowered into the cask a glass full of water
-and saw the mole stand up against the glass, cling to the edge with its fore claws,
-and drink eagerly. When it had had enough, the animal returned to the sparrow, ate
-a little more of it, and finally, completely full, lay down to sleep in a corner.
-The glass and the remains of the bird were then taken out of the cask.
-</p>
-<p>“Hardly six hours later the mole, hungry again, began to smell around the bottom of
-the cask in search of something to eat. A second sparrow was thrown to it. The mole
-immediately tore open the <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>stomach to get at its entrails. When it had eaten most of the bird and taken another
-big drink of water, it appeared satisfied and remained quiet. This was its last meal
-for the day. Just think, boys, what a quantity of reeking flesh it took to satisfy
-one mole’s hunger! In the night its companion in captivity, and the next day two sparrows!
-The weight of the food eaten in twenty-four hours was nearly twice that of the eater.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p070width"><img src="images/p070.png" alt="Mole" width="315" height="192"><p class="figureHead">Mole</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Was the animal satisfied for long? By no means. The next morning the mole was wandering
-restlessly about in the bottom of its cask, apparently wild with hunger. Food, quick,
-quick! or it will die of starvation. The remains of the sparrow left over from the
-evening before, with a frog which it promptly disemboweled, quieted it for a while.
-Finally, a toad was thrown to it. As soon as the mole approached to rip it up the
-toad inflated its body, hoping perhaps to frighten the enemy with its repulsive appearance.
-At any rate, it succeeded. After sniffing at it, the mole turned away in disgust.
-Ah! you don’t want the toad, you greedy creature; then you shall have turnips, cabbages,
-and carrots. Plenty of these were given it. But fie on roots! Rather perish than eat
-turnips! The next morning the mole was found to have starved to death amid <span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span>the vegetables. It had scorned to touch them with so much as a tooth.
-</p>
-<p>“Had this animal an exceptional appetite, a taste for unusual things, that it should
-have preferred to die of hunger rather than touch vegetable food? Not at all; it merely
-followed the preferences of all its kind. Many other experiments have been performed
-both by Flourens and by other observers. All the moles they have tried to feed with
-vegetable substances—with bread, lettuce, cabbages, roots, herbage of any description—have
-starved to death without touching their provisions. On the other hand, those that
-were fed with raw flesh, worms, larvæ, and insects of various kinds, remained alive.
-</p>
-<p>“Another very simple way to determine positively the kind of food eaten by this animal
-is to examine the contents of its stomach as it lives in the freedom of its customary
-haunts. Everything eaten by it must find its way to the stomach. Let us catch a mole,
-cut it open, and investigate. The stomach is found to contain, sometimes, red pieces
-of common earthworms, or it may be a pap of beetles, recognizable from the scaly remains
-that have not been digested; or still again, and rather oftener, we find a marmalade
-of larvæ, especially the larvæ of June-bugs—undigested bits of mandibles and the hard
-shell of the skull. In short, one is likely to come upon a mixed hash of all the small
-creatures inhabiting the soil, such as wood-lice, millipeds, cutworms, moths in the
-chrysalis state, caterpillars, and subterranean <span class="pageNum" id="pb72">[<a href="#pb72">72</a>]</span>nymphs; but no matter how carefully we search we cannot find a bit of vegetable matter.
-</p>
-<p>“All possible observation points to the same conclusion: despite what is believed
-by so many it is certain that the mole’s diet is confined to animal substances. And
-could it, I ask you, be otherwise? Would the stomach’s contents belie the savage set
-of teeth you have just seen in the picture? Do not its teeth show that it is a flesh-eater?
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, the mole eats flesh and nothing else; everything proves this. Besides, remember
-its big appetite, if one may call appetite the raging demands of a stomach that in
-twelve hours requires a quantity of food equal to the weight of the animal. The mole’s
-existence is a gluttonous frenzy. This frenzy seizes the creature three or four times
-a day, and it dies of starvation if it has to go without food for more than a few
-hours. To satisfy its appetite, when its food melts away and disappears almost as
-soon as swallowed, what can the mole count on? Live sparrows, which it devoured with
-such zest in the experiments of Flourens, are evidently not for a hunter that burrows
-underground; at most, some stray frog, found in the field, may fall into its clutches.
-What, then, is left for it to count on? The larvæ buried underground, and especially
-those of the June-bug, tender and fat as bacon. That is very little, I admit, for
-such hunger; but the number to be had will make up for the smallness of the prey.
-What a slaughter of white worms must take place when the soil abounds in this small
-game! Scarcely <span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span>is one meal finished when another begins, and each time, no doubt, other small insects
-are eaten by the dozen. To free a field of these destroyers of our crops there is
-no helper equal to the mole.
-</p>
-<p>“A valued destroyer of vermin—that is what we defend when we take the mole’s part
-and give to it, even if somewhat reluctantly, the honorable title of helper. That
-title, in truth, it only partly deserves. To catch the crickets, the larvæ, the white
-worms, and the insects of all kinds that it feeds on, the mole is obliged to disturb
-the roots amid which its prey is to be found. Many that interfere with it in its work
-are cut; plants have their roots laid bare and are even uprooted altogether; and,
-finally, the earth dug up by this untiring miner is piled on the surface in little
-mounds or mole-hills. With such upturning of the soil a field of vegetables may be
-speedily ruined and a crop of grain badly damaged. One night is enough for a mole
-to undermine a large tract; for the famished creature is singularly quick in boring
-the soil where it hopes to find something to eat.
-</p>
-<p>“It is well equipped for making its underground galleries, which often are hundreds
-of meters long. The body is stubby and almost cylindrical from one end to the other,
-so as to slip with the least resistance through the narrow passages bored by the animal.
-The fur is short, thick, and carefully curried so that it shall not catch the dust
-and may be kept perfectly clean even in the most dusty soil. The tail is very short
-and the external ears are wanting, <span class="pageNum" id="pb74">[<a href="#pb74">74</a>]</span>although the hearing is remarkably acute. Ears like those of animals that live in
-the open, would be in the way underground; in the mole they are made very tiny, for
-the animal’s greater convenience. No luxurious outfit does it ask for, but only what
-is strictly necessary for its work of mining. Eyes wide open so that the dirt could
-get into them would be a perpetual torment to the creature; and, besides, what use
-could it make of them in the total darkness of its abode? The mole is not exactly
-blind, as is generally believed; it has two eyes, but these are very small and set
-so deep in the surrounding fur that they can be of little use. It is guided by the
-sense of smell, in which it rivals the pig; and like the pig it has a snout of the
-right shape for digging up a toothsome morsel. With its snout the pig finds and roots
-out the savory titbit buried in the ground; the mole in like manner discovers and
-digs up the plump white worm. To reach it amid a network of roots and under a considerable
-thickness of soil, the animal has its fore paws, which spread out like large strong
-hands with exceptionally tough nails. These hands—stout shovels which, if need be,
-can open a passage through tufa, a soft sort of rock—are the mole’s principal tools.
-As the animal advances, digging with its snout and clearing away with its hands, the
-earth is thrown to the rear by its hind feet, which are much weaker than the hands
-but strong enough for the far lighter task. If the mole proposes to return by the
-same road, the track must be kept clear; <span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span>accordingly, the earth dug up is thrown outside to form mole-hills at intervals.
-</p>
-<p>“For the present these details will suffice. Now let us take up the much-discussed
-question of the mole’s usefulness. Should we, considering the undoubted services it
-renders us, let it live in our fields, or ought we rather, on account of its destructive
-digging, to look upon it as an enemy and wage war on it? Most people seem to feel
-we should make war on it—war to the death. Some persons make it a practice to destroy
-every mole they find and there is small pity bestowed upon the little creature unearthed
-by the spade. But I should like to remind the mole’s pitiless enemies that insects
-do far worse damage, and that for ridding a field of insects nothing is equal to this
-bloodthirsty hunter. Notwithstanding all opinion to the contrary, I believe that moles
-in moderate numbers are needed in a field, that it is unwise to destroy them all.
-Indeed, experience has proved this. I know of regions where the moles have been hunted
-down and destroyed until not one was left. Now, do you know what was the result? The
-white worms multiplied so that they ate up everything in the fields. To get rid of
-the worms it was necessary to let the moles come back and to let them stay so long
-as they did not become too numerous.
-</p>
-<p>“And there is something else to be said for the mole. Mole-hills are formed of well-worked
-earth which, when spread about with the rake, is very good for young grass. Further,
-the creature’s subterranean <span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span>galleries serve as drains for keeping the soil in a sanitary condition, letting off
-the extra water just as regular drains would do. On the whole, then, after weighing
-the arguments on both sides, I am of the opinion that the mole ought not to be banished
-from our fields unless it multiplies to excess.”
-</p>
-<p>“And how about gardens?” queried Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“That is another question. In a few hours a mole can almost ruin a garden. Who would
-want such a digger among his growing vegetables? You carefully sow your seeds, set
-out your young plants, even off the ground, and make water-channels; the very next
-morning—plague take the creature! it has turned everything topsy-turvy. Quick, a spade,
-a trap, and let us get rid of the pest as soon as possible! Suppose, however, that
-cutworms and other destructive vermin abound; shall we gain anything by killing the
-mole? Certainly not. The insects will speedily do more harm than the mole has just
-wrought; greater mischief is in store, and that is all there is about it. If I had
-a garden infested with destructive insects, here is what I should do. In the spring
-I should let loose in my garden half a dozen moles taken alive in the field, and I
-should then leave them to pursue their hunting in peace. Their work done, the ground
-cleaned, I should take the moles away.”
-</p>
-<p>“You can catch them whenever you want to?” asked Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“Nothing easier. You shall see for yourself.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e264">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER X</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE MOLE’S NEST—THE SHREW-MOUSE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“All that you know of the mole’s labors is confined to the little mounds of earth,
-the mole-hills, that it throws up, and the tunnels, of greater or less extent, that
-it bores just beneath the surface of the soil. These tunnels are hunting-trails, made
-by the animal in order to search amid the roots for the larvæ it lives on. If the
-ground is full of game, the mole halts there, probing to right and left, wherever
-it smells a grub. If the spot is a poor one it prolongs the tunnel or bores fresh
-ones hither and thither, in every direction, until it finds a place to suit it. But,
-however abundant the larvæ may be, one vein is soon exhausted, whereupon the old diggings
-are abandoned and fresh ones undertaken from day to day.
-</p>
-<p>“Near its hunting-ground, thus honeycombed with a succession of tunnels as called
-for, the mole has a burrow, a fixed abode, to which it retires to rest, sleep, and
-rear its young. This burrow is a work of art, a strong castle, in the making of which
-the cautious animal uses great skill, with a view to the utmost possible security.
-You must not think I am talking about the mole-hills, which are merely the <span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>dirt thrown out in the digging. The mole is never to be found lurking beneath these
-crumbling hillocks.
-</p>
-<div class="figure p078width"><img src="images/p078.png" alt="Mole’s Burrow" width="535" height="454"><p class="figureHead">Mole’s Burrow</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Its dwelling is something quite different. It is underground at a depth of nearly
-a meter, usually beneath a hedge, or at the foot of a wall, or amid the big roots
-of some great tree. This natural shelter makes it strong so that it will not cave
-in. Its main part is a chamber (<i>c</i>) shaped somewhat like an inverted bottle, carefully rough-coated with loam and made
-smooth on the inside. It is furnished with a warm bed of moss and dry grass. That
-is the mole’s resting-place, its bedroom, the family nest. Two circular tunnels run
-around it at a distance: the lower one (<i>a</i>) larger, the upper one (<i>b</i>) <span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>of lesser diameter. They serve as sentry-posts for the safeguarding of the main chamber.
-Stationed in the upper tunnel, which is reached by three passages leading from the
-large chamber, the mole listens to what is going on outside. If some danger threatens,
-half a dozen exits are provided for speedy descent to the lower tunnel, whence there
-are numerous outlets for instant flight. These lead in all directions, but soon bend
-back and into the main passage (<i>p</i>). If danger overtakes the mole in its inmost retreat (<i>c</i>), it escapes by the tunnel (<i>h</i>) which leads out from below, winds around, and rejoins the main passage (<i>p</i>).”
-</p>
-<p>“I get lost in all those tunnels and passages,” said Emile. “The mole’s house is very
-complicated.”
-</p>
-<p>“For us, perhaps, but not for the mole. It knows every twist and turn of these winding
-tunnels, and can get away at very short notice. You think you can catch it in its
-home, but in a twinkling it is gone and you don’t know in what direction.
-</p>
-<p>“The passages for flight, both those that go in all directions from the lower circular
-tunnel and those that run straight from the chamber, all lead finally into the passage
-marked <i>p</i>, the entrance-way to the mole’s abode; and this passage is the main one between the
-large chamber and the hunting-ground, the permanent highway over which the mole passes
-to and fro three or four times a day—in fact every time it goes on an expedition or
-returns home. This passage, meant to last as long as the dwelling remains in use,
-is much more carefully made than <span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>the simple burrows bored from day to day as the mole seeks its food: it is deeper
-down, wider, smooth and well beaten; no mole-hill is over it; its covering of earth
-is solid. Yet something betrays it to the searcher’s eye. On account of the mole’s
-incessant comings and goings the roots of any plants growing there are more injured
-than are those over the ordinary tunnels made by the animal; consequently, the grass
-has an unhealthy, yellowish look. Once this passage is known—and the strip of yellow
-grass points it out—the mole can be caught at any time. A trap is set inside the tunnel.
-Obliged to pass through either to get out or to come in, the mole cannot fail to be
-taken sooner or later.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p080width"><img src="images/p080.png" alt="Jaws and Teeth of a Shrew-mouse" width="266" height="197"><p class="figureHead">Jaws and Teeth of a Shrew-mouse</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“That is plain enough,” said Louis. “I see now how easy it would be to catch moles
-again whenever you want to after they have been let loose in a garden to rid it of
-insects.”
-</p>
-<p>“To conclude my account of insectivorous animals,” Uncle Paul went on, “I will now
-tell you about the very smallest of mammals, a tiny creature not more than two inches
-long. This cunning little animal looks somewhat like a mouse, but is much smaller.
-The tail is shorter, the head more tapering, and the nose ends in a sharper point.
-The ears are <span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>short and rounded. But the coat is almost the same as that of the mouse.
-</p>
-<p>“The shrew-mouse has the same tastes as the mole: it is an ardent hunter of small
-game, a devourer of larvæ and insects, as you can see by its finely serrate teeth.
-Its slender body, made for squeezing into the smallest hole, and its long snout, shaped
-for prying into the narrowest crannies and crevices, enable it to go wherever vermin
-may be lurking. Woe to the wood-louse rolled up like a tiny pellet in some crack in
-the wall, and to the slug hiding under a stone! The shrew-mouse will have no difficulty
-in catching them, being so small that it could make its home in a nutshell. It will
-not help them to hide, for the shrew-mouse does not need to see them in order to find
-them. It detects them by its subtle sense of smell, and hears them if they make the
-slightest movement. The burrows of the beetles, the warrens of the larvæ, the lurking-places
-of the tiniest worms hold no secrets from the shrew-mouse. It might be appropriately
-called the insects’ ferret.
-</p>
-<p>“These little creatures are to be found in fields and meadows and gardens, and in
-winter they come near our houses and make their nests under straw-stacks and dung-heaps.
-In very cold weather they even find their way into stables, where they live on cockroaches
-and wood-lice; but at the approach of summer they are off again to the open fields,
-where they complete the mole’s work of extermination. Or they may seek some garden,
-where they protect the wall-fruit and the vegetable patches from the devouring <span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>insect hordes without ever touching any of the growing crops themselves. The teeth
-of the shrew-mouse are not made for the chewing of vegetable food; like the mole,
-this tiny creature is carnivorous. Moreover, in their hunting-raids, which are so
-greatly to our advantage, shrew-mice never do us the slightest injury of any sort,
-as they never bore tunnels, but merely use the natural cracks in the soil. They cannot
-be reproached with severing roots or throwing up mounds of earth, as moles do; and
-yet they are perhaps more an object of general execration than the latter. It is considered
-a praiseworthy act to crush them every time one gets a chance.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p082width"><img src="images/p082.png" alt="Shrew-mouse" width="260" height="169"><p class="figureHead">Shrew-mouse</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“How has so tiny, pleasing, and useful a creature managed thus to incur the hatred
-of man? We have here, my children, another instance of the foolish way we accept the
-first notion that enters our heads, without trying to test it by observation and reason.
-It is said that the shrew-mouse bites horses’ feet and leaves incurable wounds. But
-how can a shrew-mouse, whose head is at most no larger than a pea, bite a horse and
-pierce its hide which is the thickness of a finger or more? Again, they say the shrew-mouse
-is venomous even for man. Some time ago, children, I told you about the viper.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1445src" href="#xd31e1445">1</a> You <span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>know what its weapons are,—two long, sharp teeth or fangs having little channels through
-which it introduces a drop of venom into the wound it inflicts. Well, I assure you
-the shrew-mouse has no weapon like the viper’s; it has neither fangs nor a poison-sac,
-but is wholly harmless to man and horse. Insects alone need fear its fine teeth,—not
-that they are poisoned in any way, but because they crunch their little victims very
-neatly.
-</p>
-<p>“I think I see why the shrew-mouse has incurred the charge of being venomous. The
-pretty little creature exhales an odor; it smells rather strongly of musk. The cat,
-taking it for a mouse, sometimes chases it, but, repelled by its odor, never eats
-it. The first to observe this fact said to himself: ‘As the cat does not dare eat
-it the shrew-mouse must be venomous.’ Ever since then this false belief has passed
-for truth in the country, and no one has taken the trouble to look into the matter
-more closely; so that the poor little shrew-mouse, one of our most useful and harmless
-helpers, falls a victim to the stupidity of man, whose gardens it protects.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1445">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1445src">1</a></span> See “The Story-Book of Science.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1445src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e275">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE EXPLOIT OF ONE-EYED JOHN</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">It happened one day that One-eyed John caught an owl in his corn-crib, and he had
-just nailed the live bird to his house door as a bandit of the worst kind, worthy
-to be exposed to the jeers of all who passed and to dry up on the spot so as to serve
-as a scarecrow.
-</p>
-<p>John was very proud of his deed; he laughed at the click-clacking of the bird’s beak,
-at the desperate rolling of the eyes as the owl hung there crucified. Its grimaces
-and contortions, the convulsive efforts of the wings to free themselves from the big
-nails that pierced them, and the fits of impotent rage expressed by the spasmodic
-working of the talons put him in the best of humors.
-</p>
-<p>The children of the neighborhood, cruel and heartless as is usual at their age, and
-still more cruel when grown persons set the sad example, had gathered before the door
-and were joining in the laugh at the owl’s sufferings. John told them that his neighbor,
-old Annette, had died two weeks before because the owl came three times in quick succession
-and hooted on the roof of the house.
-</p>
-<p>“Those creatures,” said he, “are bad-luck birds. At night they fly into churches and
-drink the oil out <span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>of the lamps; they perch on the roofs of sick people’s houses and foretell their death;
-and they snuggle into a hole in the belfry and laugh when the bell tolls for a funeral.”
-</p>
-<p>All this of course frightened the children. “See,” said the youngest, pressing close
-to his brother, “how the owl threatens us with its big red eyes; it must be awfully
-wicked.”
-</p>
-<p>“It’s so ugly,” said another, “let’s hurt it. That will teach it to laugh when people
-die, and to drink oil out of the holy lamps. John, put its eyes out with this pointed
-stick, it looks at us so wickedly; and put this piece of glass in its claws so that
-it will cut its fingers.”
-</p>
-<p>And thus each one did what he could to harm the helpless creature; each tried to invent
-some new torture for it.
-</p>
-<p>Just then Louis happened to come along, and the children called to him to join them
-in tormenting the owl. More merciful than his comrades, especially since he had fallen
-into the way of visiting Uncle Paul’s house, Louis turned his eyes away from this
-frightful spectacle and begged John to end the bird’s agony instead of making it suffer
-still further tortures. But the boy’s entreaties were all in vain, and he went away
-much distressed.
-</p>
-<p>As he was going home he recalled something Uncle Paul had said in one of his talks;
-he had told the boys that when the ignorant crowd agrees to call a thing black it
-is always well to see whether after all the thing may not be white.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Here is One-eyed John,” said Louis to himself, “One-eyed John, known all about here
-for his ignorance; he has never in his life opened a book, and he glories in the fact;
-he can’t sign his name; and he rejects with mulish obstinacy every wise suggestion.
-At this very moment he is urging on the children against that poor owl he has just
-nailed to his door, and to make them think there is some reason why he should be so
-cruel he tells them it is a graveyard bird, a bad-luck bird that brings misfortune
-to people. According to his account the owl is an evil creature, full of malice, and
-deserves no pity. We must punish it for its wickedness, make it suffer torments as
-an example to others of its kind, and put it to death without mercy. But what if just
-the opposite of all this should be true? What if the owl were really a harmless creature
-or even a very useful one and worthy of our protection? I must find out.”
-</p>
-<p>Accordingly, that evening at Uncle Paul’s this was the first thing he asked about.
-At Louis’s description of the tortured owl Uncle Paul at once recognized its species.
-</p>
-<p>“The bird that John thought he must nail alive to his door,” said he, “is the belfry-owl,
-also called the barn-owl. The unfortunate creature in no way deserved the frightful
-treatment it received. I pity it for having fallen into hands made cruel by ignorance.
-Stupidity and malice go together, they say; and it is very true. He who is ignorant
-is deliberately cruel. Wild and foolish things are said <span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>against the barn-owl, and John repeated them. Having heard them from some one else,
-he now, in his turn, passes them on to the street urchins who were so eager to put
-out the bird’s eyes. It is not true that the barn-owl flies into churches and drinks
-the oil from the lamp that is kept lighted night and day in the sanctuary; it is not
-true that it laughs when it hears the passing-bell; it is not true that its hooting
-on the roof of a house means that some one in the house will soon die. False are all
-the sayings about its evil influence and its predictions of misfortune, and any one
-who believes these absurd stories simply shows that he has no common sense. We are
-in God’s hands, my children, and God alone knows when our last hour is to come. Let
-us pity those feeble-minded persons who believe the owl knows this tremendous secret;
-let us pity them, but never let us abuse our reasoning powers by believing that an
-owl, in expressing after its own fashion, on some house-roof, its satisfaction at
-having caught a mouse, is solemnly foretelling what is going to happen. Uncle Paul’s
-nephews must henceforth pay not the slightest attention to any such superstitious
-notions. Let us go on.
-</p>
-<p>“What would you say of John if he had taken it into his head to kill his cat by nailing
-the animal to the door by its fore paws?”
-</p>
-<p>“I should say,” answered Louis, “that if rats ever ate him up it would serve him right.”
-</p>
-<p>“What you saw him doing amounts to about the same thing: he was torturing one of the
-very best <span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span>destroyers of mice, a bird in form, a cat in habits. The barn-owl went into the corn-crib
-to guard the poor man’s wheat from rats, and John, a prey to superstitious hatred
-and never thinking of the service the owl was doing him, made haste to nail the useful
-bird to his door.
-</p>
-<p>“What strange wrong-headedness is it that makes us all, as a rule, destroy the animals
-that help us most? Almost all our helpers are persecuted. Their good will must be
-very strong, else our ill treatment would long ago have driven them forever from our
-dwellings and fields. Bats rid us of a host of enemies, but none the less we look
-upon them with dislike. The mole and the shrew-mouse purge the soil of vermin, and
-we dislike them, too. The hedgehog makes war on vipers and white worms, and we make
-war on him. The owl and various other night-birds are fine rat-hunters, but that does
-not save them from mistreatment. Still other animals that I will tell you about later
-do the most useful work for us, and we persecute them all. They are ugly, people say,
-and for no other reason they are killed. But, blind slayers, shall you not at last
-have your eyes opened to the fact that because of an unreasonable dislike you have
-sacrificed your own defenders? You complain of rats—and you nail the owl to your door,
-where you let its carcass dry up, a hideous trophy! You complain of the white worms—and
-you crush the mole every time the spade brings one to light. You rip up the hedgehog
-and set your dogs on him just for fun. You complain of the ravages of moths <span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>in your granaries, and if a bat falls into your hands you seldom spare it. You complain,
-and yet you mistreat all the animals that offer to help you. Blind you are and sadly
-misguided in your wanton cruelty.
-</p>
-<p>“Regarded merely as it affects his own interests, it is a pitiful piece of work that
-John has done, but it is far more pitiful in respect to the tortures he has inflicted
-on the bird. It is not the mark of a man but of a brute to take pleasure in torturing
-an animal. It is a wicked act and one that good men despise; ignorance is the cause
-of the act, but ignorance is not an excuse. If an animal is harmful to us, let us
-get rid of it by killing it, but let us never think of inflicting needless pain, of
-causing suffering simply for suffering’s sake. That would be to smother in ourselves
-one of the noblest of sentiments, compassion; it would mean the arousing of savage
-instincts, which too often lead to crime. He who finds his pleasure in torturing dumb
-animals cannot take pity on the suffering of his own kind; his heart is hardened and
-prone to evil. How I pity those poor children who stood by and laughed at the barn-owl’s
-horrible sufferings, and who, led on by the man’s example, helped to put out the wretched
-bird’s eyes! How I pity them! Let them beware, let their parents take heed, for there
-is a bad streak in them.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e285">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">NOCTURNAL BIRDS OF PREY</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“The barn-owl, the horned owl, the gray owl, the white owl, and other similar birds
-are known under the general name of nocturnal birds of prey. They are called birds
-of prey because they live by hunting game of various sorts, especially such rodents
-as rats and mice. They are among birds what the cat is among mammals, untiring destroyers
-of those fur-covered creatures of which the mouse is the most familiar example to
-you. Our language has long since taken note of this resemblance in habits by coining
-the name <i>chat-huant</i> [hooting cat], which is applied to some of these birds. They are cats that fly, that
-hoot, or, in other words, that utter cries like mournful howls of distress. Also,
-they are nocturnal; that is, they remain during the day in some obscure hiding-place,
-which they leave only at nightfall to hunt in the twilight and moonlight.
-</p>
-<p>“Their eyes are very large and round and are placed in the front of the head instead
-of one on each side. A wide ring of fine feathers encircles each eye. The need for
-these enormous eyes is plainly seen in the birds’ nocturnal habits. Being obliged
-to seek their food in a very feeble light, they must, in order to see with any distinctness,
-have eyes that <span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>admit as much light as possible; that is, the eyes must be such as can open wide.
-</p>
-<p>“But this development of the organs of sight, so useful in the night-time, is a serious
-inconvenience in the bright light of day. Dazzled, blinded by the sun’s rays, the
-bird of darkness stays in some safe hole and dares not come out. If obliged to issue
-forth, it does so with extreme caution for fear of hurting itself. It wings its way
-with hesitation and in short slow flights. Other birds, birds of the day, seeing its
-uncertainty and awkwardness, come and vie with one another in offering insults to
-the clumsy stranger. The redbreast and the tomtit are among the first to hasten to
-the scene, followed by the finch, the blackbird, the jay, the thrush, and many others.
-Perched on a branch, the night-bird receives the aggressors with a grotesque balancing
-of its body, turning its big head this way and that in a ridiculous manner and rolling
-its great eyes as if thinking thus to terrify its persecutors. But all in vain. The
-smallest and weakest are the boldest in tormenting it; they assault their victim with
-beak and claw, pulling out its feathers before the hapless bird can muster courage
-to defend itself.”
-</p>
-<p>“Just think,” said Emile, “of a teasing tomtit and a saucy redbreast making sport
-of an owl blinded by the sun! Why do they behave so?”
-</p>
-<p>“From motives of revenge. The owl loses no opportunity to gobble up those little birds
-in the night, and shows no more compunction over it than if they were nothing but
-common mice. Therefore <span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span>what a frolic it is for the little winged people when by good luck the night-bird
-strays into the light of day! The pecks fall thick as hail on the sufferer’s back,
-and it is nearly deafened with shrill screams of triumph and insulting cries of hatred.
-The redbreast pulls out a feather, the tomtit threatens the enemy’s eyes, the jay
-overwhelms it with abuse. The whole grove is in an uproar. But beware when night closes
-in; then the boldest will lose courage. These same saucy little birds, that come in
-the daytime and insult the owl, flee from it in wild alarm as soon as darkness allows
-it to move about and use its powerful talons and hooked beak.”
-</p>
-<p>“The redbreast had better get out of the owl’s way when the owl can see,” said Emile;
-“it would pay dearly if it tried then to pull out a feather.”
-</p>
-<p>“On account of the great size of their eyes, nocturnal birds of prey require a soft
-light like that of dawn and nightfall. Consequently, they leave their lurking-places
-to hunt for prey either soon after sunset or just before dawn. Then it is that their
-raids are most likely to be successful, for they find the small animals either fast
-asleep or on the point of falling asleep. Moonlight nights are the best for their
-purposes; those are their nights of veritable joy and feasting, when they can hunt
-for hours at a time and lay in large supplies of choice provisions. But when there
-is no moon they have only one scant hour in the early morning and another in the evening
-for hunting. That means they must fast for <span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>hours and that is why they are so greedy when they can get as much food as they want.”
-</p>
-<p>“They are very silly to fast like that,” Emile declared. “In their place I should
-hunt all night, even without a moon.”
-</p>
-<p>“You say that because you think the owl can see clearly in the blackest darkness.
-But you are mistaken. To see, we must not merely direct our gaze toward the object
-to be seen; we must receive into our eyes the light reflected from that object. In
-the act of seeing, nothing goes out from us; everything comes to us from the thing
-seen. We do not really throw our glance toward any given object; it is the object
-that throws its light toward us; or if it does not throw any light, it is for that
-reason invisible. What I am now saying about human beings applies to all animals.
-Not one, absolutely not one, can see in the absence of light.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p093width"><img src="images/p093.png" alt="Burrowing Owl" width="295" height="195"><p class="figureHead">Burrowing Owl</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“I had always thought,” said Louis, “that cats could see in pitch-darkness.”
-</p>
-<p>“Others think so too, but they are much mistaken. The cat can no more distinguish
-objects, if light is totally lacking, than any other creature can. It has an advantage
-over us, I grant you: it has large eyes, the pupils of which it can contract and almost
-close when it finds itself exposed to a bright <span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>light that would otherwise dazzle it, or open wide to receive more of the feeble light
-diffused in a dark room. These large eyes enable it to find its way in places which
-to us, with our poorer sight, seem pitch-dark. But in reality the darkness is not
-complete where a cat can manage to see well enough for its purposes. If light is totally
-lacking, the cat may open its eyes as wide as possible, but it will see nothing, absolutely
-nothing. In this particular, nocturnal birds do not differ from the cat: their large
-eyes, made for seeing in a dim light, can see nothing whatever when the night is perfectly
-dark.
-</p>
-<p>“Now let us follow the bird in its hunt. The night is a fine one for hunting; the
-air is calm, the moon shining. The hunt begins with a lugubrious war-cry. At that
-dreaded signal the tomtit hardly feels safe even in the deepest hollow of its tree,
-the redbreast trembles beneath its shelter of thick foliage, and the finch loses its
-head with fright. God of the weak, God of the little birds, protect them now! Make
-the owl, enraged as it still is from the insults of the day, miss them in its search!
-Blessed be Thy holy name if the rapacious bird turns in some other direction! It skirts
-the groves and skims over the open plain and the plowed fields. It inspects the furrows
-where the field-mouse crouches, the stretches of grass-land where the mole burrows,
-the tumble-down buildings in which rats and mice scamper to and fro. Its flight is
-silent, its soft wings cleaving the air without making the slightest sound to awaken
-its intended victims. This noiselessness of flight is due <span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>to the structure of the bird’s feathers, which are soft as silk and of finest texture.
-Nothing gives warning of its sudden coming: the prey is seized even before it has
-suspected the nearness of the enemy. The owl, on the contrary, with its exceptional
-acuteness of hearing, is kept informed of all that is going on in the neighborhood,
-its large, deep ears detecting even the rustle of a field-mouse in the grass. If the
-mouse begins to nibble a rootlet or a grain of wheat, the bird hears the sound of
-its incisors and pounces on it immediately.
-</p>
-<p>“The prey is seized by two strong claws warmly gloved in down as far as the roots
-of the nails. Each foot has four toes, three pointing habitually forward, and one
-backward; but, by a privilege peculiar to nocturnal birds of prey, one of the front
-toes is movable and can be turned back so that the set of talons is divided into two
-pairs of equal power whenever the bird wishes to grip, as in a vise, the branch on
-which it perches, or the victim struggling in its grasp. One blow of the beak breaks
-the head of the captured creature. This beak is short and very hooked. The two mandibles
-move with great ease, which enables them, in striking against each other, to give
-out a sharp rattling sound or clicking by which the bird expresses anger or fright.
-They stretch wide at the moment of swallowing, exposing a big opening leading into
-a very large gullet. When they are thus opened, the prey, which has already been kneaded
-into a compact mass between the claws, disappears entirely as if swallowed <span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>up by an abyss. All goes down, including bones and hair. Not a trace is left of the
-field-mouse, not even its coat of fur. But a single victim is seldom enough, and so
-the hunt continues. More mice follow the first one, and all are first killed by a
-peck on the head, all are swallowed whole. If the bird chances upon a fat beetle,
-he does not disdain it. It is a small mouthful, to be sure, but highly flavored with
-spices that will aid digestion. At last, having eaten all it possibly can, the owl
-returns to its lodging in the hollow of some rock, or in a decayed tree trunk, or
-in some ruined building.
-</p>
-<p>“Now follows digestion. Motionless in the quiet of its peaceful solitude, the bird
-gently closes its eyes to dream of the fine exploits it has just achieved and to plan
-others for the following night. Its slumbers are deep and long. In the meantime the
-stomach does its work. The food swallowed without any preparation or sorting must
-be divided into two parts, that which is really nutritious and that which is worthless.
-With the aid of its gastric juice the stomach carefully separates the bones and skins
-from the nutritious part of its contents. The flesh thus made semi-fluid disappears,
-to be converted into blood, and a confused mass remains, composed of skins turned
-inside out and wearing all their fur, bones as clean as if they had been scraped with
-a knife, and the hard wing-covers of beetles. This bulky mass could not be passed
-on by the stomach without danger. How then will the bird get rid of it? Let us watch
-and find out. Ah, the owl is waking up! <span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>Grotesque heavings of the body denote trouble within. The disturbance increases, something
-ascends through the outstretched neck, the beak opens, and it is all over: there drops
-to the ground a ball containing skins, bones, scales, fur, feathers—in fact, the entire
-mass of indigestible matter.
-</p>
-<p>“All nocturnal birds of prey practise this undignified method of freeing the stomach:
-they throw up in a ball the rejected remnants of what they have swallowed whole. If
-you ever find yourself near an owl’s retreat, examine the ground beneath it: the balls
-of little bones and hair will tell you from how many mice and other rodents of all
-kinds these birds deliver us.”
-</p>
-<p>“I have seen some of those balls near a rock all white with bird-dung,” said Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“Some owl certainly lived there. It was responsible for the dung and the balls of
-refuse that you saw.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e295">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">RATS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Let us return for a moment to the rodents, the habitual prey of the night-birds.
-You do not know them all, by any means, but we ought not to pass them by; for if some,
-like the hare and the rabbit, are useful to us, still more are very destructive. You
-remember those two pairs of incisors, so long and sharp, that I told you about when
-I described the rabbit’s teeth. All rodents have similar incisors. To keep them sharp
-and prevent them from overlapping too much by growing too long, which would make it
-impossible for the animal to feed itself, the rodent must wear them down by constant
-friction as fast as they grow. Consequently, these terrible incisors have, so to speak,
-no rest; they must always be nibbling something, no matter what. Thus the harm they
-do us is much greater than you would suspect from the size of the animal. How much
-actual food does a mouse need for one meal? Very little, unquestionably. A mouse is
-so small that a single nut will fill its stomach. Don’t think, however, that one day’s
-ravages are confined to that one nut. After the nut is eaten, the animal will proceed,
-perhaps, to gnaw a hole in a bag, reduce a piece of cloth to tatters, chew up a <span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>book, or drill a hole in a board, simply and solely to whet its teeth. And the damage
-caused by rats and mice in our dwelling-houses is matched by other damage caused by
-other rodents in the fields. You must make the acquaintance of all these destroyers.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure p099width"><img src="images/p099.png" alt="Norway or Brown Rat" width="542" height="326"><p class="figureHead">Norway or Brown Rat</p>
-<p class="first">(One-third natural size)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“For my part,” Jules confessed, “I shouldn’t, if I saw it, know the field-mouse that
-you told us about in your talk on night-birds.”
-</p>
-<p>“I know rats and mice such as we have in the house,” said Emile, “but that’s all.”
-</p>
-<p>“And yet,” rejoined his uncle, “I very much doubt whether you have any real knowledge
-of the rat. I will begin with it.
-</p>
-<p>“The common or black rat is more than twice the size of a mouse. Its coat is nearly
-black above, and ashy gray underneath. It lives in granaries, thatched roofs, and
-abandoned ruins. If it fails to <span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>find a lodging to its taste, it burrows a hole for itself. It is not a native with
-us, but is thought to have come from Asia in the wake of the armies returning from
-the Crusades. To-day the common rat is seldom mentioned in our country; another foreign
-rodent has come in, the Norway or brown rat, which, being larger than the common rat,
-has waged war against it and almost wiped out the species. We have not gained by the
-exchange; quite the contrary, the Norway rat being a much more troublesome creature.
-The true rat, the black rat, is rare now, especially where the other abounds; and
-that is why I doubt that any one of you is familiar with it. What you call a rat is
-more than likely to be one of these Norwegian invaders. Don’t forget the color—black—and
-you will have no difficulty in recognizing the true rat.
-</p>
-<p>“The mouse is much more familiar to you. It has been known from the earliest times
-all over the world. Need I describe this little rodent, so well known for its liveliness,
-its wily nature, and its extreme timidity, which makes it scuttle away to its hole
-at the slightest alarm?”
-</p>
-<p>“We all know the mouse very well,” Jules assured him.
-</p>
-<p>“The Norway or brown rat, also known as the sewer-rat, is the largest and most troublesome
-of all European rats. It attains a length of nearly a foot, without counting the tail,
-which is scaly like the mouse’s and a little shorter than the body. The largest and
-strongest Norway rat can cope with a <span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span>cat. Its presence in Europe dates only from the middle of the eighteenth century,
-and it seems to have been brought from India in the hold of ships, which it commonly
-infests. It has now spread all over the world. Its coat is reddish brown above and
-ashy gray underneath.
-</p>
-<p>“Norway rats frequent storehouses, cellars, sewers, slaughter-houses, and dumping
-grounds. Everything is food to these filthy and audacious creatures, and they even
-dare to attack a sleeping man. In large towns they multiply so fast as to cause serious
-alarm. The vicinity of the slaughter-house of Montfaucon in Paris is so undermined
-with their innumerable burrows that the buildings there are in danger of collapsing.
-To preserve them from this disaster it is necessary to protect their foundation against
-the attacks of the rodents by means of a deep enclosing belt of broken glass bottles.”
-</p>
-<p>“What attracts them in such numbers to these places?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“The abundance of food, the dead bodies of slaughtered horses. In one night, if left
-in the slaughter-house yards, dead horses are devoured to the skeleton. During severe
-frosts if the skin is not removed in time the Norway rats get inside the body, stay
-there, and eat all the flesh, so that when a thaw comes and the workmen begin to skin
-the animal, they find inside the skin nothing but a host of rats swarming among the
-bare bones.”
-</p>
-<p>“But don’t the people there have any cats to protect them?” asked Emile.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb102">[<a href="#pb102">102</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Cats! The Norway rats would eat them alive, my boy, in no time. They have something
-better, however—dogs, both terriers and bulldogs, that run the rats down in the sewers
-with astonishing cleverness and break their back with one bite. The bulldog—that’s
-the kind of cat you need for such mice. This hunt in the sewer, moreover, must be
-frequently repeated, for Norway rats multiply with frightful rapidity, and if we were
-not careful the town would sooner or later be endangered; the horrible creature, strong
-in its numbers, would devour all Paris. In December of the year 1849 two hundred and
-fifty thousand rats were destroyed in a few days as the result of a single hunt.
-</p>
-<p>“In the country the Norway rat frequents the banks of foul streams; it enters kitchens
-through sink-holes; it gets into hen-houses and rabbit-warrens by undermining the
-walls. It haunts cellars and stables, but rarely makes its way into high granaries,
-doubtless because of its liking for filthy drainage and any kind of offal, which can
-be found only on ground floors and in basements. It pounces upon eggs and young fowls,
-and even has the boldness to suck the blood of full-grown poultry and rabbits. When
-it cannot get animal food, which is its first choice, it will eat grain and vegetables
-of all kinds. No sort of food is rejected by this filthy glutton. To get rid of it
-you can hardly count on the cat, for usually pussy is afraid to attack it. Nor are
-night-birds strong enough to battle with it, except the eagle-owl, which does not
-abound in any numbers. <span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>The trap and poison are our only remaining means of overcoming this redoubtable foe.
-</p>
-<p>“The field-mouse is a little larger than the ordinary mouse. Its coat, which closely
-resembles that of the Norway rat, is reddish brown above and white underneath. Its
-eyes are large and prominent, its ears nearly black, and its feet white. Its tail,
-which is very long, like that of the common mouse, is thinly covered with hair and
-is black toward the end. The field-mouse frequents woods, hedges, fields, and gardens.
-It cuts down the stalks of grain to get at the ears, of which it nibbles a few kernels
-and wastefully scatters the rest. In its quest for food it unearths newly planted
-seeds, takes a taste of the young shoots that have just come up, gnaws the bark of
-shrubs, and feasts on growing vegetables. Its ravages are all the more serious because
-it lays up provisions against a time of need. In storage chambers more than a foot
-underground, beneath some tree trunk or rock, it collects grain, hazelnuts, acorns,
-almonds, and chestnuts, often going a considerable distance to get them. One such
-store-room is not enough; it must have several, for it has a way of foolishly forgetting
-where its treasure is buried. In winter the field-mouse ventures to approach our houses
-and makes its way into our cellars where fruit and vegetables are kept, or it establishes
-itself in great numbers in our granaries.
-</p>
-<div class="figure p104width"><img src="images/p104.png" alt="Harvest Mouse and Nest" width="434" height="453"><p class="figureHead">Harvest Mouse and Nest</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The dwarf rat or harvest-mouse is the smallest <span class="pageNum" id="pb104">[<a href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>rodent of France. It is a graceful creature, smaller than the common mouse, and of
-a yellowish tawny color, which is brighter on the rump than elsewhere; but the belly,
-breast, and throat are a beautiful white, and the tail and feet a light yellow. The
-ears, which stand out but very little beyond the fur of the head, are rounded and
-hairy, and the eyes are prominent. The dwarf rat lives exclusively in grain-fields
-and feeds on grain. After the harvest it takes refuge in the stacks of grain, especially
-in oat-stacks, but is never bold enough to enter houses. I am telling you about this
-pretty little rodent not so much because I begrudge it the few grains of oats <span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>it steals from us as because I wish to acquaint you with its nest.
-</p>
-<p>“Other rats rear their young either in a hole in a rock or a wall or in a burrow dug
-for the purpose. The harvest-mouse, however, scorns these stifling quarters; it must
-have an aërial nest like that built by birds. So it brings together several wheat-stalks
-as they stand in the field, interlaces them with bits of straw, and builds, half-way
-up from the ground, a nest as beautifully made as any bird’s. This nest is spherical,
-interwoven with leaves on the outside and padded with moss on the inside. It has only
-one little side opening, through which the rain cannot enter. Suspended at the height
-of several feet on the flexible support of the grain stalks, it swings to and fro
-with the slightest wind.”
-</p>
-<p>“How, then,” asked Emile, “does the little mouse manage to get in and out of its nest?”
-</p>
-<p>“It climbs up one of the stalks, being so small that this serves it perfectly as a
-ladder.”
-</p>
-<p>“If I ever come across a harvest-mouse I sha’n’t have the heart to do it any harm.
-It may go on eating oats in its pretty little nest, for all I care; I sha’n’t try
-to stop it.”
-</p>
-<p>“Here,” concluded Uncle Paul, “I will end my account of the chief representatives
-of the rat family in these regions. They are five in number: the black rat, the mouse,
-the Norway rat, the field-mouse, and the harvest-mouse.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch14" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e305">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">MEADOW-MICE<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1606src" href="#xd31e1606">1</a>—HAMSTERS—DORMICE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Another kind of rodent now calls for our attention: it is the family of meadow-mice,
-commonly confounded with rats. Meadow-mice are easily recognized by their short, slightly
-hairy tail.
-</p>
-<p>“The meadow-mouse is about as large as a common mouse. Its coat is of a yellowish
-hue mixed with gray above and dirty white underneath. The tail is only one-quarter
-as long as the body. The eyes are large and prominent, the ears rounded, hairy, and
-standing out but little from the fur. The head is large and less pointed than that
-of the ordinary mouse.
-</p>
-<p>“In its rapid and abundant breeding the meadow-mouse is one of the farmer’s chief
-foes. It overruns grain-fields especially, cutting down the stalks to nibble the ears.
-After harvest it attacks clover roots, carrots, potatoes, and the products in general
-of our kitchen-gardens. In winter it digs under the furrows to eat the seeds sown
-there. If the soil is so frost-bound as not to permit it to reach the buried seed,
-it retires to the stacks of grain, where it does great damage. It never makes its
-way into <span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span>our dwellings. Meadow-mice appear to emigrate from one country to another in colonies
-when the country they have ravaged can no longer supply them with food; at any rate,
-from time to time, once or twice in a decade, they suddenly appear in countless droves
-that are a real scourge to the country visited. The best destroyers of these creatures
-are nocturnal birds of prey, as is proved by the presence of their skulls, bones,
-and skins in the balls that are thrown up by these birds after digestion. Some say
-diurnal birds of prey, buzzards in particular, are equally fond of them. It is not
-at all uncommon to find in a buzzard’s crop as many as ten or more meadow-mice.
-</p>
-<p>“The underground meadow-mouse is much less common in France than the one just described,
-from which it differs in its gray-and-blackish coat, its somewhat smaller tail, and
-its tiny eyes. But the greatest difference is in its habits. The first-mentioned lives
-in the fields, especially in grain-fields, while the second frequents meadows and
-kitchen-gardens. It feeds on various kinds of vegetables, such as celery, artichokes,
-carrots, potatoes, and cardoons. It seldom shows itself out of its underground tunnels,
-and on account of its habit of lurking beneath the surface it is called the underground
-meadow-mouse.
-</p>
-<p>“The amphibian meadow-mouse is commonly known by the name of water-rat. We can easily
-tell it from the black rat, which is of about the same size, <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>by its red coat, its short tail (which is not quite half the length of its body),
-and its larger and less pointed head. It burrows under the banks of streams, ditches,
-and marshes, where it feeds chiefly on roots, but does not disdain small fish when
-it can catch them. It is a good swimmer and diver. Sometimes it makes its way into
-kitchen-gardens, where it does the same sort of harm as the underground meadow-mouse,
-and into orchards, where it gnaws the base of young trees.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p108width"><img src="images/p108.png" alt="Lemming" width="253" height="204"><p class="figureHead">Lemming</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The lemming is never seen around here. It frequents the coasts of the Arctic Ocean
-in Norway and Lapland. I will tell you something about it on account of its curious
-way of traveling from one country to another, of which our meadow-mouse offers us
-a far less striking example. The lemming, with its very short and hairy tail, its
-big head, and its stocky body, has the appearance of a small rabbit. Its coat is red
-marbled with black and brown.
-</p>
-<p>“At the approach of severe cold weather, and sometimes with no apparent reason, the
-lemmings leave their haunts in the high mountain chains of Norway and set out on a
-long journey toward the sea. The emigrating horde, composed of myriads of individuals,
-trot in a straight line over all obstacles, never allowing themselves to be turned
-from their course. In traveling in a line, one after another, <span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>says Linnæus, the great Swedish naturalist, they trace straight parallel furrows,
-two or three fingers deep and several ells apart. They devour everything eatable that
-obstructs their passage, all roots and herbage. Nothing turns them from their course.
-Let a man appear in their path, and they slip between his legs. If they come to a
-haystack they gnaw a tunnel through it; reaching a rock, they skirt it in a semicircle
-and then resume their original direction. Should a lake be encountered on their route,
-they swim across it in a straight line, however wide it may be. If a boat is in their
-way in the middle of a body of water, they clamber over it and jump into the water
-again on the other side. A swiftly flowing river does not stop them: they plunge into
-the foaming current even if they all perish.”
-</p>
-<p>“They must be very obstinate,” said Emile, “to prefer to drown rather than turn their
-procession out of a straight line.”
-</p>
-<p>“Animals sometimes show these examples of obstinacy, which we cannot understand, but
-which might easily be explained if we knew the motives that make them act thus. Perhaps
-by deviating from a straight line the lemmings might lose their way, a way provided
-with no finger-posts, but indicated simply by instinct. However, we will leave them
-to pursue their long pilgrimage, from which few will return, so numerous are the dangers
-and the enemies awaiting them on the way. Let them <span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>cross their rivers and lakes while we return to the rodents of France.
-</p>
-<p>“The hamster abounds in central Europe, notably in Alsace. It is also called the Strasbourg
-marmot or rye pig. It is almost as large as the black rat, but is more stocky. Its
-tail is short and hairy, its fur red on the back, black under the belly, with yellowish
-spots on the flanks, a white spot on the throat, and another on each shoulder.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p110width"><img src="images/p110.png" alt="Hamster" width="269" height="187"><p class="figureHead">Hamster</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Hamsters live on roots, fruit, and especially cereals, of which they store up a large
-supply. Each animal digs a burrow composed of several rooms, the largest of which
-is used as a granary. There they store rye and wheat, beans and peas, vetch and linseed.
-The hamster hoards like a miser, laying up far more than it will ever need, simply
-for the satisfaction of hoarding. In some of its store-rooms as much as two hundredweight
-of provisions may be found. What can a creature no bigger than your fist do with all
-these supplies? Winter comes, and the hamster shuts itself up in its underground quarters,
-assured of food and lodging, and grows big and fat. If the cold is very severe it
-goes to sleep like the marmot.”
-</p>
-<p>“And what about the two hundredweight of grain collected, a kernel at a time?” queried
-Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“The whole supply simply spoils and is so much <span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span>waste; but little does the hamster care; he begins all over again the next year. The
-animal’s special business is, first and foremost, to ravage fields, as is proved by
-the pile of grain it stores up, out of all proportion to its needs. It hoards food
-to destroy it, far more than to be sure of something to eat, being very different
-in this way from most hibernating animals. In the midst of all its stores of food,
-if the winter is very cold, it is overtaken by the same torpor that saves the hedgehog
-and the bat from death by starvation. This miser has not even the excuse of want.
-Happy are those regions that it does not rob! Let us pass on to other rodents.”
-</p>
-<p>“There are, then, still more of these greedy animals?” Jules inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes; they are somewhat like insects: after they are all gone there are still some
-left. The world seems to be a pasture delivered over to the mandibles of larvæ and
-the incisors of rodents.
-</p>
-<p>“Dormice, of many varieties, live in the woods and orchards and eat fruit. These rodents
-have the agility, elegance of form, and rich fur of squirrels. They make their home
-in hollow tree trunks, holes in walls, and crannies in rocks. During the winter, when
-fruit is lacking, they remain in a deep sleep.
-</p>
-<p>“The dormouse proper is found in Provence and Roussillon. It is a pretty creature,
-reminding one of the squirrel. Its tail is long and thickly covered with hair; its
-fur ashy brown on the back and whitish under the belly. At night it ravages the fruit-trees,
-and no one knows better how to pick <span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span>out the pear, the peach, or the plum at just the right stage of ripeness. You have,
-let us suppose, looked over your fruit with satisfaction and decided to give it one
-more day of sunshine to bring it to perfection. The next morning you go out to gather
-the harvest and, lo and behold, it is gone; the dormouse has been there before you.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p112width"><img src="images/p112.png" alt="Dormouse" width="192" height="238"><p class="figureHead">Dormouse</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The garden dormouse is smaller, being about as large as the black rat. Its coat is
-a pleasing mixture of red, white, and black, the back being red, the belly, paws,
-cheeks, and shoulders white, and the parts about the eyes and down the sides of the
-neck black. This animal is scattered all over France. It lurks about dwellings, in
-gardens, and among vines and shrubbery, living chiefly on fruit, which it ruins in
-great quantities, tasting first one choice specimen and then another, without finishing
-any of them. Garden dormice spend the winter several in one hole, where they sleep
-all curled up amid the supplies of walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts that they have
-laid up.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then if they sleep,” said Emile, “they don’t need any food.”
-</p>
-<p>“Pardon me, my boy; they do need food, and badly, though not while sleeping, but when
-they wake up. This awakening takes place at the beginning of spring, when the sun
-is first warming up <span class="pageNum" id="pb113">[<a href="#pb113">113</a>]</span>the earth. At that time of year there is no fruit to be had; and the garden dormice,
-after their fast of several months, have a tremendous appetite, as you can easily
-imagine. What would become of them now, poor little things, if it were not for their
-supply of nuts?”
-</p>
-<p>“Those little dormice are very prudent,” Emile remarked. “They know that at the end
-of their long winter’s sleep they won’t find any fruit in the orchards, and so they
-lay up provisions beforehand. But why don’t they put by apples and pears if they are
-so fond of them?”
-</p>
-<p>“Because apples and pears would spoil, whereas almonds and hazelnuts keep very well.”
-</p>
-<p>“That’s so. I hadn’t thought of that, but the little dormouse had.”
-</p>
-<p>“No, it does not think of it, either. It does not know that pears spoil and nuts keep,
-because it has never tried to keep pears. It does not foresee that when it wakes up,
-the fruit-trees will not be bearing fruit, will hardly have their first leaves; it
-does not know how long it would have to wait to find a pear to nibble; it knows nothing
-of all these things, which it is now about to become aware of, perhaps for the first
-time, through experience. Some one else thinks for the dormouse and gives it the prudence
-to store up nuts in a hole in the wall; some one who understands, foresees, and knows
-everything. And that some one is God, the Father of the man who plants the pear-tree,
-and Father also of the little dormouse that is so fond of pears.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb114">[<a href="#pb114">114</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1606">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1606src">1</a></span> The French <i>campagnol</i> is translated in this book by <i>meadow-mouse</i>.
-The term <i>vole</i>, another rendering, is purely British and too
-uncommon in America to warrant its use in these pages.—<i>Translator.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1606src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch15" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e315">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">HORNED OWLS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“We have glanced in a cursory way at a number of our rodents that are harmful to crops.
-I pass over in silence the pretty squirrel, a lover of walnuts and beechnuts, and
-the industrious beaver, an animal which may still be found, here and there, along
-the Rhone. The hare and the rabbit, too, I willingly give over to the hunter’s rifle.
-What protection have we from the devouring hunger of the others—the rats, the field-mice,
-and the meadow-mice? How are we to hold them in check? In our homes we have the cat;
-outside we have the army of feathered cats—the nocturnal birds of prey. I will divide
-these latter into two classes, to make it easier to distinguish the various species.
-One has the head adorned with two tufts of feathers—plumicorns is the term sometimes
-used—while the other class lacks this ornament. Horned owls come under the first classification;
-hornless owls, or those that may be called simply owls, come under the second.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p115width"><img src="images/p115.png" alt="American Long-eared Owl" width="260" height="334"><p class="figureHead">American Long-eared Owl</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The largest of the horned owls is the eagle-owl. ‘It can easily be recognized,’ says
-Buffon, ‘by its burly form, its enormous head, its large and cavernous ears, the two
-egrets surmounting its head to a height of more than two inches and a half, its short
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb115">[<a href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>hooked beak, black in color, its great clear eyes with their fixed gaze and large
-black pupils, encircled by an orange-colored ruff of feathers, and its face surrounded
-by hairs—or, rather, little rudimentary white feathers bordering a ring of other little
-feathers that are curled—also by its black hooked claws of great strength, its very
-short neck, its reddish brown plumage spotted with black and yellow on the back, its
-feet covered with thick down and reddish feathers to the very roots of the nails,
-and, finally, its hair-raising cry of <i>whee-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, poo-hoo</i>, which it sends forth in the silence of the night when all the rest of the world
-is still. Then it is that it awakens its intended victims, fills them with vague alarm,
-pursues and catches them, and carries them off to the caverns where it has its hiding-place.
-It lives among the rocks or in old deserted towers in the mountains, rarely descending
-into the plains and never willingly perching on trees, but rather on the roof of some
-sequestered church or ancient castle. Its favorite prey consists of young hares, little
-rabbits, field-mice, and rats, of which it digests the fleshy substance and throws
-up the hair, bones, and skin in round balls. The eagle-owl <span class="pageNum" id="pb116">[<a href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>makes its nest in some rocky cave or in a hole in some lofty old wall. Its nest is
-nearly three feet in diameter, and is made of small dry branches interwoven with flexible
-roots and padded with leaves inside. Only one or two, or rarely as many as three,
-eggs are found in this nest. In color they somewhat resemble the bird’s plumage, and
-in size they are larger than hens’ eggs.’ ”
-</p>
-<p>“Those two things like horns that the eagle-owl has on its head—are they ears?” asked
-Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“No, my boy, they are egrets, upstanding feathers that give the bird a warlike appearance.
-Its ears are not visible, being hidden by the plumage. They are very large and deep,
-which explains why the eagle-owl’s hearing is so wonderfully acute.”
-</p>
-<p>“The eagle-owl,” Louis here observed, “eats field-mice and rats, for which it is to
-be thanked; but it also eats young hares and young rabbits. Isn’t that a pity?”
-</p>
-<p>“For the hunter, I admit; but for the farmer it is quite another thing. Don’t forget
-that the hare and the rabbit belong to the order of rodents; they have incisors which
-spare nothing in the fields. If they were left to breed in peace they would prove
-a serious menace to our crops. History tells of countries so ravaged by rabbits that
-it became necessary to send an army to help the inhabitants get rid of them. We shall
-never reach that condition, I am sure; but it is no cause for regret that the eagle-owl,
-jointly with the hunter, keeps the animals within tolerable bounds. Moreover, the
-bird is very scarce <span class="pageNum" id="pb117">[<a href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>everywhere. One pair of these birds in a year is the most that you will find in the
-mountains about here. An extensive hunting-ground is required by such big eaters if
-they are not to starve one another out.
-</p>
-<p>“I have a more serious complaint to bring against the eagle-owl: when it cannot find
-its favorite game—meadow-mice, field-mice, and rats—it contents itself with bats,
-snakes, toads, lizards, and frogs, and thus deprives us of some of our best protectors.
-Be assured, once for all, that while we have some irreproachable helpers, there are
-also others that from our point of view are guilty of a good many misdeeds. Bear in
-mind the mole, which throws up the earth and cuts the roots of plants in its war on
-insects. No animal gives a moment’s thought to man—except the dog, who is our friend
-even more than he is our servant. No other pays any heed to our interests; all work
-for themselves and their young. If their instinct prompts them to destroy only species
-harmful to us, so much the better: they are excellent helpers; but if they hunt both
-harmful and helpful species, we must balance the total good against the total harm
-that they do. If the good tips the scale, let us respect the animal: it is a helper.
-If it does more harm than good, let us declare war on the creature: it is a ravager.
-The eagle-owl catches in the fields such formidable hoarders of grain as field-mice
-and hamsters; in gardens, dormice and other lovers of fruit; in the neighborhood of
-our houses, ordinary mice and rats, <span class="pageNum" id="pb118">[<a href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>and even the horrible Norway rat. There you have the plea for the defendant. On the
-other hand, the hunter charges the bird with killing a certain number of young rabbits
-incautiously taking a taste or two of wild thyme by moonlight, and with appropriating
-a few young hares that would otherwise be eaten by human beings. For my part, I accuse
-it of feeding its young on the serviceable toad, the useful snake, and the cricket-eating
-lizard. There you have the prosecutor’s charge. But, the balance being struck, the
-bird’s services are found to outweigh its misdeeds, and I declare that the eagle-owl
-deserves well of the farmer.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is a unanimous verdict,” declared Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“The common horned owl, or lesser eagle-owl,” Uncle Paul continued, “is much like
-the bird we have been discussing, only it is far smaller, being very little larger
-than a crow, while the other is the size of a goose. It is the commonest of all the
-nocturnal birds of prey in these regions. In the night hours throughout the summer
-it keeps repeating, in melancholy accents, its long-drawn and doleful cry of <i>cloo-cloo</i>, which can be heard a long way off. Just as it takes flight it gives a sort of bitter
-sigh, made no doubt by the air expelled from its lungs by the effort of the wings
-at the moment of flying off. In the daytime, confronted by human beings, this bird
-wears a dazed and foolish expression. It snaps its beak, stamps its feet, and moves
-its big head abruptly up and down and from side to side. If attacked by too strong
-an enemy, it lies down on its back and <span class="pageNum" id="pb119">[<a href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>threatens its foe with claws and beak. It inhabits ruined buildings, caves in rocks,
-and the hollow trunks of old trees. Seldom does it take the trouble to build a nest
-of its own, preferring to patch up one that has been deserted by a magpie or a buzzard.
-There it lays four or five round white eggs. I will remark in passing that the eggs
-of nocturnal birds of prey are not oval like hens’ eggs, but more nearly round. The
-hunting habits of the horned owl are like those of the eagle-owl: it has the same
-liking for rodents such as field-mice, rats, ordinary mice, and meadow-mice; it pounces
-upon young rabbits in the same manner, after patiently watching for them at the mouth
-of the burrow. Now let us pass on to another species.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p119width"><img src="images/p119.png" alt="Virginia Horned Owl" width="272" height="295"><p class="figureHead">Virginia Horned Owl</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The short-horned owl, or large sparrow-owl, resembles the lesser eagle-owl in plumage
-and size. The two egrets or plumicorns are very short, and they seldom stand erect
-as in the two preceding species. Because of the shortness of these ‘horns,’ the large
-sparrow-owl is often taken for a hornless owl. This species is seldom seen near dwelling-houses,
-preferring rocks, quarries, and ruined and solitary castles. It builds no nest, but
-is content to <span class="pageNum" id="pb120">[<a href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>lay in a hole in some wall or rock two or three white eggs, shiny and round, and about
-as large as pigeons’ eggs. Its usual cry is <i>goo</i>, uttered rather softly; but if rain is coming the cry is changed to <i>goyoo</i>. Its diet is mostly confined to field-mice and meadow-mice.
-</p>
-<p>“The red owl is of about the blackbird’s size. Its plumage is ashy gray mottled with
-red and marked with little flecks of black running lengthwise and fine gray lines
-running around the body. It is the smallest and prettiest of our nocturnal birds of
-prey. When its fine egrets stand up well on the forehead they give it a bold and martial
-air that goes well with its eagerness for the chase.”
-</p>
-<p>“In the picture,” Emile pointed out, “its horns are not standing up.”
-</p>
-<p>“No, the bird is represented in one of its peaceful moments; there is nothing to arouse
-it, nothing to attract its attention. It has withdrawn into itself and is thinking
-of the fine feast it had when it last went hunting. It is digesting that feast. But
-let a mouse come and scratch anywhere near, and the red owl immediately ruffles its
-forehead—the first sign of attention. It straightens up and spreads out its egrets—a
-sign of the closest possible attention. It has heard, it has understood. Off darts
-the bird and the mouse is caught.
-</p>
-<p>“The smaller rodents are its delight. It seasons them with beetles and June-bugs—especially
-the latter which are an aid to digestion. When larger game is lacking it contents
-itself with a frugal meal <span class="pageNum" id="pb121">[<a href="#pb121">121</a>]</span>of insects, hoping to make up for it soon with a good dinner of meadow-mice.
-</p>
-<p>“Red owls are great travelers. They assemble in companies, sometimes to migrate for
-the winter and seek a warmer clime, sometimes to search out a district where there
-is plenty of game, when their present haunts no longer offer enough to suffice them.
-If field-mice are on the increase in some particular region and are ravaging the fields
-of grain and hay, the red owls hear of it, I don’t know how. They spread the glad
-tidings, all club together, and start for the lands where feasting awaits them. With
-such zeal do they apply themselves to the work of extermination that in a few weeks
-the fields are cleared of the infesting hordes.
-</p>
-<p>“Red owls nest in hollow trees and clefts in rocks. Their eggs, from two to four in
-a nest, are of a shiny white.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb122">[<a href="#pb122">122</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch16" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e325">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XVI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">OTHER OWLS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Owls not belonging to the horned class lack, of course, the egrets or plumicorns
-characteristic of the latter. The largest of the hornless owls is the howlet or tawny
-owl, which is about as large as one of our domestic hens. The predominating color
-of its plumage is grayish in the male and reddish in the female, a difference that
-sometimes causes them to be mistaken for separate species. On this background color
-is a sprinkling of light brown spots, running lengthwise of the body and less numerous
-on the breast and stomach than elsewhere. The wings are marked with several large,
-white, round spots. The head is very large and nearly round, the face sunken in the
-surrounding feathers and partly concealed by them. The eyes, likewise sunken, are
-brown and surrounded with small gray feathers.
-</p>
-<p>“The name howlet is connected in its derivation with the word howl, and the bird called
-by that name is indeed remarkable for its cry, not unlike a wolf’s howl. When at the
-close of a somber winter day the wind whips the snow and moans in the trees, one may
-often hear a frightful cry, prolonged and mournful, rising from the dark depths of
-the forest<span class="pageNum" id="pb123">[<a href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>—<i>hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo</i>. Then in the lonely cottage the frightened mother makes the sign of the cross, while
-her little ones press close to her, crying, and saying, ‘The wolves are coming.’ Don’t
-be uneasy, good people; it is not a wolf, it is an owl <i>hoo-hooing</i>, sounding its war-cry from the top of some hollow oak and getting ready for its nightly
-rounds.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p123width"><img src="images/p123.png" alt="Gnome-owl with Captured Mouse" width="277" height="300"><p class="figureHead">Gnome-owl with Captured Mouse</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“In summer-time the howlet lives in the woods. It hunts by preference field-mice and
-meadow-mice, which it swallows whole, afterward throwing up the skin and bones rolled
-into a ball. The little birds that worry it so unmercifully in the daytime, whenever
-they get a chance to come upon it unawares in the sunlight, are not safe from its
-beak in the hours of darkness if the night-bird can pounce upon them after first frightening
-them with its terrible <i>hoo-hoo</i>. Keep as still as mice in your hiding-places, you finches and redbreasts and tomtits,
-and don’t betray yourselves by giving voice to your alarm. Let the owl <i>hoo-hoo</i> as much as it pleases. If you make a sound you are lost.
-</p>
-<p>“If the fields prove disappointing as a hunting-ground, the owl makes bold to approach
-dwelling-houses and finds its way into barns, there to play <span class="pageNum" id="pb124">[<a href="#pb124">124</a>]</span>the part of cat and thus make good the title of ‘hooting cat’ which has been given
-it. For patience and skill in catching rats and mice it rivals Raminagrobis<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1761src" href="#xd31e1761">1</a> himself. It is a guest to be treated with respect when hunger compels it to visit
-our granaries. After completing its nightly rounds it returns to the woods early in
-the morning, hides in the densest thickets or in the trees having the most abundant
-foliage, and there passes the day silent and motionless. In winter its home is always
-in the hollow of some old tree trunk. It lays its eggs in the abandoned nests of magpies,
-crows, buzzards, and kestrels; and these eggs, of a dingy gray color, are about as
-large as a pullet’s, but nearly round.
-</p>
-<p>“The belfry-owl, also known as the barn-owl, is an ungainly bird rather smaller than
-the howlet. Its plumage, however, is not wanting in elegance, being red on the back,
-sprinkled with gray and brown and prettily dotted with white points alternating with
-dark ones, and white underneath, with or without brown spots. The eyes are deep-set
-and each is encircled by a ring of fine white feathers almost like hair. A little
-collar bordered with red frames the face. The beak is whitish, and the claws are covered
-only with a soft white down, very short, under which the pink flesh can be seen. This
-bird has none of the proud bearing of the eagle-owl and the red owl; it carries itself
-awkwardly with an embarrassed, almost shamefaced look. Humpbacked <span class="pageNum" id="pb125">[<a href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>and with wings hanging down, face sad and scowling, and legs long and ungainly—such
-is the barn-owl’s appearance in repose. As if to complete its ungraceful attitude,
-the bird, whenever anything disturbs it, teeters from side to side in a ludicrous
-fashion, with haggard eyes and wings slightly raised.”
-</p>
-<p>“And what is the teetering for?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“No doubt to frighten its enemy. In time of danger the barn-owl utters a harsh, grating
-cry—<i>craa! craa! craa!</i>—which often frightens away the enemy. The owl’s habitual cry in the silence of the
-night is a mournful, heavy breathing not unlike the snoring of a man sleeping with
-his mouth open. To these cries add the darkness of the night, the near neighborhood
-of churches and cemeteries, and you will understand how the innocent barn-owl has
-managed to frighten children, women, and even men; you will be able to see why it
-has the reputation of being a funeral bird, the bird of death, summoning to the cemetery
-one of the persons living in the house it visits. The French name, <i lang="fr">effraie</i> (fright), has reference to these superstitious terrors; it designates the bird that
-frightens with its nightly chant those who are foolish enough to believe in ghosts
-and sorcerers.”
-</p>
-<p>“It may practise its chant on our roof as much as it likes,” Jules declared boldly;
-“it won’t scare me a bit.”
-</p>
-<p>“Nor would it scare any one else if everybody would listen to reason instead of putting
-faith in <span class="pageNum" id="pb126">[<a href="#pb126">126</a>]</span>ridiculous stories. Fear, like cruelty, is the daughter of ignorance. Train your reason,
-accustom yourselves to see things as they really are, and foolish fears will be banished.
-</p>
-<p>“The barn-owl also goes by the name of belfry-owl, because it likes to make its home
-in old church towers. Sometimes it will enter a church by night to hunt mice. Those
-who first came upon the ill-famed bird near the altar did not fail to accuse it of
-drinking oil from the lamp or, rather, of eating it when it is congealed by the cold.
-The charge itself proves its own falsity, as oil cannot congeal in a lamp that is
-always kept burning. But the slanderers do not trouble themselves about a little thing
-like that when they wish to blacken the bird’s reputation. They will continue for
-a long time, if not forever, to regard the owl as a profaner of holy lamps. In Provence
-they will always call this bird the oil-drinker.
-</p>
-<p>“In reality, the barn-owl lives on rats and mice, which it catches in barns and churches;
-on field-mice, meadow-mice, and dormice, which it hunts in gardens and fields. Here,
-beyond a doubt, we have a service rendered that ought to make people forget its false
-reputation, make them like and protect it as it deserves. Will the bird that gives
-us very real help and is guiltless of a single offense ever be declared innocent?
-I very much doubt it. Superstition is so deep-rooted that there will never be lacking
-a One-eyed John to nail a live owl to his door.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb127">[<a href="#pb127">127</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“The barn-owl likes to live in inhabited regions. The roofs of churches, summits of
-steeples, high towers—these are its favorite haunts. All day it remains crouching
-in some dark hole, from which it does not come out until after sunset. Its manner
-of taking flight deserves mention. First it lets itself fall from the summit of its
-steeple like a dead weight, and it does not spread its wings until after a rather
-long vertical drop. It then pursues a zigzag course, making no more noise than if
-the wind bore it along. It is fond of nesting in abandoned ruins, in the hollow trunks
-of worm-eaten trees, occasionally in barns, high up on some beam. But it builds no
-nest to hold its eggs, which are laid on the spot that may have been selected, with
-no leaves, roots, or hair to serve as bedding. The laying takes place toward the end
-of March and is limited to five or six white eggs remarkable for their oval shape,
-an exceptional shape for nocturnal birds of prey. The little ones, with their large
-eyes, beak stretched open for food, and rumpled down, are the ugliest creatures imaginable.
-The mother feeds them with insects and bits of mouse-flesh.
-</p>
-<p>“The smallest of our hornless owls is the sparrow-owl. Like the red owl, it is about
-the size of a blackbird. It is dark brown in color, with large white spots of a round
-or oval shape. The throat is white, and the tail is crossed by four narrow whitish
-stripes. The sparrow-owl has a quick and light bearing, and it sees by day much better
-than other night birds; therefore it sometimes chases small <span class="pageNum" id="pb128">[<a href="#pb128">128</a>]</span>birds, but rarely with success. When it has the good luck to catch one it plucks it
-very clean before eating it, instead of following the gluttonous example of the horned
-owls and the howlet, which swallow such prey whole and throw the feathers up later.
-Its hunting expeditions are much more fruitful when directed against field-mice and
-common mice, which it dismembers before eating. Other owls make but one mouthful of
-their prey; the sparrow-owl tears to pieces the animal it has caught, perhaps so that
-it may enjoy the flavor more. To express astonishment, surprise, fear, the barn-owl
-waddles in a most ridiculous manner; but the sparrow-owl adopts another method: it
-bows its legs, crouches down, and then abruptly rises, lengthening its neck and turning
-its head to right and left. You would say it was moved by springs from within. This
-performance is repeated over and over again, each time accompanied by a clacking of
-the beak. In flight the bird’s habitual cry is <i>poo, poo, poo</i>; at rest it says <i>ay-may, aid-may</i>, repeated several times in quick succession in a tone almost human.
-</p>
-<p>“The sparrow-owl lives in deserted buildings, quarries, old and dilapidated towers,
-but never in hollow trees. It frequents the roofs of churches and of village houses.
-Its nest consists of a hole in a rock or a wall, where it lays four or five round
-white eggs somewhat speckled with red.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb129">[<a href="#pb129">129</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1761">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1761src">1</a></span> A name given to the cat in <span class="corr" id="xd31e1763" title="Source: LaFontaine’s">La Fontaine’s</span> “Fables.”—<i>Translator.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1761src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch17" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e335">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XVII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE EAGLE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“If it were my purpose to give you a systematic and scientific account of birds, instead
-of acquainting you with the various species useful to agriculture, I ought to have
-begun with birds that hunt by day and to have postponed my talks on those that hunt
-by night; in other words, the eagle, the falcon, and the hawk should have been described
-first. But should you ask me why, I should be rather at a loss for a satisfactory
-answer. For want of a better let us content ourselves with this one: the first do
-their work by day, the second at night. But the eagle and the others of that group
-live at our expense, while the horned owl and its kind render us a great service by
-holding in check what would else be a disastrous multiplication of rodents. Consequently,
-in point of usefulness, the night-bird comes first.
-</p>
-<p>“But this is contrary to all usage, both scientific and popular, which puts the eagle
-first in the list of birds. Do we not say of the eagle that it is the king of birds?
-Why has this title been given to the fierce bandit, the murderer of lambs? I should
-be puzzled to answer this question did I not know man’s inclination to glorify brute
-strength even though he <span class="pageNum" id="pb130">[<a href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>himself may be its victim. You, my children, will find that out only too soon, to
-your sorrow. Plunder on a grand scale appeals, alas, to something in our faulty human
-nature that makes us excuse it; nay, more, that makes us glorify it; whereas productive
-toil, useful to all, leaves us cold or even disdainful. The falcon is a ravisher of
-our hen-houses, a bloodthirsty marauder of our dove-cotes; and we hold it in high
-esteem, calling it a noble bird. Shall we, then, never learn to judge animals and
-men by their true worth, their real usefulness? Let us hope that as so many fine minds
-have worked, are working, and always will work to bring about this miracle, you, my
-children, will some day follow their example. Work for this end with all your power,
-and blessings be upon you if you succeed in giving some additional strength, however
-little it may be, to this common effort put forth by all men of light and leading.
-</p>
-<p>“I shall discuss but briefly the birds of prey whose activities are confined to the
-daylight hours. They are nearly all bandits, nothing else, living at our cost by robbery
-and murder. From the fact that they hunt by day, never at night, they are called diurnal
-or day birds of prey. The brightest light does not dazzle them. It is even said of
-the eagle and others of this class that they can look straight at the sun, and this
-is credited to them as an added title of nobility. But there is no great merit in
-this performance when once you know how they shade <span class="pageNum" id="pb131">[<a href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>their eyes in accomplishing it. They have three eyelids to each eye: first, two like
-ours, an upper and a lower, which close in sleep, and then a third, which is semi-transparent
-and is withdrawn completely into the corner of the eye when the bird has no use for
-it, but when needed comes out from under the other two, which remain open, and serves
-as a curtain. If the light is too bright or the bird wishes to look toward the sun,
-it has merely to draw over the eye this third eyelid, this eye-shade, through the
-semi-transparency of which the rays of light enter the pupil in a much subdued intensity.
-There you have the whole secret of the eagle’s bold look in facing the sun.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p131width"><img src="images/p131.png" alt="Golden Eagle" width="222" height="322"><p class="figureHead">Golden Eagle</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“I could do as much if I shaded my eyes with a curtain,” Emile declared.
-</p>
-<p>“All these birds are furnished with a very strong beak having hooked mandibles for
-dismembering their prey. Their claws are composed of four separate talons to each
-foot, three of these talons pointing forward and one backward. The talons are long,
-recurved, and grooved on the under side, the grooves having sharp edges that they
-may the better cut into flesh. The eagle’s bearing is bold, its looks stern, and its
-flight marvelously powerful. Eagles like to circle about in the air, to soar with
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb132">[<a href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>scarcely a movement of the wings in the upper regions of the atmosphere beyond our
-view. Nevertheless, even from this immense height they can distinguish what is taking
-place on the earth’s surface below. They explore every farm with their piercing eyes
-and inspect every poultry-yard. Let a suitable prey show itself, and instantly the
-bird swoops down with whistling wing, faster than lead would fall. The unwary fowl
-is snatched from under the farmer’s very eyes.
-</p>
-<p>“Fortunately, the eagle, the chief of these bandits, is a very rare bird. In form
-it is large, measuring a meter and more from the tip of the beak to the tip of the
-tail, and it is covered with brown plumage. Its extended wings measure a span of nearly
-three meters. Its fierce eye, overshadowed by a very prominent eyebrow, glows with
-a somber fire. The eagle’s nest is known as its aery, and is flat instead of bowl-shaped
-like other birds’ nests. It is a sort of solid floor made of interwoven twigs and
-covered with a bed of rushes and heather. It is commonly placed on the face of some
-steep and forbidding precipice and between two rocks, the upper one of which overhangs
-and forms a kind of roof for the nest. The eggs, two in number—sometimes, though rarely,
-three—are of a dingy white spotted with red. The young eaglets are so greedy that
-at the time of their rearing the aery is strewn with bits of bleeding flesh. Some
-neighboring ledge of rock serves the parents as slaughter-house and cutting-up bench.
-It is there that the hares and rabbits, <span class="pageNum" id="pb133">[<a href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>partridges and ducks, lambs and kids, seized in the plains and carried in rapid flight
-to the lofty heights where the eagle makes its home, are torn to pieces in order to
-be fed to the ever-hungry eaglets.”
-</p>
-<p>“Is the eagle really strong enough,” asked Emile, “to carry off a lamb like that?
-I had heard it, but couldn’t believe it.”
-</p>
-<p>“Nothing is less open to doubt,” his uncle assured him. “It would carry you off if
-it found you alone in the mountains.”
-</p>
-<p>“I could defend myself with a stick.”
-</p>
-<p>“Possibly; but let me tell you an incident, one of many to be found in the pages of
-an author whose word we may believe.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p133width"><img src="images/p133.png" alt="Bald Eagle" width="253" height="250"><p class="figureHead">Bald Eagle</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Two little girls, one five years old, the other three, were playing together when
-a medium-sized eagle suddenly swooped down upon the elder and despite her companion’s
-cries, and in the very face of some workmen who came hurrying to the spot, snatched
-her up into the air. Two months later a shepherd found, on a rock half a league distant,
-the body of the child half devoured and dried up.
-</p>
-<p>“What do you think now of the eagle, the king of birds?”
-</p>
-<p>“I think it’s a brigand of the worst kind,” affirmed Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Would you like to see an eagle in the act of <span class="pageNum" id="pb134">[<a href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>hunting, witness its fierce joy when it buries its hooked talons in the quivering
-flesh of its prey? Then listen to this fine passage from the pen of that ardent lover
-of birds, Audubon. The scene is laid far from here, in America, and the eagle belongs
-to a different species from ours; but never mind, the ways of these bandits are the
-same everywhere.
-</p>
-<p>“ ‘To give you some idea of the nature of this bird, permit me to place you on the
-Mississippi, on which you may float gently along, while approaching winter brings
-millions of water-fowl on whistling wings, from the countries of the north, to seek
-a milder climate in which to sojourn for a season. The Eagle is seen perched in an
-erect attitude, on the highest summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad
-stream. His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse. He listens attentively
-to every sound that comes to his quick ear from afar, glancing now and then on the
-earth beneath, lest even the light tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His mate is
-perched on the opposite side, and should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by
-a cry to continue patient. At this well known call, the male partly opens his broad
-wings, inclines his body a little downwards, and answers to her voice in tones not
-unlike the laugh of a maniac. The next moment, he resumes his erect attitude, and
-again all around is silent. Ducks of many species, the Teal, the Wigeon, the Mallard
-and others, are seen passing with great rapidity, and following the course of the
-current; but the Eagle heeds them not: they are at <span class="pageNum" id="pb135">[<a href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>that time beneath his attention. The next moment, however, the wild trumpetlike sound
-of a yet distant but approaching Swan is heard. A shriek from the female Eagle comes
-across the stream,—for she is as fully on the alert as her mate. The latter suddenly
-shakes the whole of his body, and with a few touches of his bill, aided by the action
-of his cuticular muscles, arranges his plumage in an instant. The snow-white bird
-is now in sight: her long neck is stretched forward, her eye is on the watch, vigilant
-as that of her enemy; her large wings seem with difficulty to support the weight of
-her body, although they flap incessantly. So irksome do her exertions seem, that her
-very legs are spread beneath her tail, to aid her in her flight. She approaches, however.
-The Eagle has marked her for his prey. As the Swan is passing the dreaded pair, the
-male bird, in full preparation for the chase, starts from his perch with an awful
-scream, that to the Swan’s ear brings more terror than the report of the large duck-gun.
-</p>
-<p>“ ‘Now is the moment to witness the display of the Eagle’s powers. He glides through
-the air like a falling star, and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous
-quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manœuvres, to elude the
-grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the
-stream, were it not prevented by the Eagle, which, long possessed of the knowledge
-that by such a stratagem the Swan might escape him, forces it to remain in the air
-by attempting to strike it with his talons from beneath. <span class="pageNum" id="pb136">[<a href="#pb136">136</a>]</span>The hope of escape is soon given up by the Swan. It has already become much weakened,
-and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and swiftness of its antagonist.
-Its last gasp is about to escape, when the ferocious Eagle strikes with his talons
-the under side of its wings, and with unresisted power forces the bird to fall in
-a slanting direction upon the nearest shore.
-</p>
-<p>“ ‘It is then, reader, that you may see the cruel spirit of this dreaded enemy of
-the feathered race, whilst, exulting over his prey, he for the first time breathes
-at ease. He presses down his powerful feet, and drives his sharp claws deeper than
-ever into the heart of the dying Swan. He shrieks with delight as he feels the last
-convulsions of his prey, which has now sunk under his unceasing efforts to render
-death as painfully felt as it can possibly be. The female has watched every movement
-of her mate, and if she did not assist him in capturing the Swan, it was not from
-want of will, but merely that she felt full assurance that the power and courage of
-her lord were quite sufficient for the deed. She now sails to the spot where he eagerly
-awaits her, and when she has arrived, they together turn the breast of the luckless
-Swan upwards, and gorge themselves with gore.’ ”<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1854src" href="#xd31e1854">1</a>
-</p>
-<p>“Poor swan!” was Emile’s pitying comment.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb137">[<a href="#pb137">137</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1854">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1854src">1</a></span> Audubon: “Ornithological Biography,” I. 160–162.—<i>Translator.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1854src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch18" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e345">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">HAWKS AND FALCONS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“What are we to do with enemies like the eagle?” asked Louis when Uncle Paul had finished
-Audubon’s account of that bird’s fierce and destructive rapacity.
-</p>
-<p>“Destroy them,” was the reply, “destroy them by every possible means, for we can count
-on no assistance from other than human helpers. Eagles are the tyrants of the air,
-and no other bird dares attack them. The destruction of their nests is the surest
-way to put an end to the ravages they from time to time commit among our flocks. But
-it is an enterprise not without danger to make one’s way to the eagle’s aery and wring
-the necks of the young birds. The shepherds of the Pyrenees go about this work in
-couples, one armed with a double-barreled rifle and the other with a long pike. At
-daybreak, when the eagle is already away hunting, the two nest-destroyers climb to
-the top of the steep declivity where the aery is situated. The first man, the one
-armed with the rifle, posts himself on the rocky summit to fire at the eagle if it
-returns, while the second, his pike fastened to his belt, clambers down from rock
-to rock to the aery and removes the <span class="pageNum" id="pb138">[<a href="#pb138">138</a>]</span>eaglets, which are still too young to offer serious resistance. But at their first
-cry of distress the mother hastens to the rescue and hurls herself furiously at her
-enemy, who receives her with blows of his pike until his comrade brings her down with
-a well-aimed shot. The male, until then soaring among the clouds, now descends like
-a thunderbolt and is on the hunter’s head before the man has time to use his pike.
-Fortunately a second bullet from the rifle-man stationed above breaks the bird’s wing.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p138width"><img src="images/p138.png" alt="Red-shouldered Hawk" width="226" height="342"><p class="figureHead">Red-shouldered Hawk</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“What if he had missed the bird?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Then it would have been all over with his companion. His face torn by the eagle’s
-beak and his eyes pecked out, he would have fallen to the foot of the precipice, a
-mangled corpse. No, it is hardly a holiday diversion to go bird-nesting among the
-haunts of the eagle.”
-</p>
-<p>“I’m sure I shouldn’t care to undertake it,” was Jules’s comment.
-</p>
-<p>“Next to the eagle the goshawk is the largest of our diurnal birds of prey. It is
-a magnificent creature about the size of a well-grown rooster, brown above and white
-underneath, with numerous little dark stripes running around the body. The eye is
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb139">[<a href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>adorned with a white eyebrow, the beak is blue-black, and the feet are yellow.
-</p>
-<p>“The goshawk is the scourge of pigeon-cotes, for which reason it is also called the
-pigeons’ falcon. It selects for itself a lofty perch on some tall tree and there keeps
-a watchful eye on the flocks of pigeons foraging in the fields. Woe betide the luckless
-one that forgets for a moment to be on its guard. The bird pounces upon it in oblique
-flight, almost skimming the surface of the ground, and in less than no time the pigeon
-is seized and carried off to some lonely rock, where the ravisher plucks its feathers
-and tears it to pieces while still warm. If the farmer is not on the lookout the goshawk
-attacks the poultry and does great harm. At the mere appearance of the bird’s shadow
-the rooster raises a cry of alarm and the little chickens hastily take refuge under
-their mother’s wing, while she, her feathers ruffled and her eyes blazing, sometimes
-succeeds in frightening off the enemy by her show of boldness. For lack of pigeons
-and barnyard fowls the goshawk hunts young hares, squirrels, and small birds, and
-in time of famine it will even eat moles and mice. Wooded mountains are its favorite
-abode, and it builds its nest in the tallest oaks and beeches. Its eggs, four or five
-in number, are slightly red or bluish and spotted with brown.
-</p>
-<p>“The common sparrow-hawk is about as large as a magpie. Its plumage somewhat resembles
-the goshawk’s, being ashy blue on the back and white underneath, with brown stripes
-running cross-wise. <span class="pageNum" id="pb140">[<a href="#pb140">140</a>]</span>The throat and breast are reddish, and the tail is barred with six or seven dark bands.
-The legs and claws are of a beautiful yellow, and are long and slender.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p140width"><img src="images/p140.png" alt="Cooper’s Hawk" width="259" height="335"><p class="figureHead">Cooper’s Hawk</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The sparrow-hawk is a hunter of pigeons, which it tries to catch off guard by flying
-around the pigeon-cote and by watching from the concealment of some tree-top. The
-lark, the thrush, and the quail often fall into its clutches. Its flight is low and
-oblique like the goshawk’s, the wings of both being too short and too rounded at the
-tip to permit of lofty flight or sudden charges. The young, just out of the nest and
-as yet inexperienced in the cunning of the chase, are for a while trained by the parent
-birds for the career they are to follow; and indeed it is no rare occurrence to see
-the whole family hunting in company. The sparrow-hawk nests in tall trees and lays
-four or five white eggs ornamented with brown spots, which are larger and more numerous
-toward the big end of the egg. Both the goshawk and the sparrow-hawk, when they are
-attacked by an enemy stronger than themselves, do as the horned owl does: they lie
-on their backs and brandish their claws.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb141">[<a href="#pb141">141</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Of all our diurnal birds of prey, falcons are the most courageous and the best equipped
-for flying. As a distinctive characteristic they have a sharp tooth on each side of
-the tip of the beak, which itself is very powerful and curves downward in a notable
-manner from the very outset. Their wings are pointed at the tip and when folded they
-extend beyond or at least as far as the end of the tail. All falcons soar in their
-flight when hunting. To this class belong the common falcon, the hobby, and the merlin.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p141width"><img src="images/p141.png" alt="Gerfalcon" width="256" height="258"><p class="figureHead">Gerfalcon</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The common falcon, which is as large as a hen, can be recognized by a sort of mustache
-or black spot it has on each cheek. Its back is of a dark ashen hue crossed by narrow
-stripes of a still deeper shade; the throat and breast are pure white, with black
-markings running lengthwise; the stomach and thighs are light gray tinged with blue
-and striped with black; and the tail shows alternate stripes of dingy white and of
-black. The beak is blue with a black tip, and the eyes and legs are a beautiful yellow.
-But it should be added that the plumage of the common falcon varies a good deal with
-age, and not until the bird is three or four years old does it agree with the description
-I have just given.
-</p>
-<p>“The summits of the wildest and loftiest crags <span class="pageNum" id="pb142">[<a href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>are the falcon’s home, whence it goes forth to hunt pigeons, quails, partridges, chickens,
-and ducks. It rises and soars some time in the air, searching for its victims, and
-then swoops down upon them like a missile hurled from the sky. With astonishing boldness
-it makes its way into the farmer’s pigeon-cotes and chases the pigeons themselves
-under the very eyes of passers-by, in the middle of crowded streets. It will even
-snatch partridges from before the hunter’s rifle and from under the hunting-dog’s
-nose. Its cry is strong and piercing, and it flies unwearied at the rate of twenty
-leagues an hour for hundreds of leagues; but its walk is jerky and awkward because
-its hooked claws, furnished with long and recurved nails, rest insecurely on the ground.
-The falcon nests on the southern face of rocky precipices, the nest itself being clumsily
-built and holding three or four eggs of a reddish hue spotted with brown.
-</p>
-<p>“The hobby is smaller than the common falcon. It is brown above and whitish beneath,
-with thighs and the lower part of the stomach red. Its boldness is equaled only by
-the falcon’s, for it gives chase to larks and quails even when the hunter is in the
-act of shooting them, and dashes into the midst of the fowler’s net to seize the decoy
-birds. It perches on tall trees and nests in their branches. Its eggs are whitish
-with a few red spots.
-</p>
-<p>“The merlin is the smallest of the diurnal birds of prey, being scarcely larger than
-a thrush. It is brown on the back, and whitish with brown spots <span class="pageNum" id="pb143">[<a href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>underneath. Its nest, which is seldom found in our part of the country, is built in
-the hollow of a rock and contains five or six whitish eggs marbled at the larger end
-with brown and dingy green.
-</p>
-<p>“Despite its smallness it is a bold bandit. Little birds are terror-stricken at the
-mere sound of the merlin’s wings in their neighborhood. Even the partridge is not
-safe from its attacks. It begins by separating one of the birds from the rest of the
-covey, and then, circling about above it in a spiral, which grows smaller and smaller,
-it descends until it can reach its victim with its claws and knocks it down with a
-blow on the breast.
-</p>
-<p>“Such are the principal diurnal birds of prey that we have to make war upon without
-mercy. Up and after these savage bloodsuckers, destroyers of game, ravagers of poultry-yards
-and pigeon-cotes! Take your gun, vigilant farmer, watch for the falcon and the goshawk,
-and let fire at those brigands! Destroy their nests, break their eggs, and wring the
-necks of their young, if you wish to save your chickens, ducks, and pigeons.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb144">[<a href="#pb144">144</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch19" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e355">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIX</h2>
-<h2 class="main">KESTRELS, KITES AND BUZZARDS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first"></p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p144width"><img src="images/p144.png" alt="Hawk-owl or Kestrel" width="248" height="325"><p class="figureHead">Hawk-owl or Kestrel</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p class="dropcap">“The kestrel belongs to the falcon family, as may be seen from the small, sharp tooth
-on each side of the tip of the beak. It is rather a handsome bird, about the size
-of a pigeon, red in color, with black spots, and a white tip to the tail. The beak
-is blue and the legs are yellow. The kestrel is the most widely scattered bird of
-prey and the one most often seen near human habitations. Its favorite haunts are old
-castles, lofty towers, and belfries. One often sees it flying with untiring wing around
-these buildings, uttering the while a piercing cry, <i>plee, plee, plee! pree, pree, pree!</i> which it sends forth to frighten the sparrows snuggling in holes in the wall, so
-that it may seize them when they fly out. It carefully plucks the little captured
-birds before eating them; but it has another kind of prey which gives it less trouble,
-and that is the mouse, which it enters open barns in order <span class="pageNum" id="pb145">[<a href="#pb145">145</a>]</span>to catch, also the fat and savory field-mouse, which it spies from on high when holding
-itself motionless in the air in one position with tail and wings gracefully extended.
-What will it do with its catch? Will it skin the creature for the sake of cleanliness,
-as it plucks the sparrow? No, the common mouse and the field-mouse are dainty morsels
-of which the kestrel would be loath to lose a single drop of blood. The rodent is
-swallowed just as it is, whole if small, piecemeal if large. After digestion the skin
-and bones are thrown up through the beak in the form of little balls, just as in the
-case of the owl.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p145width"><img src="images/p145.png" alt="Kite" width="237" height="329"><p class="figureHead">Kite</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The kestrel nests in old towers, abandoned ruins, hollow rocks. Its nest, made of
-twigs and roots, holds four or five rust-colored eggs marbled with brown.
-</p>
-<p>“We will pass now to the kite, which is different from all other birds of prey, with
-its broad and forked tail, its very long wings, its rather slender claws, and its
-very small beak, a beak not at all in keeping with the bird’s size, which exceeds
-that of the falcon. This beak makes the bird cowardly to excess, frightened by the
-slightest danger, put to flight by a mere crow.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb146">[<a href="#pb146">146</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“If pressed by hunger, however, the kite will venture into the neighborhood of pigeon-cotes
-and poultry-yards in order to seize young pigeons and little chickens. Fortunately,
-the hen, if she has time to gather her brood under her wings, can scare the invader
-away by simply showing her anger. For want of poultry, the kite, which is hated by
-thrifty country people, attacks reptiles, rats, field-mice, and meadow-mice; and if
-it can get nothing else it will content itself with carrion, such as dead sheep and
-spoiled fish.
-</p>
-<p>“The kite’s extended wings measure more than a meter and a half from tip to tip, and
-its flight presents a fine spectacle. When the bird sweeps in wide circles through
-the upper atmosphere, it is as if it were swimming, gliding without the least apparent
-exertion. Then all at once it stops in its flight and remains suspended in one position
-for a quarter of an hour at a stretch, held there by an invisible movement of the
-wings.
-</p>
-<p>“The kite is of a deep red hue on the back and rust-colored on the breast and stomach,
-with a whitish head and the large wing-feathers black. Its cry resembles a cat’s mewing.
-It builds its nest in tall trees or, still oftener, in the hollows of rocks. Its eggs,
-commonly three in number, are white shading into dingy yellow and speckled with a
-few irregular brown spots.
-</p>
-<p>“The birds known as harriers have a small semicircular collar of fine thick feathers
-projecting from each side of the face and reaching from beak to <span class="pageNum" id="pb147">[<a href="#pb147">147</a>]</span>ear, much like the ring around the hornless owl’s eyes. In the contour of the breast,
-in the long legs and wings, and in the still longer tail, they have something of the
-falcon’s appearance and bearing; while in their large head and in the little collar
-around the face they are not unlike the nocturnal birds of prey. Harriers frequent
-marshes and the banks of stagnant bodies of water, where they lie concealed among
-the rushes in order to seize any small rodents, reptiles, or insects that may come
-within their reach. The farmer has no complaint to bring against them, as they show
-proper respect for his little pigeons, chickens, and ducklings. Indeed, they are welcome
-visitors on account of their strong liking for field-mice. Unfortunately, the hunter
-accuses them of killing game, especially water-fowl, hares, and rabbits.
-</p>
-<p>“In this connection it is to be noted that the weasel, a small carnivorous quadruped
-with a thirst for blood, is wont to make its way into warrens in quest of young hares
-and rabbits, in order to suck their blood, after which the dead bodies are left behind
-some bush. These murderous operations do not escape the harrier’s vigilance. In its
-leisurely flights it keeps a sharp eye on the surroundings of all warrens in the woods,
-for the purpose of carrying off any dead bodies and feasting on the weasel’s leavings.
-That it may occasionally be at fault and mistake a live rabbit for a dead one, I should
-not dare deny; but after all I forgive it willingly enough, and in consideration of
-its war on field-mice I should <span class="pageNum" id="pb148">[<a href="#pb148">148</a>]</span>be inclined to bestow upon it the honorable title of farmer’s helper.
-</p>
-<p>“If we may feel some uncertainty about harriers, there is no such doubt concerning
-buzzards. In them we certainly have very valuable helpers, large eaters of field-mice
-and meadow-mice, and great destroyers of moles, those tireless burrowers whose numbers
-must be kept within strict limits. Buzzards have a short, wide beak, curving downward
-from the base; wings very long, but not pointed, reaching almost to the tip of the
-tail; strong legs, and the space between the eyes and nostrils bristling with hairs.
-</p>
-<p>“Buzzards are fond of repose and phlegmatic by nature; or it might be more accurate
-to say that they are endowed with a remarkable capacity for patient and motionless
-waiting, a gift very necessary for the successful hunting of the field-mouse, which
-must be watched for by the hour at the mouth of its burrow. For half a day at a time,
-if need be, the buzzard lies in wait without making the least movement or giving the
-slightest sign of impatience. One would take it to be asleep. Then, all of a sudden,
-the bird falls to hacking the soil with its beak and tearing the turf with its powerful
-claws. A disemboweled mole is brought to light, or perhaps a field-mouse is the prize,
-and in either event the victim is no sooner caught than swallowed.
-</p>
-<p>“Now do you know what reputation the buzzard has won by this habit of long and motionless
-waiting so indispensable in the quest of game with the acuteness of hearing characteristic
-of the mole and of <span class="pageNum" id="pb149">[<a href="#pb149">149</a>]</span>rodents? The reputation of stupidity. We say of a person of limited intelligence that
-he is as stupid as a buzzard. Here again is an instance of that wrong-headedness which
-makes us think little of so many of our helpers and glorify those that prey upon us.
-Stupidity is the name we give to the buzzard’s peculiarities, and for no better reason
-than that the bird spares our poultry-yards and rids us of troublesome rodents; whereas
-we speak of the eagle, which steals our lambs, and of the falcon, plunderer of chicken-coops,
-as courageous, noble, and splendid.
-</p>
-<p>“The common buzzard is a large brown bird with a whitish throat, stomach-feathers
-marked with little lines alternately brown and white, and tail crossed by nine or
-ten dark stripes. Its beak is whitish at the base and black at the tip, its eyes and
-legs yellow. This species nests in tall trees, the nest being made of interwoven twigs
-and lined with wool and hair. It lays but three eggs at most, which are whitish and
-irregularly sprinkled with dingy yellow spots. It is the common buzzard especially
-that has won the reputation of stupidity with its leisurely flying and its patience
-in watching for prey. It usually watches on some mound of earth. Observers who have
-studied its habits say that sixteen is about the number of mice it commonly eats in
-one day, which makes nearly six thousand a year.”
-</p>
-<p>“That’s the kind of bird we should like to have <span class="pageNum" id="pb150">[<a href="#pb150">150</a>]</span>about our houses if we could only tame it,” remarked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“There is nothing to prevent our trying it,” his uncle rejoined. “The buzzard’s disposition
-is good enough. Other observers, who have studied its hunting of field-mice, estimate
-that it eats nearly four thousand of these in one year. From this number you can form
-some idea of the multitude of little rodents a whole flock of buzzards would be able
-to destroy. But we must not give the bird too much praise. I know that it does not
-hesitate, when occasion offers, to seize and carry off a wounded young hare; and I
-also know that when the snow is on the ground and the buzzard is pressed by hunger,
-it will pounce upon any stray chicken that may have got out of the poultry-yard. But
-what are these few acts of theft when compared with the thousands of rodents of all
-kinds that it clears away from our fields? Whatever the season of the year, one cannot
-open a buzzard’s crop without finding common mice, field-mice, and meadow-mice there
-by the dozen. If I owned a field that was ravaged by these rodents, I should lose
-no time in planting a few stumps there to serve as perches and watch-towers for buzzards
-in their patient hunt for their favorite game.
-</p>
-<p>“There is another variety of buzzard, the hawk-buzzard, that does us good service
-in its fondness for larvæ, caterpillars, and insects generally, particularly wasps.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb151">[<a href="#pb151">151</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“What, those wasps that hurt so when they sting?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, my boy; this buzzard feasts on the wasps whose sting is so painful to us; it
-swallows them without a thought of their sting, just as the hedgehog devours the viper
-and never worries about its venomous fangs. The bird attacks their nests with its
-beak and pulls out the nymphs from their cells, carrying them, fat and tender, to
-its little ones.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p151width"><img src="images/p151.png" alt="Rough-legged Buzzard" width="286" height="289"><p class="figureHead">Rough-legged Buzzard</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“This buzzard is a somewhat smaller bird than the common buzzard. Its back is brown,
-its throat light yellow with brown stripes, and its breast and stomach white sprinkled
-with dark heart-shaped spots. The tail is crossed by three wide dark bands, the beak
-is black, and, finally, the head of the old male is bluish-gray. The bird nests in
-woods, in tall trees, and its eggs are rather small, being yellowish-white in color,
-but with so thick a sprinkling of large brown spots as sometimes almost to hide the
-color underneath.
-</p>
-<p>“The feather-legged buzzard has legs covered with long feathers, as in certain species
-of pigeons bearing the same qualifying name. It frequents river banks, uncultivated
-fields, and woods, and lives <span class="pageNum" id="pb152">[<a href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>on field-mice, moles, reptiles, and if need be on insects.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p152width"><img src="images/p152.png" alt="Snake-buzzard" width="322" height="381"><p class="figureHead">Snake-buzzard</p>
-<p class="first">(Also called short-toed eagle)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Here let us bring to a close our talk on birds of prey. I have told you about the
-more important ones, both diurnal and nocturnal, about their habits, their food, and
-the services or the harm they do us. It is now for you to add to what these brief
-talks have taught you, by observing the things that come under your eyes every day.
-Do not fail to examine with some care the buzzard as you see it perched on a mound
-and patiently watching for a field-mouse; also the kestrel as it flies screaming around
-the belfry and pounces, sometimes on a mouse, sometimes on a sparrow; and the kite,
-too, as it soars on motionless wings in the blue sky. You will get from this sort
-of study, first, a great deal of pleasure, and, secondly, knowledge that will be highly
-useful if you ever have a farm or a garden.”
-</p>
-<p>“It seems to me,” said Jules, “that you have left out the very commonest of the birds
-of prey, the crows.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb153">[<a href="#pb153">153</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Crows are not birds of prey,” replied Uncle Paul. “They have not the hooked beak,
-the clutching claws, or the sharp, curved nails of birds formed for a life of rapine.
-I will tell you about them to-morrow; or, rather, I will begin with that one of the
-crow family known as the raven.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb154">[<a href="#pb154">154</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch20" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e365">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XX</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE RAVEN</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Their black plumage and similarity of shape make us mistake all sorts of birds for
-crows. Let us begin with one of these, the raven. This bird is of good size, being
-about as large as our domestic rooster, and it has a hoarse cry, uttered slowly,—<i>craa, craa, craa</i>. It is the raven that has won such a reputation with children from that famous fable
-about the raven and the fox.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p154width"><img src="images/p154.png" alt="Raven" width="302" height="266"><p class="figureHead">Raven</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, I know,” Emile hastened to interpose; “you mean the one that begins, ‘Master
-Raven, perched on a tree, held a piece of cheese in his beak.’ Where do you suppose
-he got that cheese?”
-</p>
-<p>“History remains silent on that important question, but my opinion would be that he
-stole it from some window-sill where the farmer’s wife had put out some newly made
-cheese to dry in a little wicker basket.”
-</p>
-<p>“The fox says good morning to Mr. Raven, and <span class="pageNum" id="pb155">[<a href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>praises his plumage,” continued Emile; “and he goes on: ‘How trig and trim you are,
-how handsome you look to me!’ And so on and so forth. How could the raven help having
-a swelled head after such flattery?”
-</p>
-<p>“That fox was certainly a cunning rogue. To make sure that the bird will listen, instead
-of beginning with flattery that might have aroused his intended victim’s suspicions
-(for the bird was not altogether lacking in common sense), he began by praising what
-is really not without merit. On a near view the raven is seen to be not by any means
-of a dead black; it shows glints of purple and blue on the back, and a flickering
-greenish tinge on the stomach, the total effect being that of some highly polished
-metal. At the first flattering words you may be sure the raven cast a complacent glance
-at its costume and, seeing it brilliant with blue, purple, and green, found it quite
-as rich as the fox declared it to be. So now the bird was well prepared—ready for
-the fulsome flattery that was to follow. The fox would have it believe the offensive
-odor clinging to it from eating so much carrion to be the aroma of musk, and its hoarse
-croaking to be melodious warbling. But just there was the difficulty, to make it croak
-and thus open its mouth, which held the cheese.”
-</p>
-<div class="lgouter">
-<p class="line xd31e2002">“And if that voice of thine
-</p>
-<p class="line xd31e2002">Can match thy plumage fine,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Thou art the very phenix of all the woods around,”</p>
-</div>
-<p class="first">quoted Emile.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb156">[<a href="#pb156">156</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Yes, that’s it,” said Uncle Paul. “Do you see how the sly rascal is making headway?
-He would have the raven believe itself a singer, mistake its raucous <i>craa, craa</i> for the note of the nightingale. Had he begun with any such extravagant compliment,
-he would have defeated his own ends; but he very cleverly led up to this supreme flattery
-and, to pique the raven’s foolish vanity still further, gave a doubtful tone to his
-admiration. ‘I know,’ was what he seemed to the bird to say, ‘that your voice is widely
-celebrated; but what I am not so sure of is whether it matches your splendid plumage,
-whether you can really sing in a manner worthy of so magnificent a costume. I must
-hear you, and if your vocal performance equals your outward appearance, then you will
-indeed prove yourself to be the paragon of birds, the very phenix of these forests.’
-‘Ah, you doubt it?’ said the raven to itself; ‘well, then, listen to this operatic
-trill: <i>craa, craa, craa</i>.’ ”
-</p>
-<p>Emile again took up the fable:
-</p>
-<div class="lgouter">
-<p class="line xd31e2002">“And so to prove it could
-</p>
-<p class="line xd31e2002">Its boastfulness make good,
-</p>
-<p class="line">It opened wide its beak and thus let fall the cheese,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Which Master Fox did seize——”</p>
-</div>
-<p class="first">“Not so fast!” his uncle interrupted him. “Master Fox could not have gone on talking
-with the cheese in his mouth; he could not have pointed the moral in that neat little
-lesson with which the fable ends. I can see him putting his paw on the prize while
-he licks his chops and looks tauntingly at <span class="pageNum" id="pb157">[<a href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>the shamefaced bird. ‘My good sir,’ he says, ‘let me call your attention to the fact
-that you are a conceited nincompoop.’ ”
-</p>
-<p>“He doesn’t call the bird Mr. Raven any more, now that he’s got hold of the cheese,”
-Emile observed.
-</p>
-<p>“No; to call him that was all very well in the beginning; it flattered the bird. But
-now the fox makes fun of his dupe and calls him ‘my good sir’ in a tone of patronizing
-condolence. To express pity for those we have cajoled and deceived—is not that the
-very perfection of roguery? There we have, most assuredly, a fox that will make his
-way in the world. Read in La Fontaine, the incomparable story-teller, the abominable
-tricks Master Reynard plays later on the goat, the wolf, and many others; or, better,
-wait a while and we will read them together next winter before the open fire. For
-the present we will leave the raven of the fable and try to learn something about
-the real raven’s manner of living.
-</p>
-<p>“Ravens do not flock together as crows do, but live alone or in pairs on rocky heights
-and in the tallest trees. The society or even the near neighborhood of its fellows
-is unbearable to a raven. With angry peckings it drives away from its chosen district
-any of its kind that may try to establish themselves there, even though they may have
-been born in the same nest. If the intruder is merely a bird of passage, it is conducted
-with menacing demonstrations to the frontiers of the domain and is jealously <span class="pageNum" id="pb158">[<a href="#pb158">158</a>]</span>watched until it disappears in the distance. Crows, social creatures, are treated
-in the same way. The raven asks to be left alone, quite alone, on its bare rock, and
-woe to the ill-advised intruder that disturbs its solitude! It builds its nest in
-the topmost branches of a solitary tree or, still more to its liking, in some fissure
-that offers itself in the perpendicular face of a rocky precipice. The nest is made
-of sticks and roots on the outside, and of moss, hair, rags, and fine grasses within.”
-</p>
-<p>“I should like to know,” said Jules, “what ravens’ eggs are like.”
-</p>
-<p>“Birds’ eggs are usually remarkable for their beauty, both in shape and in color;
-and for this reason, if for no other, they merit our attention. But it is no idle
-or merely ornamental accomplishment to be able to distinguish one from another, to
-know whether any given egg belongs to a useful species that should be respected or
-to a harmful species that should not be allowed to breed in the vicinity of our fields
-and gardens. With this end in view I have already told you the characteristic marks
-of the eggs of our principal birds of prey, some of which eggs should be destroyed
-without any consideration, while others should be protected. As this is a matter that
-interests you, I will continue in the same way and will describe the eggs of those
-birds that we are still to talk about.
-</p>
-<p>“Know, then, that ravens’ eggs are much more beautifully colored than might be expected
-from the somber plumage of the bird. They are bluish green, <span class="pageNum" id="pb159">[<a href="#pb159">159</a>]</span>with brown spots. This background of bluish green, sometimes lighter and sometimes
-darker, occurs again, together with the brown spots, in the eggs of crows, magpies,
-jays, blackbirds, thrushes, and fieldfares, birds that resemble one another closely
-in their bodily structure, despite their marked differences in size, plumage, and
-habits. The eggs of certain blackbirds and fieldfares are of a magnificent sky-blue
-color.
-</p>
-<p>“The raven is an omnivorous creature: fruit, larvæ, insects, sprouting grain, flesh,
-whether in a fresh condition or otherwise, all suit it equally well; but its favorite
-fare is carrion, which it knows how to find a long way off, guided by sight and smell.
-Wherever there is a dead animal, there the raven makes its appearance and contends
-for the loathsome quarry with dogs. The habit of gorging itself with this infected
-food gives it a repulsive odor. For lack of dead prey—the sort most acceptable to
-its tastes, its great appetite, and its cowardice—the raven hunts such live prey as
-young hares and young rabbits, and other small and destructive rodents. It pilfers
-from birds’ nests both eggs and new-born birds, a succulent banquet for its young;
-and it even has the boldness to carry off little chickens from poultry-yards. Without
-offering the slightest plea in its favor, I leave the raven to the hatred it has always
-incurred by reason of its funereal plumage, its forbidding aspect, its sinister croaking,
-repulsive odor, filthy greed, and savage disposition.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb160">[<a href="#pb160">160</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch21" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e375">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE CROW</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“In France we have four kinds of crows: the black crow, the mantled daw, the rook
-or harvest crow, and the jackdaw or little belfry crow.
-</p>
-<p>“The black crow has the same plumage and the same general appearance as the raven,
-but is one-quarter smaller. During the summer these birds live in pairs in the woods,
-which they leave only to get something to eat. In the spring their food consists of
-birds’ eggs, especially the eggs of partridges, which they know how to puncture skilfully
-so as to carry them to their young on the point of the beak. Like the raven, this
-bird is fond of decayed flesh and little birds still covered with down. Crows attack
-small, weak, or wounded game, and venture into poultry-yards to carry off any unwary
-ducklings or little chickens that may have strayed away from their mothers. Spoiled
-fish, worms, insects, fruit, seeds, according to season and locality, fill their crop.
-They especially like nuts, which they know how to break by letting them fall from
-a sufficient height.
-</p>
-<p>“In winter black crows gather in large flocks, either in an unmixed company or together
-with rooks and mantled daws. They go wandering about <span class="pageNum" id="pb161">[<a href="#pb161">161</a>]</span>in the fields, mingling with the flocks and sometimes even alighting on a sheep’s
-back to hunt for vermin under the wool. They follow the plowman to feed on the larvæ
-turned up by his plowshare; and they explore the seeded ground and eat recently sown
-grain made tender and sweet by germination. Toward evening they fly together to the
-tall trees of some neighboring wood, where they chatter noisily as the sun sets, and
-smooth their feathers, and finally go to sleep. These trees are meeting-places where
-every evening the crows gather from different quarters, sometimes from several miles
-around. At daybreak they divide into flocks of greater or less size and disperse in
-all directions to hunt for food in the tilled fields.
-</p>
-<p>“At the end of winter this company is broken up, the crows pair off, and each pair
-chooses in the neighboring forests a district a quarter of a league in extent, from
-which every other couple is excluded, this arrangement ensuring sufficient subsistence
-for each establishment in the bird colony. The nest is built in some tree of medium
-size, and is made of small twigs and roots interwoven and rudely cemented with loam
-or horse dung, a mattress of fine rootlets being laid inside. If some bird of prey
-happens to come too near this nest, its owners assail the intruder with fury and crack
-its skull with a blow of the beak.”
-</p>
-<p>“Good for you, brave crows!” cried Emile. “Your enemies will think twice before they
-come and bother you.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb162">[<a href="#pb162">162</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“I admire the courage of crows in protecting their young,” Uncle Paul admitted; “but
-I cannot forgive them their plundering of poultry-yards, their thefts of young birds
-and eggs, and their upturning of seeded ground. We must then include the black crow
-among bandits that are to be destroyed.
-</p>
-<p>“In the same class, too, we must place the mantled daw, so called from the sort of
-grayish-white cloak that reaches from the shoulders to the tail both in front and
-on the back. The rest of the plumage is black, with glints of blue, like the raven’s.
-This bird comes to us toward the end of autumn, joins the company of black crows and
-rooks, and may be seen searching our fields for larvæ and sprouting grain. On the
-seashore, where its numbers are much greater than in the interior, it lives on fish
-and mollusks cast up by the waves or left by fishermen. Only under dire necessity
-will it touch carrion, the favorite food of the black crow and the raven. In March
-the mantled daw leaves us, to go and breed in the North.
-</p>
-<p>“The rook, which is a little smaller than the black crow, has the latter’s plumage,
-but with more of a violet and coppery luster. Its beak, too, is more nearly straight
-and has a sharper tip. It is readily distinguished from the crow and the raven by
-the characteristic mark of its occupation, the skin of its forehead and around the
-beak being bare of feathers and looking white and powdery, like a scar. Is the bird
-born like that? Not at all. Just as a workman handling rough and heavy objects makes
-his <span class="pageNum" id="pb163">[<a href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>hands callous, so the rook acquires by its work the rough and scaly skin so noticeable
-on its forehead. It is a tireless digger and its beak is its pick, which it thrusts
-into the ground as deeply as it can. From constant friction with the soil the forehead
-and the base of the beak lose their feathers and become bald, or even have the skin
-itself worn away so as to leave a rough scar. The rook’s object in this toilsome operation
-is to capture white worms and all the destructive larvæ that are such a scourge to
-our cultivated fields. I saw some rooks one day hard at work in a waste tract of land,
-lifting up and turning over the stones scattered here and there. So eager were they
-that they sometimes threw the smaller stones as high as a man’s head. Now guess what
-they were looking for so busily. They were looking for insects and all sorts of vermin.
-In this work of turning over stones and digging in the soil rooks cannot fail to injure
-their tool, the beak, and they must rub the feathers off from its base.
-</p>
-<p>“I should have a high opinion of these birds if they contented themselves with hunting
-insects; but unfortunately they have a decided fondness for sprouting seeds, a dainty
-dish that they exert all their ingenuity to procure. It is said that they bury acorns
-and leave them in the ground until they begin to sprout and have lost their bitter
-taste, when they dig them up and eat them.”
-</p>
-<p>“What a bright idea!” Emile exclaimed. “The hard, bitter acorn is buried in the ground
-to get mellow, and when the rook thinks it has stayed there <span class="pageNum" id="pb164">[<a href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>just long enough he has so good a memory he can go and find it again and dig it up.
-By that time it is just right to eat, soft and sweet and a fine feast for Mr. Rook.”
-</p>
-<p>“So far there is nothing to find fault with,” said Uncle Paul. “A bushel more or less
-of acorns is a small matter, and I willingly hand them over to the rooks to dispose
-of in their curious fashion. But other sprouting seeds suit them equally well, especially
-wheat, which they can so easily procure in winter in the recently sown fields. When
-I see a flock of rooks sedately pacing the furrows and plunging their beaks in here
-and there where the ground is softened by a thaw, I know well enough those birds might
-pretend they were hunting for June-bug larvæ, but he would be a simpleton indeed who
-accepted this explanation at that time of year, when the worms are all too deep in
-the ground for the rook’s beak to reach them. It is wheat they are really after, and
-as rooks go in very large flocks, which may even darken the sky in their flight, you
-can easily understand that such reapers make short work of their harvest. Nor is that
-all: in the autumn rooks consume great quantities of walnuts and chestnuts, and in
-the spring they dig up potato fields to obtain the newly planted tubers.”
-</p>
-<p>“Couldn’t they live on dead animals, as the black crow and the raven do?” asked Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“No; a rook, however hungry, will not touch a dead animal. It must have seeds and
-fruit or larvæ and insects; and as it chooses one or the other of <span class="pageNum" id="pb165">[<a href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>these kinds of food, the rook is our foe or our friend. So there are two opinions
-about the bird. Some persons, remembering only its thefts, would wage a relentless
-war against it, feeling that each rook destroyed means a bushel of wheat gained. Others,
-mindful chiefly of its destruction of larvæ and insects, maintain that the rook deserves
-kind treatment at the farmer’s hands because it rids his fields of vermin, following
-the plowman to pick up white worms in the furrows and plunging its sharp beak into
-the ground for the grubs of the June-bug. For these excellent reasons they declare
-the rook worthy of our protection.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then which of the two opinions are we to accept?” was Louis’s query.
-</p>
-<p>“To my thinking, neither of them, but something half-way between, as in the case of
-the mole. If white worms abound, let us bear with the rook, as it makes war on these
-enemies of ours; but if we have no need of its help, let us chase the bird from our
-fields. In our warfare on destructive insects we have two real helpers, the mole and
-the rook; but unfortunately we have to weigh their ravages against their services.
-Accordingly, let us treat them with forbearance if we have a worse ill to dread, but
-rid ourselves of their presence if our fields are in good condition.
-</p>
-<p>“All the year round the rook lives with its own kind. It goes in flocks to seek food,
-and in flocks it chooses its breeding-place. Sometimes a single oak has a dozen nests,
-with as many in each of the trees <span class="pageNum" id="pb166">[<a href="#pb166">166</a>]</span>around, over a large tract of ground. There is great commotion in this aërial city
-at the time of nest-building, for rooks are very clamorous and also much given to
-stealing from their neighbors. When a young and inexperienced couple suspend building
-operations for a moment, to go and get further material for construction, the neighbors
-pillage the half-completed nest; this one carries off a little stick, that one a blade
-of grass and some moss, to use in their own work. On their return the robbed ones
-are thrown into a terrible passion, accuse this one and that one, take counsel with
-friends, and attack the robbers furiously if the theft has not been cleverly concealed.
-Experienced couples never leave the nest unguarded, but one stays and watches while
-the other goes for building material.
-</p>
-<p>“The jackdaw or little belfry-crow is all black and about the size of a pigeon. Like
-rooks, these birds fly in flocks and nest with their own kind. High towers, old castles,
-and the belfries of Gothic churches are their favorite abode. Their nests, which are
-made of a few sticks and a little straw, sometimes are placed each by itself in a
-hole in the wall, and sometimes are very near together in huddled groups. The jackdaw
-when flying keeps uttering a harsh and piercing cry. It feeds on insects, worms, larvæ,
-and fruit, but never on decayed flesh. It renders us some service by clearing trees
-of caterpillars, but I complain of it for hunting the eggs of little birds. Although
-jackdaws are always to <span class="pageNum" id="pb167">[<a href="#pb167">167</a>]</span>be found about our old buildings, they nevertheless move from place to place, usually
-in large flocks, sometimes of their own kind exclusively, at other times in company
-with rooks and mantled daws.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb168">[<a href="#pb168">168</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch22" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e386">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">WOODPECKERS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first"></p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p168width"><img src="images/p168.png" alt="Greater Spotted Woodpecker" width="212" height="242"><p class="figureHead">Greater Spotted Woodpecker</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p class="dropcap">In front of Uncle Paul’s house there is a grove of beeches several centuries old,
-its branches interlacing at a great height and forming a continuous canopy supported
-by hundreds of tree trunks as smooth and white as stone columns. In the autumn that
-is where Emile and Jules go and hunt in the moss for mushrooms of all colors to show
-to their uncle, who tells the boys how to distinguish the edible from the poisonous
-kinds. There, too, they hunt for beetles: the stag-beetle, whose large fat head bears
-enormous branching nippers; great black capricorn-beetles that may be seen at sunset
-running along the dead branches and clinging to them, as they go, with their jointed
-antennæ, which are longer than the insect’s body; and long-horn beetles, likewise
-furnished with antennæ of unusual length, and also remarkable for their wing sheaths
-richly colored with blue or yellow or red, with spots and stripes of black velvet.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb169">[<a href="#pb169">169</a>]</span></p>
-<p>A multitude of birds of many kinds make this grove their abode. There the quarrelsome
-jay fights with one of its own species for the possession of a beechnut; there the
-magpie chatters on a high branch and then flies down and alights in a neighboring
-field, jerking up its tail and looking around with an air of defiance; crows have
-their evening rendezvous there; and there the woodpecker hammers away at old bark
-to make the insects come out so that it may snap them up with its viscous tongue.
-Listen to the bird at its work: <i>toc, toc, toc!</i> If it is interrupted in its task it flies away with a cry of <i>teo, teo, teo</i>, repeated thirty or forty times in quick succession and resembling a noisy burst
-of laughter.
-</p>
-<p>“What bird is it that seems to be making fun of us with such loud laughter as it flies
-off?” Emile and Jules asked each other one day when they were watching from their
-window the woodpeckers and the jays at play in the branches of the old beech-trees.
-</p>
-<p>Jacques, their uncle’s gardener, heard them as he was watering the cabbage bed. After
-finishing a series of little trenches to carry the water to all parts of the bed,
-he came up to the window for a talk with the boys.
-</p>
-<p>“That bird you see there,” said he, “with green plumage and a red head, is a woodpecker.
-It has several different cries. If it is going to rain it says <i>plieu, plieu</i>, in a long-drawn and plaintive tone. When at work, in order to keep up its spirits
-it every now and then gives a harsh cry, <i>tiackackan, <span class="pageNum" id="pb170">[<a href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>tiackackan</i>, so that the whole forest echoes with it. In the nesting season it gives a quick
-<i>teo, teo, teo</i>, just like what you heard a moment ago.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then it has its nest now in the beech grove?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p170width"><img src="images/p170.png" alt="Piculet" width="229" height="237"><p class="figureHead">Piculet</p>
-<p class="first">(A small soft-tailed woodpecker)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“It is at work on it, for all the morning I’ve heard it hammering away with all its
-might. You see, it makes its nest in a hole that it hollows out by pecking the trunk
-of a tree with its beak. It’s a fine beak it has, too, so hard and pointed that the
-bird is always afraid of going too deep into the wood. So after two or three good
-hard pecks it skips round to the other side of the trunk to see if it hasn’t bored
-clear through.”
-</p>
-<p>“Bah! you’re only in fun,” returned Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Not at all,” protested Jacques; “it’s what I’ve heard said, and I’ve often seen the
-woodpecker hurry round to look at the other side of the trunk.”
-</p>
-<p>“But the bird must have some other reason than just to see whether or not the tree
-is bored through. I’m going to ask Uncle.”
-</p>
-<p>“Ask him, too, if he knows the ironweed that the woodpecker rubs its beak on to make
-it harder than steel.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb171">[<a href="#pb171">171</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Your ironweed sounds to me like a fairy tale.”
-</p>
-<p>“Well, I’m only telling you what I’ve heard. I don’t know anything about it, myself;
-but they say it’s a very rare weed and that the woodpecker goes to look for it in
-the mountains so that it may harden and whet its beak on it. And anything you touch
-to that weed becomes as hard as the best steel. What a find that would be for my scythe
-and my hedging-bill, my sickle and grafting-knife! I know many a man that would give
-a bag of gold for the woodpecker’s secret.”
-</p>
-<p>The young cabbage plants had by this time received enough water, and it was now the
-lettuce’s turn. Jacques went back to his work and left the boys to puzzle over the
-question whether or not there was any truth in this story of the woodpecker’s fear
-lest it might bore through the tree trunk with each peck of its beak. They brought
-the matter up that evening in their talk with their uncle.
-</p>
-<p>“There is both truth and falsehood in what my good Jacques told you,” he said. “The
-true is what he saw with his own eyes, the false what he repeats from hearsay among
-the country folk. He told you correctly about the woodpecker’s different cries, which
-he knows so well from having heard them over and over again; and he was right about
-the bird’s way of running around to the other side of the trunk that it has just struck
-several times with its beak. All the rest is false, or, rather, an amusing legend
-with a basis of fact which we will now examine.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb172">[<a href="#pb172">172</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Woodpeckers live solely on insects and larvæ, especially those species of insects
-and larvæ that are found in wood. The large grubs of capricorn-beetles, stag-beetles,
-long-horn beetles, and others are their favorite dish. To get at them they have to
-clear away the dead bark and bore into the worm-eaten wood beneath. The instrument
-used in this rough work is the bird’s beak, which is straight and wedge-shaped, square
-at the base, fluted lengthwise, and shaped at the point like a carpenter’s chisel.
-It is so hard and durable that, in order to account for a tool of such perfection,
-some simple-minded wood-cutter made up the story that has been repeated ever since,
-the childish story of the ironweed. Need I tell you that there is nothing in the world
-that by its mere touch can give to objects the hardness of iron or steel?”
-</p>
-<p>“I had my doubts,” Jules declared, “when Jacques was telling us about it; I couldn’t
-believe in his wonderful weed.”
-</p>
-<p>“The woodpecker has no need to rub its beak against anything to give it the hardness
-necessary for the work to be done; it is born with a good strong beak, to begin with,
-and keeps it to the end, and that beak never has to be retempered. It is the continuation
-of a very thick skull which can withstand rather violent shocks, and it is operated
-by a short, strong neck which can keep up its hammering without fatigue even should
-the bird wish to bore into the very heart of a tree trunk. After it has drilled its
-hole the woodpecker darts into it an exceedingly <span class="pageNum" id="pb173">[<a href="#pb173">173</a>]</span>long tongue, worm-shaped and viscous—that is, coated with a sort of mucilage made
-by the saliva—and armed with a hard barbed point with which it transfixes the larvæ
-that have been uncovered.
-</p>
-<p>“To climb the trunk of the tree to be operated upon and, for hours at a time if need
-be, to stay there where larvæ seem to be lurking, the woodpecker has short, muscular
-legs which end in stout claws, each foot having four talons or toes, two pointing
-forward and two backward, armed with curved nails of great strength. The bird’s way
-of standing on the vertical surface of a tree trunk is made possible not only by the
-division of its talons as I have described them, with their strong nails clinging
-to rough bark, but also by a third support furnished by the tail. The large tail feathers
-are stiff, slightly bent downward, worn at the tip, and supplied with rough barbs.
-When the woodpecker starts in on what promises to be a long job, it plants itself
-firmly on the tripod of its tail and two feet and holds itself steady even in positions
-that would seem to be highly uncomfortable. Without fatigue and without pause it can
-strip an entire tree trunk of its dried-up bark.
-</p>
-<p>“The objects of its persevering search are the insects hidden under this bark. It
-can tell by the sound made when it strikes the tree with its beak whether or not the
-wood is decayed and full of insects, a hollow sound being of good omen to the bird.
-If the wood does not give out this hollow sound, the woodpecker <span class="pageNum" id="pb174">[<a href="#pb174">174</a>]</span>knows that further drilling at that point would be but so much labor wasted. In the
-first case it strips off the bark, makes the wood beneath fly this way and that in
-a shower of little chips, clears off the worm-hole dust, and finally reaches the plump
-grub in its snug retreat. In the second case it strikes two or three well-directed
-blows to start the dry bark and frighten any insects that may be lurking underneath.
-Immediately this insect population runs in alarm, some to the right, others to the
-left, toward the opposite side of the tree trunk; but the woodpecker, knowing well
-enough what is going on, reaches the other side in time to nab the fugitives.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p174width"><img src="images/p174.png" alt="Three-toed Woodpecker of Java" width="224" height="334"><p class="figureHead">Three-toed Woodpecker of Java</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Now,” said Jules, “I understand what Jacques was saying. The woodpecker doesn’t run
-around the tree to see whether or not it has bored through to the other side, but
-to gobble up the insects that are trying to get away. I thought the woodpecker must
-be very silly to think it could drill right through the trunk of a tree with one peck
-of its beak; but now that I know the real reason of what it does, I see that it’s
-a wonderfully clever bird.”
-</p>
-<p>“I assure you once more that animals have more intelligence than they are given credit
-for. Let us <span class="pageNum" id="pb175">[<a href="#pb175">175</a>]</span>beware of seeing an evil meaning in habits and aptitudes that we do not understand.
-Is it not said of the buzzard that it is a stupid bird, just because it shows such
-patience in watching and waiting, perfectly motionless, for the field-mouse it suspects
-to be lurking under the ground? And here we have the woodpecker accused of being so
-foolish as to think it can pierce a tree trunk with one blow of its beak, merely because
-it runs around to capture the insects fleeing to the other side! Bear this in mind:
-there is in animals no foolishness except what we ascribe to them from our own point
-of view. Whenever we are able to discover the real motive, we always find their actions
-perfectly logical. And that is only what might have been expected, for an animal has
-no choice in its acts, but is made to perform them according to its mode of life as
-determined from the beginning by Divine Wisdom. Man alone is free: by a sublime privilege
-he is left to choose between good and evil, between sound reason and blind passion.
-He seeks and chooses, at his own risk and peril, the true or the false, the just or
-the unjust, the beautiful or the ugly. But animals, having no spiritual battles to
-fight as we have, are now what they have always been and always will be; they do to-day
-what they did yesterday and will do to-morrow; for centuries and centuries they go
-on doing the same thing without improvement or deterioration, and with an unfailing
-sense given them by God.
-</p>
-<p>“Woodpeckers spend their lives running around <span class="pageNum" id="pb176">[<a href="#pb176">176</a>]</span>tree trunks from top to bottom in order to start the old bark that shelters insects,
-and exploring all fissures with their long, pointed tongue, which is pushed down into
-every hole where worms may possibly be hiding. These birds are placed in our forests
-as keepers. They inspect sickly trees in particular, trees honeycombed by vermin,
-and they examine carefully the diseased parts. Occasionally they may chance to attack
-a healthy part, especially in making their nests, and they may thus injure the tree
-by drilling into the live wood. But this damage is more than atoned for in the long
-run, and so I do not hesitate to bestow upon our woodpeckers the title of forest-preservers,
-a title earned by their assiduous warfare on insects injurious to wood. Seldom do
-they leave their timber-yard—the trunk and the main branches of the tree—and descend
-to the ground, except when they chance to find an ant-hill, the inmates of which they
-devour with delight. They place their nests at a considerable height from the ground,
-deep down in a round hole bored with the beak in the heart of some tree trunk. The
-bedding consists of moss and wool, and the eggs, four to six in number, are in every
-instance white, smooth, and as lustrous as ivory.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb177">[<a href="#pb177">177</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch23" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e396">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">MORE ABOUT WOODPECKERS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“The commonest of our woodpeckers is the green woodpecker, which is about as large
-as a turtle-dove. Its plumage has a richness rarely seen in that of any of our other
-birds. The top of the head and the nape of the neck are of a magnificent crimson;
-two mustaches of the same hue adorn the bird’s face; the back is green, the breast
-and stomach yellowish white, the rump yellow, and the large wing-feathers black with
-regular marks of white on the edge. The female has less brilliant coloring than the
-male and its mustaches are black instead of red.
-</p>
-<p>“It is the green woodpecker that you heard in the grove this morning, giving its cry
-of <i>teo, teo, teo</i>. I will not go over what Jacques has already told you about its different cries.
-The green woodpecker is passionately fond of ants, and when it discovers an ant-hill
-it posts itself near by and stretches its long viscous tongue across the path the
-ants follow. You know these little creatures’ way of marching in long files, one or
-more, following the exact path taken by the leaders. The woodpecker’s viscous tongue
-is extended across this line of march. The ants from behind come up, hesitate a moment
-before the barricade, <span class="pageNum" id="pb178">[<a href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>and then venture upon the tongue, in order to follow their friends marching on ahead
-as if nothing had happened. Immediately we have one ant caught, then four, then ten,
-all struggling in the sticky mucilage covering the tongue. The woodpecker does not
-move, but remains quiet until its tongue is quite covered. Nor has it long to wait.
-Soon the living trap, laden with game, is withdrawn into the beak. Ah, that was a
-luscious mouthful! Without leaving the spot the ant-eater repeats this performance
-again and again, laying its tongue on the ground and then drawing it in black with
-ants, until its hunger is satisfied.”
-</p>
-<p>“Animals know more than one would think, as you said a while ago,” Emile remarked.
-“That trick of the woodpecker’s shows it plainly enough. Instead of picking the ants
-up one by one, which would be very slow work with such small game, the woodpecker
-takes them dozens at a time. It lays its tongue across their path on the ground, draws
-it in again when it is all plastered over with ants, and the thing is done. And the
-mouthful is well worth the trouble. Who would have thought of making a trap of one’s
-tongue, a trap that catches game with glue?”
-</p>
-<p>“But its passion for ants,” resumed Uncle Paul, “does not make the woodpecker neglect
-its duty as keeper of forests. It goes climbing up tree trunks, tapping the sickly
-parts, and pecking away with blows that at a distance sound like hammer strokes. If
-a passer-by interrupts it at its work it does not <span class="pageNum" id="pb179">[<a href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>immediately fly away, but runs around the trunk like a squirrel, and from the other
-side sticks out its head a little to see who or what is coming. If the intruder advances,
-the woodpecker goes on around the tree, always keeping on the opposite side until
-it becomes frightened, when it flies off, making the woods ring with its sonorous
-<i>tiackackan, tiackackan</i>. It flies with swift darts and bounds, swooping down, then rising, describing a series
-of undulating arches in the air.
-</p>
-<p>“For its nest it bores out a deep hole in soft-wood trees such as firs and poplars.
-Male and female work with lusty blows of the beak, taking turns at the hardest part
-of the task, the piercing of the live wood of the trunk, until the worm-eaten center
-is reached. Chips, wood-dust, and decayed fragments are dug out with the feet, and
-at last the hole is deep enough and slanting enough to exclude the light of day. The
-young ones leave the nest before they can fly, and they may be seen exercising near
-it, learning to climb, to run around the trunk of their tree, and to cling to it upside
-down. You will be amused to watch them if you ever have the good fortune to be present
-at the frolics of a young family of woodpeckers.
-</p>
-<p>“The great spotted woodpecker is about as large as a thrush. It has a wide red stripe
-across the nape of the neck, the upper part of the body is prettily spotted with pure
-white and deep black, and the under part is white as far as the abdomen, which is
-red, as is also the rump. The female has no <span class="pageNum" id="pb180">[<a href="#pb180">180</a>]</span>red on the nape of the neck. The food of this bird is the same as the green woodpecker’s.
-It strikes the tree with quicker, smarter blows, and if disturbed in its work it remains
-motionless in the shelter of a large branch with its green eyes fixed on the object
-of its distrust. Its cry is a kind of hoarse, grinding <i>trer-rer-rer-rer</i>.
-</p>
-<p>“The variegated woodpecker much resembles the great spotted woodpecker in plumage,
-but is a little smaller. It is adorned with a red cap which covers the whole of the
-upper part and the back of the head, while the great spotted woodpecker has only a
-stripe of this color on the nape of the neck. Both these birds are found in the large
-wooded districts of France, and they live on the same diet,—insects, wood-boring larvæ,
-and ants. Also, because of their velvet costume of black and white and their scarlet
-cap, they are both to be ranked among the prettiest birds we have.
-</p>
-<p>“Let us add to them the little spotted woodpecker. It is smaller than a sparrow, and
-its dress is that of the great spotted woodpecker. This bird is found almost exclusively
-in the fir forests of the East and of the Pyrenees.
-</p>
-<p>“The wryneck is closely akin to the woodpeckers in the structure of its feet, whose
-four toes or talons are divided into two pairs, one pointing forward and the other
-backward, and in its very long and viscous tongue which it pushes into ant-hills or
-stretches out on the ground to receive the insects as they pass. It is a small bird,
-being no larger <span class="pageNum" id="pb181">[<a href="#pb181">181</a>]</span>than a lark. Its plumage is watered with black, brown, gray, and russet, somewhat
-like the woodcock’s, but with tints better defined and more beautiful in their combined
-effect. The wryneck is a great eater of caterpillars, and it is also passionately
-fond of ants, which it catches as does the woodpecker, with its sticky tongue laid
-on the ground across their path. Its name comes from the habit it has of twisting
-its neck and looking backward with a sort of slow and undulating movement like a snake’s.”
-</p>
-<p>“Why does it imitate a snake like that?” Emile inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“It is its way of expressing surprise and alarm; and perhaps it also hopes to frighten
-its foe with the motions. At any rate, it is sometimes successful. If a birdnest-hunter
-climbs up to its hole to steal its little ones, the wryneck emits, from the depths
-of its retreat, a sharp hissing and begins to make snake-like movements with its neck.
-The young birds, still featherless, imitate their mother to the best of their ability,
-and succeed so well that the hunter thinks he has thrust his hand into a nest of writhing
-and twisting flat-headed vipers. Thoroughly frightened, the boy clambers down, not
-without leaving some shreds of his breeches on the way.”
-</p>
-<p>“Serves the rascal right, too,” declared Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“The wryneck reaches us in April and leaves toward the end of summer. It haunts the
-outskirts of woods and visits gardens and orchards for caterpillars. It nests in a
-hole in a tree trunk and gladly avails itself of the woodpecker’s abandoned quarters
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb182">[<a href="#pb182">182</a>]</span>after furbishing them up a little to suit itself. The eggs, which are white and polished
-like the woodpecker’s, rest on a simple little bed of wood-dust that the bird dislodges
-from the walls of its hole with a few blows of its beak.
-</p>
-<p>“Despite the structure of its feet, the wryneck does not climb tree trunks and rarely
-even perches on them, preferring to stay on the ground and hunt caterpillars or stretch
-out its tongue in the ants’ path, which has given it, in the South, the name of stretch-tongue.
-</p>
-<p>“The nuthatch, on the contrary, though differing from the woodpecker in the formation
-of its claws, is a first-rate climber and spends its life running about on the trunks
-of trees, inspecting every crack and cranny for insects and pecking at the old bark.
-Three of its talons point forward, the fourth alone being turned in the opposite direction;
-but for firmness of support the last is worth two of the others, so thick and powerful
-is it, and the nail at the end so strong and hooked. The beak resembles the woodpecker’s,
-being straight, fluted lengthwise, and sharply pointed. It is an excellent tool for
-digging into wood and getting out the worms. The tongue cannot be projected like the
-woodpecker’s to catch insects with its glue, nor does the tail serve as a support.
-</p>
-<p>“The nuthatch examines old trees with painstaking care, going up and down the trunk
-repeatedly, or around it in a spiral, and sometimes visiting a branch above or below
-or on one side. Every crack <span class="pageNum" id="pb183">[<a href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>is explored with the point of the beak, to the accompaniment of the bird’s resonant
-cry, <i>tuee, tuee, tuee</i>, repeated again and again in a penetrating tone. Very few insects can escape so careful
-a search. If grubs are lacking, the nuthatch makes a frugal meal of a hazelnut. First
-it fixes the nut firmly in the fork made by two branches, and then it hammers away
-at it, encouraging itself the while by uttering its cry, until the hard shell is pierced
-and the kernel exposed.”
-</p>
-<p>“It must take the bird a long time to crack a hazelnut with its beak,” was the opinion
-of Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“No, it is done very quickly, the beak is so hard and pointed. Very quickly, too,
-a caged nuthatch will break through the woodwork of its prison and make an opening
-large enough to escape through. Not even the woodpecker has a better carpenter’s chisel.
-</p>
-<p>“The nuthatch is about as large as a sparrow. All the upper part of its plumage is
-of a bluish ash color, the throat and cheeks are white, and the breast and stomach
-red. A black stripe, starting from the corner of the beak, passes over the eye and
-down the side of the neck. This bird nests in a hole in a tree trunk and it knows
-how, if need be, to make the opening of the nest smaller with a little moistened clay.
-Its eggs, from five to seven in number, are laid on moss or wood-dust and are of a
-dingy white dotted with red. It gets its name of nuthatch (which means nuthacker)
-from its way of hacking the nuts it is so fond of.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb184">[<a href="#pb184">184</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch24" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e406">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">CLIMBERS—THE HOOPOE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“I have been telling you about woodpeckers and the nuthatch, insect-eaters with chisel-shaped
-beaks for cutting into trees and getting out the worms hidden in the wood. Then I
-spoke of the wryneck, which does not use its beak for hacking old tree trunks, but
-can, like the woodpecker, stick out its tongue on the ants’ path and catch the insects
-with the glue of its saliva. Now we come to some more insect-eaters, but their work
-is less laborious than that of the woodpecker. They do not hack and hew tree trunks,
-but merely seek their prey in the cracks and crannies that serve as its refuge. For
-this kind of hunting they have a long and slender beak that curves slightly downward.
-</p>
-<p>“As their name implies, climbers show great agility in climbing. Their beak is very
-narrow, the better to penetrate the cracks in the bark of trees, and it is bent like
-an arch and has a fine point. Their feet have three talons pointing forward and one,
-much stronger, pointing backward. We have in France two climbers, one of which is
-furnished with a tail composed of a few long, stiff feathers that serve as a support
-to the bird in climbing, as <span class="pageNum" id="pb185">[<a href="#pb185">185</a>]</span>the woodpecker’s tail serves that bird, while the other is not thus equipped.
-</p>
-<p>“The so-called common climber is a tiny bird with whitish plumage spotted with brown
-above and tinged with red on the rump and tail. Its life is a most laborious one.
-It frequents woods, orchards, and the trees of our public promenades, where you may
-see it always busily engaged in examining every square inch of the surface of tree
-trunks in order to thrust its slender beak into the cracks of the bark and catch any
-lurking gnats, bugs, caterpillars, or cocoons. It runs down the trunk as fast as it
-runs up, which woodpeckers cannot do, their progress always being upward, either in
-a straight line or spirally. It ascends in little leaps and bounds, and helps itself
-along by propping its tail against the tree. Arrived at the top of the trunk, it descends
-quickly and begins the same operations on the next tree. At every step it cheers itself
-up with its sharp, flute-like cry. At nightfall it retires into some hole in a tree
-trunk. There, too, it makes its nest, which is formed of fine grasses and bits of
-moss held together by threads from spiders’ webs. Its eggs, from five to seven in
-number, are pure white with red spots.
-</p>
-<p>“The wall-climber, or scaler, makes its way up the perpendicular faces of rocks, ramparts,
-and old walls, prying out all the various insects and their eggs that may be lurking
-in the fissures. With its large claws it clings to these vertical surfaces and does
-not use its tail as a support. This bird, which <span class="pageNum" id="pb186">[<a href="#pb186">186</a>]</span>is of about the size of a lark, has unusually beautiful plumage of a light ash color,
-with touches of bright red, black, and pure white on the wings. The throat is black,
-and so is the tail, the latter being edged with white at the tip. The richness of
-its coloring and the habit it has of remaining stationary in its flight before the
-rock or other surface it is exploring, just as butterflies hold themselves motionless
-on their wings while they suck the honey of flowers with their trumpet, have given
-it the expressive name of butterfly of the rocks. It inhabits the Alps, the Pyrenees,
-and the Jura Mountains. In winter it visits old buildings in our towns.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p186width"><img src="images/p186.png" alt="Hoopoe" width="287" height="315"><p class="figureHead">Hoopoe</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The hoopoe is especially remarkable for its double row of long red feathers edged
-with black and white, which, at the bird’s pleasure, are made to lie down toward the
-back or stand upright on the head and spread out as a handsome crest. The rest of
-the plumage is wine-colored, except the tail and wings, which are black. The wings
-are also ornamented with white stripes running across them.
-</p>
-<p>“In size this bird is about as large as a turtle-dove. It lives alone and prefers
-to remain on the <span class="pageNum" id="pb187">[<a href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>ground usually, rarely perching unless on the lower branches of trees. Its favorite
-haunts are moist fields, which it walks over at a sedate pace, every now and then
-erecting its beautiful crest either from satisfaction at having found a savory mouthful
-or because of being startled by something, for it is a very timid bird. With its long
-beak it digs in the ground for grubs, beetles, and crickets; or it gathers ants on
-its viscous tongue. When it has had enough it withdraws to some low branch and there
-digests its food at leisure. At the mating season it says, <i>poo, poo</i>, whence without doubt comes its familiar nickname of poo-poo.
-</p>
-<p>“Elegant though it is in appearance, the hoopoe is not at all particular about the
-condition of its nest, which it makes in the interior of a worm-eaten tree trunk.
-It lines the hole with a mortar composed of clay and cows’ dung, whereon it places
-a little bed of dry leaves and moss. This nest, so deep and so hard to keep clean,
-ought to be cleared out daily, but the parent bird does nothing about it, leaving
-the filth to accumulate until it forms a rampart all around the nest. This barricade
-may serve as an excellent defense against the birdnest-hunter, who would naturally
-hesitate to thrust his hand into the foul mess; and so I will not censure the bird
-too severely for its poor housekeeping.
-</p>
-<p>“The hoopoe is with us only in summer. Toward the first of September it crosses the
-Mediterranean to pass the winter under the warmer skies of Africa.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb188">[<a href="#pb188">188</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch25" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e417">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE CUCKOO</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">In an old pear-tree with dense foliage, at the foot of the garden, a black-headed
-warbler had built its nest. Day by day Jules had watched the bird as it brought blades
-of dry grass, one by one, and wove them into the shape of a cup, after which it furnished
-the interior with a hair mattress. Then came the eggs, to the number of five, light
-chestnut in color, marbled with darker streaks. Parting the branches very gently in
-the mother’s absence, and standing on tiptoe, Jules had peeped into the nest, but
-of course without touching anything; he had merely cast a rapid glance at the pretty
-cluster of five eggs lying together at the bottom. The laying was over, his uncle
-told him; now would begin the incubation, and in a few days five little creatures,
-blind and featherless, would at the slightest rustling of the foliage stretch their
-yellow beaks wide open in mute appeal for food. Already Jules was looking forward
-to the good time he would have in watching, from a distance, the bringing up of the
-brood, and was planning how, when the little birds should have grown a trifle larger,
-he would put some small caterpillars and worms on the end of a stick and drop them
-into the nest for the young ones to <span class="pageNum" id="pb189">[<a href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>eat. Then before long the new-fledged warblers would leave the nest and the garden
-would have five more caterpillar-destroyers repaying with their services and joyful
-songs the kind-hearted attentions of their boy friend.
-</p>
-<p>That was what Jules was eagerly looking forward to yesterday, but to-day he returns
-from his visit to the nest with a troubled look on his face. A strange thing has happened:
-with the warbler’s five eggs there is a sixth one, a little larger and of a different
-color. Whence comes this strange egg? Who put it in the nest, and why?
-</p>
-<p>Uncle Paul, on being consulted, went to the nest and came back with the egg.
-</p>
-<p>“Your warbler’s nest, my dear child,” he said, “has had a fortunate escape; but for
-your visit this morning the young birds would have been lost almost as soon as they
-were hatched. This egg that I have brought back is a cuckoo’s egg.”
-</p>
-<p>“But I don’t see how it came to be in the warbler’s nest or what danger it threatened
-to the young birds that are coming.”
-</p>
-<p>“You will see when I tell you the cuckoo’s habits. It is a curious story. The cuckoo
-is the bird that in early spring, when the meadows are sprinkled with violets and
-the trees are just putting forth their leaves, keeps repeating its cry of <i>cuckoo, cuckoo</i>, in a clear and plaintive tone.”
-</p>
-<p>“I have often heard it,” said Jules, “singing on the edges of woods, but have never
-been able to get a good look at it.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb190">[<a href="#pb190">190</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“I have seen it flying away,” Emile put in, “and it seemed to me pretty large.”
-</p>
-<p>“The cuckoo is at least as large as a turtle-dove,” their uncle continued. “Its plumage
-is ashy gray on the back and white underneath, with numerous brown crosswise stripes
-resembling those seen on many birds of prey. The wings are long, as is also the tail,
-which is spotted and tipped with white. Despite its likeness to the goshawk and sparrow-hawk,
-the cuckoo is not to be classed as a bird of prey. Its talons lack the necessary strength,
-and its beak, which is rather long, is flattened and only slightly curved. Those are
-neither the hooked claws nor the savage beak of a bird living the life of a murderer.
-The cuckoo’s food consists entirely of insects and caterpillars. You remember the
-processionaries of the oak tree, those frightful black caterpillars that spin large
-silken nests against the trunk of a tree and bristle with barbed hairs that cause
-such terrible itching if you touch them?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes,” answered Jules; “and you told us that the cuckoo eats those caterpillars.”
-</p>
-<p>“It feasts on them, as it does on all hairy caterpillars; but the hairs are rolled
-up into a ball in the stomach and thrown up through the beak. As a greedy devourer
-of insects and caterpillars the cuckoo deserves protection; the only regret is that
-a multitude of little birds most useful to us should be destroyed by it. Let us consider
-the facts of the case.
-</p>
-<p>“The female cuckoo never builds a nest, nor does <span class="pageNum" id="pb191">[<a href="#pb191">191</a>]</span>she know how to hatch out her own young; but let us plead the best excuse we can for
-her. Her breast seems to be so formed as not to impart enough warmth to eggs to make
-them hatch; and, more than that, she lays so often throughout the summer as to leave
-her no time for making a home of her own. In short, this bird never knows the joy
-of taking care of her young. It is not because she will not hatch her own eggs, but
-because she cannot. She has to leave this work to other birds.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then the cuckoo’s egg I found in the garden nest was left there for the warbler to
-take care of?” Jules inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“Precisely. Now see by what wonderful planning the strange egg comes to be adopted
-by another mother. Bear in mind that the cuckoo lives exclusively on insects. The
-young cuckoo must have caterpillars. Where will food of this sort be found if not
-in the nests of birds that feed on insects, as for instance warblers, redbreasts,
-tomtits, nightingales, stonechats, wagtails, and others? It is to just these nests
-that the cuckoo goes. Sometimes it may chance to lay its eggs in the nests of birds
-that live on seeds, such as linnets, bullfinches, greenfinches, or yellow-hammers;
-but even then the choice is wise; for if the foster-parents are eaters of seeds they
-bring up their young on worms, which are easier to digest, and so the little cuckoo
-finds in these nests food suited to its needs. But the cuckoo’s eggs are never laid
-in the nests of quails, partridges, or other species whose young are granivorous <span class="pageNum" id="pb192">[<a href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>from the beginning. In a brood whose habitual diet was not theirs the changelings
-would surely die of hunger.”
-</p>
-<p>“But how,” asked Jules, “does the cuckoo know what nests to choose and what ones not
-to choose, when it lays its eggs?”
-</p>
-<p>“If it knew why it laid its eggs where it does, I should have to admit that the cuckoo’s
-sagacity surpassed man’s; but it does not know at all the reason for its choice. A
-wise Providence has arranged everything for the bird. The egg—which, judged by the
-cuckoo’s size, should be as large as a pigeon’s or a turtle-dove’s—is hardly as big
-as a sparrow’s, so that it can easily find a place in the warbler’s or even the wren’s
-tiny nest without arousing the adoptive mother’s suspicions. Moreover, this egg is
-variable in its color, as if the better to harmonize with the coloring of those with
-which it will be incubated, whether in this or that or the other nest. Sometimes the
-cuckoo’s egg is ash-colored, at other times red, green, or pale blue. It may closely
-resemble the sparrow’s eggs, or it may be mottled with spots of smaller or larger
-size, in lesser or greater numbers; or, again, it may be marbled with black streaks.
-But, despite these variations, it is always easy to see the difference between the
-cuckoo’s egg and the others in a nest. If one of the eggs is found to differ from
-the others in shape and color, that one certainly came from the cuckoo. By that sign
-alone I recognized the egg we have here from the warbler’s nest.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb193">[<a href="#pb193">193</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“The other five,” Jules declared, “are as like one another as so many drops of water;
-but the sixth, which you have there, is very different.”
-</p>
-<p>“And that is why I am sure it belongs to the cuckoo,” replied his uncle.
-</p>
-<p>“The cuckoo seems to me,” said Louis, “very large to be able to get into such a small
-nest as the warbler’s, the redbreast’s, or the nightingale’s, so as to lay its egg
-there.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is not what the bird does. The egg is laid on the ground, anywhere; then the
-mother takes it up in her beak, puts it in a sort of pocket at the base of her gullet—a
-pocket provided for that purpose—and flies through the neighboring thickets on the
-lookout for a place for its final reception. When she finds a nest to suit her she
-stretches her neck over the edge, opens her beak, and lets the egg gently drop among
-the others. That done, the cuckoo flies away and never returns to learn the result.
-Other eggs are placed in the same way, here and there, one by one, in different nests.”
-</p>
-<p>“And do the owners of the nests make no objections?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“If they are at home they receive the cuckoo with angry pecks and chase her away;
-but she usually succeeds in choosing the right moment and approaches the nest by stealth
-when the owners are absent.”
-</p>
-<p>“But when they come back they must see at least that there is a strange egg in the
-nest and throw it out.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb194">[<a href="#pb194">194</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Not at all. Whether or not the mother bird perceives that there is an egg too many,
-I could not say. But at any rate, as there must be cuckoos in the world, things are
-so arranged that their species shall not become extinct, and all the eggs in the nest
-are watched over and hatched with impartial care, until the last young bird is out.
-At first all goes well enough: the young ones need but little food, and for one more
-the parents can easily find enough worms. All are fed alike, with no more for the
-children of the house than for the stranger.
-</p>
-<p>“But pretty soon the young cuckoo is found to be growing faster than the others; it
-will soon need for itself alone all the food that its foster-parents can possibly
-secure with the utmost industry; it is always opening its wide beak, always complaining
-of hunger. Moreover, it is cramped for room in the little house of hair and wool.
-Its featherless body, squatting there flat and red, its large head, its bottomless
-abyss of a beak, its big, bulging eyes, all give it the appearance of a toad sitting
-at the bottom of the nest. There is no longer room in the house for all its inmates,
-nor yet enough food to live on. Then a dreadful deed is done. The young cuckoo slips
-under one of the little birds, takes it on its back, which is hollowed as if for the
-purpose, and holds it there by slightly raising its wings. Dragging itself backward
-to the raised rim of the nest, it rests a moment, and then throws the burden over.”
-</p>
-<p>“The horrid creature throws out of the nest the <span class="pageNum" id="pb195">[<a href="#pb195">195</a>]</span>little one of the bird that feeds it?” exclaimed Emile incredulously.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, in cold blood, so as to have more room for itself. With the tips of its wings
-it feels around for a moment to make sure the little bird is gone, and then returns
-to the bottom of the nest to go through the same process with another. And so they
-all go, one after another, to the very last; all are thrown out of the nest.”
-</p>
-<p>“I’d like to be there to catch him at it—the scoundrel!” was Emile’s comment.
-</p>
-<p>“What becomes of the poor little things pushed out of their own home by the ungrateful
-young cuckoo? If the nest is high above the ground all perish, crushed by their fall,
-and the ants immediately begin to suck their blood. If it is low, some live and take
-refuge in the moss, where the mother comes to console them and bring them something
-to eat. The cuckoo remains in sole possession of the nest.”
-</p>
-<p>“And the horrid toad will starve to death there,” said Jules. “The father and mother,
-now that their brood is destroyed, won’t bring it anything more to eat.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is where you are mistaken. They continue to feed it liberally, as if nothing
-had happened; they perform wonders to satisfy its big appetite; they do not allow
-themselves a minute’s rest in their efforts to fill that beak that is always open
-and is wide enough to swallow the nurses themselves.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb196">[<a href="#pb196">196</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Then the warbler isn’t afraid of her greedy nursling that might gobble her up any
-moment?” queried Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Although she is its mother only by chance, she is devoted to it. She comes joyfully
-with a caterpillar at the end of her beak while the cuckoo gapes at the edge of the
-nest, as ugly as a little monster. With no tremor of fear the warbler delivers the
-mouthful by putting her head into the yawning gulf. The gulf closes, swallows, and
-yawns again, demanding something more, and all haste is made to satisfy its needs.”
-</p>
-<p>“Kind warbler!” murmured Jules. “What self-denial in order to bring up the ugly rascal
-that has ravaged her nest!”
-</p>
-<p>“So it has to be,” Uncle Paul rejoined, “or we should long ago have been left with
-no cuckoos in the world to help us get rid of the processionary caterpillars of the
-oak-tree.”
-</p>
-<p>“All the same, I don’t like that bird.” And with this Jules took up the cuckoo’s egg
-he had found in the garden nest. “May I?” said he to his uncle, with a gesture.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, I have no objection,” answered Uncle Paul, who preferred five warblers in his
-garden to one vagabond cuckoo. And <i>smack</i> went the egg as the boy dashed it to the ground.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb197">[<a href="#pb197">197</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch26" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e427">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">SHRIKES</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“All sorts of absurd stories have been made up about the cuckoo and its curious habits,
-and thus fable has added to the actual facts, which are in themselves strange enough.
-Even to-day there are in circulation any number of fairy tales on the subject of this
-bird. I will tell you a few of them in order to put you on your guard against these
-childish notions.
-</p>
-<p>“First, they say cuckoos change their nature twice a year, being cuckoos in the spring
-and sparrow-hawks the rest of the year. According to this account, the bird comes
-to us from some distant country in April in its first form on the back of a kite that
-is so accommodating as to serve it as a mount. This mode of travel is adopted by the
-cuckoo to spare its own wings, still too weak to carry it. Undoubtedly the bird’s
-plumage—which, as I have told you, resembles in its brown crosswise stripes on the
-breast the plumage of certain birds of prey—has fostered this popular belief in the
-changing of the cuckoo into a sparrow-hawk and of the sparrow-hawk into a cuckoo.
-People have allowed themselves to be deceived by this variegated dress. When the bird
-sings in April and May it is a cuckoo <span class="pageNum" id="pb198">[<a href="#pb198">198</a>]</span>because it has the cuckoo’s cry; but when it falls silent in summer it becomes a sparrow-hawk
-because it has the plumage of one. So the cuckoo is changed into a sparrow-hawk, and
-when spring comes again the sparrow-hawk is changed into a cuckoo once more. For thousands
-and thousands of years this nonsense has been believed by most people.
-</p>
-<p>“The cuckoo is a migratory bird: it remains with us from April to September, but departs
-for Africa at the approach of winter. To explain its reappearance in the spring some
-one invented the story of its being carried on the back of a kite; but I need not
-assure you that there is not a word of truth in this fairy tale. The cuckoo is always
-a cuckoo, and it returns from warmer climes on its own wings, as does the swallow.
-Another legend is that the cuckoo turns into a toad.”
-</p>
-<p>“Isn’t that because the cuckoo, when it is young and before it has any feathers, is
-very ugly and looks like a toad?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Exactly. And, finally, the bird is accused of discharging on plants a fatal saliva
-that breeds insects. The truth of the matter is that a tiny insect, light green and
-shaped somewhat like a grasshopper, is in the habit of pricking the stems of plants
-with its sucker to make the sap run; and this sap presents the appearance of a white
-foam that looks like saliva. The insect takes its position in the midst of this cool
-and foamy froth to shelter itself from the heat of the sun and to drink at its leisure.
-There you have the real facts in the case. <span class="pageNum" id="pb199">[<a href="#pb199">199</a>]</span>‘Cuckoo-spit’ is the name popularly given to the insect. It does little harm to plants.
-In reality, then, the supposed harmful saliva of the cuckoo is merely an ingenious
-means employed by an inoffensive little creature to keep itself cool. Many other ridiculous
-stories are told about the cuckoo, but it would be only a waste of time to dwell on
-them. Let us get on.
-</p>
-<p>“We have already had occasion several times to speak of our doubtful helpers, those
-co-workers whose valuable services are offset by certain grave offenses. You have
-just seen how that devourer of hairy caterpillars, the cuckoo, is guilty of the blackest
-ingratitude toward the warbler, its nurse, in brutally throwing out of their nest
-the little birds which would have become model caterpillar-destroyers. That is a rather
-high price to pay for the destruction of oak-tree processionary caterpillars. To finish
-the list of these birds whose conduct deserves, from an agricultural point of view,
-both praise and blame, I will tell you about the shrike, a great insect-destroyer,
-but also a barbarous slaughterer of small birds.
-</p>
-<p>“Despite their diminutive size—the largest shrike being hardly as big as a thrush—these
-birds have the fierce boldness of the most powerful birds of prey. They will even
-pursue any falcon that ventures near their nest. Their diet consists chiefly of large
-insects; but unfortunately they also pounce on little birds, greedily devouring their
-brains and afterward tearing their flesh to shreds and eating it too. <span class="pageNum" id="pb200">[<a href="#pb200">200</a>]</span>For this life of rapine they have a strong hooked beak, toothed toward the tip of
-the upper mandible, and powerful talons ending in sharp nails that resemble in miniature
-the claws of birds of prey. We have in this country four species of shrikes.
-</p>
-<p>“The common shrike is of the size of a blackbird, and its plumage is ashy gray above
-and white underneath. A wide black stripe, starting from the beak, continues around
-the eye and runs down over the cheek. The wings and tail are black, ornamented with
-white. The bird likes to perch on lofty tree-tops, where it keeps repeating its cry
-of <i>truee, truee</i>, in a piercing tone. In flying from tree to tree it looks as if it were going to
-alight on the ground; but presently it rises again, describing a graceful curve in
-the air. Its food consists chiefly of field-mice and large beetles, but occasionally
-of small birds which it catches on the wing. It likes to build its nest in tangled
-and thorny hedges, and lays from four to six eggs, reddish in color and encircled
-toward the large end by a ring of brown spots. Similar rings are found placed in the
-same way on the eggs of our various other shrikes and furnish a distinctive and easily
-recognizable characteristic mark.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p200width"><img src="images/p200.png" alt="Shrike" width="221" height="245"><p class="figureHead">Shrike</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The black-headed shrike can be recognized, as its name indicates, by the wide black
-stripe that <span class="pageNum" id="pb201">[<a href="#pb201">201</a>]</span>encircles the forehead. This bird is of about the lark’s size and has the plumage
-of the common shrike except on the stomach, which is reddish. The eggs, white tinted
-with red, have the ring at the large end formed of numerous little spots, red, brown,
-or violet in color.
-</p>
-<p>“The red shrike is slightly smaller. The top of its head and the back of its neck
-are bright red, the stomach and rump white. Otherwise the plumage is like that of
-the two species just described.
-</p>
-<p>“The red-backed shrike is the smallest and the best-known of our shrikes. It is ash
-color on the head and rump, chestnut red on the back, and light red underneath. A
-black ring encircles the eye, the throat is white, and the large tail-feathers and
-wing-feathers are black.
-</p>
-<p>“These last three shrikes that I have named can at will imitate the various cries
-of small birds, and they make use of this talent, it is said, to lure them to their
-destruction. The red-backed shrike is especially expert in this. It first hides in
-some dense shrubbery and then imitates the song of whatever species it hears chirping
-in the neighborhood. The imprudent ones come at its call, which they think proceeds
-from one of their own kind, and the red-backed shrike pounces on them as soon as it
-has them well within reach. But this trick succeeds only with inexperienced little
-birds, the older ones knowing it and taking care not to be deceived. The captured
-bird is skinned before being eaten, and that is the origin of the French name (<i>écorcheur</i>, flayer) given <span class="pageNum" id="pb202">[<a href="#pb202">202</a>]</span>to this fourth species of shrike. The others, however, share this habit. As they lack
-the faculty of rolling the feathers into a ball and throwing them up after digestion,
-as do the hornless owls, these birds take the precaution to prepare the game beforehand
-by tearing off the skin in shreds. It is a quick way of plucking their victim. Notwithstanding
-its talent in imitating the calls of other birds, the red-backed shrike is not so
-lucky as to make dupes every day. In case of failure the shrike contents itself with
-common mice, field-mice, grasshoppers, June-bugs, and fat beetles. Such is the shrike’s
-passion for beetles that when it has eaten all it can it continues to hunt them just
-for the fun of hunting; and, not knowing what to do with the captured insects, it
-impales them on the thorns of bushes. Perhaps that is its way of stocking its larder
-with food and letting it acquire a strong flavor like venison, a flavor much to its
-taste.
-</p>
-<p>“The other shrikes also have this mania for laying up reserves of beetles stuck on
-thorns, reserves which the bird does not always come back for, and which often dry
-up on the spot without being touched. But this waste of game is of little consequence,
-as the final result is always to our advantage: we are delivered from a multitude
-of foes by these eager hunters. When they do us such service shall we count it an
-unpardonable crime that they sometimes allow themselves the pleasure of feasting on
-little birds? For my part I should be very reluctant to do so. I pity with all my
-heart the poor little <span class="pageNum" id="pb203">[<a href="#pb203">203</a>]</span>bird that foolishly lets itself be caught by the shrike; but I also have a lively
-sympathy for the beautiful tree which, if bereft of its defenders, would soon be given
-over to the worms and honeycombed with holes all packed with filth.
-</p>
-<p>“The red-backed shrike frequents groves, orchards, and gardens. It nests in thick
-hedges, sometimes in the interlacing branches of apple-trees. Its eggs are white tinged
-with red. The ring at the large end is composed of brown, gray, and greenish spots.
-In building its nest the bird uses a kind of everlasting that grows abundantly in
-the fields and has stems all covered with a white cotton-like fluff. The inside of
-the nest is furnished with a couch of little twigs and fine rootlets interwoven and
-comfortably overlaid with wool, down, and horsehair. The other shrikes use in their
-nests the same materials, especially the everlasting with its white fluff.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb204">[<a href="#pb204">204</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch27" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e437">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE TITMOUSE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“At last we come to some caterpillar-destroyers that are never anything but helpful.
-First of all there is the titmouse, also known as the tomtit.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p204width"><img src="images/p204.png" alt="Tufted Titmouse" width="261" height="239"><p class="figureHead">Tufted Titmouse</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“It is a graceful little bird, lively and quick-tempered, always on the go, flying
-continually from tree to tree, carefully inspecting the branches, hanging from the
-tip ends of the slenderest of them in all sorts of positions, often head downward,
-swaying this way and that with its flexible support and never letting go its hold,
-while it examines all buds that it suspects of containing worms, and tears these buds
-to pieces in order to get at the grubs and insect eggs they contain. It is calculated
-that a titmouse consumes three hundred thousand insect eggs a year, and certainly
-few birds have larger families to provide for! Twenty or more little ones all huddled
-together in the same nest are not too great a strain on the parent’s energy and industry.
-The mother bird has to examine buds and the fissures in <span class="pageNum" id="pb205">[<a href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>the bark of trees in order to find grubs, spiders, caterpillars, worms of every kind,
-and feed a score of beaks always open and demanding food in the bottom of the nest.
-She comes with a caterpillar, the brood is all excitement, twenty mouths fly open,
-but only one receives the morsel, leaving nineteen still expectant. Then away flies
-the titmouse again without an instant’s pause, to seek more food. Thus back and forth
-she flies, without rest and without weariness; and by the time the twentieth mouth
-is fed the first one is again open, and has been open a good while, clamoring for
-more.
-</p>
-<p>“I will leave you to guess how many worms are eaten in a day by such a household;
-and I will also let you reach your own conclusions regarding the value of these birds
-as caterpillar-hunters among our fruit-trees. Complaint is made, I know, that they
-tear open the buds and destroy them; but the harm they do is only apparent. When they
-pluck a bud it is to get out some tiny larva lodged between two scales, and not to
-harm the young leaves or flowers that are forming. It is better that this wormy bud
-should perish; it would not have produced anything, and the enemy lodged within it
-would have produced countless others to ravage the tree the next year.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then the titmouse does not feed on vegetable matter?” asked Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“No, except perhaps occasionally on a few seeds, such as those of hemp. The bird requires
-animal food; small insects of all kinds, their eggs and larvæ, <span class="pageNum" id="pb206">[<a href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>suit it best. Its appetite for prey is so keen that it has the courage to attack little,
-disabled birds or those caught in snares, pecking at their skulls and greedily devouring
-their brains. It is true that the titmouse is remarkably courageous despite its smallness
-of size; it is extremely quick and quarrelsome, and a regular little ogre in time
-of famine. Its beak is conical, strong, short, and pointed; and its claws end in hooked
-nails designed for seizing their victims, like the talons of birds of prey. With these
-the bird grasps its food and conveys it to its beak, like the parrot.
-</p>
-<p>“At the end of the brooding season the tomtits all assemble in companies of one or
-two families each and travel together by short stages. These companies appear to have
-a leader, probably the father or the mother, and every now and then they are called
-together from one tree to another, after which they separate again, only to reunite
-once more at the leader’s summons. Their flight is short and irregular: they scatter
-through the woods, gardens, fields, and orchards, inspecting trees and bushes on the
-way and picking up larvæ and insects.
-</p>
-<p>“The titmouse family is made up of many species. We have eight in our country, but
-I shall speak only of the principal ones.
-</p>
-<p>“The coal-tit is the largest, being of about the redbreast’s size. It is bluish gray
-on the back and yellow underneath. The head is of a beautiful glossy black, and a
-wide stripe of the same color runs down the middle of the chest and stomach and <span class="pageNum" id="pb207">[<a href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>around the eyes, which are also set off by a large white spot. The large wing-feathers
-are edged with ashy blue.
-</p>
-<p>“This bird is very common in copses and gardens, and is the one we hear in autumn
-repeating, as it examines the bark of fruit-trees, its cry of <i>titipoo, titipoo, titipoo</i>. At times this cry has a harsh sound like the rasping of a file, and this has given
-to the bird, in some neighborhoods, the name of locksmith. It nests in a hollow tree
-trunk, lining its quarters with some soft, silky material, chiefly fine feathers.
-Its laying consists of about fifteen white eggs spotted with light red, especially
-toward the large end. Its family demands not fewer than three hundred caterpillars
-a day, or their equivalent in vermin of some sort. What the gardener, the nurseryman,
-and the forester owe this valiant caterpillar-destroyer by the end of the year cannot
-be calculated. Yet I have seen these very persons angrily thrust an arm into the hollow
-trunk of an old apple-tree to pull out the coal-tit’s nest and throw the whole thing
-to the winds,—eggs, feathers, and little birds only a day old. And they thought they
-were doing something worthy of praise, for according to them the coal-tit eats buds.
-But I declare that the coal-tit does not eat buds; it eats the little larvæ lodged
-in the bud’s scales, and its instinct never allows it to molest healthy buds, which
-contain nothing of any value to the bird. Leave it in peace, then, to pluck the wormy
-buds, which it can very easily tell from the sound ones.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb208">[<a href="#pb208">208</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“The coal-tit sometimes eats hemp-seed or hazelnuts, picking out the edible part with
-a dexterity of beak and claw—I had almost said hand—possessed by no other bird. The
-sparrow, chaffinch, goldfinch, and others crush the hemp-seed between their mandibles;
-the coal-tit grasps it in its claw, carries it to the beak, and makes in the shell
-a small round opening through which it picks out the meat. The hazelnut is managed
-with the same skill.
-</p>
-<p>“The blue tit is a beautiful little bird that keeps company with the coal-tit and
-frequents orchards. It is olive-colored above and yellow underneath, with the top
-of the head an azure blue, the forehead white, and the cheeks white framed in black.
-A little collar of black also encircles the back and sides of the neck. The large
-feathers of the tail and wings are edged with blue. This titmouse, so elegant in plumage,
-so graceful in its bearing, always running about over the bark of tree trunks and
-around the branches, always hanging from the flexible boughs, and always pecking and
-searching, is no whit inferior to the coal-tit in its talent for catching caterpillars.
-It has been seen in a few hours to clear a rosebush of two thousand plant-lice. Caterpillars
-and the eggs of insects, especially of those that attack fruit, are its chief food.
-It is very fond of little birds’ brains, but if need be can get along with hemp-seed.
-Like the coal-tit, it nests in a hollow tree trunk, its nest being nothing but a heap
-of small feathers. No other species raises a larger family. The eggs are more than
-twenty in number, <span class="pageNum" id="pb209">[<a href="#pb209">209</a>]</span>white with reddish spots, especially at the large end.
-</p>
-<p>“Two other tomtits, of less value as caterpillar-destroyers, build their nests with
-much art. They are the long-tailed titmouse and the penduline.
-</p>
-<p>“The first of these is different from all other tomtits in the length of its tail,
-which forms more than half the length of the body. This bird lives in the woods during
-the summer and visits our gardens and orchards only in the winter. It is a small bird,
-scarcely bigger than a wren, reddish gray on the back and white underneath, with a
-tinge of red on the stomach and with white nape and cheeks.
-</p>
-<p>“The nest is occasionally built in the fork of some branch in bush or hedge, a few
-feet from the ground, but oftener it is attached to the trunk of a willow or a poplar.
-Its shape is that of an elongated oval or, rather, an enormous cocoon enlarged at
-the base, with an entrance on the side about an inch from the top. The outside is
-made of lichens such as grow on old tree trunks, having thus the appearance of bark
-and deceiving the casual observer. Filaments of wool bind the whole compactly together.
-The dome or roof, ingeniously contrived for shedding rain, is a thick felt of moss
-and cobweb. The inside is like an oven with a bowl-shaped bottom and high arched top.
-Its shape and the thick layer of soft feathers lining it make the nest warm and cozy.
-From sixteen to twenty young birds are packed into the narrow space, which does not
-exceed the hollow of the hand. By what miracle of orderly arrangement do these twenty
-little creatures and their <span class="pageNum" id="pb210">[<a href="#pb210">210</a>]</span>mother manage to find room for themselves in this tiny abode, and how can tails of
-such length develop there? It would be impossible to find anywhere a more economical
-use of space.”
-</p>
-<p>“How I should like to see the twenty little tomtits snuggling together in that tiny
-nest!” Emile exclaimed.
-</p>
-<p>“I have had that good fortune,” said his uncle, “and even now I am strangely moved
-whenever I think of those twenty little heads stretching up from the bottom of the
-nest, trembling and with open beaks as if their mother had come. I looked for a moment
-through the opening of the nest at the tiny creatures, and then withdrew. The parents
-were already at hand, ruffling their feathers with anxiety. Fear nothing, little birds,
-so watchful of your family; Uncle Paul is not one to commit the crime of touching
-your nest.”
-</p>
-<p>“Nor Emile, either,” chimed in the boy.
-</p>
-<p>“Nor yet Jules or Louis,” added the last-named.
-</p>
-<p>“I hope not, indeed; for otherwise Uncle Paul would tell you no more stories.
-</p>
-<p>“The penduline’s nest is still more remarkable. This titmouse is found hardly anywhere
-except along the banks of the lower Rhone. It hangs its nest very high, from the tip
-of some swaying tree branch by the waterside, so that its young are gently rocked
-by the breeze from the water. The nest is a sort of oval purse about as large as a
-quart bottle and pierced on the side near the top by a narrow opening that would hardly
-admit a man’s thumb. To enter <span class="pageNum" id="pb211">[<a href="#pb211">211</a>]</span>its nest the tomtit, small though it is, must stretch the elastic wall, which yields
-a little and then contracts again. This purse-shaped abode is made of the cotton-like
-fluff that flies off in May from the ripe catkins of poplars and willows. The bird
-gathers this material and then weaves it together with a warp of wool and hemp. The
-resulting fabric resembles the felt of a coarse hat.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p211width"><img src="images/p211.png" alt="Long-tailed Titmice" width="335" height="462"><p class="figureHead">Long-tailed Titmice</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“I am at a loss to understand how the bird manages to weave with its beak and claws
-a stuff superior to any that the unaided human fingers could produce; and yet it does
-this with no instruction, with no hesitation, and with no hints from the work of others.
-At its very first attempt the titmouse puts to shame the studied art of our weavers
-and fullers. The top or roof of the nest includes in its structure the tip of the
-branch from which it hangs and also the little twigs growing out of that tip end which
-serve as a framework for the vault; but the <span class="pageNum" id="pb212">[<a href="#pb212">212</a>]</span>foliage emerges from the sides of the nest and furnishes shade from the sun’s heat.
-Finally, to secure the nest more firmly, cordage of wool and hemp binds the upper
-part to the branch and below is worked into the woof of the felt. The inside is lined
-with poplar fluff of the best quality. It takes a pair of pendulines three weeks of
-the hardest work to make this marvel.”
-</p>
-<p>“Doesn’t the rain ever get through the covering of the nest?” Emile inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“No; the felt is so thick and so closely woven that even with the hardest rain not
-a drop of water can leak into the cotton-lined interior.”
-</p>
-<p>“How comfortable the little birds must be in their snug nest! The wind rocks them
-gently over the water, and from their little window they can see the river flowing
-below. What is this clever penduline like?”
-</p>
-<p>“It is ash-colored, with brown wings and tail, and a black stripe across the forehead.
-Its dress is simple, you see, as is always the case with those that possess real merit.
-The blue tit has rich plumage, but when it comes to nest-building it can only pile
-feathers on top of one another at the bottom of a tree-hollow. The penduline is of
-modest appearance, but it builds the most wonderful nest it is possible to find. To
-each his portion, talent or fine clothes.”
-</p>
-<p>“All of us here choose talent,” declared Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Never, my children,” urged Uncle Paul, “be untrue to that sentiment.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb213">[<a href="#pb213">213</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“We should have to forget your teachings,” the other replied, “before we could do
-that.”
-</p>
-<p>“And what are the eggs like?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Emile is bound to have all I can tell him about the penduline. Does this builder
-of felt nests interest you, then, so very much?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, it does,” Emile assured him.
-</p>
-<p>“Well, the eggs are quite white and rather long. There are three or four of them to
-a nest.”
-</p>
-<p>“No more than that, when the other tomtits have twenty?”
-</p>
-<p>“No more; but to make up for it there are two layings a year.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb214">[<a href="#pb214">214</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch28" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e447">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE WREN AND THE KINGLET</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Another highly talented architect, past master in the building of nests, is the wren,
-known in learned language as the troglodyte. If you ask me the meaning of this strange
-name I shall reply that it is a Greek word signifying ‘dweller in holes.’ Some inventor
-of names, more in love with Greek than desirous of being understood, thought he was
-doing a fine thing when he gave this big name to the little bird that worms its way
-into small holes as a mouse would. Perhaps my description will be more easily understood
-than his hard name. The troglodyte or wren is a fluffy bunch of plumage resembling
-that of the woodcock. With trailing wings, beak to windward, and tail erect over its
-rump, it is always frisking and hopping about, uttering the while its cheery cry of
-<i>teederee, teeree, teeree</i>.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p214width"><img src="images/p214.png" alt="Winter Wren" width="289" height="247"><p class="figureHead">Winter Wren</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“I know that bird,” Jules broke in. “It isn’t much bigger than a walnut, and every
-winter it <span class="pageNum" id="pb215">[<a href="#pb215">215</a>]</span>comes flying about the house, hunting in the woodpile and in holes in the walls, and
-darting into the thickest parts of bushes. From a distance you would take it for a
-bold little rat.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is it, that is the wren. In summer it lives in densely grown woods. There, under
-the arch formed by some large upward-curving root coated with a thick fleece of moss,
-it builds a home for itself in imitation of the penduline’s nest. The materials it
-uses are bits of moss, which make the nest look like its support. It forms them into
-a large hollow ball with a very narrow opening on one side. It is lined with feathers.
-Occasionally the wren builds its nest in some chimney or a pile of fagots, a thick
-clump of ivy or a natural cavity in the bank of a shady stream. The laying consists
-of about ten white eggs dotted with red at the large end.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p215width"><img src="images/p215.png" alt="Great Carolina Wren" width="300" height="291"><p class="figureHead">Great Carolina Wren</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“When the weather turns cold, the bird leaves the woods and approaches our farm-houses.
-You can see it then, always busy and on the move, prying into dark holes in woodpiles,
-old walls, dead trees, and thick bushes, looking in every crack and cranny for all
-kinds of vermin that take up their winter quarters in the fissures with which old
-bark is furrowed <span class="pageNum" id="pb216">[<a href="#pb216">216</a>]</span>and in the cracks that occur in weather-beaten mortar. To gain an idea of their unceasing
-activity in this sort of research, you have only to watch them once as they go prying
-into a heap of brush, flying in and out on all sides of it without a moment’s pause
-for rest.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes,” assented Jules, “but it is so tiny a creature it can’t do much work.”
-</p>
-<p>“If the wren hunted big game, certainly at the end of the day it would not have captured
-its prey by the dozen. What could such a little thing do with a June-bug? It would
-not come to the end of such a supply of food for several days.”
-</p>
-<p>“And the June-bug would be too hard for its beak, too,” remarked Jules.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p216width"><img src="images/p216.png" alt="Long-billed Marsh Wren" width="294" height="271"><p class="figureHead">Long-billed Marsh Wren</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“What it needs is the smallest of caterpillars and the tiniest of gnats, which make
-a more delicate mouthful and are better adapted to the bird’s small throat. I need
-not remind you that the worst foes to our crops are the smallest. A grub too tiny
-to catch the eye endangers our cereals, and others equally small ravage our fruit
-while it is still in the bud. How much does it take to destroy a blossom that would
-produce a pear the size of your two fists? One single larva just visible <span class="pageNum" id="pb217">[<a href="#pb217">217</a>]</span>to the naked eye. Well, the wren attacks these tiny foes of ours that are all the
-more troublesome because we cannot see them easily. Now guess how many little caterpillars
-a day the wren needs for feeding its brood. Observers whose patience I admire have
-calculated the number.”
-</p>
-<p>“Let us say ten caterpillars to each little bird,” replied Jules, “and ten little
-birds in the nest. That would make a hundred caterpillars a day, and it is certainly
-a lot.”
-</p>
-<p>“A lot! Ah, how far out you are in your reckoning! The mother wren brings something
-to her little ones at least thirty-six times an hour. She feeds them a mixed diet
-of insects, larvæ and eggs. At the end of a day the number of insects destroyed, of
-one kind and another, amounts to one hundred and fifty-six thousand. That leaves your
-paltry hundred a long way behind, my dear Jules.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then the caterpillars must be very small, or the brood of wrens would die of indigestion.”
-</p>
-<p>“Undoubtedly they are exceedingly small, and then a great many are not even hatched
-yet; but the result as far as we are concerned is just as important, so many eggs
-devoured meaning so many ravagers the fewer a little later.”
-</p>
-<p>“Supposing,” said Louis, “that the wren takes only the worms that attack pears, that
-would be one hundred and fifty-six thousand pears the little birds would save for
-us in one day?”
-</p>
-<p>“Evidently.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb218">[<a href="#pb218">218</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“But that is beyond belief.”
-</p>
-<p>“I admit that the result is very great in comparison with the means employed. A tiny
-bird that nobody notices goes pecking here and there, and we find that at the end
-of the day the caterpillar-eater has destroyed, either in the egg or in the nymph-stage
-or in the final form, thousands of insects which, if allowed to live, would have deprived
-us of enormous basketfuls of fruit and hundreds of bushels of grain. If we were to
-estimate the value of the crops saved by insectivorous birds, it would be a fabulous
-sum. Leave them, therefore, in peace, my children, and do all you can to protect them;
-for these busy little creatures ward off famine from our homes.
-</p>
-<p>“While we are on the subject let us speak of another little Tom Thumb of a bird, another
-caterpillar-destroyer as energetic as the wren. It is called the kinglet, that is
-to say, the little king, on account of the crown of golden yellow edged with black
-that encircles its head. It is the smallest of our birds. It is olive-colored above
-and yellowish-white beneath. Its beautiful crown feathers can stand up like a crest.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p218width"><img src="images/p218.png" alt="Goldcrest" width="260" height="192"><p class="figureHead">Goldcrest</p>
-<p class="first">(An American species of kinglet)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The kinglet breeds in the cold countries of Europe, and especially in the fir forests
-of Norway. Its nest is a little ball no bigger than your fist, open at <span class="pageNum" id="pb219">[<a href="#pb219">219</a>]</span>the top, artistically fashioned outside with moss, wool, and spiders’ webs, and lined
-with the softest down. It rests flat on some fir branch at an inaccessible height.
-The eggs, from six to eight in number, are of a uniform flesh color.
-</p>
-<p>“Although very delicate in appearance, the kinglet stands the cold with great hardihood.
-It comes to us from the land of its birth in small flocks when the autumnal fogs are
-gathering and the leaves are falling. These flocks of five or six birds at most scatter
-through the woods, public promenades, and orchards, to examine the cracks in bark,
-to explore the heaps of dead leaves, and to inspect the buds while clinging to the
-tips of the smallest branches. Not even the tomtit shows itself a more expert gymnast
-in hanging with head downward and working in all sorts of attitudes. The task of destroying
-caterpillars is accompanied by a continual little rallying cry: <i>zee-zee-zee, zee-zee-zee</i>.
-</p>
-<p>“The kinglet has great confidence in mankind. With no sign of fear even when within
-hearing of the footsteps and conversation of persons walking about, it continues its
-evolutions, its hunting, its <i>zee-zee-zee</i>. It will let one come close, almost near enough to reach out a hand and take hold
-of it. But the knowing little creature, although it appears not to see you because
-it is so busy, darts suddenly away and mounts to the upper branches to carry on its
-work at a safer distance.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb220">[<a href="#pb220">220</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch29" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e457">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
-<h2 class="main">SWALLOWS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“We have whole tribes of helpers that devote themselves to the patient search for
-insect eggs in the cracks of tree bark and in piles of dead leaves, for larvæ between
-the scales of buds and in the worm-holes in wood, and for insects lurking in narrow
-crevices where they hide from their pursuers. These invaluable assistants of ours
-embrace the magpies, nuthatches, wrynecks, climbers, tomtits, wrens, kinglets, and
-many others. In the kind of hunting here referred to the bird is not obliged to chase
-the game, to vie with it in swiftness; it is enough to know how to find it in its
-hiding-place. For this a sharp eye and a slender beak are necessary; wings are only
-of secondary importance.
-</p>
-<p>“But now we come to other species of birds that hunt in the air, chase their game
-on the wing, pursuing gnats and flies and butterflies, moths and mosquitoes and beetles.
-They require a short beak, but one that opens very wide and is pretty sure to catch
-insects as they fly—a beak, in fine, that may be depended on to work almost of itself
-and without an instant’s pause in the bird’s flight; a beak that, above all, is so
-sticky inside that as soon as an insect’s wing grazes this viscous lining it is caught
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb221">[<a href="#pb221">221</a>]</span>fast in the glue-like substance. The beak of the bat, that other hunter of insects
-on the wing, the bat’s beak, I say, opening from ear to ear, may serve as a model
-in respect to the width of its opening. But above all else the hunter must have swift
-wings that never tire, that can fly as fast as the prey which is trying so hard to
-escape, that can follow the bewildering zigzags of a moth manœuvering to save its
-life. A cleft beak that opens wide and wings that are strong and tireless—such must
-be the equipment of the bird that pursues its prey in the open air.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p221width"><img src="images/p221.png" alt="White-bellied Swallow" width="226" height="226"><p class="figureHead">White-bellied Swallow</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Chief among these hunters is the swallow, which may be called the daylight bat, as
-the bat is the twilight swallow. Both chase flying insects, following them in their
-endless dodgings and doublings and snapping them up with yawning beak, then passing
-on without an instant’s delay to the pursuit of others. But how much more pleasing
-in appearance, how much swifter in flight is the swallow than that hunter, the sad-looking
-bat! While we may compare their work and their way of hunting, we cannot compare them
-in anything else. Buffon quotes Guéneau de Montbéliard as saying:
-</p>
-<p>“ ‘The air is the swallow’s appropriate element, and it is the nature of the bird
-to be ever on the wing. It eats flying, bathes flying, and sometimes <span class="pageNum" id="pb222">[<a href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>even feeds its young when flying. It glides through the air with no effort, with perfect
-ease, conscious of being in its own domain. It explores aërial space in all its dimensions,
-as if to enjoy it to the utmost, and its delight in the act is expressed by little
-cries of rapture. It may be seen giving chase to flying insects and following with
-supple agility their evasive and tortuous course; or it may leave one to pursue another
-and snap up a third in passing; or, again, it lightly skims the surface of land and
-water to catch any that may be gathered there for the sake of coolness and moisture;
-or, finally, it may in its turn be driven to flee with all speed before the lightning-like
-onset of some bird of prey. Always in full control of its movements even when flying
-at topmost speed, it is continually changing its course, describing in the air a bewildering
-maze whose paths cross, interlace, recede from and approach one another, meet, wind,
-ascend, descend, interweave, and mingle in a thousand different ways and after a plan
-so complicated as to defy representation to the eye by the art of drawing and scarcely
-to lend itself to description for the imagination through the medium of speech.’
-</p>
-<p>“We have three kinds of swallows in France, of which the best known is the martin,
-black above with glints of blue, and white beneath and on the rump. It builds its
-nest in window-corners, under the eaves of roofs, and on the cornices of buildings.
-The materials it uses are fine soil, chiefly that which is deposited by earthworms,
-after digestion, in little <span class="pageNum" id="pb223">[<a href="#pb223">223</a>]</span>mounds over our fields and gardens. The swallow carries it, a beakful at a time, mixes
-it with a little viscous saliva to make it stick together, and lays it by courses
-until it takes the shape of a hemisphere attached to the wall and provided with a
-small opening at the top. Bits of straw give additional firmness to the masonry; and,
-finally, the interior is lined with an abundance of little feathers. The laying consists
-of four or five pure white eggs without any spots.
-</p>
-<p>“The nests are used year after year by the same pairs of birds, being recognized by
-them on their annual return in the spring and made as good as new with a few repairs.
-If some are left vacant by reason of the owners’ death in distant lands, new couples
-profit by the fact.”
-</p>
-<p>“Don’t they ever quarrel over the old nests?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p223width"><img src="images/p223.png" alt="Swallow’s Nest" width="191" height="260"><p class="figureHead">Swallow’s Nest</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Very seldom. Swallows like to live in colonies, and their nests touch one another
-sometimes to the number of hundreds on the same cornice. Each couple recognizes its
-own nest without the slightest hesitation, and scrupulously respects others’ property
-in order to have its own respected. There is among them a deep feeling of joint responsibility,
-and they help one another with as much intelligence as zeal. Occasionally it happens
-that a nest is no sooner finished than it gives way, either because the <span class="pageNum" id="pb224">[<a href="#pb224">224</a>]</span>mortar used is not strong enough or because the masons were in too great a hurry and
-had not the patience to let one course dry before laying another, or for some other
-reason. On hearing of the disaster the neighbors hasten to console the unlucky pair
-and help them to rebuild. All set to work, bringing the best mortar, straw, and feathers,
-and in forty-eight hours the nest is rebuilt. Left to themselves, it would have taken
-the owners a fortnight to repair the damage.”
-</p>
-<p>“That’s the kind of friends in need I like to see!” declared Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“But I have something still better to tell you. Let us suppose a swallow has been
-so careless as to become entangled in a mesh of loose threads, and the more frantically
-it struggles to escape the more firmly it binds its fetters. With wings and claws
-held fast it is in danger of perishing. Uttering piteous cries, it calls on its comrades
-for help. All hasten to give aid, noisily making plans for relief and working away
-with beak and talons until they finally unsnarl the tangle and free the captive. The
-happy event is then celebrated with chirpings of delight. That is what I saw with
-my own eyes, right here in the garden, one day when Mother Ambroisine was bleaching
-some of the linen thread she spins on her distaff.
-</p>
-<p>“An author<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2544src" href="#xd31e2544">1</a> of note tells us that he once witnessed something similar. These are his words: <span class="pageNum" id="pb225">[<a href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>‘I saw a swallow that had unfortunately, I know not how, caught its foot in a slip-knot
-tied in a string, the other end of which was fastened to a roof gutter. The bird’s
-strength was exhausted and it hung, crying, from the end of the string, with an occasional
-effort to escape. All the swallows in the neighborhood had assembled, to the number
-of several thousand. They formed a veritable cloud, each one uttering cries of alarm
-and pity. After considerable hesitation one of them hit on a plan for freeing their
-luckless companion and communicated it to the others, whereupon they all set to work.
-A space was cleared and every swallow within hail came, one after another, as in a
-ring-game, and gave in passing a peck at the string. These blows, all delivered at
-the same point, followed one another with only a second’s interval or less. Half an
-hour of this work sufficed to sever the thread and liberate the prisoner. But the
-entire company of birds, with a few exceptions, stayed there until night, chattering
-away incessantly, though no longer in anxious tones, but rather as if in mutual congratulation
-and animated comment.’
-</p>
-<p>“Again: ‘An insolent sparrow invades a swallow’s nest and likes it so well it wishes
-to stay. The owners assail the intruder, but the latter, having a stronger beak and
-being also protected by the ramparts of the nest, easily repulses their attacks. Ha!
-so you won’t budge, then? We’ll see about that. One of the two swallows remains to
-hold the blockade while the other goes for help. The neighbors <span class="pageNum" id="pb226">[<a href="#pb226">226</a>]</span>hasten to the spot, consider the situation, deliberate on means to be employed, and
-finally conclude that it is out of the question to hope to dislodge by force an enemy
-so securely entrenched in the nest as in a strong redoubt. There is but one opinion:
-the invader cannot be ousted from the nest, but the proprietors must at least be avenged.
-No sooner said than done. While a few courageous ones posted at the opening intimidate
-the interloper with their cries, the others fetch a supply of their usual mortar,
-soil moistened with saliva, and little by little close the entrance to the nest.’ ”
-</p>
-<p>“Who was the fool that time?” cried Jules, in high delight.
-</p>
-<p>“It certainly was the sparrow, sealed up in its narrow prison and left to perish.”
-</p>
-<p>“Caught, you nest-robber!” Emile exclaimed, clapping his hands.
-</p>
-<p>“The chimney-swallow or house-swallow, also called barn-swallow, has chestnut-red
-forehead, throat, and eyebrows, a black back with violet sheen, and a white breast
-and stomach. Its name of house-swallow is given to it because it seeks man’s neighborhood
-and even nests inside our houses, especially where there is but little commotion or
-noise. Open and empty rooms, sheds and coach-houses, the eaves of roofs, the under
-side of balcony floors, and the inside of tall chimneys are its chosen nesting-places.
-The nest itself is made of moistened clay mixed with straw and hay and furnished inside
-with feathers and dry grass. It is in the shape of a half-cup wide <span class="pageNum" id="pb227">[<a href="#pb227">227</a>]</span>open at the top. The eggs are five in number, white with small brown and violet spots.
-</p>
-<p>“The house-swallow is the most interesting of the tribe. It is the farmer’s cheery
-companion and the guest of the barn, while the martin prefers towns and the cornices
-of monuments. Its characteristic cry is a sweet little song which the father, perched
-on the edge of the nest, keeps repeating to the brooding mother to beguile the long
-hours of incubation. This bird is found all over the world. It reaches us after a
-long migration about the first of April, twelve days before the martin and a month
-ahead of the swift.
-</p>
-<p>“The sand-martin is smaller and of less frequent occurrence than the other two swallows
-of which we are speaking. Its back is mouse-gray in color, as are also its cheeks
-and a wide stripe across the chest, while breast and stomach are pure white. With
-its beak and claws—poor tools for such rough work did not energetic good will supply
-the deficiency—it tunnels into steep sand-banks by the waterside, or into the face
-of cliffs and the walls of quarries, making a hole with a narrow entrance and extending
-in a winding passage for nearly two feet. At the further end a little space is hollowed
-out and furnished with a thick bed of straw, dry grass, and feathers, all heaped together
-with no art. There are laid five or six slightly translucent white eggs. The sand-martin
-perches only on rocks, to which it clings easily with its long and pointed claws.
-It haunts the water’s edge, which it explores in rapid flight, darting <span class="pageNum" id="pb228">[<a href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>to and fro and snapping up the gnats attracted by the coolness.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is said,” remarked Jules, “that swallows take long journeys.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, all our swallows migrate every year, not from a love of wandering but from necessity.
-Many other birds, particularly those that live on insects, do the same. Swallows,
-like bats, live entirely on flying insects, and when cold weather comes these are
-lacking. What does the bat do then to keep from starving?”
-</p>
-<p>“It goes to sleep,” answered Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, it closes as tightly as it can the draft in the vital stove—that natural stove,
-you know, that gives us heat, movement, and animation by burning up our blood with
-the help of air. The bat almost stops its breath in order to economize the fuel stored
-up in its little veins and make it last until the reappearance of insects at the approach
-of summer. In a word, it goes to sleep in the depths of some grotto, falling into
-an unconsciousness resembling death. Birds, however, cannot thus save their fuel.
-Their little stoves are always burning away under forced draft, because of the violent
-exercise of flying. Their temperature, summer and winter, is forty-two degrees, centigrade,
-whereas man’s is only thirty-eight. When such a fire has to be kept going, imagine
-if you can <span class="corr" id="xd31e2571" title="Not in source">take </span>a six months’ nap because there was nothing to eat in the larder. It is quite out
-of the question. What, then, do birds do?
-</p>
-<p>“Unable to do as the bat does, they form a bold <span class="pageNum" id="pb229">[<a href="#pb229">229</a>]</span>resolve: they leave their native land, which is about to be stripped of flying insects
-by the cold, and go far away, sad to leave but not without the hope of returning some
-day. They migrate, the strong helping the weak, the old and much-traveled ones guiding
-the young and inexperienced. They form in flocks and fly southward to Africa, where
-abundant food and a warmer sun await them. With no compass but instinct to direct
-their course, they cross the sea, the vast expanse of water in which only an occasional
-islet offers them a halting-place. Many perish in the crossing, and many arrive faint
-with hunger and spent with fatigue, but they do arrive at last.”
-</p>
-<p>“It must be a trying time for the swallows when the day for starting comes,” Jules
-observed.
-</p>
-<p>“A very trying time indeed, for the bird has to tear itself away from its beloved
-haunts, the place where it was born, to face the fatigues and dangers of a tremendous
-journey, a journey never before taken by the greater number of the emigrants. In a
-general assembly the date of departure is fixed for about the end of August in the
-case of martins and sand-martins, and later, even as late as October, for house-swallows.
-This being arranged, the martins gather for several successive days on the roofs of
-high buildings. Every now and then small groups detach themselves from the rest and
-circle about in the air with anxious cries, taking a last look at their birthplace
-and bidding it farewell; then they return to their companions and, we may imagine,
-fall to <span class="pageNum" id="pb230">[<a href="#pb230">230</a>]</span>chattering about their hopes and fears as they prepare for the journey by a careful
-examination of their plumage, which they oil a feather at a time. After several repetitions
-of these touching farewells a plaintive twittering announces the fateful hour: they
-must start. Launching themselves on their desperate adventure, they take flight in
-a body toward the south.
-</p>
-<p>“House-swallows, when the time for their departure approaches, hold a consultation
-on some leafless tree, and almost always in the rain. The emigrating flock numbers
-three or four hundred birds.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb231">[<a href="#pb231">231</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2544">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2544src">1</a></span> Dupont de Nemours.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2544src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch30" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e467">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXX</h2>
-<h2 class="main">SWIFTS AND NIGHT-JARS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“The swift is that large black swallow that flies in flocks on summer evenings and
-utters a shrill cry as it passes. Hunting insects on the wing is its occupation. It
-has a very short beak that opens wide, a big gullet, always coated with a glue that
-holds the captured game, long and pointed wings which enable it to cover in continuous
-flight eighty leagues an hour, and piercing eyes capable of seeing a gnat at a hundred
-meters’ distance, or even farther. Every insect that ventures into the upper air is
-lost: the swift’s open beak is a living trap, a trap that advances rapidly to swallow
-up the tiny prey.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p231width"><img src="images/p231.png" alt="European Swift" width="289" height="360"><p class="figureHead">European Swift</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“If the bird has little ones, it sometimes stows away its prey in its cheek-pouches
-and, when they are full, returns to its nest to feed these provisions to the hungry
-mouths waiting to be filled, discharging <span class="pageNum" id="pb232">[<a href="#pb232">232</a>]</span>through its beak the accumulated flies, moths, and beetles.
-</p>
-<p>“What a slaughter of twilight-flying insects takes place when the screaming flocks
-of swifts fly hither and thither, circling about in the calm glow of sunset! What
-an onrush of whirring wings! What dash and eagerness! How animated the scene! Some
-fly merely as chance dictates, letting themselves glide gently through the air for
-the mere pleasure of the motion; others describe intertwining circles without number;
-others, again, soar aloft on motionless wings or let themselves fall from dizzy heights
-as if wounded and helpless; still others follow a straight course, racing toward some
-distant goal and then returning for a fresh start; and, finally, there are those that
-go whirling in noisy companies about some lofty building. But what of this one that
-darts across our vision in such hot haste? It flashes past with three strokes of the
-wings and is lost in the haze of the distance. What impetuosity, children, what amazing
-speed!”
-</p>
-<p>“I have often wished I could fly when I was watching those birds,” said Emile. “If
-I only had their wings to carry me to those blue mountains we see from here, how I
-should like to go flying to the top of that highest peak and then come back as quickly
-as I went!”
-</p>
-<p>“That wish, my boy, is common to us all; every one must envy the swift its wings,
-but certainly no one would ever think of envying it its feet.”
-</p>
-<p>“Why?”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb233">[<a href="#pb233">233</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Because they are so misshapen and the legs are so short that they cannot be used
-for walking. All four toes point forward. That tells you the swift does not perch,
-being unable to grasp the supporting branch, but must cling to walls for a brief rest,
-after which it must take flight again, starting with a falling movement as bats do.
-Guéneau de Montbéliard tells us this:
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p233width"><img src="images/p233.png" alt="Rock Swift" width="322" height="267"><p class="figureHead">Rock Swift</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“ ‘Swifts have to be on the wing a great part of the time. They never voluntarily
-alight on the ground, and if by some accident they fall to earth they cannot rise
-again into the air without extreme difficulty, by dragging themselves up on to a little
-mound or by climbing with beak and claws upon a stone from which they can spread their
-long wings. If the ground is quite level they either lie prone on the stomach or sway
-from side to side with a balancing motion, or they manage to struggle forward a little
-by beating the earth with their wings. After repeated efforts they sometimes succeed
-in flying off. The earth, therefore, is to them a great danger that must be avoided
-with the utmost care. Any state between swift motion and absolute rest is hardly possible
-with them. Violent exercise in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb234">[<a href="#pb234">234</a>]</span>air and perfect quiet in their place of retreat—these two, as a rule, make up their
-existence. The only variation known to them is to hang on to some wall near their
-hole and then drag themselves into the nest by clambering along with the help of beak
-and any chance support that they can find. Usually they enter their retreat in full
-flight. After passing and repassing its entrance more than a hundred times, all at
-once they dart in so quickly that they are lost to sight before you know whither they
-are gone. You feel almost inclined to believe they have vanished into thin air.’
-</p>
-<p>“Their nest is nearly always placed in a deep hole in the wall and at a great height.
-It is made of hemp threads, little wisps of tow, bits of straw, feathers, rags, and
-cotton-like down from poplar and willow catkins. These materials are stuck together
-with the viscous saliva that constantly oozes from the swift’s throat and serves as
-glue to entangle captured insects. The bird spreads it over the nest and thoroughly
-moistens the successive layers. In drying this saliva hardens and takes on the shiny
-appearance of gum, giving consistency and even elasticity to the whole structure.
-If you squeeze the nest between your two hands it will shrink up without breaking,
-and when the pressure is removed it will resume its former shape.
-</p>
-<p>“The swift, then, furnishes its own adhesive cement, but whence does it obtain the
-other materials it needs, such as tow, rags, straw, and feathers? Of course it is
-not so foolish as to go and pick them up <span class="pageNum" id="pb235">[<a href="#pb235">235</a>]</span>from the ground, where it might find them as other birds do; for if it touched the
-ground it would certainly come to grief. Therefore it resorts to cunning. As it reaches
-us rather late in the season, it takes advantage of such holes as it finds already
-abandoned by the sparrows, and there it finds abundant materials which it uses in
-its own way by sticking them together with its glue. If the sparrows have not yet
-broken up housekeeping, it boldly invades their nests, steals bits of flock and tufts
-of hair, straw, and feathers, a little from one and a little from another, and makes
-with these its own nest in another hole in the same wall. The female lays from two
-to four eggs, pure white and rather elongated. Swifts seldom stay more than three
-months with us. Arriving after the swallows early in May, they leave at the end of
-July.
-</p>
-<p>“The white-breasted swift differs from the bird I have just described in being larger
-and having a white breast and stomach. It is found in the region of the Alps and of
-the Pyrenees and frequents the Mediterranean shores, especially where the waves beat
-against high, steep cliffs. Middle and northern Europe are not visited by this bird.
-Its flight is even swifter than that of its black cousin, and it flies habitually
-at a great height, descending only when bad weather threatens. It builds its nest
-at the summit of high, steep rocks, making it of straw and moss stuck together with
-the glue from its own throat.
-</p>
-<p>“The night-jar closely resembles the swift, having, like that bird, a short beak which
-is very broad <span class="pageNum" id="pb236">[<a href="#pb236">236</a>]</span>at the base and opens very wide, while from the gullet comes a sticky saliva for holding
-fast any insects that are caught. Its size is about that of the thrush; its plumage
-is light, soft, and shaded with gray and brown; its eyes are large and prominent and
-very sensitive to light; the base of its beak bristles with long, stiff hairs; and
-its legs are short, but at the same time not ill adapted to walking.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p236width"><img src="images/p236.png" alt="Night-jar" width="297" height="242"><p class="figureHead">Night-jar</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“As indicated by the sensitiveness of its eyes, which cannot endure the full light
-of day, and by the softness and lightness and gray color of its plumage, which resembles
-that of the hornless owl, the night-jar is a twilight bird: it is the swift of the
-evening, flying and hunting only when the sun is near setting. By the fading light
-of a summer evening it may be seen scanning the ground in low flight to and fro over
-its surface, after the manner of the swallow. It flies with mouth wide open, so that
-the air in striking the throat produces a low and continuous humming like that of
-a spinning-wheel.”
-</p>
-<p>“And is it from that humming sound that it gets its name of night-jar?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Precisely. But it does not make this humming sound for the mere love of hearing it;
-its object is to snap up the twilight-flying insects as it passes <span class="pageNum" id="pb237">[<a href="#pb237">237</a>]</span>with distended beak. Big beetles sporting in the evening air, June-bugs, and other
-plump winged creatures disappear in the viscous gullet, while small butterflies, moths,
-gnats, and mosquitoes become entangled by the dozen in the fatal glue. If the game
-is large, the bird swallows it at once, whole and still alive; if small, it waits
-until it has caught a certain number and then swallows them all in one mouthful.”
-</p>
-<p>“But does it really swallow big beetles and June-bugs alive?” Emile asked.
-</p>
-<p>“You can readily understand that in its headlong chase the bird has no time to dismember
-its captives. Pouncing upon the insect with wide-open beak, snapping it up, and gulping
-it down—all this it does as it flies, without a moment’s pause. No sooner is the plumpest
-prey captured than down it goes, alive and struggling, into the bird’s crop.”
-</p>
-<p>“A dozen of that sort of game must stir up a big rumpus in the bird’s crop,” was Emile’s
-opinion.
-</p>
-<p>“Almost any other creature in the night-jar’s place would have its digestion ruined
-by a brisk company of coleopters kicking about in the stomach and tickling its walls
-with their rough and prickly legs; but I am inclined to believe the bird has the means
-of quieting them immediately by smothering them with its digestive juices. As it carries
-on the business of stuffing its crop with large live beetles, it ought to know the
-secret of how to prevent their making a hole in its stomach. But that does not lessen
-my admiration for its digestive powers. No <span class="pageNum" id="pb238">[<a href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>creature enjoys a more remarkable immunity from dyspepsia.
-</p>
-<p>“On a near view the night-jar is not a pretty bird. Its flat skull; its tremendously
-yawning beak, which seems to split the whole head in two; its wide-open gullet, red
-and slimy and powdered with the remains of moths recently devoured; its large and
-prominent eyes—all these give it somewhat the appearance of a toad. That is why it
-is sometimes called the flying toad. Another common name for it is goat-sucker, based
-on a false belief as to one of its habits. It likes to visit pastures and sheepfolds,
-where it chases the beetles to be found there. Noting its frequent appearance among
-the sheep and goats, shepherds imagined it came there to suck their milk. If they
-had watched it more closely they would have seen the absurdity of any such notion.
-A bird suck? What nonsense! But the more ridiculous an idea is, the more likely it
-is to spread, and the absurd name of goat-sucker is better known in many places than
-the appropriate and expressive one of night-jar.
-</p>
-<p>“This bird comes to us from warmer lands toward the beginning of May, and leaves us
-in September. It builds no nest, imitating in this various nocturnal birds of prey.
-Some hole in the ground or among broken stones, at the foot of a tree or a rock, and
-usually taken just as it happens to be, suffices to hold the bird’s eggs, which are
-two or three in number, white with tawny and bluish spots.
-</p>
-<p>“In closing let me beg you to remember what we owe these big-throated birds that hunt
-insects on the <span class="pageNum" id="pb239">[<a href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>wing, and more especially the swifts and swallows, who defend our granaries and gardens,
-our wardrobes and our very persons. What would you think of any one who, possessing
-the terrible secret of creating by the bushel moths, gnats, mosquitoes, weevils, and
-other destructive insects, should let loose a swarm of these creatures in the air
-about us?”
-</p>
-<p>“I should say hanging was too good for him,” answered Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“But that is exactly what any one does who kills a swallow. It is true he does not
-create moths and mosquitoes and other insects, but he saves the lives of those that
-the swallow would have eaten, and thus he is guilty of as grave an offense as if he
-had created them on purpose to turn them loose on us. He does a wicked deed, for he
-receives with deadly shotgun the pretty, joyous creature, messenger of spring and
-sunshine, that comes trustfully asking his hospitality and the permission to build
-its nest under the eaves of his house. He causes famine, for he encourages the multiplication
-of those devouring hordes that levy every year on our farm products a tax that amounts
-to thousands of millions of francs in its total sum and is constantly increasing as
-insect-eating birds decrease. A wicked deed, I say, a deed which causes famine—that
-is what is really done by the murderer of swallows.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb240">[<a href="#pb240">240</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch31" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e477">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE BIRD’S BEAK</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“There are many other small birds that live almost exclusively on insects, and in
-so doing render a great service to agriculture. A full account of them all would take
-too long; and, besides, you are familiar with the greater number, seeing them daily
-in the woods, fields, orchards, and gardens. I will confine myself, therefore, to
-the chief difference between insect-eaters and birds that live on seeds and grain;
-and then a glance at some of the habits of the most important species will complete
-our rapid review.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p240width"><img src="images/p240.png" alt="Beaks and Claws of Birds of Prey" width="314" height="295"><p class="figureHead">Beaks and Claws of Birds of Prey</p>
-<p class="first">1, golden eagle; 2, gerfalcon</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The food of small birds falls into two classes, seeds and insects. Certain birds
-require millet, hemp-seed, pips, and similar seeds of all kinds, while others need
-grubs, larvæ, insects. The choice of one or the other sort of food is determined by
-the shape of the beak, just as a mammal’s diet depends on the <span class="pageNum" id="pb241">[<a href="#pb241">241</a>]</span>structure of the animal’s teeth. The molars of the horse and the ox call for forage
-to grind under their flat, wide crowns; but those of the wolf and the cat, with their
-sharp edges, need flesh to cut to pieces. In the same manner the bird’s beak, according
-to whether it is shaped this way or that, whether large or small, thick or slender,
-strong or weak, requires hard seeds that crack under the mandibles and in opening
-yield their kernels, or the tender grub that is swallowed without having to be crushed.
-Show me your teeth, we said to the mammal, and I shall know what you eat. Show me
-your beak, we might now say to the bird, and I shall know whether you live on insects
-or seeds.
-</p>
-<p>“The beak of the bird that lives on seeds or grain—that is, the granivorous bird—is
-thick, conical, wide at the base, and strong in proportion to the hardness of the
-seeds it has to crack open; but the beak of the bird that lives on insects—that is,
-the insectivorous bird—is thin, slender, delicate, and weak in proportion to the softness
-of the insects it catches. In our everyday speech we note this difference by applying
-to the small granivorous birds the general designation grosbeak, while the insect-eaters
-are often called slender-beaked birds. Let us remember these two expressive words
-and formulate the general principle thus: Seeds for the grosbeak, worms for the slender
-beak.
-</p>
-<p>“And now without further delay we will put the rule into practice. Here is a bird
-whose diet is perhaps a matter of uncertainty to you. If I ask you <span class="pageNum" id="pb242">[<a href="#pb242">242</a>]</span>what, to judge from the shape of its beak, is its customary food, shall you be at
-a loss how to reply?”
-</p>
-<p>“That strong beak, so wide at the base, must be meant for crunching the very hardest
-seeds,” was Jules’s opinion.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes,” Emile chimed in, “that bird certainly lives on seeds; it is written all over
-its big face.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is, indeed, a consumer of all kinds of seeds; it is the greenfinch of our copses,
-greenish underneath and with a yellow border to its tail. The dominant color of its
-costume, green mixed with yellow, has given it the name of greenfinch. And this one?”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p242width"><img src="images/p242.png" alt="Beaks and Claws of Wading-birds" width="290" height="258"><p class="figureHead">Beaks and Claws of Wading-birds</p>
-<p class="first">1, stork; 2, heron; 3, crane</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Seeds for the grosbeak, worms for the slender beak,” repeated Emile. “The beak has
-no strength; it is rather long but thin; the bird is an insect-eater.”
-</p>
-<p>“And one of the greediest, for it belongs to the family of warblers, those delightful
-songsters that would be afraid of getting hoarse if they ate dry, farinaceous grain.
-To keep their vocal cords flexible these artists must have the gentle lubricant furnished
-by caterpillars and the succulent flesh of larvæ. They take good heed not to touch
-coarse seeds, which would injure the voice. This bird is the reed-warbler, which lives
-on dragon-flies, small <span class="pageNum" id="pb243">[<a href="#pb243">243</a>]</span>June-bugs, mosquitoes, and horse-flies, snapping them up on the wing. It builds its
-nest among the reeds in willow thickets. It is reddish brown above and yellowish white
-underneath.
-</p>
-<p>“Finally, let us look at this third one.”
-</p>
-<p>“Another slender beak,” said Emile; “another insect-eater.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes; you see it isn’t difficult. The bird has three names among us: washerwoman,
-wagtail, and little shepherdess. Washerwoman, because it frequents the waterside in
-company with those that wash linen; wagtail, because it wags its tail at every step
-it takes; and little shepherdess, because it likes the society of shepherds and flocks.
-It is ash-colored above, white underneath, and black on the back of the head and also
-on the throat and breast.
-</p>
-<p>“Wagtails go hopping along in a lively manner over the sand at the water’s edge, looking
-for little worms. Every now and then they fly up a few feet into the air, balance,
-pirouette, and alight again on some slight elevation. They may also be seen skipping
-across the fields among the sheep and standing on the backs of the latter even in
-the shepherd’s presence, in order to get the parasitic insects lurking under the wool.
-They live on small slugs, moths, flies, and larvæ.
-</p>
-<p>“Midway between birds eating only seeds and those eating only insects must be placed,
-in respect to their food, those that have a mixed diet and eat, according to season,
-place, and circumstances, insects and seeds, larvæ and berries. Their beak has <span class="pageNum" id="pb244">[<a href="#pb244">244</a>]</span>neither a strong, conical structure like that of purely granivorous birds, nor a delicately
-slender form like the beak of the insect-eaters, but is between these two extremes.
-This beak, instrument of general utility, is found in the lark, that bringer of gladness
-to our plowed fields; in the thrush and the blackbird, lovers of grapes and juniper-berries,
-but not less fond of insects; in the oriole, that superb black and yellow bird so
-appreciative of cherries flavored with toothsome larvæ; and in the starling, devourer
-of figs, grapes, insects, slugs, and various kinds of seeds.
-</p>
-<p>“The starling is a magnificent bird almost as large as a blackbird, brilliant with
-glints of metallic luster on a dark background. Its color is black with greenish sheen
-on head and wings and violet on breast and back. Most of the feathers are adorned
-with a reddish-white spot at the very end. It nests under the roofs of buildings,
-in dove-cotes, and in hollow tree trunks. The nest, composed on the outside of straw,
-and within of dry grasses and feathers, contains four spotless whitish eggs. Starlings
-come to us in the autumn. They fly in large flocks, whirling about like grain winnowed
-in a sieve and sending forth piercing cries from high up in the air. They alight in
-marshes and damp meadows, where they destroy much vermin.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb245">[<a href="#pb245">245</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch32" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e487">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">INSECTIVOROUS BIRDS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Now let us go back to the principal slender-beaked birds, eaters of insects only
-and consequently our greatest helpers. They are all small in size, delicately and
-gracefully formed, and modest in dress. Among them we find the sweet singers that
-make the woods echo in spring with the refreshing songs of the opening season.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p245width"><img src="images/p245.png" alt="Nightingale" width="250" height="275"><p class="figureHead">Nightingale</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“First there is the nightingale, clothed all in brown except the under parts, which
-are whitish in color. Listen to it some calm evening in May. All is quiet, so we need
-not lose a note of the bird’s hymn. It begins with a few timid and tentative phrases,
-thus:
-</p>
-<p class="xd31e2705"><i>Teoo-oo, teoo-oo, teoo-oo, teoo-oo,
-<br>Shpe, teoo-oo, tokooa.</i>
-</p>
-<p>Then it becomes more animated:
-</p>
-<p class="xd31e2705"><i>Teo, teo, teo, teo, teo,
-<br>Koo-oo-teoo, koo-oo-teoo, koo-oo-teoo, koo-oo-teoo, <span class="pageNum" id="pb246">[<a href="#pb246">246</a>]</span><br>Tskoo-o, tskoo-o, tskoo-o, tskoo-o,
-<br>Tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee, tsee-ee.</i>
-</p>
-<p>Here the phrasing becomes more marked, the melody quicker:
-</p>
-<p class="xd31e2705"><i>Dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo,
-<br>Koo-e-oo, trrrrrrritz!
-<br>Lu-lu-lu, le-le-le-le, lee-lee-lee-lee.</i>
-</p>
-<p>Enthusiasm then bursts all bounds and the bird indulges in the most brilliant roulades;
-but our harsh alphabet is powerless to show the sounds that come from this wonderful
-throat.
-</p>
-<p>“ ‘The nightingale,’ says Buffon, ‘begins with a timid prelude in weak and almost
-wavering tones, as if wishing to try its instrument and win the attention of those
-within hearing; but presently, gaining assurance, it gradually becomes animated and
-displays all the resources of its incomparable organ. Bursts of melody, lively volleys
-of rippling song in which clearness is equaled only by volubility, low and voiceless
-murmurs inaudible to the listener, but calculated to increase the brilliance of the
-notes about to be heard, vivid and rapid trills that sweep the gamut and are articulated
-with force and even with a certain hardness of effect not unpleasing to the ear, plaintive
-cadences softly modulated, notes struck without art but full of soul, enchanting and
-poignant chords that seem to come from the very heart and to convey a touching significance—such
-are the impassioned strains by which, in a tongue doubtless full of sentiment, this
-natural songster <span class="pageNum" id="pb247">[<a href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>appears to try to charm its mate or, rather, to contend before her with his jealous
-rivals for the prize of supreme excellence in song.’
-</p>
-<p>“I have seen unfeeling barbarians cut short this pretty romance with a shot from a
-gun. They say that half a dozen nightingales make an excellent broiled dish. Horrors!
-What a frightful brute is man when he thinks of nothing but his stomach!
-</p>
-<p>“The nightingale builds its nest in bushes and rather near the ground, sometimes even
-among the roots. Coarse grasses and oak leaves are used for the outside, tufts of
-fleece and horsehair for the inside. The female lays five dark-green eggs.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p247width"><img src="images/p247.png" alt="Yellow Warbler" width="316" height="293"><p class="figureHead">Yellow Warbler</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“With the nightingale, though less wonderful as singers, are to be classed the warblers,
-thirty or more species of which can be counted in Europe. All live on flies, caterpillars,
-small beetles, spiders, and larvæ of various kinds. Their nests are constructed with
-much art. Some nest in trees and hedges in our gardens; others prefer thickets and
-lonely groves; still others choose holes in tree trunks and walls. Others, again,
-build on piling that projects above the water in marshes; that is, they unite three
-or four slender reeds with <span class="pageNum" id="pb248">[<a href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>a ligature and build their nest on this swaying support. Others, finally, content
-themselves with a little hole in the ground. Among the best-known of these birds is
-the black-capped warbler, so named on account of the black hood that covers the top
-of the head and the nape of the neck. You remember it is one of the cuckoo’s victims,
-as was proved by the egg found a few days ago, in the nest at the foot of the garden.
-Then we must include the babbling warbler, lover of copses, orchards, and gardens;
-the little red warbler, which visits our fruit-trees and says, <i>zip-zap, zip-zap, zip-zap</i>; the marsh-warbler, which builds its nest among the marsh reeds; and the Alpine warbler,
-guest of chalets and tuneful songster of high, snowy mountains.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p248width"><img src="images/p248.png" alt="Wheatear" width="259" height="217"><p class="figureHead">Wheatear</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Now let us look at the fallow-finch or whitetail, which flies from clod to clod in
-our fallow fields (whence its name of fallow-finch), and in flying spreads its white
-tail, a target for the huntsman and the reason for its second name. It is ash-colored
-on the back and reddish white underneath, with black wings and eyebrows. It frequents
-cultivated fields to catch the grubs turned up by the plow. Its nest, placed under
-a clod of turf, amid a pile of stones, or in a hole in some dry wall, is made of moss,
-grass, and feathers. The eggs, five or six in number, are light blue. The fallow-finch’s
-chosen <span class="pageNum" id="pb249">[<a href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>haunts are dry, rocky uplands, where it may be seen in the autumn in large flocks,
-flying from one rock to another and from one clod to another, keeping close to the
-ground.
-</p>
-<p>“By the fallow-finch’s side let us place the stonechat, a little, lively, active bird
-always seen perched on the topmost branch of a bush or bramble, where it repeats,
-with frisky movements, its short cry of <i>ooistratra, ooistratra</i>. If from this place of observation it sees an insect on the ground, it flies down,
-seizes it, and returns in a trice to its perch by a short curving flight like that
-so characteristic of the shrike. Its plumage is brown, with red breast and black throat.
-The sides of the neck, together with the wings and the rump, are ornamented with white.
-Stonechats frequent hedges that border sown fields and dry pastures, and are never
-seen, any more than are fallow-finches, in damp lands along the banks of rivers. They
-build their nests, in which they lay five or six greenish-blue eggs, among the roots
-of bushes, in crevices in rocks, and among piles of stones.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p249width"><img src="images/p249.png" alt="European Robin" width="220" height="253"><p class="figureHead">European Robin</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“I should count it almost a crime to omit here the robin redbreast, in my opinion
-the most pleasing of our smaller birds in its wide-awake manner, its gentle look,
-and its friendly curiosity, which makes it come and pick up the shepherd’s crumbs
-when he is <span class="pageNum" id="pb250">[<a href="#pb250">250</a>]</span>eating his lunch. At the first dawn of day it begins its lively song, uttering now
-and then a note or two that recall certain parts of the nightingale’s more elaborate
-performance. Who does not know its alert cry from the depths of some clump of bushes,
-<i>treet, tee-ree-tee-teet, tee-reet, tee-ree-tee-teet</i>, and its call to some passing member of its kin, <i>oo-eep, oo-eep</i>?
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p250-1width"><img src="images/p250-1.png" alt="American Robin" width="289" height="304"><p class="figureHead">American Robin</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The redbreast is greenish brown above, bright red on the throat and breast, and white
-on the stomach. It nests in the densest woods amid the moss-grown tree roots, and
-its nest, made of leaves, horsehair, tufts of wool, and feathers, contains from five
-to seven whitish eggs spotted with red.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p250-2width"><img src="images/p250-2.png" alt="Song-thrush" width="269" height="343"><p class="figureHead">Song-thrush</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“In winter the redbreast leaves the forest, draws near our farms, and even ventures
-into our houses in quest of food. God forbid, boys, that you should ever betray its
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb251">[<a href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>confidence when, on a stormy winter’s day, it comes discreetly tapping with its beak
-on the window-pane, asking hospitality. Welcome the poor little famished creature,
-and it will pay you a hundred times over with its gentle warbling and its zeal in
-defending the fruits of the earth.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p251-1width"><img src="images/p251-1.png" alt="Red-winged Thrush" width="289" height="247"><p class="figureHead">Red-winged Thrush</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p251-2width"><img src="images/p251-2.png" alt="Varied Thrush" width="265" height="202"><p class="figureHead">Varied Thrush</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“But enough about the slender-beaks. You ought by this time to appreciate the immense
-help we receive from these legions of insect-eaters which share the work of the fields,
-hedges, meadows, gardens, woods, and orchards, and wage incessant warfare on every
-sort of vermin that would destroy our harvests unless others than ourselves were constantly
-on the watch—others cleverer and endowed with sharper eyesight and greater patience
-for the unending hunt, and also having nothing else to do. I am not exaggerating,
-I assure you; without our insectivorous birds we should soon suffer from famine. Who,
-then, except an idiot with a mania for destruction, would dare touch the nests of
-these birds of the good God that enliven the country-side with their <span class="pageNum" id="pb252">[<a href="#pb252">252</a>]</span>varied plumage and protect us from insects? There are, I well know, unruly boys who,
-tired of their books and lessons, delight to play truant and make a pastime of climbing
-trees and searching hedges in order to toss the new-born birds out of their nests
-to a miserable death and to smash the eggs. The rural guard is on the watch for these
-wicked thieves, and the law punishes them, that our fields and orchards may enjoy
-the birds’ protection and continue to produce their sheaves and their fruit.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p252width"><img src="images/p252.png" alt="Thrush-tit" width="251" height="226"><p class="figureHead">Thrush-tit</p>
-</div><p>
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb253">[<a href="#pb253">253</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch33" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e498">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">GRANIVOROUS BIRDS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“It might at first seem that I ought to be as lenient toward those who hunt granivorous
-birds as I have just shown myself severe toward the destroyers of insectivorous birds;
-for can it be denied that birds given to a vegetable diet are harmful to our crops,
-that they plunder our grain-fields and devour great quantities of seeds, buds, fruit,
-and young garden plants? Some of them know how to extract the wheat grains from the
-ear, and others boldly come to get their share of the oats thrown to the poultry in
-our barnyards. Others, again, prefer the juicy flesh of fruit and know before we do
-when cherries are ripe or pears are mellow, so that when we come to gather in the
-harvest all that we find is merely what they have left. There are even some that have
-a queer-shaped beak for splitting fruit open and dividing it into quarters so as to
-get at the pips, which are to them the very choicest of titbits. Look at this one’s
-beak and tell me if you have ever seen a more singular tool.”
-</p>
-<p>“The two mandibles cross each other,” said Jules. “Instead of meeting they go criss-cross
-like the blades of an old pair of scissors out of order.”
-</p>
-<p>“What can such a rickety beak be good for,” <span class="pageNum" id="pb254">[<a href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>Emile asked, “with its tips pointing one up and the other down? It will never be able
-to pick up a seed from the ground.”
-</p>
-<p>“Consequently, it does not get its food from the ground. Its manner of proceeding
-is more complicated.
-</p>
-<p>“First I will say that the bird is known as a crossbill, from the position of the
-two mandibles. This odd arrangement is not the result of an accident to the bird,
-as for instance a sprain following some violent effort; it is not a crippled beak,
-nor is it a rickety beak, as Emile calls it, but a beak in its natural and perfect
-state. The bird is born with this odd beak and has never had any other. It is even
-extremely doubtful whether it would consent to make a change if it had the opportunity,
-so useful a tool is this beak for the work it has to do. The crossbill has a fondness
-for pine seeds above all other food. Take a pine-cone and lift the scales with the
-point of a penknife. You will find behind each scale two seeds full of oil and smelling
-slightly of resin. They are the titbits the bird is after. But how get at them under
-scales so hard and so firmly held in place? In vain would the grosbeak hammer at these
-scales with its strong tool; it would never succeed in opening them. Even we ourselves
-with the aid of a knife find it difficult. But the crossbill makes play of this hard
-work. It inserts the tip of one mandible under the scale and, using the other as a
-fulcrum, pries with a turning movement until the scale is lifted and the seed laid
-bare; and the <span class="pageNum" id="pb255">[<a href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>whole thing is done in next to no time. A key turning in the lock does not push the
-bolt more easily.”
-</p>
-<p>“I must change my mind,” Jules acknowledged, “about this beak that at first seemed
-to me so awkward; it is a first-rate key to force the lock of a pine-cone.”
-</p>
-<p>“And it is not less useful,” proceeded his uncle, “in quartering apples and getting
-out the pips. I should not like to have crossbills by the dozen in any orchard of
-mine; they would soon tear all the fruit to pieces. Fortunately, it is not our level
-plains that these birds choose as their haunts, but cold, mountainous regions covered
-with dark forests of cone-bearing evergreens. Their plumage is bright red more or
-less tinged with green and yellow. Crossbills breed in the coldest countries of Europe
-and build their nests even in midwinter. Their materials are moss and lichens, made
-to shed the melting snow by a coating of resin.
-</p>
-<p>“I shall enter no plea for the crossbill: its taste for apple and pear seeds is a
-serious matter; but I will mention certain things that seem to plead for the granivorous
-birds as a class. First, the greater number of these birds feed on wild seeds of no
-value to us even if not actually harmful to our cultivated fields. We weed our tilled
-land, clearing it of all plants that exhaust it to no purpose. Many granivorous birds
-also weed, in their own way: they gather the seeds that would otherwise infest the
-soil. For example, must we not acknowledge the services of the goldfinch, which, when
-thistles have matured, <span class="pageNum" id="pb256">[<a href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>alights on their prickly heads and searches for the seeds amid the thistle-down? I
-need not describe this pretty little bird, so well is it known to you all.”
-</p>
-<p>“It has a splash of red on its head,” said Emile, “with yellow, black, and white on
-its wings.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p256width"><img src="images/p256.png" alt="Linnet" width="271" height="284"><p class="figureHead">Linnet</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, that is the goldfinch. Its nest, which is one of the most carefully built to
-be found anywhere, is placed in the fork of some flexible branch. The outside consists
-of mosses and lichens with a padding of down from thistles and other plants bearing
-seeds that have silky tufts, as for example the groundsel and the dandelion. The inside,
-artistically rounded, is lined with a thick layer of horsehair, wool, and feathers.
-The eggs, five or six in number, are white with reddish-brown spots, chiefly at the
-large end. The goldfinch merits our gratitude: it cheers us with its singing and works
-diligently at weeding lands infested with thistles and groundsel.
-</p>
-<p>“I will say as much in favor of the linnet, which feeds on all kinds of small seeds
-in our fields and to that extent follows the honorable trade of weeding. At the same
-time I will not hide its liking for linseed, which has given it the name it bears.
-It is very fond of hemp-seed, also. But hemp and flax are <span class="pageNum" id="pb257">[<a href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>not found everywhere, and the bird manages to get along very well without them by
-gathering a quantity of other seeds, more or less harmful to agriculture. It likes
-to breed in hilly country, choosing some thickly grown juniper-tree or bush. Its nest
-contains five or six white eggs with red spots. Its plumage is brown with a dash of
-crimson on head and breast.
-</p>
-<p>“To the part of weeders, seed-eating birds add a second even more praiseworthy one.
-Seeds, it is true, furnish their customary food; but most of the birds devour a great
-number of insects when these are plentiful and easy to find. If they lack the patience
-to hunt for worms in their most hidden retreats with the painstaking care of the slender-beaks,
-they at least profit by those that fortune places within their reach. A few grubs
-to season their regular diet of seeds are a godsend to them; and, moreover, their
-favorite seeds may by some mischance be lacking in their neighborhood. Not every day
-can the goldfinch find thistle-seeds nor the linnet flaxseed. What, then, is to be
-done except to have patience and in the meantime eat insects?
-</p>
-<p>“Last but not least, in their young days when, weak and featherless, they are fed
-from the parents’ beak, many granivorous birds are brought up on insects. The reason
-is plain enough. You can readily understand that the delicate crop of a young bird
-just out of the shell has not the strength to digest hard, dry seeds. It must have
-something more nourishing, something smaller and, above all, <span class="pageNum" id="pb258">[<a href="#pb258">258</a>]</span>more succulent, such as a marmalade of grubs prepared in the mother’s beak. A few
-days later, with the first growth of down, will come little soft caterpillars served
-whole; then tougher insects will prepare the stomach for the more difficult digestion
-of seeds. I select a few examples at random.
-</p>
-<p>“The chaffinch, the gay chaffinch, is well known to be a granivorous bird, a lover
-of millet and hemp-seed. Now, what does it give its little ones while they are still
-in the nest? It gives them hairless caterpillars and tender larvæ, chosen as being
-the easiest food to digest. I can say the same of the greenfinch, a bird with plumage
-midway between green and yellow; of the bullfinch, known by its red breast and stomach;
-and of the various buntings that come in the winter in flocks, pecking around our
-straw-stacks. These last, however, feed perhaps more than the others on seeds, as
-they have on the inside of the upper mandible a small, hard excrescence intended expressly
-for crushing them.
-</p>
-<p>“I might add to these examples, but prefer to conclude with a bird that is one of
-the most familiar to you, the sparrow. Here, certainly, we have an undoubted seed-eater.
-It raids our dove-cotes and poultry-yards and steals the food of our pigeons and poultry.
-It goes a-harvesting in the grain-fields before our reapers have begun their task.
-A great many other misdeeds are laid at its door. It strips cherry-trees, plunders
-our gardens, forages for sprouting seeds, regales itself on young lettuce, and nips
-the first little leaflets of green peas. But when <span class="pageNum" id="pb259">[<a href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>hatching-time comes this bold pilferer is transformed into a helper inferior to none.
-At least twenty times an hour the father and the mother, by turns, bring a mouthful
-to their young ones, and each time it consists of either a caterpillar or an insect
-large enough to require quartering, or perhaps a larva as fat as butter; or it may
-be a grasshopper or some other small game. In one week the brood consumes about three
-thousand insects, including larvæ, caterpillars, and grubs of all kinds. I have counted
-in the immediate vicinity of a single nest of these birds the remains of seven hundred
-June-bugs besides small insects without number. Behold what a store of food is needed
-for raising only one brood! What quantities of vermin, then, must all the broods of
-a community devour! After such services let him who will presume to raise a hand against
-our sparrows; as for me, I leave them in peace as long as they do not become too troublesome.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p259width"><img src="images/p259.png" alt="European House Sparrow" width="290" height="237"><p class="figureHead">European House Sparrow</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“My closing word is this: eaters of seeds and eaters of insects, grosbeaks and slender-beaks,
-some in greater degree, some in less, all come to our aid. Peace, then, to the little
-birds, the joy of the country-side and the protectors of our crops!”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb260">[<a href="#pb260">260</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch34" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e508">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">SNAKES AND LIZARDS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“I propose to-day to undertake the defense of reptiles, which many people fear and
-dislike, even look upon with horror. I have shown you what services are rendered by
-bats despite the repugnance we feel for them. These animals, regarded by us as hideous
-and treated as enemies, I have brought you to look upon as valuable helpers, veritable
-swallows of the night, devoted to the extermination of twilight insects. As soon as
-reason illuminates the darkness of prejudice the detested creature is found to be
-a very useful animal. In like manner I shall now try to make you separate the false
-from the true in respect to the reptiles. Let us begin with the snake.
-</p>
-<p>“If to explain our dislike for bats we mention their strange and repulsive appearance,
-we have not the same excuse in regard to snakes. Their slender form is not lacking
-in grace, the suppleness they display in their undulating movements is pleasing to
-the eye, and their scaly skin is decorated with well-defined colors that are prettily
-arranged. Our aversion, then, must be otherwise explained. Some serpents are venomous;
-they are armed with a formidable and death-dealing weapon. Certainly <span class="pageNum" id="pb261">[<a href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>it is not for these that I ask your favor. Indeed, if it were in my power to exterminate
-them all I would gladly free the earth of their presence. But others—and these are
-far more numerous—are not venomous and consequently are perfectly harmless unless
-they are large enough to hurt us by muscular force, which is not rare in the hot countries
-of the equator, but never to be feared in our part of the world, where the largest
-snake is not so strong as a mere child. Thus it is that some are much to be feared
-on account of their venom, while others, at least those of this region, are not in
-the least dangerous. But we are all too prone to lose sight of this difference in
-serpents. The evil reputation of the one with venomous fangs is fastened on all the
-others, so that we abhor them all alike because we believe them all to be venomous.
-In France we have only one venomous serpent, the viper, and all the others, large
-as well as small, are perfectly harmless and we will refer to them simply as snakes.
-</p>
-<p>“In one of our former talks<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2862src" href="#xd31e2862">1</a> I told you about the viper, describing its form and coloring, the structure of its
-venomous apparatus, and the effects of its bite. I here repeat the principal facts
-then related, in order to give you now a connected account of our serpents as a class.
-</p>
-<p>“All serpents dart back and forth between their lips, with extreme rapidity, something
-that looks like a black thread, of great flexibility and ending in a fork. Many persons
-believe this to be the reptile’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb262">[<a href="#pb262">262</a>]</span>weapon, the sting, as they call it, whereas in reality it is nothing but the tongue—a
-quite inoffensive tongue, which the creature uses for catching insects to feed upon,
-and also for expressing in its own peculiar fashion the passions that agitate it.
-This last it does by shooting the tongue swiftly in and out between the lips. All
-serpents without exception have a tongue, but in our country it is only the viper
-that possesses the terrible apparatus for injecting venom.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p262width"><img src="images/p262.png" alt="Head of Snake, showing Forked Tongue" width="212" height="97"><p class="figureHead">Head of Snake, showing Forked Tongue</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“This apparatus is composed, first, of two fangs or long, sharp teeth, situated in
-the upper jaw. Unlike ordinary teeth, these fangs are not fixed firmly in their sockets,
-but can at the creature’s will stand up for attack or lie down in a groove of the
-gum and remain there as harmless as a stiletto in its sheath. In this way the viper
-runs no risk of wounding itself. The fangs are hollow and pierced near the point with
-a very small opening through which the venom is discharged into the wound they give.
-Finally, at the base of each fang is a small pocket or sac filled with a venomous
-liquid. It is to all appearance a perfectly harmless liquid, odorless and tasteless,
-so that you would take it for nothing but water. When the viper strikes with its fangs,
-the venom sac discharges a drop of its contents into the tiny channel perforating
-the fang, and the liquid is injected into the wound. It is by mixing with the blood
-that the venom produces its terrifying effects.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb263">[<a href="#pb263">263</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“I remember all that very well,” said Jules, “and also what you said must be done
-to prevent the mixing of the venom with the blood in general that circulates through
-the body.”
-</p>
-<p>“And I also told you that the viper haunts by preference warm, rocky hills; it lurks
-under stones and in underbrush. In color it is brown or reddish, with a dark zigzag
-stripe along the back and a row of spots on each side, each spot fitting into one
-of the angles made by the zigzag stripe. Its stomach is slate-color and its head rather
-triangular in shape, being broader than the neck and running to a blunt point at the
-mouth. The viper is timid by nature and attacks man only in self-defense. Its movements
-are abrupt, irregular, and sluggish.”
-</p>
-<p>“What does it live on?” Jules inquired. “Does it eat nothing but little insects that
-it can catch with its tongue?”
-</p>
-<p>“Its chief food consists of larger prey, which calls for the use of its venomous weapon.
-Small field-rats, field-mice, meadow-mice, moles, sometimes frogs and even toads,
-are its usual victims. The animal attacked by the reptile is first stung with the
-venomous fangs, whereupon it is immediately overcome with agony. As soon as the prey
-is dead the viper twines its folds about the lifeless body, squeezes it tightly, and
-subjects it to a sort of kneading process in order to make it smaller; for the victim
-must be gulped down in one mouthful even if it exceeds the serpent itself in size.
-This preparation finished, the gullet opens to its utmost width and the two jaws,
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb264">[<a href="#pb264">264</a>]</span>seeming almost to fly apart, seize with their sharp teeth, which point backward toward
-the throat, the head of the mole or field-mouse or whatever the small game may be.
-A flow of saliva then streams over the body to make it slip down more readily, but
-it is so large a mouthful that the viper manages to swallow it only by a violent effort.
-The throat dilates and contracts, the jaws move alternately from right to left and
-from left to right, to coax the unwieldy mass downward, and so it is that this laborious
-swallowing is protracted sometimes for hours, sometimes for a whole day. Indeed, it
-not seldom occurs that the forward half of the prey is already undergoing digestion
-in the stomach while the hind quarters still stick in the throat or protrude from
-the mouth.
-</p>
-<p>“Let us pass on to the common snakes. These have no venomous fangs in the jaw; their
-teeth are small and even and lacking in strength, useful as an aid in holding the
-captured prey and helping in the swallowing of it (which is as difficult as with the
-viper), but incapable of inflicting a serious wound. These creatures, too, are extremely
-timid, fleeing at the slightest alarm; but if retreat is cut off they put on a bold
-front to impose on the enemy, coiling themselves in a spiral, erecting the head, swaying
-this way and that, hissing, and trying to bite. There is no need, however, to be afraid;
-a scratch of no more importance than a pin-prick would be the worst that could befall
-one. You would suffer far <span class="pageNum" id="pb265">[<a href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>greater injury by thrusting your hand into a bramble-bush.”
-</p>
-<p>“If it isn’t any more dangerous than that,” Jules declared boldly, “I shan’t mind
-taking up snakes in my hands.”
-</p>
-<p>“I do not tell you this to encourage you to capture these creatures and make playthings
-of them; on the contrary, I wish you to leave them alone, but I also desire to remove
-an unwarranted fear, the fear of snakes that is so prevalent in country districts.
-Fear, always an evil counselor, never does a good deed in prompting one to throw stones
-at a harmless creature found in a hole in the wall. The passer-by attacks it with
-his stick if he sees it crossing the road, and the mower in the hay-field cuts off
-its head with his scythe. Were they not listening to a foolish fear and yielding to
-an unreasonable dislike, they would leave the poor thing in peace and no one would
-be the worse for it, as snakes not only are harmless, but they render us excellent
-service by destroying numerous insects and small rodents such as meadow-mice and field-mice.
-From this point of view, snakes deserve protection and not the hatred that is commonly
-felt for them.”
-</p>
-<p>“But,” objected Louis, “they say snakes can charm birds by their gaze and draw them
-into their open mouth by first overcoming them with their poisonous breath. Helpless,
-the bird plunges headlong into the creature’s horrible gullet.”
-</p>
-<p>“There is a grain of truth in what you say, but far more untruth, the result of popular
-superstition <span class="pageNum" id="pb266">[<a href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>which deliberately credits the serpent with sorcery. In the first place, the breath
-of a serpent, or of any reptile whatever, has nothing poisonous about it, nothing
-magically attractive, nothing supernatural. You all have too much common sense to
-make it necessary for me to dwell on these ridiculous tales. There remains only the
-belief that the bird is charmed by the reptile’s hard, fixed gaze. The marvel of this
-amounts in reality to very little.
-</p>
-<p>“Some of our snakes are very fond of birds’ eggs. They climb trees, search out the
-nests, and eat the eggs when the mothers are not there to protect them. More than
-one human nest-robber who thought he was seizing a jay’s or a blackbird’s brood has
-put his hand instead on the cold coiled body of a reptile in the bottom of the nest.
-I have even known instances in which the plunderers, seized with horror at this unexpected
-encounter, fell backward from the tree-top and did not come out of the adventure without
-broken bones. A warning to others. The larger snakes do not content themselves with
-eggs, but devour the young birds as well, even those that are outside the nest when
-they can catch them, which fortunately is not easy. Imagine an innocent little bird
-surprised by a snake in the underbrush. The poor little thing suddenly sees before
-it a mouth horribly wide open and glittering eyes regarding it steadily. Scared almost
-to death, the bird loses its head and is powerless to take flight. In vain it beats
-its wings, cries plaintively, and finally falls from the branch, paralyzed and dying.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb267">[<a href="#pb267">267</a>]</span>The monster lying in wait catches the poor thing in its mouth.
-</p>
-<p>“The power to charm that serpents are supposed to have is therefore in reality only
-the power so to terrify a bird that it cannot fly. We ourselves, on being suddenly
-confronted by an appalling danger—do we always retain the presence of mind necessary
-to face it? Are there not plenty of persons that get bewildered, lose their wits completely,
-and make matters worse by acting foolishly? The charm exerted by serpents all comes
-down simply to that. I am inclined to believe that a bird, on being surprised by a
-snake, usually is able to overcome the first feeling of terror and to take flight
-as soon as it sees the reptile’s horrible gullet yawning to receive the expected prey;
-and so the serpent’s attempt to paralyze its victim has a chance to succeed only with
-very young and inexperienced birds. What paralyzes with fright an ignorant young nestling
-hardly affects a bird that is master of itself; what terrifies a child or a person
-of weak character makes little impression on a man capable of keeping his head in
-time of danger. Acquire the habit, children, of keeping calm in times of danger or
-excitement, and you will avoid many calamities and escape many perils, just as the
-bird that does not lose its head escapes the snake lurking in ambush to catch it.
-</p>
-<p>“One of our common snakes is the water-snake, so called because it likes damp places
-and frequents still water, where it shows itself a good swimmer in its pursuit of
-little fish, water insects, and tadpoles. <span class="pageNum" id="pb268">[<a href="#pb268">268</a>]</span>It lays its eggs usually in dunghills, where they will be hatched out by the heat.
-These eggs are of an elongated oval shape, with a soft shell resembling wet parchment.
-In size they are about as large as a magpie’s eggs. They are joined together in a
-string by a semi-liquid viscous substance. On stirring a heap of dung, country people
-often turn up with their forks these soft-shelled eggs whose origin is unknown to
-them and from which, to their great surprise, come young serpents. They declare them
-to be roosters’ eggs, unnatural eggs, magic eggs that produce snakes instead of chickens;
-and it would be difficult to convince them that this is not true. As for you, my children,
-if you ever happen to hear any one speak of eggs laid by roosters in dunghills and
-producing serpents, remember that they are simply the eggs of the water-snake.
-</p>
-<p>“Put no faith, either, in still another fable current in our villages. According to
-this, all snakes have a consuming desire to enter the mouth and then the body of any
-one sleeping on the cool grass. To rid the patient of this inconvenient guest the
-serpent must be lured from its retreat by the smell of warm milk. Of course this is
-pure nonsense, as no animal can wish to take refuge in the human stomach, where it
-would be digested, reduced to pap, by the same process that digests our bread.
-</p>
-<p>“One often meets in hay-fields or even in hay itself a small reptile differing from
-the snake in structure. It is known as the slow-worm or blind-worm. Its head is small
-and merges into the body <span class="pageNum" id="pb269">[<a href="#pb269">269</a>]</span>without narrowing into a neck; furthermore, the tail is blunt, so that the two ends
-of the body are of nearly the same shape and leave us for a moment in doubt as to
-which is the head and which the tail. The slow-worm is covered with very smooth and
-shiny scales. The back is silvery yellow and marked from one end to the other by three
-black lines which change, as the worm grows older, to a succession of dots and even
-disappear entirely at last. The stomach is blackish. On being disturbed the slow-worm
-forcibly contracts, stiffens, and becomes almost as rigid as a lizard’s tail.
-</p>
-<p>“Many people believe that this little creature is venomous, and even to touch it or
-meet its eye is thought to be very dangerous. But its evil reputation is quite undeserved.
-The slow-worm is really the most harmless of reptiles: it does not even offer to bite
-in its own defense, but contents itself with stiffening until it is as rigid as a
-wooden rod. It lives chiefly on beetles and earthworms.
-</p>
-<p>“Now to conclude this brief account of snakes: vipers excepted, not one of our serpents
-is venomous, none can harm us, the bite of none is in the least dangerous. Snakes
-do us no injury whatever; on the contrary, they help us by destroying a multitude
-of insects and small rodents. Let us, then, conquer an unreasonable horror and hatred
-and suffer these helpers of ours to live in peace.
-</p>
-<p>“Equal consideration should be shown to lizards, those agile hunters of insects and
-even of small fur-bearing <span class="pageNum" id="pb270">[<a href="#pb270">270</a>]</span>game such as rodents. Who does not know the little gray lizard, lover of sunny walls?
-It lies in wait for flies, darting its tongue in and out as if in play; and it ransacks
-one hole after another in quest of insects. It is the protector of wall-fruit.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p270width"><img src="images/p270.png" alt="Serpentiform Lizard" width="252" height="219"><p class="figureHead">Serpentiform Lizard</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“When on a fine spring day the sun shines warm on some wall or hillside, the lizard
-may be seen stretched out comfortably on this wall or on the new grass covering the
-hillside. It steeps itself delightedly in the healthful warmth; it shows its pleasure
-by gentle undulations of its relaxed tail and by its shining eyes; and presently,
-perhaps, it darts like an arrow to seize some small prey or to find a spot still more
-to its liking. Far from fleeing at the approach of man, it seems to regard him with
-friendliness; but at the slightest alarming sound, as the fall of a leaf, it rolls
-over, falls, and remains motionless for some moments, as if stunned by the fall; or
-else it darts away, vanishes from sight, reappears, hides again, then comes forth
-once more, turns and twists until the eye can hardly follow it, folds itself over
-several times, and finally retires to some shelter to recover from its fright.
-</p>
-<p>“As useful as it is graceful in form, the little gray lizard lives on flies, crickets,
-grasshoppers, earthworms, and nearly all insects that prey upon our fruit and grain;
-thus it would be much to our advantage <span class="pageNum" id="pb271">[<a href="#pb271">271</a>]</span>if the species were more widely scattered. The greater our supply of gray lizards,
-the faster should we see the enemies of our gardens disappear.
-</p>
-<p>“The green lizard so common everywhere—in hedges, on the skirts of woods, in thickets
-having an undergrowth of wild grass—attains a length of three decimeters. The back
-shows an elegant embroidery of green pearls set off with black and yellow dots. This
-little creature is marvelously swift of foot, darting into the midst of underbrush
-and dry leaves with a suddenness that always takes one by surprise and causes at first
-a little start of fear. When it is attacked by a dog it throws itself at the assailant’s
-snout and plants its teeth with such determination that it will let itself be carried
-along and even killed rather than relax its hold. But its bite is not at all venomous;
-it merely punctures the skin without leaving in the wound any kind of poison. In captivity
-it becomes very tame, very gentle, and willingly lets itself be handled. Its food
-consists chiefly of insects.
-</p>
-<p>“The olive-growing districts of France have another lizard, larger, stronger, heavier,
-and more squat in form than the common green lizard. The people of Provence call it
-the glass-bead, but scientists give it the name of ocellated lizard from the small
-black spots scattered like little eyes (<i>ocelli</i>, in Latin) on the bluish-green background of the creature’s back. This lizard haunts
-dry hillsides exposed to the full heat of the sun. It bores for itself a deep hole
-in some sandy spot, generally under <span class="pageNum" id="pb272">[<a href="#pb272">272</a>]</span>the shelter of a projecting stone. Trusting to its formidable bite, it is very bold.
-Not only does it leap at dogs’ snouts, but it will even attack man if it finds itself
-too hard-pressed. This courage has won for it a terrible reputation among country
-people, who think it very dangerous, more venomous than even the viper.
-</p>
-<p>“Now, Uncle Paul, who knows this lizard as well as he knows the bottom of his own
-pocket, who has watched its movements for whole days in order to learn its habits,
-who has examined its teeth very carefully so as to be able to report with authority
-on its bite, and who has even let himself be bitten by it in order to leave no doubt
-on the subject—Uncle Paul, I say, declares that this dreaded lizard does not deserve
-the reputation it bears. It is not venomous in the least; it bites hard, it is true,
-nipping the skin and even taking away a piece, but without poisoning the wound; in
-a word, it is no more to be feared than the common green lizard. Its food consists
-of beetles, grasshoppers, and small field-rats; and therefore, despite the fear it
-inspires, I have no hesitation in placing the ocellated lizard in the class of helpers.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb273">[<a href="#pb273">273</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2862">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2862src">1</a></span> See “The Story-Book of Science.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2862src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch35" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e518">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE BATRACHIANS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first"></p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p273width"><img src="images/p273.png" alt="American Tree Toad" width="294" height="270"><p class="figureHead">American Tree Toad</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p class="dropcap">“I have kept until the last the ugliest and the least esteemed of our helpers, the
-toad. With it must be classed the frog and the tree-toad because of their close resemblance
-to it in form and, still more, because of the similar change all three undergo in
-developing from the egg to the full-grown animal. Common language gives the name of
-reptile, from a Latin word meaning to creep or crawl, to the snake and the toad, the
-lizard and the frog, and all similar hairless animals having either no legs at all
-or very short ones and crawling on the stomach. Science, however, makes a difference;
-it limits the name reptile to the snake, the lizard, and other animals having a scaly
-skin and hatching from the egg in the form they are to keep; and it gives the name
-batrachian (from the Greek <i>batrachos</i>, a frog) to the toad, frog, tree-toad, and some others, which <span class="pageNum" id="pb274">[<a href="#pb274">274</a>]</span>have a naked skin and whose first shape gives place later to a different one. Reptiles
-do not undergo a complete change; batrachians do. Just as the butterfly is first a
-caterpillar, quite different in structure, its way of living, and its diet from what
-it finally becomes in its perfect state, so the toad, the frog, and the tree-toad
-begin their existence as tadpoles with none of the structure and habits they are finally
-to have.
-</p>
-<p>“Tadpole or big-head, that is the word to indicate the batrachian in its transitory
-state. A very large head merging into a plump stomach that ends abruptly in a flat
-tail—such is the animal in the beginning. It has no limbs, no organs of locomotion
-unless it be the tail, which whips the water to push the creature forward and serves
-as oar and rudder at the same time. The toad tadpole is small and entirely black;
-the frog tadpole is much larger, silvery on the belly and grayish on the back. All
-tadpoles inhabit still waters, as ponds or pools warmed by the sun; but for toad tadpoles
-even shallow puddles or wagon-ruts with a few inches of rain will suffice, where they
-can gather in black rows or stretch themselves flat on the stomach in the tepid mud
-at the water’s edge. Frog tadpoles, however, thrive best in ponds of some extent,
-with various water-plants and sufficient depth for diving and swimming. Like fish,
-tadpoles breathe the air that is in water; and like them, also, they die if kept out
-of water a short time. Thus they are real fish as far as breathing is concerned. But
-in their final form batrachians <span class="pageNum" id="pb275">[<a href="#pb275">275</a>]</span>breathe atmospheric air and die of suffocation in water. They are land animals in
-that state, and breathe like other land animals.
-</p>
-<p>“You have very often seen frogs and toads in the water, and no doubt you think they
-could live there indefinitely. Undeceive yourselves: they go to the water only to
-lay their eggs or to escape from some danger or to bathe in hot weather, but they
-could not remain under water any length of time without dying. They have to come up
-at intervals to breathe, which they do by getting at least the nostrils out. Here
-we have a difference between the tadpole and the full-grown batrachian, between the
-larva, so to speak, and the creature at its maturity: the tadpole lives in water and
-perishes in the air, whereas the frog that comes from it lives in the air and perishes
-in water.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p275width"><img src="images/p275.png" alt="Hylaplesia Tinctoria" width="259" height="144"><p class="figureHead">Hylaplesia Tinctoria</p>
-<p class="first">(A frog-like toad of tropical America)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“And there is a still further difference: the tadpole lives exclusively on vegetable
-matter, its mouth is equipped with a sort of small horny beak to browse the foliage
-of water-plants, and in its big belly it has a very long intestine coiled about several
-times so as to prolong the passage of the food through the body and thus make sure
-that all the juices it may contain are extracted. The mature batrachian exchanges
-this horny beak for real jaws furnished with irregularities that serve as teeth, it
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb276">[<a href="#pb276">276</a>]</span>lives solely on an animal diet, especially on insects, and its intestine is short
-because the food it eats is easy of digestion and readily yields what nourishment
-it contains.
-</p>
-<p>“To turn a tadpole into a frog or a toad it is not enough to change its respiratory
-and digestive organs; new organs form, organs of which there was not the least sign
-when the creature was hatched, while still others disappear without leaving any trace.
-The tadpole is born absolutely without legs. After a while the hind legs appear, later
-come the fore legs, and still later the tail shrinks and vanishes.”
-</p>
-<p>“I remember seeing tadpoles,” said Jules, “some with two legs, some with four; but
-every one of them had a tail.”
-</p>
-<p>“When the tail has disappeared the animal is no longer a tadpole, but a young toad
-or frog.”
-</p>
-<p>“Does the tail come off itself, or does the animal pull it off?” Emile inquired with
-eager interest.
-</p>
-<p>“Neither the one nor the other. The tail is too valuable when the change takes place
-to be thrown away in that reckless fashion. It contains a store of material suitable
-for making something else in the bodily organism. When the legs begin to put forth,
-when the organs of digestion and those of respiration begin to take a new form, these
-new creations, these transformations, require material with which to build. Fleshy
-substance is needed for the up-building of the body just as bricks and mortar are
-needed for the construction of the house. Of course <span class="pageNum" id="pb277">[<a href="#pb277">277</a>]</span>the tadpole eats to make flesh and to provide a reserve for the work of transformation;
-but this method of accumulation is slow, and therefore, to save time, the organs useless
-to the future animal are destroyed, bit by bit, and their material is used in the
-construction of new parts. It is thus that the tail disappears. The blood circulating
-through it gradually eats it away, dissolves it, as we might say, at the proper time
-and carries elsewhere the fluid substance, which, turned again into flesh, helps to
-form the legs or other parts of the remodeled organism.”
-</p>
-<p>“What a deal of economy in getting rid of a tadpole’s tail!” exclaimed Emile. “Not
-a particle of it, even if no bigger than a pin’s head, must be thrown away, for it
-might be used to make the little toe on one of the feet.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, my boy, a wonderful economy, an economy careful of every atom of matter in order
-that life, the divine worker, may not fail to have at its disposal, undiminished by
-waste, the resources committed to its keeping by the Creator for works that are unceasingly
-being destroyed and then restored on a new plan.
-</p>
-<p>“I should add here that certain batrachians keep the tail as long as they live. To
-this class belong the salamanders, one species of which, the terrestrial or land salamander,
-is extremely ugly. In form it is half-way between a toad and a lizard, and its color
-is black with large bright-yellow spots. It is from one to two decimeters long. It
-haunts damp places <span class="pageNum" id="pb278">[<a href="#pb278">278</a>]</span>near springs and eats insects and earthworms. Despite its repulsive appearance it
-is perfectly harmless.
-</p>
-<p>“The tadpole of the salamander breathes through fine tuft-like appendages which spread
-out in the water on each side of the neck. These tufts are called gills, and they
-correspond to the fish’s breathing organs or gills, which are likewise situated on
-each side of the neck under the tiny flap commonly called the ear. Tadpoles of the
-frog and the toad have, for the first few days, fringed gills floating out freely;
-but in a short time they are drawn in under the skin and become invisible like the
-gills of fish.
-</p>
-<p>“Frogs have a slender form not devoid of a certain grace. Their hind legs are very
-long and powerful, being especially good at jumping, the frog’s customary mode of
-progress. First gathering itself together, the animal suddenly relaxes like a spring
-and throws itself forward by a vigorous thrust of the thighs. The hind toes are very
-markedly webbed; in other words, they are united by a membrane as are the toes of
-swimming birds, the duck in particular. This arrangement of the toes so as to form
-a broad paddle or oar, together with the suppleness of the hind legs, which are alternately
-drawn up against the sides and then forcibly extended, makes the frog an expert swimmer.
-</p>
-<p>“The common or green frog is spotted with black on a green background, and it has
-three yellowish stripes on the back, the belly also being yellow. It abounds on the
-banks of all still waters, and to it we <span class="pageNum" id="pb279">[<a href="#pb279">279</a>]</span>owe the noisy croaking that comes from every ditch on a summer evening.
-</p>
-<p>“The red frog is spotted with black on a reddish background, and is easily recognizable
-by the black stripe running from the eye over the ear. It likes cool places such as
-damp meadows and fields and underbrush. It is less fond of the water than the one
-just named, and it croaks much less.
-</p>
-<p>“Both live on live prey, as for example aquatic larvæ, worms, flies and other insects,
-and snails, and they never touch vegetable matter; therefore they are good helpers
-in our gardens.
-</p>
-<p>“Tree-toads—or, less correctly, tree-frogs—differ from ordinary frogs in having viscous
-cushions at the end of their toes, which enable them to climb trees, where they hunt
-insects. They stay all summer in the foliage and go to the water only to lay their
-eggs. Their cry, which gains force from a sort of pocket that shows plainly under
-the throat, is very loud and raucous. The tree-toad that we have around here, the
-common tree-toad, is of a beautiful delicate green hue on the back and yellowish-white
-on the belly.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb280">[<a href="#pb280">280</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch36" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e528">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE TOAD</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“What shall I say in defense of that poor creature, the toad, whose very name is enough
-to excite disgust? It is really loathed by all. It seems to us the ugliest and most
-disgusting of animals. What has it done, poor thing, to deserve the dislike every
-one feels for it?
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p280width"><img src="images/p280.png" alt="Toad" width="329" height="246"><p class="figureHead">Toad</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“It is ugly, the plaintiff asserts. Its flabby form is a shapeless lump, thrown together
-as if in careless haste, and its flattened, dirt-colored back is strewn with livid
-warts. Its legs, too short for symmetry or for effectual service, are unable to lift
-out of the mud its swollen stomach, which drags on the ground. Its big head merges
-into a hideous mouth, and heavy eyelids open to show large and prominent eyes which
-stare stupidly. If some danger threatens, it puffs itself up, forming under its skin
-an air-cushion which resists blows with its flabby elasticity.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb281">[<a href="#pb281">281</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“It is venomous, the plaintiff further declares. Squatting in the mire at the bottom
-of some dark hole, it absorbs the unwholesome humors of the slime for use in filling
-the warts on its back with a milky venom which oozes out and moistens the entire body
-in time of peril. It also squirts into the eyes of any one who attacks it a liquid,
-its urine, which burns and stings. It infects the atmosphere with its foul breath.
-From its gullet drips a fluid that poisons the grass and fruit over which the animal
-passes, so that its track is as fatal as its appearance is loathsome. In a word, the
-toad is ugly and venomous; then war without mercy on the hideous creature that infects
-earth, air, water, and by its very appearance disgusts the beholder! There you have
-the charges against the toad.
-</p>
-<p>“Now what shall I say in my turn, in defense of the poor creature? I shall tell the
-truth, the simple truth, and the charges made against it will be reduced to nothing.
-</p>
-<p>“As to the ugliness of the toad I will not say a word; all are welcome to their own
-opinion on that subject. I only ask you to recall our talk about bats.”
-</p>
-<p>“I don’t think the toad so horribly ugly,” Jules ventured to assert. “Its golden-yellow
-eyes are full of fire, its voice is sweet, almost flute-like, while the frog’s croak
-is anything but musical. I admit that the toad’s bloated body is not graceful; but,
-after all, it has some good points.”
-</p>
-<p>“Little toads hopping about among the reeds at <span class="pageNum" id="pb282">[<a href="#pb282">282</a>]</span>the edge of the pond,” said Emile, “are pretty to look at, and they make me laugh
-when they tumble heels over head every time they jump. I have taken them up in my
-hand, but I wouldn’t touch big toads; I am afraid of them.”
-</p>
-<p>“I wouldn’t either,” Jules agreed, “for fear of their venom.”
-</p>
-<p>“Ah, the venom! That is the serious side of the question, and not the creature’s ugliness,
-which is open to discussion. The toad has the beauty appropriate to it, the beauty
-of a toad, and it cannot have any other without ceasing to be what it is.
-</p>
-<p>“On being molested toads perspire through the warts that cover their skin a thick
-and viscous fluid that looks somewhat like milk. This secretion has a nauseous, burning
-taste and is unbearably bitter.”
-</p>
-<p>“Some one, then, has tasted the milky sweat that oozes from the toad’s warts?” asked
-Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, scientists have tasted it in order to tell us the truth about it, just as others
-have done with the viper’s venom. We must respect highly these courageous investigators,
-who are willing to make any sacrifice if only they may add to our knowledge and relieve
-our sufferings.”
-</p>
-<p>“The toad sweats this milky liquid when tormented; is that the way it defends itself?”
-Jules further inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“It hopes to defend itself by the horrid odor of its sweat and by its intolerably
-bitter taste; but this sweat is put to no further use. The animal would be <span class="pageNum" id="pb283">[<a href="#pb283">283</a>]</span>truly dangerous if it could inject its sweat into our blood as the viper injects its
-venom through its fangs into the wound already made by them. I will now relate a few
-experiments made by the scientists I just referred to.
-</p>
-<p>“A drop of the toad’s milky fluid is introduced with a pointed steel instrument into
-the flesh of a little bird. In a few minutes the bird staggers as if intoxicated,
-shuts its eyes, gasps, and falls dead.”
-</p>
-<p>“Really and truly dead?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Really and truly dead,” his uncle replied. “A dog is treated in the same manner,
-but with a stronger dose. In less than an hour the animal dies in a frightful frenzy.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then this white sweat of the toad must be a perfectly horrible venom,” Jules remarked.
-</p>
-<p>“Travelers tell us that certain South American Indian tribes poison the tips of their
-arrows with this venom. First they impale alive on a long stick a number of these
-animals, and then put them near the fire to make their warts sweat. The fluid that
-oozes out is collected in a large leaf, and into this fluid the savages dip their
-arrow-heads, a wound from which is then likely to prove fatal.”
-</p>
-<p>“Isn’t it the truth, then,” asked Jules, “that toads are venomous?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes and no. Applied in any way but by injection, the toad’s sweat is harmless; to
-act as venom it must mix with the blood through a wound. But I will not repeat what
-I have already told you about the viper’s venom. The toad is powerless to make <span class="pageNum" id="pb284">[<a href="#pb284">284</a>]</span>the slightest wound in our flesh, and therefore it is absolutely impossible for it
-to harm us. It possesses a poison without being able to make any use of it except
-to bedew its own body by perspiring, thus repelling its enemies by the horrid smell
-and taste of this sweat. You can handle a toad without any sort of risk if you wish
-to; wash your hands immediately afterward if they have become moistened by the contact,
-and there will be no further trouble. Unless the foolish fancy should seize you to
-collect a little of the venomous liquid on the point of a penknife and then prick
-yourself with the knife till you drew blood, I can assure you positively that the
-toad would cause you no injury whatever.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is plain enough,” Jules admitted, “for the toad has no means of making a wound
-to receive the venom from its warts; but they tell of other kinds of venom such as
-urine thrown to a distance and drivel running from the mouth.”
-</p>
-<p>“No drivel runs from the toad’s mouth, nor is there any truth in the animal’s poisoning
-fruit and grass with its saliva. That is pure calumny invented to blacken the detested
-animal.”
-</p>
-<p>“And the urine?”
-</p>
-<p>“The toad, when molested, discharges its urine as a means of defense, but not to any
-distance. You would have to hold your face close to the animal to receive the discharge
-in the eyes. If that should happen to some careless person, a temporary redness of
-the eyes would be the utmost result. But no one would think of putting his face so
-close to the <span class="pageNum" id="pb285">[<a href="#pb285">285</a>]</span>animal, and so there is no cause for alarm on that score.”
-</p>
-<p>“What about the creature’s terrible breath?” was Jules’s next inquiry.
-</p>
-<p>“Another calumny on a par with that about the saliva. Its breath is no more harmful
-than any other animal’s. So there is absolutely nothing left of the charges brought
-against the toad. The poison it sweats in moments of danger to drive away its enemies
-cannot injure as venom injures, because the animal has no means of injecting it into
-a wound and mixing it with the blood, as venom must be mixed to take effect. The discharge
-of its urine falls too short to be dangerous, and even if it should reach its mark
-its effect would be so slight that it is not worth considering. Does any one give
-a thought to the hedgehog’s urine when that animal sprays itself with this liquid
-on being molested? The toad’s similar mode of defense is no more to be feared. The
-other complaints, such as the swelling of one’s hands after touching the animal, air
-poisoned by its breath, fruit and vegetables infected by the saliva and the creature’s
-tracks, all come from people’s prejudice, their imagination, which has given the poor
-batrachian a bad reputation.
-</p>
-<p>“The toad is harmless, but that is not enough to entitle it to our consideration.
-It is also a very useful helper, a devourer of beetles, slugs, larvæ—vermin of every
-description, in short. After spending the day under a cool stone or in some dark hole,
-it leaves its retreat at nightfall to make its rounds, <span class="pageNum" id="pb286">[<a href="#pb286">286</a>]</span>hunching itself along on its big belly. Here is a slug making such haste as it can
-toward the lettuce bed, there a cricket chirping at the mouth of its hole, and there
-again a June-bug laying its eggs in the ground. Very softly the toad approaches and
-in three mouthfuls gobbles them all up with a gurgle of satisfaction. Ah, those tasted
-good! And now for some more.
-</p>
-<p>“It continues on its way, and by the time it has finished its rounds, at daybreak,
-you may imagine what a multitude of worms and other small prey the glutton has stowed
-away in its capacious stomach. And yet this useful creature is stoned to death because
-it is ugly! My children, never commit any such act of cruelty, at once foolish and
-harmful; do not stone the toad, for you would thereby deprive the fields and gardens
-of a vigilant guardian. Let it go its way in peace and it will destroy so many insects
-that you will in the end find it less ugly than you had thought.
-</p>
-<p>“So well known is the toad’s usefulness that in England the animal is an article of
-commerce. Toads are bought in the market at so much a head, carried home carefully
-so as not to come to any harm, and then allowed the freedom of the garden or placed
-in a hothouse, a crystal palace, perhaps, where wonderful plants are grown. The toad’s
-business is to lie in wait for beetles, slugs, and other destroyers that might nibble
-the valuable plants; and it does its duty with zeal. What a change of fortune for
-the maligned creature when it finds itself living in a <span class="pageNum" id="pb287">[<a href="#pb287">287</a>]</span>warm atmosphere and surrounded by the most splendid flowers procured at great expense
-from all parts of the world and now exhaling the most fragrant odors! As a finishing
-touch to the honor done the poor thing in its floral palace of glass, there is offered
-the tribute of poetry, that flower of the human imagination and invention. Listen
-to this.
-</p>
-<p>“A wretched toad with head split open and one eye gouged out by some cruel hand was
-painfully dragging itself along through the mud of a public highway, when four small
-boys chanced to spy it as they were passing.
-</p>
-<div class="lgouter xd31e3049">
-<p class="line xd31e3050">“They spied the toad,
-</p>
-<p class="line">And one and all sent up a gleeful shout:
-</p>
-<p class="line">‘Come on, come on, let’s kill the ugly lout!
-</p>
-<p class="line">But first we’ll have some fun.’ They laughed their fill,
-</p>
-<p class="line">As boys will laugh, hard-hearted, when they kill.
-</p>
-<p class="line">They pricked and goaded with a pointed stick,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Devising each in turn some cruel trick,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Flushed with their sport, egged on by passers-by,
-</p>
-<p class="line">While for the martyred toad none gave a sigh.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Poor ugly thing! But nature made it so;
-</p>
-<p class="line">For this alone its blood was caused to flow.
-</p>
-<p class="line">It tried to flee; one foot was severed quite,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Which gave the heartless band renewed delight.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Its gouged-out eye hung down; half-blind it sought
-</p>
-<p class="line">Some sheltering reeds; its efforts came to naught.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Its mangled form had been, you would have sworn,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Through some machine, to be so rent and torn.
-</p>
-<p class="line">And, oh, to think that hearts can be so base
-</p>
-<p class="line">As to wish ill to one in such sad case,
-</p>
-<p class="line">And to so great a load of suffering sore
-</p>
-<p class="line">To undertake to add one torment more!
-</p>
-<p class="line">Well-nigh exhausted now, hope almost gone,
-</p>
-<p class="line">The half-dismembered creature still toiled on.
-</p>
-<p class="line">E’en death itself would not, for pity’s sake,
-</p>
-<p class="line">So hideous a thing consent to take;
-</p>
-<p class="line">Or thus it seemed, and so with antics rude
-</p>
-<p class="line">The toad’s tormentors still their sport pursued.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Attempts to snare it next were made in vain:
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb288">[<a href="#pb288">288</a>]</span></p>
-<p class="line">It dodged, and sought a rut half filled with rain;
-</p>
-<p class="line">And, by its muddy bath somewhat restored,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Withstood the missiles that upon it poured.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Ah, what a sight was there, the beauty fresh
-</p>
-<p class="line">Of childhood, and its joy in bleeding flesh!
-</p>
-<p class="line">Such sport as theirs there surely ne’er had been:
-</p>
-<p class="line">‘Come on,’ they called, ‘come John, come Benjamin!
-</p>
-<p class="line">And bring a stone, a big one, and we’ll see
-</p>
-<p class="line">If Master Toad is quite as smart as we.’
-</p>
-<p class="line">Accordingly a massive stone was found,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Of ponderous weight, unwieldy, large, and round;
-</p>
-<p class="line">But cheerfully the lads their muscles strained,
-</p>
-<p class="line">With ends so laudable to be attained.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Just then, by curious chance, there passed that way
-</p>
-<p class="line">An over-loaded, heavy-rumbling dray.
-</p>
-<p class="line">An aged donkey, deaf, half-starved, and lame,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Was harnessed to the cart—the more’s the shame—
-</p>
-<p class="line">And on its back a pannier also bore.
-</p>
-<p class="line">A long day’s march behind and home before,
-</p>
-<p class="line">The patient beast trudged on with labored breath,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Though each step more seemed like to be its death.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Its toil-worn frame was so exceeding thin
-</p>
-<p class="line">You would have said ‘twas naught but bones and skin.
-</p>
-<p class="line">It bore full many marks of cruel blows,
-</p>
-<p class="line">And in its eyes one read the tale of those
-</p>
-<p class="line">That suffer hardship without hope. Meanwhile
-</p>
-<p class="line">Its master heaped upon it curses vile,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Nor spared the cudgel; but the road was deep
-</p>
-<p class="line">In mire that clogged the wheels, the hills were steep.
-</p>
-<p class="line">Creaking and groaning in lugubrious tones,
-</p>
-<p class="line">The dray, thus pulled by thing of skin and bones,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Moved slowly forward till at length the road
-</p>
-<p class="line">Descended sharply, and thus eased the load;
-</p>
-<p class="line">But this now crowded on the nigh-spent beast
-</p>
-<p class="line">With force sufficient (so it seemed, at least)
-</p>
-<p class="line">To hurl him headlong. And yet, strange to tell,
-</p>
-<p class="line">The donkey paused, unheeding blows that fell
-</p>
-<p class="line">From wrathful hand. The boys broke off their play,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Content to yield the donkey right of way.
-</p>
-<p class="line">‘Stand off!’ they cried; ‘let go there, Dick and Bob;
-</p>
-<p class="line">Let go the stone, the cart will do our job
-</p>
-<p class="line">With much more sport for us, so stand aside!’
-</p>
-<p class="line">All stood alert to see what should betide
-</p>
-<p class="line">Their wretched victim. But far otherwise
-</p>
-<p class="line">The thing fell out before their wondering eyes
-</p>
-<p class="line">Than they had thought: the donkey, bruised and lame,
-</p>
-<p class="line">At sight of woes that put his own to shame
-</p>
-<p class="line">Spared not himself, but gathered all his strength
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb289">[<a href="#pb289">289</a>]</span></p>
-<p class="line">And held the loaded cart until, at length,
-</p>
-<p class="line">Although remonstrant blows rained on his back,
-</p>
-<p class="line">He turned the dray from out the beaten track.
-</p>
-<p class="line">The grinding wheels, diverted, harmless pass,
-</p>
-<p class="line">And tortured toad is saved by tortured ass.
-</p>
-<p class="line">The driver cracks his whip, pulls at the reins,
-</p>
-<p class="line">And now the dray once more the road regains.
-</p>
-<p class="line">At that, one of the group engaged in play
-</p>
-<p class="line">(The very one who tells you this to-day)
-</p>
-<p class="line">Let fall the stone he’d been about to cast
-</p>
-<p class="line">Just as the laden wain came rumbling past;
-</p>
-<p class="line">And as he dropped it, lo, in accents clear
-</p>
-<p class="line">A mandate from on high fell on his ear,
-</p>
-<p class="line">A mandate that was quickly understood,
-</p>
-<p class="line">For it was brief, these simple words: ‘Be good.’<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3155src" href="#xd31e3155">1</a></p>
-</div>
-<p class="first">“In closing I repeat, with the great poet: ‘Be good.’ Be good if you wish God to love
-you; be good that you may grow up to be noble-hearted men; be good to one another,
-helping one another; be good to the animals that give us their fleece, their strength,
-and their life, and those that protect the fruits of the earth for us by keeping vigilant
-guard over them. Be kind to them all, even to the humblest among them, the toad, which
-serves us uncomplainingly and asks in return no pay but a pitying glance.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb290">[<a href="#pb290">290</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3155">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3155src">1</a></span> From “<i lang="fr">Le Crapaud</i>” (“The Toad”), by Victor Hugo.—<i>Translator.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3155src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch37" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e538">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXVII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">INSTINCT</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">Jules and Emile had put a caterpillar into a glass and brought it to their uncle,
-who made it the subject of a little talk to his young hearers.
-</p>
-<p>“Examine the creature closely,” said he. “Its skin is delicate, so delicate that even
-a light touch hurts it; but here on the head, at the point called the skull, it has
-the hardness of horn, forming a sort of cap or helmet which can without injury endure
-friction with the hard texture of wood. The head is the part of the creature that
-opens the way, and it is therefore protected by armor, while the rest of the body,
-as it follows the head, does not need this casing of horn.”
-</p>
-<p>“I understand,” said Emile; “the creature works its way along by scratching and tunneling
-with its feet.”
-</p>
-<p>“No, my boy; the feet are not used for boring through wood. The caterpillar has eight
-pairs. The first three pairs, or those nearest the head, have quite a different shape
-from the others: they are slender and pointed, and it is they that in the change that
-takes place later become the butterfly’s legs, though in doing so they grow much longer
-and take another shape. Hence they are called the true legs. <span class="pageNum" id="pb291">[<a href="#pb291">291</a>]</span>The next four pairs are placed toward the middle of the body, and the last pair is
-at the very end. These five pairs bear the name of false legs because they completely
-disappear when the caterpillar gives place to the butterfly or moth. They are short
-and wide, and are furnished beneath with numerous little hooks by which the caterpillar
-clings to the walls of its abode. The stiff hairs covering the body are also used
-for locomotion, the caterpillar wriggling and squirming in its tunnel somewhat as
-does the chimney-sweep in helping himself with knees and back as he makes his way
-up the inside of a chimney.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then what does the caterpillar use for boring through the wood?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“The tool for chipping away the wood consists of two curved fangs or teeth, almost
-black, one on each side of the mouth, which open and shut like a pair of cutting nippers.
-They are called mandibles and are in reality jaws or, more properly, teeth which,
-instead of meeting in a vertical plane as do ours, come together horizontally or sidewise.
-For precision of movement these mandibles are superior to our best cutting nippers,
-and for hardness they are almost equal to steel. They seize the wood, bit by bit,
-patiently and untiringly; they cut, saw, tear away a little at a time, and so bore
-a tunnel just large enough for the caterpillar to pass through.”
-</p>
-<p>“And what becomes of the wood-dust?” Jules further inquired. “I should think it would
-block the way, the passage being so narrow.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb292">[<a href="#pb292">292</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“The wood-dust passes through the creature’s body; the caterpillar eats it, and after
-digestion has taken from it the very small amount of nourishment it contains, it is
-ejected behind, molded into tiny pellets. Digestion in a caterpillar is soon accomplished.
-Just think of it: wood is an extremely meager fare, and so the worm must keep on eating
-its way forward, cutting, gnawing, digesting. To acquire the fatness necessary for
-the coming change the creature must have a good-sized pear-tree limb or lilac trunk
-to work on.
-</p>
-<p>“The wormhole dust left behind by the boring worm sometimes betrays the insect to
-its enemies. Whenever you see any of this dust left by digestion coming out at some
-little orifice in the bark of a pear-tree, apple-tree, or other tree, you may know
-the borer is at work, and the branch where he is at work should be cut off immediately,
-to prevent more serious harm. If the caterpillar has not gone too far, a pointed iron
-wire may be thrust into the opening and an attempt made to kill the creature in its
-hole. But as the passage is very winding, this method is by no means certain of success.”
-</p>
-<p>“Couldn’t the wire be pushed in through another opening?” queried Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“But, my boy, you don’t suppose the caterpillar is so simple as to make windows here
-and there in its dwelling and so make it easy for its foes, of which it has many besides
-man, to attack it! If it should take a fancy, let us say, to go out and get a little
-fresh air some fine day, a sparrow might spy <span class="pageNum" id="pb293">[<a href="#pb293">293</a>]</span>it and carry it off as a choice titbit for its brood under the roof tiles. All these
-dangers it knows; or, rather, it guesses them vaguely, for every creature, even to
-the smallest worm, knows how to protect itself and preserve its species. Unquestionably
-it lacks the reasoning faculty, which belongs only to man; but it none the less acts
-as if it reasoned out its own interests with an accuracy that astounds the thoughtful
-observer. As a matter of fact, my dear children, Another has already reasoned for
-it, and that Other is the universal Reason in and by whom all live; it is God, the
-Father of men, and also the Father of lilacs and of the caterpillars that gnaw them.
-The creature knows, then, without ever having learned; it is master of its art without
-having been taught; and at the very first trial, with no experience to rely on, it
-does admirably the thing it was intended to do. This gift bestowed at birth, this
-unfailing inspiration that guides it in its work, is called instinct.
-</p>
-<p>“In its butterfly state the leopard-moth takes very little food, at the most a few
-drops of honey from the opening flowers. Its proboscis, so slender and so delicate,
-is fitted to get this food. Now that it no longer has its strong mandibles, how can
-the moth imagine that wood is eatable? Is it possible that it remembers what it liked
-as a caterpillar? Who can say? Moreover, how can the moth tell what trees have wood
-suitable for the larvæ, when we ourselves must have a certain degree of education
-in order to know the commonest varieties? The <span class="pageNum" id="pb294">[<a href="#pb294">294</a>]</span>moth, with no previous education, never mistakes a plane-tree for a pear-tree, a box-tree
-for a lilac, an oak for an elm. Thus the eggs are always laid on the right sort of
-tree, never on any other. Where man might make a mistake, the insect never errs.
-</p>
-<p>“The young larva comes out of the egg. What does the poor little thing know from experience
-of the hard trade it is to follow? Nothing, absolutely nothing. No matter; as soon
-as it is born it attacks the wood it rests upon and hollows out a shelter for itself
-with the least possible delay. This most urgent business being attended to, it now
-leisurely gnaws its way ahead, nibbling a little here and a little there and shaping
-its course according to the quality of the wood. The passage lengthens, increasing
-in diameter as the creature grows, and sometimes ascending, sometimes descending,
-sometimes running horizontally quite through the trunk or branch. The mass of the
-wood may be attacked with little system and without economy, for the larva is assured
-of food enough in any event. One precaution, however, it invariably takes: it never
-bores through the bark, for fear of betraying its presence to hostile eyes. But how
-does the larva, working in total darkness, know when it is getting near the bark and
-must turn back? What gives it the fear it has of showing itself? What makes it so
-careful to remain in the heart of the wood and thus avoid the vigilant sparrow it
-has never seen? It is instinct, the inspiration that protects all animal-kind in the
-fierce battle of life.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb295">[<a href="#pb295">295</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch38" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e548">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE GRAIN-WEEVIL</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">Uncle Paul had sent old Jacques to town to buy the drug they were going to apply to
-Simon’s wheat. Meanwhile he took occasion to tell his young hearers about the wheat-devourer
-that was to have the benefit of the drug. The handful of grain left by Simon was in
-a plate on the table. The little weevils were running about in frantic endeavors to
-escape, while Emile with a straw was pushing them back into the middle of the plate,
-where they cowered among the kernels of wheat. Louis and Jules were also there, all
-attention to what was going on.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p295width"><img src="images/p295.png" alt="Grain-weevils" width="276" height="250"><p class="figureHead">Grain-weevils</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, corn-weevil; <i>b</i>, rice-weevil; <i>c</i>, larva; <i>d</i>, pupa.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“This ravager of our granaries,” began Uncle Paul, “is called the grain-weevil, or,
-in Latin, <i lang="la">calandra</i>. It belongs to the order of coleoptera or beetles. Its defensive armor is a hard
-brown casing finely engraved. It has no membranous wings under the elytra or wing
-sheaths. Hence it is unable <span class="pageNum" id="pb296">[<a href="#pb296">296</a>]</span>to fly, but it runs fast enough and it clings to objects with a firm grip. You see
-how busy Emile is kept with his straw in preventing the prisoners’ escape. The grain-weevil
-is about four millimeters long, its body is of a uniform blackish brown, and its head
-ends in a long snout, a kind of slender trumpet. The corselet or thorax is long, marked
-with fine pricks or dots, and the wing sheaths are delicately furrowed. The insect’s
-most striking characteristic is its long, trumpet-shaped snout.”
-</p>
-<p>“It seems to me,” said Jules, “I have seen other beetles, and rather large ones, too,
-with the head ending in a trumpet like that.”
-</p>
-<p>“I’ve found them on hazels,” added Louis, “and they had a long, slender beak that
-would make you think the insect was smoking a long pipe.”
-</p>
-<p>“The trumpet beetles form a numerous class, and they are all weevils, but their mode
-of life varies for the different species. Some attack fruit-trees and grape-vines.
-We will speak of them one of these days.
-</p>
-<p>“With its pointed snout the grain-weevil makes a tiny hole in a kernel of wheat, and
-in this it lays an egg which it makes fast by means of a sticky liquid from its own
-body. Then it passes immediately to other kernels and treats them in the same way,
-until its store of eggs is exhausted. And all this is done with such delicate nicety
-that the sharpest eyes would fail to detect any trace of these mischievous germs in
-the kernels. But a weevil knows very well when a kernel has already received an <span class="pageNum" id="pb297">[<a href="#pb297">297</a>]</span>egg, from whatever source, and never does it commit the blunder of laying a second
-one there, for the grain of wheat is too small for more than one eater. To each kernel
-its larva, to each larva its kernel, and no more.
-</p>
-<p>“Soon the eggs hatch. The tiny worm punctures the envelop of the grain and through
-the almost invisible opening makes its way into the mealy substance within. There
-it is at home, in perfect quiet, peacefully devoted to the pleasures of feasting.
-For its own exclusive use a grain of wheat, a whole grain of wheat! Thus it grows
-big and fat. In five or six weeks the flour is all eaten up, but the bran remains,
-for the clever larva is careful not to make a hole in it; it will need it to serve
-as a cradle during the coming change. The gnawed kernel appears quite whole, when
-as a matter of fact it is hollow and lodges a weevil. In this hiding-place the larva
-turns into a nymph, and the latter into a perfect insect. Then the fully developed
-weevil tears open the bran covering and leaves its home to explore the pile of wheat,
-select certain ungnawed grains, and lay its eggs in them, eggs that will in time produce
-a new population of ravagers.”
-</p>
-<p>Here Uncle Paul picked out a few grains, one by one, and submitted them to his hearers’
-scrutiny.
-</p>
-<p>“What do you see that is at all unusual in those grains?” he asked. “Look at them
-well.”
-</p>
-<p>“I have looked and looked,” Emile replied after a little, “and I don’t see anything.”
-</p>
-<p>“I don’t see anything, either,” said Jules.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb298">[<a href="#pb298">298</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Nor I,” added Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“Those grains, boys, have no flour in them, despite their fair outside appearance;
-the weevil has emptied them.”
-</p>
-<p>“But how can you tell so easily?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“A kernel inhabited by the grain-weevil yields to the pressure of a finger and is
-also lighter in weight than one that is sound. From appearance alone one cannot tell
-infested kernels from uninjured ones, as the outside looks the same in both cases.
-Thus, without extreme vigilance, the inroads of the weevil pass unperceived until
-the developed insects show themselves; and then the evil is beyond remedy. Didn’t
-Simon think he had a fine lot of wheat when there was hardly anything but the bran
-left? A very simple experiment suffices to prove the condition of the wheat. Throw
-a handful of it into water and all the sound kernels will sink to the bottom, all
-the unsound ones float on the surface. We will perform this experiment with the wheat
-on the plate if Jules will go to the spring and bring a glass of water.”
-</p>
-<p>The water was brought and Uncle Paul threw the wheat into it. A few grains sank, many
-floated. These latter were opened with the point of a pin, and in some was found a
-little soft white worm, without legs, but furnished with strong mandibles. It was
-the larva of the grain-weevil. In others there was a white nymph, and in a few was
-the perfect insect all ready to leave its snug abode.
-</p>
-<p>“To judge by the number of grains that floated,” <span class="pageNum" id="pb299">[<a href="#pb299">299</a>]</span>Jules remarked, “Simon’s pile of wheat, even if it is not a very big one, must contain
-millions of weevils. It must have taken a lot of the creatures to produce such an
-immense family, mustn’t it?”
-</p>
-<p>“Not so many as you might think. How many eggs do you suppose one weevil lays?”
-</p>
-<p>“A dozen, perhaps.”
-</p>
-<p>“Ah, how far out you are in your reckoning! In the course of one season a weevil lays
-from eight to ten thousand eggs, from which spring as many larvæ, each gnawing a grain.
-A liter measure<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3249src" href="#xd31e3249">1</a> contains, on an average, ten thousand grains of wheat. To feed the family of one
-weevil, therefore, nearly a liter of wheat is needed. Suppose there are a thousand
-pairs of these insects in a granary; that would be enough to destroy ten hectoliters
-of wheat, rye, barley, or oats; for they attack all kinds of grain impartially.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb300">[<a href="#pb300">300</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3249">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3249src">1</a></span> A liter is slightly more than a quart, a hectoliter a little more than one hundred
-quarts.—<i>Translator.</i>&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3249src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch39" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e558">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XXXIX</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE COMMON CATERPILLAR</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“I remember,” said Jules, “one Sunday last winter—it was some time in December or
-January, I think—the mayor had just posted a notice on the door of the town hall,
-and the people were reading it as they came from church. The notice was something
-about caterpillars, and the mayor had ordered their nests to be destroyed.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes,” rejoined Uncle Paul, “the mayor had in mind, luckily for us, the caterpillar
-law.”
-</p>
-<p>“What! Is there a law about caterpillars, with a fine for disobeying it?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, my boy, there is a law about caterpillars, and I thank the legislature that
-had the wisdom to pass it. God grant it may become a more general statute and include
-a greater number of our insect enemies, the June-bug especially, and that it may be
-strictly enforced!”
-</p>
-<p>“But that would put people out, to have to leave their business and go and hunt for
-caterpillar-nests and burn them. At least, that’s what One-eyed John said when he
-read the mayor’s notice.”
-</p>
-<p>“Leave their business, you say? Is it leaving one’s business to go and save the crops
-when they are threatened? Laws, my young friend, are rules <span class="pageNum" id="pb301">[<a href="#pb301">301</a>]</span>made for the general good, and we should all obey them scrupulously. If there are
-any narrow-minded objectors or stupid grumblers—any One-eyed Johns, in short—that
-choose to take offense, so much the worse for them: they will have to obey in any
-event, for the common interest is not to be compromised by the foolishness of a few.
-</p>
-<p>“The mayor’s notice had especial reference to a caterpillar whose ravages are, in
-some seasons, truly calamitous. So abundant is this caterpillar in central and northern
-France that it is called, briefly, the common caterpillar. It is encountered everywhere,
-on fruit-trees and forest trees, in garden walks and on plants and hedges, and even
-on the bark of trees, sometimes in countless legions.
-</p>
-<p>“It is dark brown in color with six rows of little tubercles or pimples of the same
-hue, each bearing a tuft of long, red hair. The ring-like segment to which is attached
-the last pair of false legs, and also the following segment, have each a plump red
-nipple which can at the caterpillar’s pleasure recede under the skin or stand out
-prominently. The butterfly developing from this caterpillar is pure white except on
-the abdomen, which is brown. Furthermore, the female has a thick tuft of red hair
-at the end of the abdomen. Its purpose is shown when the eggs are laid: after these
-are deposited, to the number of three or four hundred, the butterfly rubs off the
-hair and places it over the eggs. The laying takes place in July and the eggs, deposited
-in a little heap on a leaf, are rose red.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb302">[<a href="#pb302">302</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“But if they are on a leaf,” objected Emile, “they must fall from the tree when the
-leaves fall, and then the wind might blow them away.”
-</p>
-<p>“The butterfly that lays its eggs on a leaf knows very well what it is about. On the
-other hand, those butterflies that lay eggs that are to go through the winter and
-hatch in the spring are very careful not to entrust their eggs to a leaf, which will
-soon fall to the ground. They make their eggs fast to the bark. But whence do they
-get their knowledge of the future? Who told them the leaves would fall and therefore
-would be insecure resting-places for the eggs? They do not learn this by experience,
-for they have never seen the autumnal shedding of leaves, having been born when the
-foliage is already well advanced for their nourishment, and laying their eggs and
-dying while it is still on the trees. If, then, experience cannot account for it,
-we must ascribe the insect’s mysterious foreknowledge to the incomprehensible inspiration
-of instinct, which sees the invisible and knows the unknown because there is a Sovereign
-Intelligence that knows all and orders all.
-</p>
-<p>“Our common caterpillar likewise is led by instinct when it lays its eggs on a leaf,
-for long before the fall of that leaf they will hatch, in the last fortnight of July.”
-</p>
-<p>“A cunning rascal, that caterpillar,” said Emile; “it knows the order of the seasons
-as if it had the almanac by heart.”
-</p>
-<p>“I haven’t told you all. Another motive acts in <span class="pageNum" id="pb303">[<a href="#pb303">303</a>]</span>determining the butterfly’s course. In laying its eggs on a leaf the insect places
-them where the young caterpillars are sure to find food close at hand when they come
-out of the eggs, so that they will not have to go running about over the branches,
-a dangerous thing at their tender age. All anxiety as to food supply is thus removed
-at the outset, and this assurance against famine is so much to the good in this world
-of chance and uncertainty, whether for men or caterpillars.”
-</p>
-<p>“If the butterfly reasoned it all out,” said Jules, “it couldn’t do any better.”
-</p>
-<p>“Perhaps not so well, my child. Are there not plenty of people, alas, that show far
-less foresight? The butterfly leaves to its young a leaf as a heritage, a leaf to
-eat, whereas the spendthrift, the idler, leaves to his family nothing but poverty
-and suffering. He has not even the wisdom of an insect.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb304">[<a href="#pb304">304</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch40" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e568">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XL</h2>
-<h2 class="main">CATERPILLARS AT TABLE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“In the latter part of July the eggs hatch and through the covering of down appear,
-here and there, little heads pushing aside the fluff that is in their way. The first
-caterpillar hatched out crawls forward and begins to browse on the upper surface of
-the leaf, grazing it lightly and without eating through to the under surface or touching
-the veins; it feeds only on the pulpy matter forming most of the leaf’s thickness.
-As the hatching continues, another little caterpillar advances and takes its place
-beside the first, then a third, a fourth, and so on until the whole width of the leaf
-is occupied. In this way is formed the first row of browsing caterpillars, all with
-heads in a straight line and leaving in front a certain unoccupied space. The next
-caterpillar to emerge from under the matting of down begins a second row by taking
-its station at the tail of one of the preceding ones, after which others place themselves
-at the right and left. This row completed, a third is formed in the same manner, and
-then others, so that in a short time the entire surface of the leaf except the forward
-end is covered with rows of eaters. If one leaf is not enough for the <span class="pageNum" id="pb305">[<a href="#pb305">305</a>]</span>whole brood, the later comers establish themselves in like order on neighboring leaves.
-</p>
-<p>“There they are, then, all at table. The strictest discipline prevails in this leafy
-dining-hall: each caterpillar gnaws what is directly under its mandibles, without
-turning to right or left, as that would take from its neighbor’s share; without advancing
-ahead of its own line, as that would mean using the supplies of the future; and without
-falling behind, as that would throw the rear ranks into confusion. Under these conditions
-a few mouthfuls and no more fall to each caterpillar. That is very little for a larva’s
-appetite. It must have more, but how obtain it? Scatter abroad on other leaves, haphazard?
-Undoubtedly there is plenty of room for all on the tree. But that would be highly
-imprudent: they must keep together, for union is the strength of the weak; they must
-keep together to be able to offer some sort of formidable appearance to their enemies.
-It would be equally objectionable for each to be a law to itself and gnaw where it
-chose on the same leaf. The resulting confusion would cause waste, and also it would
-be very difficult for each to get its proper share, some stuffing themselves and others
-near by dying of hunger. In such absence of law and order they would come to blows
-and fight desperately for a footing on the leaf, so that civil war would soon thin
-their ranks, for there is no worse counselor in such emergencies than the stomach.
-Order is the only solution of <span class="pageNum" id="pb306">[<a href="#pb306">306</a>]</span>their problem, order which safeguards human as well as insect communities.”
-</p>
-<p>“What do they do, then?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“We are coming to that. Each caterpillar, as I said, gnaws only the spot directly
-within reach. In this way there is left unbrowsed, first the part covered by each
-body, and then the forward part of the leaf, which is still unoccupied. The first
-row of caterpillars advances one step and finds a second ration in the part thus reached;
-but at the same time it uncovers in the rear a crosswise strip one step wide, which
-the second row now advances to feed upon, while in its turn it leaves a similar strip
-free for the third row; and so on. One step forward for the whole troop puts each
-row in possession of the strip left uncovered by the preceding row. As for the first
-row, it feeds little by little on the forward part of the leaf, designedly left unoccupied
-in the beginning. When step by step the very end of the leaf is reached, each caterpillar
-has gnawed a strip as long and as wide as its own body. By that time the first meal
-is finished. You see that with order and economy a hundred and more caterpillars all
-have a place in the dining-hall on the surface of the leaf, and all have as nearly
-equal rations as if these had been allotted by weight and measure.”
-</p>
-<p>“Animals with their instinct are wonderful creatures, Uncle,” observed Jules. “Every
-day brings some fresh surprise.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is not the creature itself that is to be wondered at, my dear child; the marvels
-it accomplishes <span class="pageNum" id="pb307">[<a href="#pb307">307</a>]</span>are not the fruit of its reflection. A grub just out of the egg can have no ideas
-on method, economy, coöperation, when in order to acquire these ideas man needs the
-full maturity of his reason. Our tribute of admiration should be paid to the Infinite
-Wisdom which governs the world and leads a brood of caterpillars browsing the surface
-of a leaf.
-</p>
-<p>“Their first hunger appeased, the caterpillars construct a shelter from rain and the
-heat of the sun. On its gnawed side the leaf is dryer than on the other, and consequently
-has of itself taken a kind of concave shape by curling up, which makes it serve excellently
-for the floor and walls of the new abode. As for the ceiling, that is to be of silk.
-From one raised edge of the leaf to the other the caterpillars stretch threads to
-strengthen their shelter and serve as framework for the roof, and finally they weave
-a fabric on this network of threads. Thus is erected a tent under which the caterpillars
-take refuge for the night after roaming over the foliage most of the day, feeding
-sometimes on one leaf, sometimes on another. Thither also they retire when the heat
-is excessive or the weather threatening. It is a shelter hastily constructed and not
-of enduring quality, besides being too small to hold them all. So other tents are
-made of other gnawed leaves, and the caterpillars live for a while divided into small
-families.
-</p>
-<p>“But with the first rain-storms of autumn, in September or October, a large building
-is constructed for housing the whole colony through the <span class="pageNum" id="pb308">[<a href="#pb308">308</a>]</span>winter. It is a bulky mass of dry leaves and white silk, with no definite shape. The
-inside is divided with silk partitions into numerous apartments to which there is
-access through holes that pierce, systematically, the several partitions. Each enclosure
-thus has its doors which, without being directly opposite each other, yet provide
-free circulation. In short, this common nest, though made of extremely fine silk,
-is substantial enough to be proof against wind and weather, for the caterpillars use
-many webs, placed one over another and each containing a great number of threads.
-With the coming of the first cold weather all shut themselves up, the doors are barricaded
-with silk, and everything is made snug for the winter. Now let the wind blow and the
-snow fall! Curled up together and snuggling against one another, the caterpillars
-sleep the deep sleep produced by the cold, lying torpid in their house of silk until
-the warmth of opening spring awakens them and sends them forth to browse on the growing
-leaves.”
-</p>
-<p>“And don’t they eat anything all winter?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“All winter as well as a part of the autumn and spring they take no food whatever.
-Their fast lasts six months, and it is an absolute fast that must leave them with
-very empty stomachs.”
-</p>
-<p>“They must be awfully hungry when they wake up.”
-</p>
-<p>“So hungry that they make a dash for the tender young leaves and opening flowers,
-and in less than <span class="pageNum" id="pb309">[<a href="#pb309">309</a>]</span>no time strip an orchard bare. If the nests are very numerous whole forests are browsed
-to the last leaf.”
-</p>
-<p>“And then?”
-</p>
-<p>“To prevent these ravages the mayor’s notice is heeded. Some time in the winter these
-terrible bags of dry leaves and silk are detached from the trees, hedges, and bushes,
-and the nests with their occupants are burned. In spring it would be too late: the
-caterpillars would all have left their quarters.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb310">[<a href="#pb310">310</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch41" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e578">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">ENEMIES OF THE GRAPEVINE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">One morning Jules was sent to the mill to give notice that his uncle’s wheat was ready
-to be ground. After he had left the village his road ran along beside a vineyard that
-showed signs of neglect, weeds and thistles springing up unchecked. Nevertheless the
-vines were pleasing to the eye in the spring freshness of their tender green shoots,
-with their clusters of blossoms still in the bud and their delicate tendrils reaching
-out for something to cling to. Here and there leaves of faded and ragged appearance,
-with others that were dried up and shriveled, took away somewhat from the general
-effect; but they were not very numerous and Jules failed to notice them at first.
-Afterward, for the last half of the way along the vineyard, these withered leaves
-became so abundant that the young vine shoots looked as if they had been swept by
-a fire.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p310width"><img src="images/p310.png" alt="Leaf-hopper (a grapevine-eater)" width="342" height="178"><p class="figureHead">Leaf-hopper (a grapevine-eater)</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, with wings spread; <i>b</i>, with wings closed; cross shows natural size.</p>
-</div><p>
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb311">[<a href="#pb311">311</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Some ravager is at work here,” said the boy to himself, for his eyes were daily becoming
-more keenly observant. “Let’s look into this a little.”
-</p>
-<p>The vines were pitiful to behold, their young shoots showing more and more toward
-the growing end, where the grape clusters were forming, dried and crumpled leaves,
-some of these being rolled up like cigars. Under closer scrutiny there was often to
-be seen an insect with a long beak, a weevil of a brilliant metallic green color.
-Without question this beautiful weevil was the cause of the mischief. Insects and
-cigars, especially the former, sparkling creatures in the bright light of the sun,
-were soon collected by Jules as specimens to take home. Just then One-eyed John, the
-owner of the vineyard, came along.
-</p>
-<p>“What are you doing there?” he demanded.
-</p>
-<p>“Catching a few of these insects that are ruining your vines,” the boy replied.
-</p>
-<p>“Let me see them.”
-</p>
-<p>“Here they are.”
-</p>
-<p>“And you say they are ruining my vines?”
-</p>
-<p>“I think so. I have just seen some of them making these cigars.”
-</p>
-<p>“Oh, bosh, you silly! Do you think they would take the trouble to make cigars out
-of leaves? They don’t smoke. It’s the moon that has burned my vines, the moon.”
-</p>
-<p>And so, satisfied with his explanation, One-eyed John turned on his heel and went
-off, whistling a tune. But he would stop whistling when, three <span class="pageNum" id="pb312">[<a href="#pb312">312</a>]</span>years later, he had to pull up those vines, exhausted as they were by the cigar-rollers.
-Nevertheless he would not take back what he had said: the moon had caused all the
-mischief.
-</p>
-<p>Returning from the mill, Jules picked up Louis on the way and brought him back to
-share in the benefit of what Uncle Paul might have to say concerning the specimens
-Jules had collected.
-</p>
-<p>“The insect found on the vine,” said he, after examining one of the brilliant creatures,
-“is a weevil. You all remember that this name is given to various beetles with a head
-tapering into a sort of trumpet. This one is the <i>rhynchites</i>, as entomologists call it, or the vine-grub, as it is known to vine-growers. It is
-of a magnificent lustrous green on the back, and underneath it shines like gold. Some
-dark-blue ones are also found, but they are more rare. The male has on each side of
-the thorax a little pointed protuberance directed forward. The larva is a small, white,
-legless worm that begins life in a roll made by the mother with a vine leaf. In the
-month of May she begins operations by cutting the stem of the leaf three-quarters
-through to arrest the flow of sap, so that the leaf may wither and be the easier to
-roll. Then the weevil rolls it up and lays three or four eggs in its folds. When in
-the process of drying the leaf has assumed the color of tobacco, you would take it
-for a cigar hanging from the vine. The young larvæ soon abandon this first shelter,
-let themselves fall, and burrow into the ground, where they finish developing. The
-vine-grub saps the <span class="pageNum" id="pb313">[<a href="#pb313">313</a>]</span>vigor of the vine by destroying its leaves, and therefore the cigar-like rolls should
-be picked off and burned in May or June. In this way the infant insects are destroyed
-in the cradle and much future damage is prevented.”
-</p>
-<p>“Along with the shiny green weevil that rolls vine leaves into cigars I found this
-other insect,” Jules announced, displaying the creature.
-</p>
-<p>“That is not a weevil, as you can see from the shape of its head, which has no tapering
-beak. Its wing sheaths are chestnut red, the rest of the body being black. It is known
-as the eumolpus or, more commonly, the vine-fretter, or, in our language, the scrivener
-because in gnawing the surface of the vine leaves it traces fine lines that look somewhat
-like intricate handwriting. It attacks in the same way the stems of grape leaves and
-of grape clusters, the young shoots of the vine, and the grapes themselves. If the
-insects are numerous, all these incisions and lacerations cause the vines to wither
-away and produce but little fruit, and that of poor quality.
-</p>
-<p>“The larvæ of the vine-fretter live in the ground, and to destroy them the soil thus
-infested is turned over in the winter, as exposure to the cold kills the grubs. When
-the insects are fully developed it is exceedingly difficult to rid the vines of them.
-At the slightest alarm the little creature, busy with its destructive writing on the
-leaves, draws its legs up under its belly and lets itself drop to the ground, where
-it cannot be easily seen because of its dull hue; and it also keeps perfectly still,
-playing dead.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb314">[<a href="#pb314">314</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Does it think it can escape by not moving?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Doubtless, because then, even if it should by any chance be discovered, it would
-probably be mistaken for a grain of earth.”
-</p>
-<p>“Wouldn’t it be better for it to fly away or run away than to play dead?”
-</p>
-<p>“Its flight is too heavy and its legs too short. All insects that cannot take instant
-flight and are without means of defense do as does the vine-fretter in time of danger:
-they remain perfectly motionless. Nearly always this expedient succeeds with them
-because their color, commonly a dull one, causes them to be confounded with the soil.”
-</p>
-<p>“Ah, the sly rogues!”
-</p>
-<p>“Well, then, this ruse of the vine-fretter must be turned to account by us in our
-efforts to exterminate the insect. Under the vine we stretch a cloth, after which
-a sharp blow is given to the main stem. The vine-fretters let themselves fall, they
-play dead, but they can be seen on the cloth and not one escapes the sad fate awaiting
-it.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb315">[<a href="#pb315">315</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch42" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e588">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">CLEVER MISCHIEF-MAKERS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Here is another weevil I have to show you,” began Uncle Paul the next day. “What
-do you think of it? Note its shiny violet coat with glints of blue that bring out
-the delicate down with which the whole body is covered. The purple of our richest
-silks is not so magnificent.”
-</p>
-<p>“Oh, the pretty little thing!” cried Emile. “What can it do with its beautiful clothes?”
-</p>
-<p>“Nothing to our advantage, my boy. Fine clothes do not make useful citizens, either
-among insects or among men. The bee’s dress is a modest brown, and the bee works at
-honey-making; the dress of the weevil I show you here is very handsome, but the elegant
-creature lives at our expense. If you have in your garden any fine plums or pears
-or apples, it gets ahead of you in harvesting the crop; it does not even wait for
-the fruit to ripen, so fearful is it of being too late. In June it punctures with
-its pointed snout the young apple or pear or plum and lays an egg in the unripe flesh.
-The fruit thus treated feeds the larva for some time, and then dries up and falls
-off. Then the worm emigrates, leaves the plum that has nourished it, and buries itself
-in <span class="pageNum" id="pb316">[<a href="#pb316">316</a>]</span>the ground to reappear the next spring as a perfect insect.”
-</p>
-<p>“I should like to know the name of this plum-pricker; I’d teach it to behave if I
-got hold of it.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is called, very inappropriately, the <i>rhynchites bacchus</i>.”
-</p>
-<p>“Bacchus, if I remember rightly,” said Jules, “is the god of wine.”
-</p>
-<p>“Exactly; and that is where the word is out of place here. No doubt the first observers
-confounded the weevil of our orchards with that of our vineyards, giving to the former
-the name that should belong to the latter. But the mistake has been made and we can’t
-do anything about it now. Let us keep the names as they are, but not confound the
-two weevils so different in appearance and habits. The weevil that rolls the vine
-leaves is hairless and of a golden-green color; the other is all covered with hairs
-and its color is a lustrous violet. To avoid confusion in our talk, why should we
-not call this latter insect the plum-weevil, or the pear-weevil?”
-</p>
-<p>“That would be a good name for it,” assented Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“I shall just call it the plum-pricker,” declared Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“There is no reason why you should not,” his uncle agreed. “Now let us pass on to
-another member of the family. See what widely dissimilar habits there are in a group
-of insects in which the expert eye can nevertheless perceive close resemblances, I
-might almost say a near relationship. <span class="pageNum" id="pb317">[<a href="#pb317">317</a>]</span>Some roll grape or oak or poplar leaves; others puncture fruit with the beak; this
-one here that I am going to tell you about severs—partly, never wholly—the tips of
-young and tender shoots of various fruit-trees. Hence they are commonly known as bud-cutters.
-It is a weevil, but much smaller than that of the grapevine. The adjective conical
-is given to it on account of the shape of its thorax or breastplate, which tapers
-a little toward the front like a sugar-loaf. It is rather lustrous and of a blue color
-shading into green.
-</p>
-<p>“It shows remarkable cleverness in its operations. Establishing itself in spring on
-a pear, cherry, apricot, plum, or hawthorn tree, indifferently, it selects one by
-one the shoots that suit it, and in the not yet unfolded terminal bud it bores with
-its beak a tiny hole, in which it lays an egg. But it appears that the young larva
-requires a diet especially prepared for it, one that is slightly decomposed, and not
-the bitter juices of the vigorously growing shoot. Have not we ourselves similar tastes?
-Do we eat medlars and sorb-apples just as they come from the tree? No indeed; they
-must first be left to ripen on straw, even to decay a little.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then they are first-rate,” was Emile’s pronouncement; “but before that they are horrid.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is what the larva of the weevil would say about the shoot on which it has just
-hatched out. Before being treated it is bitter, it rasps the throat and sets the mandibles
-on edge; after treatment it is delicious.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb318">[<a href="#pb318">318</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Yet it doesn’t put the branch to ripen on straw as we do medlars?”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p318width"><img src="images/p318.png" alt="Quince-weevil" width="190" height="169"><p class="figureHead">Quince-weevil</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, side view; <i>b</i>, view from above; line shows natural size.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“No. In most cases larvæ show no ingenuity whatever; they eat like gluttons and without
-a thought for anything but eating. You know well enough that giving oneself up to
-gorging is hardly the way to improve the mind. For these larvæ, then, a ready-made
-pap has to be provided, as otherwise, not knowing how to prepare it themselves, they
-would stupidly starve to death. And who prepares the food and makes it just right
-for them? The mother, if you please, the mother whose great and only occupation it
-is to provide for the future needs of her unborn young. She makes it her business
-to find for them food that not only has no nourishment in it for herself, but which
-she dislikes; she denies herself the enjoyment of flowery fields and summer sunshine
-to devote all her energies to arduous labors that are of no advantage to her personally;
-and when she has spent her little span of life at this hard task she retires into
-a corner and dies content: the table is set, the young larvæ will not lack for food.
-</p>
-<p>“When you see the weevil on a vine leaf, sparkling like a precious gem, do not think
-it is there to enjoy itself. It is spending itself in the difficult undertaking of
-sawing the leaf half-way through at the stem, after which it will roll the leaf into
-a sheath to <span class="pageNum" id="pb319">[<a href="#pb319">319</a>]</span>serve as lodging and first food for the larvæ. Its whole life of two or three weeks
-is given to this work. How can it benefit the insect itself to saw leaf stems and
-make the leaves wither in the sun and then roll them up? In no way whatever; the weevil
-does not eat these leaves or lodge in the sheath made by rolling one of them up. It
-spends its energies in this work solely for the larvæ that are to be hatched out after
-its death. Have you ever reflected, my children, on this perpetual miracle,—the miracle
-of a mother living only for her little ones, little ones that she is destined never
-to see? I will not conceal from you that every time I think of this maternal foresight,
-this laborious preparation for a future unknown to the mother herself, I feel myself
-deeply moved. The All-seeing Eye is there.
-</p>
-<p>“In a way peculiar to itself the conical weevil makes ready the pap that is to feed
-its family. The larvæ, as I said, require the mild juices of a shoot that has been
-deprived of its natural vigor. What does the mother do to put the branch in the proper
-condition? Under the spot where the egg is laid she cuts away the bark and some of
-the wood in a circle, with her fine mandibles, leaving the shoot supported only by
-the central portion of the stem. The sap no longer circulating beyond this girdle,
-the leaves affected soon wither and the entire tip of the shoot turns black and acquires
-that state of decay best liked by the new-born grub.”
-</p>
-<p>“I knew how to ripen medlars on straw,” said Emile, “but I should have been puzzled
-to tell how <span class="pageNum" id="pb320">[<a href="#pb320">320</a>]</span>to ripen a branch of a tree. What curious creatures those are, with their clever ways
-of doing things! One can do one thing and another can do another, and it is always
-ingenious and never the same.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is vexatious that all too often the insect’s labors involve harm and loss to us.
-When a fruit-tree has been operated on by the conical weevil you can see, in the month
-of May, the tips of the shoots hanging withered and blackened, after which they dry
-up and fall.”
-</p>
-<p>“Do the larvæ stay in the tips of the fallen branches?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“What would they do there? Food would fail them, and so they bury themselves in the
-ground to finish their growth and pass the winter there snugly and safely. In the
-spring their metamorphosis takes place.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then to guard against insect ravages for the next year,” said Louis, “the withered
-shoots that hang from the trees should be collected and burned while the larvæ are
-still there.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, that is the best thing to do.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb321">[<a href="#pb321">321</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch43" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e598">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">NUT-WEEVILS AND FLOWER-WEEVILS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Ha, you rascal, I’ve caught you at it now, eating my hazelnuts!” cried Louis one
-day on seeing a weevil piercing with its long beak a still tender young nut. “I’ve
-caught you at it. But first I’ll learn all about you, and then we’ll have a reckoning.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p321width"><img src="images/p321.png" alt="Nut-weevil" width="207" height="199"><p class="figureHead">Nut-weevil</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, view from above; <i>b</i>, side view; line shows natural size.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>The weevil was placed in a paper cornucopia together with some pierced hazelnuts,
-and in his first spare moment Louis hastened to Uncle Paul’s house, his cheeks flushed
-with excitement. Little Louis was very fond of hazelnuts, and to catch in the very
-act the insect that attacks them was a very serious matter, to his thinking. In the
-evening Uncle Paul had his usual audience around him to listen to his account of the
-hazelnut-weevil.
-</p>
-<p>“Here is the little insect Louis has caught,” he began. “Look at its beak a moment.”
-</p>
-<p>“What a nose!” exclaimed Emile. “Oh, what a nose! It is as slender as a hair and very
-long and turned back at the end.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb322">[<a href="#pb322">322</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Doesn’t it look as if it were smoking a long pipe, as I said the other day?” asked
-Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“See, Uncle,” Emile pointed out, “how close together its eyes are; they almost touch
-each other, and the insect seems to be squinting. How funny it is, with its nose like
-a pipe-stem and its squinting eyes!”
-</p>
-<p>“Where is its mouth?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“At the very end of what Emile calls its long nose,” his uncle replied.
-</p>
-<p>“How does it manage to eat? Food must have a hard time getting through that stem not
-so big around as a thread.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, how does it manage to eat?” Emile chimed in. “I should be in a terrible fix
-if I had to take my food through a straw as long as myself.”
-</p>
-<p>“The weevil is obliged to exercise moderation; at the most it drinks with its beak
-only a few drops of sap from the hazelnut-tree it inhabits. But if the weevil is temperate
-in its diet, the larva of the weevil eats with a good appetite: it demands the whole
-kernel of a hazelnut, and it is on purpose to give the larva this food that the weevil
-is provided with the long beak that astonishes you. The perfect insect, I repeat,
-lives much more for its future family than for itself, its equipment being designed
-with reference to the future of its young. If the weevil had to think merely of its
-own food its trumpet would be highly inconvenient; but it must above all look out
-for the well-being of its larvæ, and to make provision for that, the creature’s long
-and slender <span class="pageNum" id="pb323">[<a href="#pb323">323</a>]</span>beak is a wonderful tool, serving as a fine gimlet for boring through the nutshell
-so that the egg may be laid in the very meat itself and the larva be hatched out in
-the lap of plenty.”
-</p>
-<p>“That must be a long, hard job for so fine a gimlet,” Jules remarked.
-</p>
-<p>“Not at all. The tiny mandibles at the end of the trumpet bite the shell almost as
-easily as an edged tool of steel would do it; and moreover the weevil chooses its
-time. It is in May, when the hazelnuts are beginning to grow and their shells are
-soft, that the task is undertaken. The insect attacks the nut at the base through
-the green covering called the cup. As soon as the hole is made, an egg is laid inside
-the nut and in a week the larva is hatched out. It is a legless worm, white with a
-red head. As the grub eats very little at first, the hazelnut continues to grow and
-its kernel to ripen, though gnawed little by little. When August comes, the store
-of provision is exhausted and the wormy nut lies on the ground. Then the worm, its
-mandibles strong by this time, makes a round hole in the empty shell and, leaving
-the nut, buries itself in the ground, where it undergoes transformation the following
-spring.”
-</p>
-<p>“When I am cracking nuts with my teeth,” said Emile, “I once in a while bite into
-something bitter and soft.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is the grub of the weevil.”
-</p>
-<p>“Pah! The nasty thing!”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb324">[<a href="#pb324">324</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“How can I keep the creatures off my hazelnut-trees?” asked Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“That is very simple. Gather the wormy nuts, which sooner or later fall to the ground
-just as does fruit attacked by insects. If they are not pierced with a large hole
-the worm is still there. By burning them you destroy the weevils of the following
-year.”
-</p>
-<p>“But this year’s weevils will be left.”
-</p>
-<p>“No, for it is a rule that insects die soon after laying their eggs.”
-</p>
-<p>“You haven’t told us the name of this hazelnut-eater,” said Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“It is called the hazelnut-balaninus or hazelnut-weevil, and you can easily recognize
-it by its very fine, long, and recurved beak, as also by the yellowish-gray down that
-covers the whole of the insect.
-</p>
-<p>“Another balaninus, smaller but of the same shape and color, lives in acorns in its
-larva state, and is known as the oak-balaninus. A third, not very often seen around
-here, lives in cherry-stones. It is the cherry-balaninus.”
-</p>
-<p>“How different they all are in their ways of living!” Jules remarked. “The grain-weevil
-gnaws the kernels of grain; the vine-weevils and fruit-weevils roll leaves or prick
-pears and plums or cut the buds; and now here are the nut-weevils that attack the
-hazelnut-meat, the cherry-stone, and the acorn. Are there any that eat flowers?”
-</p>
-<p>“Indeed there are. No part of a plant is spared by insects. The apple-tree, the pear-tree,
-and the <span class="pageNum" id="pb325">[<a href="#pb325">325</a>]</span>cherry-tree have each its peculiar weevil that in its larva state lives at the expense
-of the flower buds. These ravagers are called by a Greek name meaning flower-eaters.
-See this apple-tree weevil, the one most familiar to us. It is brown, with a small
-white stripe edged with black and placed slantwise on the end of each wing sheath.
-Beginning in April, it spreads over the apple-trees and pierces the flower buds with
-its fine beak, laying an egg in each one. A week later the larva is hatched out, and
-immediately the little worm begins to gnaw the flower that is curled up in the bud.
-Only the outside covering is left intact by this devourer. Of course a bud that has
-had its heart eaten out cannot blossom, and so flower and fruit are both lost. The
-damaged buds, being gnawed only within, keep their shape and take in drying the appearance
-of cloves.”
-</p>
-<p>“Those cloves that Mother Ambroisine puts in stews?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“The same.”
-</p>
-<p>“What are cloves?”
-</p>
-<p>“They are, as I have already told you,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3484src" href="#xd31e3484">1</a> the buds or unopened flowers of the clove-tree, an aromatic bush growing in hot countries.
-They are gathered before opening and are dried in the sun.”
-</p>
-<p>“I see why buds pricked by the flower-weevil look like cloves. In both cases they
-are buds that have dried up without opening.”
-</p>
-<p>“The larva of the flower-weevil, like those of weevils in general, is a tiny legless
-worm, white in <span class="pageNum" id="pb326">[<a href="#pb326">326</a>]</span>color. It does not leave the bud it has gnawed when this falls from the tree. The
-larva of the nut-weevil leaves its nut by boring a hole through the shell, that of
-the conical weevil leaves the fallen shoot, the vine-weevil lets itself drop out of
-its rolled leaf, and all three bury themselves in the ground to pass the winter in
-safety and be transformed the following spring. The larva of the flower-weevil is
-more expeditious: its change into an insect takes place as soon as it has eaten its
-bud, so that there is no need for it to leave its quarters. As animals never do anything
-without a purpose, the grub remains shut up in the dry bud. Six weeks after the egg
-is laid the larva emerges transformed into a perfect insect and flits from one apple-tree
-to another all summer. Then comes the winter.”
-</p>
-<p>“That must be a trying time,” said Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Many perish, but others survive, hidden under moss, in the cracks of bark, or among
-dry leaves. Indeed, there are plenty of them left to destroy the buds on our apple-trees
-when spring comes.
-</p>
-<p>“The flower-weevil of the pear-tree and that of the cherry-tree resemble the one I
-have just shown you, and their habits are exactly the same.
-</p>
-<p>“It is not easy to get rid of these flower-destroyers. If one had only a few trees
-to take care of, and those easy to get at in every part, one could if necessary gather
-and burn the dry buds inhabited by the larvæ. By this painstaking process some of
-the following year’s fruit might be saved; but not even so should we get rid of all
-the flower-weevils, <span class="pageNum" id="pb327">[<a href="#pb327">327</a>]</span>as these insects fly well and far and they would come from the surrounding region
-after we had destroyed all our own. Besides, the gathering of injured buds is impracticable
-on a large scale.”
-</p>
-<p>“Will these little flower-eaters come to be masters of our orchards?” asked Jules.
-“Will they destroy our apples and pears in the bud, and can’t we do anything to prevent
-it?”
-</p>
-<p>“They would indeed be masters had we not vigilant guards, sharp-eyed helpers, that
-from sunrise to sunset lie in wait for insects and hunt them with a patience, skill,
-and industry that none of us would be capable of.”
-</p>
-<p>“You mean the birds?” said Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, the birds. When you see on an apple-tree in bloom a little bird hopping from
-branch to branch, warbling and pecking, thank God, my children, for giving us the
-charming creature that with every peck of its beak delivers us from an enemy.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb328">[<a href="#pb328">328</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-<div class="footnotes">
-<hr class="fnsep">
-<div class="footnote-body">
-<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3484">
-<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3484src">1</a></span> See “The Secret of Everyday Things.”&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3484src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch44" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e609">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLIV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">ENEMIES OF CLOVER</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Would you like to see another little creature that by reason of its very smallness
-and its countless numbers braves our wrath and commits ravages that can be checked
-only by our agricultural helpers, the foes of our foes? Here it is.”
-</p>
-<p>“I see it, with its long beak,” cried Jules; “it is another weevil.”
-</p>
-<p>“Oh, how tiny it is!” exclaimed Emile. “Surely it can’t eat very much.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is small, but so numerous that to feed its larvæ it requires whole fields of clover;
-not the entire plant, but only the blossom, as with the larvæ of the flower-weevil.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p328width"><img src="images/p328.png" alt="Clover-weevil" width="191" height="223"><p class="figureHead">Clover-weevil</p>
-<p class="first">(Line shows natural size)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“What gluttons! They think they must have blossoms, tender and sweet-smelling.”
-</p>
-<p>“It is the clover-weevil, and it measures scarcely three millimeters in length. The
-body, of a uniform black, is slightly globular behind. You know clover well enough,
-with its blossoms massed in a round head. Well, the clover-weevil lays its eggs on
-the flower-head before the blossoms open.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb329">[<a href="#pb329">329</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Without boring into each flower separately to lay its eggs in?” Jules inquired.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p329width"><img src="images/p329.png" alt="Clover-hay Worm" width="309" height="274"><p class="figureHead">Clover-hay Worm</p>
-<p class="first">1, 2, larvæ; 3, cocoon; 4, chrysalis; 5, 6, moth with wings spread and closed; 7,
-worm covered with silken web.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The weevil does not take that trouble. The larvæ must manage for themselves. As soon
-as it is hatched out each one pierces the base of the flower that suits it and works
-its way inside. Once there, it eats the heart of the bud, especially the part that
-would have become fruit, the little pod with its seeds. That done, it takes on its
-insect form.
-</p>
-<p>“Another weevil, equally small and equally numerous, runs neck and neck with this
-one in destroying clover blossoms. It is black, with yellow legs. Both abound in cultivated
-fields. In winter they can be found gathered at the foot of trees, waiting for the
-clover to bloom before they go to work.
-</p>
-<p>“You might think these two weevils enough to destroy this useful forage plant; but
-there are others still, some larger and some smaller, and all eager to get at the
-poor clover. It would almost seem as if insects had agreed to attack especially those
-plants that are useful to man. They set to work, by threes, by fours, by tens, and
-even by hundreds if need be, to carry out their ruinous <span class="pageNum" id="pb330">[<a href="#pb330">330</a>]</span>operations, some on the flowers, others on the roots, and still others on the leaves
-and stems of our most valuable plants. The grapevine has its caterpillars, beetles,
-and lice; wheat feeds destroyers still more numerous and varied, such as weevils,
-moths, white worms, gnats, and many others; and for the pear-tree alone we can count
-five hundred ravagers, perhaps more.”
-</p>
-<p>“Do they want to starve us, then?” Jules again inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“What shall I say? They go to work in a way to frighten one. You ask their motive.
-I will try to show you some other time; but now let us finish our talk on the enemies
-of clover.
-</p>
-<p>“This one, here in my hand, is known by the learned as the clover-hylast. It is a
-tiny brown beetle with truncated wing sheaths like those of the bark-beetle, which
-it closely resembles. In fact it belongs to the same family. While the clover-weevil
-is busy destroying the blossoms, this creature stays in the ground and gnaws the roots
-of the plant.
-</p>
-<p>“We have now the roots, the blossoms, and the young shoots devoured. Who will look
-after the leaves? ‘I,’ replies a little beetle with a rounded back and a flattened
-stomach, and called the globular lasia; ‘I will do it so that man shall not find anything
-to mow after we get through with the clover.’
-</p>
-<p>“You are familiar with the ladybird or ladybug, that little red beetle with tiny black
-spots on its back, the good God’s insect. Never molest it when <span class="pageNum" id="pb331">[<a href="#pb331">331</a>]</span>you find it in the garden. It works for us, going from one plant to another, devouring
-lice, those pot-bellied creatures that in countless swarms infest the tender shoots
-of plants and suck the sap. The ladybird eats our enemies, plant-lice; it dotes on
-them. Do not disturb it.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p331width"><img src="images/p331.png" alt="Ladybirds" width="332" height="240"><p class="figureHead">Ladybirds</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, larva; <i>b</i>, pupa; <i>c</i>, first joint of larva, enlarged; <i>d</i>, beetle; below, from left to right, nine-spotted ladybird, trim ladybird, and spotted
-ladybird, with lines showing natural size.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The insect known as the globular lasia is of the same family as the ladybird, and
-like the latter it is round and red and has black spots, but they are placed differently
-and usually number about a dozen on each wing sheath. The larva is yellow and all
-bristling with little hairs that stand up like tiny thorns. Both the larva and the
-mature insect live, not on lice, but on leaves, whether of clover, vetch, lucerne,
-or some other plant. The marks they make on the gnawed leaves look like furrows made
-by a four-toothed comb.
-</p>
-<p>“Finally, who is to take in hand the stems of the clover? This task will fall to various
-caterpillars equipped with good teeth and strong jaws, as for example the glyphic
-noctua, a rather pretty moth with upper wings bearing irregular spots encircled each
-by a light-gray thread on a brown background, <span class="pageNum" id="pb332">[<a href="#pb332">332</a>]</span>and lower wings brightly spotted with a light shade of yellow.
-</p>
-<p>“On every part of the clover, on stems and blossoms, leaves and roots, ravenous devourers
-are now installed. Have I exhausted the list? By no means. There are others in plenty,
-if only to take the leavings of those I have named.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb333">[<a href="#pb333">333</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch45" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e619">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">CABBAGE-EATERS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">One day Jacques came in from the garden with a cabbage root all covered with warts
-having the shape and size of a pea. In each wart was a little worm.
-</p>
-<p>“Some of the cabbages are withering away,” announced the old gardener, “though there
-are no worms on the leaves. I think the trouble comes from the warts on the roots.”
-</p>
-<p>“You have guessed right, my good Jacques,” replied Uncle Paul. “Leave me that root
-and pull up all the cabbages that appear to you to be affected. Of course you will
-burn all the diseased roots. By so doing you will arrest the evil in the beginning,
-as the insect causing the mischief is rare with us. The important thing is not to
-let it multiply in the garden, even if we have to throw away many of the cabbages
-in exterminating it.”
-</p>
-<p>Uncle Paul’s instructions were followed, and no more warty roots have been seen since.
-Next day the cabbage’s enemies were the subject of conversation.
-</p>
-<p>“Cultivated plants,” said Uncle Paul, “are more exposed to the ravages of insects
-than the same plants in a wild state, because they are of a finer <span class="pageNum" id="pb334">[<a href="#pb334">334</a>]</span>flavor, tenderer, and of more luxuriant growth. Let us first consider the cabbage,
-now that Jacques has furnished us the occasion.
-</p>
-<p>“Look at this root, quite covered with ugly warts, hollow inside. I open one. What
-do we find within? A small worm, a larva that would, if left undisturbed, develop
-into a weevil with a beak that lies down on the breast between the forelegs when the
-insect curls up and plays dead. This weevil is known to men of science as belonging
-to a genus called <i>ceuthorhynchus</i>, a name formed from two Greek words and meaning snout-hider. It is black, with grayish
-hairs on the back and white scales on the belly. Its thorax has a deep furrow and
-its wing sheaths are ornamented with fine parallel grooves.
-</p>
-<p>“It lays its eggs about the beginning of summer. The insect works its way down to
-the root and punctures it here and there with its beak, laying an egg in each puncture.
-In flowing around the wounded part the sap of the plant forms a knob or fleshy wart
-in which the larva grows until the end of October, when the worm leaves this nest
-to bury itself in the ground, safe from the cold, and undergo transformation. The
-punctured root exhausts its energies in bleeding sap to form the warts occupied by
-the larvæ, so that the cabbage rapidly withers away; and in this manner the cabbage-weevil
-makes itself an enemy much to be feared, especially in England where it is extremely
-common. Nor does <span class="pageNum" id="pb335">[<a href="#pb335">335</a>]</span>it confine its depredations to cabbages; it attacks turnips also, and radishes and
-rape.”
-</p>
-<p>“This weevil seems to eat a good many things,” said Jules. “I thought each kind of
-insect always fed on one particular plant.”
-</p>
-<p>“You were not far wrong, my boy. In most cases insects have very exclusive tastes,
-each confining itself to one kind of plant and disdaining all others. Sometimes, however,
-they vary their diet, and as they are connoisseurs, very well up on vegetable flavors,
-in changing their food they choose plants having nearly identical nutritive properties,
-taste, and smell. Do not we ourselves find in the radish and the turnip something
-of the smell and taste of the cabbage?”
-</p>
-<p>“That’s so,” assented Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“We find more or less similarity in the qualities characteristic of a great many other
-plants grouped together by botanists in the family of <i>cruciferæ</i> and including, for instance, the cress, the radish, and colza.”
-</p>
-<p>“Botanists, cruciferæ—I don’t know very well what those are,” said Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“No, those are strange words to you. Botanists are learned persons who spend their
-time studying plants and who tell us their names and properties, differences and resemblances,
-where they grow and when they blossom, with other matters of that sort.”
-</p>
-<p>“And cruciferæ?”
-</p>
-<p>“That word means cross-bearers and is applied to a large group of plants with blossoms
-having four <span class="pageNum" id="pb336">[<a href="#pb336">336</a>]</span>pieces or petals placed two by two, opposite each other, so as to form a sort of cross.
-A good example is the colza blossom. Plants with cross-shaped flowers include the
-cabbage, rape, turnip, radish, clove, colza, cress, and many others.”
-</p>
-<p>“They are all cruciferæ?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, all cruciferæ. But their likeness is not confined to the shape of the blossom;
-their inner properties also, such as smell, taste, and the rest, are the same, or
-very nearly so. Consequently, the cabbage-weevil, as knowing a little creature as
-can be found, goes to the turnip when there are no cabbages to be had, to the colza
-if turnips also are lacking, or to other plants still, but always to some member of
-the cruciferæ family. Other insects show this same peculiarity, each species having
-its particular group of plants and going from one to another without ever making a
-mistake as to family.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then they are expert botanists, I should say,” Jules remarked.
-</p>
-<p>“One might almost think so; at least they show in their choice so keen a discernment
-that often men of science go to school to them to learn the various degrees of relationship
-in the plant world.”
-</p>
-<p>“Oh, Uncle Paul, you are joking!” exclaimed Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Joking? Listen. You know the nasturtium, that beautiful orange-colored flower ending
-at the bottom in a kind of horn; and you know the mignonette, that sweet-smelling
-plant that Mother Ambroisine grows in the window.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb337">[<a href="#pb337">337</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Yes, I know them.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then tell me whether you find between mignonette, nasturtium, and cabbage any resemblance,
-any sign of plant-relationship.”
-</p>
-<p>“No, indeed! Those three plants are wholly unlike one another: their flowers haven’t
-the same shape, nor their leaves, nor yet their fruit.”
-</p>
-<p>“Well, my dear boy, you, who rather pride yourself on knowing something about flowers,
-really know much less about them than a poor little green caterpillar very common
-in our gardens; and many persons of far more learning than you could take lessons
-from this same caterpillar. It feeds indifferently on various cruciferæ, such as the
-cabbage, rape, and the turnip; but it also feeds on the nasturtium and the mignonette.
-Why? You must ask the scientists who make a thorough study of plants and are determined
-to find out the minutest details concerning them. They would tell you that there is
-something in their innermost structure, something invisible to our untrained eyes,
-that makes the nasturtium and the mignonette very nearly akin to the cruciferæ without
-looking like them. It is enough to puzzle anybody, I admit. A worthless caterpillar
-has, from the beginning of the world, eaten mignonette as well as turnip, cabbage
-as well as nasturtium, and has been familiar with plant-relationships unsuspected
-by science until our own time.”
-</p>
-<p>“I should like to see this caterpillar that knows so much about plants.”
-</p>
-<p>“Your desire shall be gratified without delay.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb338">[<a href="#pb338">338</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch46" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e629">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLVI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">A DESTRUCTIVE FAMILY</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">They went out to the garden and Uncle Paul hunted for some time in the cabbage bed
-before he found what he wanted.
-</p>
-<p>“Here is the caterpillar we were talking about,” he announced at last. “It is of a
-delicate green color with three yellow stripes running lengthwise. Now you must make
-the acquaintance of the butterfly. Jules, go and bring me the net.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p338width"><img src="images/p338.png" alt="European Cabbage Worm, natural size" width="143" height="255"><p class="figureHead">European Cabbage Worm, natural size</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, worm or larva; <i>b</i>, pupa.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>Uncle Paul had a large gauze net, the mouth of which was attached to a hoop of coarse
-iron wire fastened to the end of a long stick. That was his butterfly-net, and in
-his leisure moments he used it for catching butterflies, that he might destroy them
-before they laid their eggs on the plants in the garden. The more butterflies destroyed,
-the fewer hundreds of caterpillars a little later. Jules came back with the net, but
-the chase did not accomplish the desired result, though another butterfly was caught
-very much like the one they were after.
-</p>
-<p>“We must be content with this,” said Uncle Paul. <span class="pageNum" id="pb339">[<a href="#pb339">339</a>]</span>“My butterfly-hunting of the last few days seems to have left us none of the sort
-I am looking for; so we will not waste any more time.
-</p>
-<p>“The insect I have just caught is known as the cabbage-butterfly. Its wings are white,
-the forward ones having black tips and two or three spots of the same color in the
-middle.”
-</p>
-<p>“I see that butterfly everywhere,” declared Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“It is in fact one of the most widely prevalent species. Its caterpillar is greenish,
-marked with black dots and three longitudinal yellow stripes. It does not spin a cocoon
-for its metamorphosis. The chrysalis is spotted with yellow and black, and is found
-near where the caterpillar lived, suspended from a wall or a tree in a very ingenious
-manner. Before shedding its skin the caterpillar emits its small supply of liquid
-silk, gluing the end of its tail to the spot it has selected and then spinning a fine
-band which it passes across its body, fastening the two ends at right and left on
-the stone or the bark to which it is clinging. These preliminaries concluded, the
-chrysalis stage is reached, the chrysalis being held firmly in place with its lower
-end glued to the supporting object and its upper half kept from falling by the silk
-band.”
-</p>
-<p>“Without any cocoon to protect it?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“Without any cocoon whatever; hence it is called a naked chrysalis. Many other caterpillars
-adopt the same method: having only a scanty little drop of <span class="pageNum" id="pb340">[<a href="#pb340">340</a>]</span>liquid silk, much too small a quantity for spinning a cocoon, they content themselves,
-when their metamorphosis approaches, with gluing their tail to some object and supporting
-themselves further with a narrow band. It is to be noted that butterflies from caterpillars
-that do not spin cocoons all have very slender antennæ ending abruptly in a rounded
-protuberance or swelling, and that they fly by day in the brightest sunshine. They
-are butterflies proper, as distinguished from moths. These latter have the chrysalis
-enclosed in a cocoon, and their antennæ are sometimes of a feathery appearance, sometimes
-spindle-shaped, or they may take the form of elongated clubs, or, finally, they may
-be thread-like, tapering but little toward the end. They fly mostly in the evening
-twilight, or even in the night. Compare the antennæ of the cabbage-butterfly with
-those of the silkworm-moth or the leopard-moth and you will see how easy it is to
-distinguish a butterfly from a moth, a cocoonless from a cocoon-spinning insect.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p340width"><img src="images/p340.png" alt="European Cabbage Butterfly, natural size" width="294" height="387"><p class="figureHead">European Cabbage Butterfly, natural size</p>
-<p class="first">(female above, male below)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Then that’s all you have to do—just see whether <span class="pageNum" id="pb341">[<a href="#pb341">341</a>]</span>the antennæ end in a little round swelling,” said Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“With something on the antennæ,” repeated Emile, “no cocoon; without that, a cocoon.
-How easy it is!”
-</p>
-<p>“As the youngest and giddiest of my hearers has understood my explanation so well,
-I will pass on. Let us return to the butterfly whose caterpillar is so interesting
-to Jules because it eats indifferently cabbages, turnips, radishes, nasturtiums, and
-mignonette. This butterfly is very much like the cabbage-butterfly. It too is white,
-with black spots on the forward wings, but not of so deep a shade. Furthermore it
-is about a third smaller. It is called the radish-butterfly. To distinguish these
-two species, so much alike in coloring and both feeding on the same plants, gardeners
-call the former the big cabbage-butterfly, and the latter the little cabbage-butterfly.”
-</p>
-<p>“I know those butterflies,” Jules interposed. “Many a time I’ve seen both kinds on
-the flowers in the garden, and I got them mixed because there is hardly any difference
-in their color. Now I shall know how to tell them apart. The larger one is the cabbage-butterfly,
-the smaller the radish-butterfly.”
-</p>
-<p>“You must bear in mind that the words cabbage and radish used to designate the two
-butterflies do not mean that the caterpillar of the one eats exclusively cabbages
-and that of the other only radishes. As a matter of fact, the names could be reversed
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb342">[<a href="#pb342">342</a>]</span>without any impropriety, for both caterpillars, as occasion offers, feed on either
-the cabbage, the radish, the turnip, or some other cruciferous plant. But let it be
-noted also that these two terms have been chosen as substantially true to the facts,
-though likely to mislead if taken in too literal a sense.
-</p>
-<p>“The same remark applies to a third species, the turnip-butterfly, whose caterpillar
-feeds not only on the leaves of turnip plants, but also on those of the nasturtium,
-the mignonette, the radish, cabbage, and many other crucifers. It is of about the
-size of the radish-butterfly, and its wings are white with greenish veins underneath.
-The forward wings have also black spots on their upper surfaces. The caterpillar is
-slightly hairy and of a uniform green color with no yellow stripes running lengthwise.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb343">[<a href="#pb343">343</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch47" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e639">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLVII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">FLIERS WITH WINGS OF GAUZE</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">Questioned as to the means to be adopted in order to protect from their insect enemies
-the various plants he had mentioned in his last talk, Uncle Paul was forced to acknowledge
-the inadequacy of any preventive measures at our command.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p343width"><img src="images/p343.png" alt="Hessian Fly" width="283" height="224"><p class="figureHead">Hessian Fly</p>
-<p class="first">(Belonging to the order of Diptera)
-</p>
-<p><i>a</i>, larva; <i>b</i>, pupa; <i>c</i>, infected wheat-stalk.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“For protecting a few square yards of cabbage-patch from these devourers,” he explained,
-“a rigorous search for worms and an incessant chase after butterflies on that particular
-piece of land might prove effective; but how keep watch over acres and acres, with
-butterflies and moths of many kinds flying all about and alighting every moment to
-lay their eggs? The cost of any such watchfulness would far exceed the value of the
-crop. And so it is in general, with all raising of farm products on a large scale:
-when once the enemy is in possession it is all but impossible to drive him out if
-we depend on our own resources, however <span class="pageNum" id="pb344">[<a href="#pb344">344</a>]</span>much we may spend in the attempt. Because of their infinite numbers the insects always
-have the advantage of us. But fortunately there are others fighting for us, and they
-wage valiant warfare against our insect foes, especially against worms and caterpillars.”
-</p>
-<p>“You mean the birds?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, and other equally useful helpers that you have never heard of, notwithstanding
-the immense service they render us. I refer to the insects belonging to the order
-known as <i>hymenoptera</i>.”
-</p>
-<p>“Hymenoptera? I’ve never heard that word before.”
-</p>
-<p>“And for that reason I hasten to explain its meaning to you. You are familiar with
-the honey-bee, the bumblebee, and the wasp. Like butterflies, they have four wings
-for flying; but these wings, instead of being covered with scales—those scales that
-come off on your hand and look like dust—are simply membranes of a transparent or
-gauzy appearance. Hence the name hymenoptera that is given to these insects, a Latin
-name that may be translated as ‘membranous-winged creatures.’ Furthermore, they have
-at the end of the abdomen a very fine sting which comes out of its sheath when the
-irritated insect seeks to defend itself by pricking the venturesome fingers that have
-seized it. In other species this sting is represented sometimes by a kind of saw or
-cutlass, sometimes by a blade, more or less long and slender, hidden in a fold of
-the stomach or else projecting and open to view. Well, insects <span class="pageNum" id="pb345">[<a href="#pb345">345</a>]</span>thus armed with a sting, a saw, or a blade, and having four membranous wings as fine
-and transparent as those of the honey-bee, the bumblebee, and the wasp, are called
-hymenoptera. They form an order just as butterflies and moths form the order of lepidoptera,
-and insects with sheaths protecting the lower pair of wings form the order of coleoptera.”
-</p>
-<p>“The grasshopper,” Jules observed, “has a kind of sword on the end of its body, but
-it hasn’t the bee’s fine, transparent wings.”
-</p>
-<p>“Therefore it is not one of the hymenoptera.”
-</p>
-<p>“The grasshopper doesn’t hurt any one with its sword, does it?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“No; it uses this tool simply for placing its eggs in the ground where they are to
-hatch. It is a sort of conveyor for the eggs, and is called a terebra. The saw, the
-blade, the cutlass, and other like implements that terminate the body of various insects
-have also this name. They serve to deposit the eggs in suitable places where the larvæ
-can find food. But this implement, dangerous though it looks, never stings when the
-insect is molested; it is not a defensive weapon. Only the honey-bee, the bumblebee,
-the wasp, and some others have for their defense a sting that inflicts a painful wound.”
-</p>
-<p>“So painful,” Emile interrupted, “that I still remember how once, when I wanted to
-see what was going on in the beehive, I was stung by the bees.”
-</p>
-<p>“The wasp’s sting is much worse,” remarked Louis. “When I was gathering the grapes
-last year <span class="pageNum" id="pb346">[<a href="#pb346">346</a>]</span>I took hold of a bunch where there were some wasps, and my hand was swollen all day
-and pained me so I should have cried if there had been nobody around.”
-</p>
-<p>“How wonderful that such small creatures really hurt like that!” Jules exclaimed.
-“I should like to know why.”
-</p>
-<p>“I will tell you. The sting of these insects is a slender lancet, hard and sharp-pointed,
-a kind of dagger finer than the finest needle. It is situated at the end of the abdomen.
-In repose it is not seen, being concealed in a sort of scabbard let into the creature’s
-body; but in time of danger it comes out of this scabbard. Now, it is not exactly
-the wound made by the sting that causes the smarting pain you know so well. This wound
-is so slight, so subtle, that we cannot see it, and we should hardly feel it if it
-were made by a needle or a thorn as fine as the sting. But the sting communicates
-with a venom-sac lodged in the insect’s body, and through a tiny channel running the
-length of the sting there is injected into the very heart of the wound a minute quantity
-of a highly dangerous liquid. After this injection the sting is withdrawn, while the
-venom remains in the wound; and that is what causes the pain.
-</p>
-<p>“Learned men who have studied this curious subject relate the following experiment,
-which was performed in order to prove that it is the venomous liquid introduced into
-the wound, and not the wound itself, that causes the pain. When one pricks oneself
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb347">[<a href="#pb347">347</a>]</span>with a very fine needle the pain is of no consequence and passes almost immediately.
-Well, the prick of a needle, insignificant in itself, can be made very painful indeed
-if the little wound is poisoned with venom from a bee or a wasp. The learned men I
-just spoke of dipped the point of a needle into the bee’s venom-sac and with the needle
-thus moistened lightly pricked themselves. The pain that followed was severe and protracted,
-even severer and of longer duration than if the insect itself had stung the experimenters.
-This difference is to be explained by the fact that the needle, large in comparison
-with the insect’s sting, introduced into the wound much more venom than the sting
-itself could have conveyed. Now you understand, I hope, that it is the injection of
-the venom into the wound that causes all the mischief.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is plain enough,” assented Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“The bee’s sting is barbed,” continued Uncle Paul; “that is to say, it is furnished
-with teeth somewhat like those of a saw and pointing backward. In its haste to fly
-away after stinging, the bee does not always succeed, on account of these teeth, in
-drawing out the sting from the wound it has inflicted; and thus the sting is wrenched
-from the bee’s body, to the endangering of the insect’s life. The venom-sac is left
-behind also; it is that little white globule one sees outside the wound and at the
-base of the sting. If the person stung, hastening to extract the sting, is awkward
-enough to press on the little sac, a great part of the venom is likely to <span class="pageNum" id="pb348">[<a href="#pb348">348</a>]</span>be injected into the wound, with a corresponding increase of pain. This is a warning
-to you, whenever you are stung by a bee, to draw out the sting cautiously and to be
-careful not to press on the venom-sac.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb349">[<a href="#pb349">349</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch48" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e649">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLVIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">BENEFICENT PARASITES</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">Continuing the subject of the day before, Uncle Paul laid emphasis on the distinction
-between those hymenopterous insects that sting and those that do not.
-</p>
-<p>“At the end of the abdomen,” said he, “the one class have a poisoned weapon for self-defense,
-as in bees and wasps, while the other class are furnished simply with the implement
-called a terebra, sometimes concealed in a fold of the skin, sometimes standing out
-in full view, and used, not for stinging, but for introducing the creature’s eggs
-into such places as will provide the nourishment required by the future brood. Insects
-of this latter class are called by the general name of <i>ichneumons</i>. This morning Emile caught one, which I will show you.”
-</p>
-<p>“I found it on a flower,” said Emile, “and I wrapped a handkerchief round my hand
-for fear of being stung. The thing it has sticking out at the end of its body looks
-rather dangerous.”
-</p>
-<p>“The precaution was needless,” his uncle assured him. “No ichneumon, however long
-its terebra may be, can sting your hand. The hymenopters that are to be feared have
-their sting hidden, and they bring it out only at the moment of attack.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb350">[<a href="#pb350">350</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Those three thread-like things as long as the insect’s body—what are they for?” asked
-Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“The two lateral ones unite and form a scabbard for holding and protecting the middle
-one, the most important of the three, for it is used to deposit the eggs at the point
-chosen as suitable by the insect.”
-</p>
-<p>“I’ve seen ichneumons very much like this one,” said Louis, “with the terebra stuck
-right into the thick bark of a poplar. They must have been laying their eggs in the
-wood under the bark.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p350width"><img src="images/p350.png" alt="Ichneumon Fly" width="294" height="335"><p class="figureHead">Ichneumon Fly</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, female fly; <i>b</i>, enlarged abdomen of female; <i>c</i>, enlarged abdomen of male; <i>d</i>, enlarged portion of wing.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“No, they were doing something better than that. The larvæ of ichneumons live in the
-bodies of other larvæ, which they devour little by little without killing them until
-the very last. They are carnivorous larvæ: they must have fresh meat that is renewed
-about as fast as they eat it. The ichneumons Louis speaks of were engaged in depositing
-their eggs in the bodies of plump worms that live in the wood of the tree and turn
-into beetles.”
-</p>
-<p>“But these beetle-worms,” Jules pointed out, “were not in sight. They were under the
-bark and perhaps in the wood itself.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb351">[<a href="#pb351">351</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“The ichneumon does not need to see them to know where they are.”
-</p>
-<p>“Does it hear them then?”
-</p>
-<p>“No more than it sees them. The worm stays quietly in its little tunnel, being careful
-not to make any noise that will attract the attention of its enemy.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then the ichneumon must at least smell them.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is very doubtful. A live larva has no odor. And, besides, the most difficult
-part is not to find out whether or not a suitably plump larva is there under the bark,
-at such and such a depth; it is also necessary to ascertain whether another ichneumon
-egg has not already been laid in the body of the coveted worm, as one larva would
-be insufficient for two nurslings. An egg deposited in some fat worm is not seen,
-heard, or felt; that is very evident. Nevertheless the ichneumon never plunges its
-terebra through the bark into a larva already occupied. What guides it? I do not know;
-nobody knows. Instinct has ways and means unsuspected by our wisdom. An ichneumon
-alights on the trunk of a tree. The perfectly healthy bark betrays to the sharpest
-eyes no sign of what the hymenopter is after. Never mind; the insect soon satisfies
-itself as to whether or not the place is a good one for its purpose. It makes a careful
-examination, tapping with its antennæ and keeping up a continual vibratory movement.
-A spot is chosen. The insect plants itself firmly on its legs, draws up its abdomen,
-and, holding its terebra in a vertical position, <span class="pageNum" id="pb352">[<a href="#pb352">352</a>]</span>plunges the point of it into an imperceptible fissure in the bark. The little auger
-pierces the bark, though not without effort and occasional pauses, for there are difficulties
-to be overcome; nevertheless it goes as far as its length permits. The end is attained;
-the point of the instrument penetrates the flesh of the worm hidden under the bark.
-The egg being deposited in the incision thus made, the insect withdraws its blade
-carefully, so as not to break it, and proceeds to lay eggs in the bodies of other
-larvæ.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p352width"><img src="images/p352.png" alt="Long-tailed Ophion, natural size" width="296" height="294"><p class="figureHead">Long-tailed Ophion, natural size</p>
-<p class="first">(One of the <i>Ichneumonidæ</i>)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Then the great length of this blade,” Jules remarked, “though at first it seems unhandy
-for the creature, is on the contrary perfectly fitted for the work to be done. With
-too short a terebra the ichneumon couldn’t reach the larvæ under the bark and even
-in the wood itself.”
-</p>
-<p>“From the length of the terebra one can estimate at what depth, as a rule, the eggs
-are laid. Ichneumons with a long terebra lay their eggs in larvæ protected by a thick
-layer of bark or wood or earth or other material; those with a short terebra seek
-larvæ living in the open air, such as caterpillars for example. However, if the caterpillar
-is covered <span class="pageNum" id="pb353">[<a href="#pb353">353</a>]</span>with long hairs, thus keeping the ichneumon at a distance from the skin of its victim,
-a long implement is still necessary to convey the eggs into the flesh. But for smooth-skinned
-caterpillars without any defense the ichneumon is furnished with a very short terebra,
-often invisible when not in action, so that the end of the insect’s abdomen must be
-pressed in order to make the egg-conveyer show itself, be it lancet, saw, fine blade,
-or other instrument of that sort.
-</p>
-<p>“The ichneumon on the hunt is one of the most curious sights imaginable. Caterpillars
-are peacefully browsing on leaves. An ichneumon comes along, flies about over them,
-selects the ones that look best for its purpose, and never fails to exclude those
-that already have eggs in their bodies. At the sound of their enemy’s wings the terrified
-caterpillars stop eating and begin to move their heads in a startled manner from side
-to side, doubtless in the hope of frightening off the foe. But the latter pays no
-attention to these vain threats; it alights on the caterpillar of its choice and,
-so quickly that you hardly have time to see the operation, darts its terebra and lays
-an egg in the wound.”
-</p>
-<p>“And doesn’t the caterpillar make any resistance?” asked Emile.
-</p>
-<p>“It performs some lively antics, but that is all. The poor creature cannot defend
-itself against an enemy in the air, a winged enemy that can always keep at a safe
-distance and is always ready to fly <span class="pageNum" id="pb354">[<a href="#pb354">354</a>]</span>away. The other eligible caterpillars in the group are attacked in the same manner,
-one by one, until the ichneumon has laid all its eggs.”
-</p>
-<p>“Each caterpillar gets only one egg?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“That depends on the size of the egg-layer. If it is large it lays but one egg in
-each caterpillar, so that the larvæ may each have enough food; if small, it lays several.”
-</p>
-<p>“And then what happens?” Emile inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“The ichneumon gone, the pricked caterpillars soon recover their composure and resume
-their eating. The prick, not being poisoned with venom, causes very little pain; besides,
-it would take a good deal more than that to affect their appetites. All goes well
-for a few days, as long as the eggs are unhatched.”
-</p>
-<p>“Do those eggs hatch in the caterpillar’s body?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes.”
-</p>
-<p>“And as soon as they have hatched do the little larvæ set to work devouring the caterpillar’s
-inside?”
-</p>
-<p>“That’s the way of it.”
-</p>
-<p>“What an awful stomach-ache for the poor caterpillars!”
-</p>
-<p>“Nevertheless, even with such pain as may result from the gradual consumption of their
-flesh, the caterpillars continue to eat as if nothing had happened, the satisfaction
-of their appetite making them forget their sufferings, so imperious is their need
-of food. And furthermore, for a reason that I will <span class="pageNum" id="pb355">[<a href="#pb355">355</a>]</span>explain, the parasitic worms observe a certain caution in their ravages.
-</p>
-<p>“In the body of every animal are certain organs more indispensable than others for
-the maintenance of life, and if they are injured, even though slightly, death follows.
-Such are the heart and brain in the higher animals. In a caterpillar’s body there
-are, it is true, no heart or brain like those of animals higher in the scale; but
-there are analogous organs just as necessary to the ongoing of the vital functions.
-If the ichneumon’s larvæ, in eating their victim’s flesh, were to injure these vital
-organs, the caterpillar would quickly die, and the larvæ would perish too, for they
-must have fresh meat, not decayed flesh. It is a question of life or death to them
-whether the grubs avoid biting in the wrong place or not. The caterpillar must live
-in order that they may live; it must prolong its miserable existence until they are
-ready for their metamorphosis. So the little parasites scrupulously respect any organ
-indispensable to the maintenance of life and feed on the rest; guided by instinct,
-they distinguish admirably between what they may attack and what they must let alone.
-A time comes, however, when because of their approaching transformation they do not
-need to exercise further self-restraint, and they accordingly devour the parts until
-then left intact. Thereupon the caterpillar dies, being reduced to an empty skin which
-the larvæ promptly abandon in order to spin their cocoons and turn into nymphs and
-finally into ichneumons.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb356">[<a href="#pb356">356</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Sometimes the caterpillar is spared until it has shut itself up in a case and turned
-into a chrysalis, with the result that the larvæ inhabiting the caterpillar find themselves,
-without any labor on their part, provided with snug quarters for the winter. Out of
-every such wormy chrysalis, consumed to the skin, there emerges in the spring, not
-a butterfly, but a swarm of ichneumons.”
-</p>
-<p>“Last autumn,” said Jules, “I found in the garden a large brown cocoon, and I hoped
-to see a beautiful butterfly come out of it; but this spring, to my great astonishment,
-out came a swarm of little flies.”
-</p>
-<p>“What you took for flies was a brood of ichneumons. Yet there are flies, real flies,
-that lay their eggs in the bodies of caterpillars, just as the hymenopterous butterflies
-do with their terebra.”
-</p>
-<p>“With their strange way of living on other creatures,” observed Louis, “ichneumons
-must destroy lots of caterpillars.”
-</p>
-<p>“They destroy so many that often, if you take a hundred caterpillars haphazard from
-cabbages or other growing vegetables, you will find not more than two or three that
-are sound and in a condition to undergo metamorphosis.”
-</p>
-<p>“Can those that have eggs in them be told from the rest?” asked Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“Easily. The point pierced by the ichneumon’s terebra is surrounded by a little black
-spot. When you are gathering caterpillars it is well not to crush those that you see
-are pricked, nor yet those that <span class="pageNum" id="pb357">[<a href="#pb357">357</a>]</span>look diseased and have a loose skin. They are ichneumon-feeders, and their preservation
-means so many more swarms of ichneumons the next summer for the destruction of caterpillars.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb358">[<a href="#pb358">358</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch49" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e659">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XLIX</h2>
-<h2 class="main">APPLE-EATERS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Please tell us about the worm we find in apples and pears,” was Louis’s request one
-day when the children were gathered about their uncle.
-</p>
-<p>“That worm, my lad,” he began, “as I have already briefly explained, is the grub or
-larva of a small moth.”
-</p>
-<p>“Seems to me,” interrupted Jules, “the moth is responsible for a good deal of mischief.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, moths do more harm than any other insects; but not as moths, for these never
-give us any cause for complaint, being content to suck a little honey through their
-slender trumpet from the flowers growing on every side. It is in the larva state,
-with appetites of the most varied sort, that they commit their ravages. I have already
-told you about worms that gnaw wood and those that eat woolen stuffs, those that browse
-the foliage and those that attack roots. Now we come to some that give their attention
-to fruit.
-</p>
-<p>“The best-known of these is the worm that lives in apples and pears. We usually call
-it the apple-worm, and its moth is known as the apple-pyralis. The term pyralis is
-new to you; it comes from a <span class="pageNum" id="pb359">[<a href="#pb359">359</a>]</span>Greek word meaning fire, and was long ago ignorantly applied to the apple-moth because
-that insect was supposed to eat fire as its regular diet. Its forward wings are ash-gray
-streaked crosswise with brown and ornamented at the tip with a large red spot encircled
-by a golden-red border. The rear wings are brown. When the fruit is just beginning
-to form, the pyralis lays an egg in the blossom end of apple or pear, no matter which,
-and the little worm that soon comes from this egg takes up its abode close to the
-seeds. The narrow channel by which it entered skins over so that the wormy fruit appears
-intact for some time. Meanwhile the worm is living in the lap of luxury, with an abundance
-of its favorite food all around; but it must have a passage communicating with the
-outside so as to get air and make the abode sanitary, encumbered as it is with refuse
-and excrement. Accordingly the worm bores a little tunnel through the flesh of the
-fruit to the skin and through this also; there the tunnel ends in a round hole. Through
-this passageway the larva receives fresh air and throws out from time to time the
-chewed and digested pulp, in the form familiar to us as reddish wormhole dust. The
-translucent quality of its skin causes the worm to vary in hue according to the color
-of what it eats, being sometimes white, sometimes brown or yellow, and sometimes pink.
-It is ornamented with little black tubercles or pimples arranged in pairs. The head
-and the first ring-like section of the body are brown.
-</p>
-<p>“Apples and pears containing worms continue to <span class="pageNum" id="pb360">[<a href="#pb360">360</a>]</span>grow; indeed, they ripen sooner than the others, but it is a sickly maturity that
-hastens the fall of the fruit. As a rule, the larva in wormy fruit that has fallen
-to the ground is by that time fully grown; accordingly, it leaves its domicile by
-the passage already made and creeps into some crevice in the bark of a tree, or sometimes
-it retires underground, after which it makes for itself a shell of silk mixed with
-fragments of wood or dead leaves, and turns into a moth the next year, when all the
-young apples and pears are ready to receive its eggs for the new generation.
-</p>
-<p>“In plums and apricots is found a worm closely resembling that infesting apples and
-pears; another occurs in chestnuts, and a third in pea-pods, the tender young peas
-furnishing excellent food for the intruder. All these worms are the larvæ of moths
-commonly named from the fruit or vegetable they infest. The pea-worm, after it has
-devoured the best part of the pod’s contents, passes into another pod by boring a
-round hole. Its moth appears in June, and the larva in July and August. Consequently,
-spring peas are never wormy, while those of late summer very often are. This example
-shows you how, in certain instances, a crop can be saved by hastening or delaying
-the sowing, according to the time when the ravagers may be expected to appear.”
-</p>
-<p>“But no such plan can be carried out with chestnuts,” said Emile. “That is plain enough,
-for chestnut-trees bear their nuts at a fixed time, and we <span class="pageNum" id="pb361">[<a href="#pb361">361</a>]</span>can’t hurry them up or keep them back. The chestnut-moth comes just when the table
-is set for its young ones. What disgusting-looking worms they are, too—all red and
-soaked in their own juice in the chestnut-meat!”
-</p>
-<p>“We can’t do anything, either, for the apple-trees and the pear-trees, can we?” Louis
-inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“Not much. Some people gather the wormy apples and pears fallen from or still on the
-trees, and crush them to kill the worms inside. That makes so many enemies the fewer
-for the following year; but again it has to be admitted that, left to our own resources,
-we could never defend ourselves against the pyralis and other similar moths that produce
-larvæ from which hardly anything is safe. Fortunately the swallow catches these moths
-on the wing, bats chase them assiduously in the twilight, and the little gray lizard
-snaps them up when they alight on the trunks of trees. These are so many friends,
-protectors of our gardens and orchards.”
-</p>
-<p>“The moths you call by that queer name, pyralis—are there a good many of them?” asked
-Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“There are numerous species, and each species is represented by countless legions
-of individual moths. Some of these attack fruit; I have just told you about the principal
-ones. Others have a different mode of life, and of these I will speak to-morrow. But
-they are all very small moths, and some are beautifully colored. Their antennæ are
-fine and their wings, rounding at the shoulders, spread out in the form of a cape
-and are folded together <span class="pageNum" id="pb362">[<a href="#pb362">362</a>]</span>in repose like the two halves of a sloping roof; that is, they incline to right and
-left. Their grubs have a smooth and shiny skin. These worms draw back quickly when
-molested and let themselves fall to the ground, deadening the shock of the fall by
-means of a silk thread that holds them suspended by the lip.”
-</p>
-<p>“That’s a clever trick,” Emile observed. “As soon as the worm is frightened it glues
-the end of the thread to something and down it drops, but gently and only as fast
-as the thread is let out by the spinneret.”
-</p>
-<p>“This morning,” said Jules, “Mother Ambroisine was picking over some dried peas. A
-few were pierced with a round hole, and others had a little brown insect spotted with
-white. Peas, then, have two enemies: the pyralis-worm that eats fresh fruit and the
-insect I am speaking of that eats them dry.”
-</p>
-<p>“The insect that eats dried peas is a small beetle, a weevil with a wide and very
-short snout. It is known as the pea-weevil. Another weevil eats beans, and still another
-lentils. It is always the larva that does the mischief. Once arrived at the perfect
-state, the weevil bores a round hole in the seed and gets out. These weevils have
-the same habits as the grain-weevil. They are destroyed by the use of sulphide of
-carbon, or simply by the action of heat if the seeds they infest are not to be sown,
-for the temperature required to kill the insects and their larvæ would also destroy
-the germinative principle of the seed.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb363">[<a href="#pb363">363</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch50" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e669">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER L</h2>
-<h2 class="main">LEAF-ROLLERS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“Many of the moths bearing the name of pyralis have a curious habit in their larva
-state, of rolling up the leaves of trees, or of folding them lengthwise, or of uniting
-several in the form of a sheath by means of silk threads, so as to make a shelter
-in which they may nibble away in safety at the interior of their green abode. For
-this reason they are called leaf-rollers. The one best known, on account of the damage
-it does, is the grapevine-pyralis.
-</p>
-<p>“It is a small moth with yellow wings having the metallic sheen of copper and crossed
-by brown stripes. Its larva is greenish, bristling with short hairs and having a head
-of a dark lustrous green color. In August the moth lays its eggs on the vine leaves
-in little slabs of twenty at most. Hatching takes place in September. At this advanced
-season of the year caterpillars do not eat; they suspend themselves by a thread and
-wait for the wind to drive them against the vine or one of its supports. As soon as
-they get a foothold on the desired object they take refuge in cracks in the bark and
-fissures in the wood, and there they lie torpid through the winter. At the reawakening
-of vegetable <span class="pageNum" id="pb364">[<a href="#pb364">364</a>]</span>life and the first pushing forth of the new vine shoots they leave their winter quarters,
-invade the vines, and entwine with silk threads the young grape clusters and the tender
-leaves, after which they feed upon them with an appetite sharpened by a fast of five
-or six months. With such ravenous eaters devastation proceeds apace, and in a few
-weeks, if the worms are numerous, the most flourishing vine is reduced to a pitiful
-condition and all hope of a harvest is abandoned. The ravages wrought by this moth
-between 1835 and 1840 in the vineyards of Bourgogne will long be remembered. Over
-immense tracts of land, when vintage-time came, there was not a single bunch of grapes
-to go into the basket. The greedy caterpillars ruined the country.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p364width"><img src="images/p364.png" alt="Strawberry Leaf-roller" width="340" height="133"><p class="figureHead">Strawberry Leaf-roller</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, larva, natural size; <i>b</i>, head and first three joints of body, enlarged; <i>c</i>, moth (cross shows natural size); <i>d</i>, anal shield of larva, enlarged.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Didn’t the people try to get rid of the creatures?” asked Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“They tried various methods, but with little success until finally one proved effective,
-and that the simplest and cheapest of all. Let us note by the way, my little friends,
-what an advantage it is to be acquainted with the habits of an insect that does us
-harm. If this moth’s peculiarities had not been studied, if it had not been known
-that its larvæ hide themselves in the fissures of the vines and the trellises, <span class="pageNum" id="pb365">[<a href="#pb365">365</a>]</span>there to lie torpid all winter, our vineyards might still be suffering from this terrible
-enemy. This fact being known, the remedy was not far to seek.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p365width"><img src="images/p365.png" alt="Leaf-tier" width="250" height="280"><p class="figureHead">Leaf-tier</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, larva, natural size; <i>b</i>, segment or joint of larva; <i>c</i>, head and part of body; <i>d</i>, moth (cross shows natural size).</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“It is this: in winter the vines and trellises are scalded with boiling water, the
-water being heated over a fire in the middle of the vineyard. “With a coffee-pot about
-a liter of hot water is poured on each vine so as to reach all the parts where worms
-may be lurking. Protected by its tough bark, the vine itself does not suffer from
-this scalding bath, while the caterpillars are completely destroyed. By this method
-the vineyards of Bourgogne were so entirely rid of the dreaded moth that no further
-ravages of any account have been reported.”
-</p>
-<p>“Couldn’t the moths come back again some time, as many as ever?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“That is hardly possible if at their first appearance the coffee-pot of hot water
-is brought into play.
-</p>
-<p>“The other leaf-rolling moths of this family are of less importance. The leaf-roller
-of the plum-tree lives first on the blossoms of the tree; later it makes a roll of
-leaves and lines it with silk. The <span class="pageNum" id="pb366">[<a href="#pb366">366</a>]</span>moth has a large white spot at the tip of each fore wing.
-</p>
-<p>“The cherry-tree leaf-roller has about the same habits. Its moth is recognized by
-two wide oblique stripes of the color of rust on its fore wings. On the pear-tree
-lives a leaf-roller with a triangular white spot in the middle of each fore wing.”
-</p>
-<p>“I don’t remember ever having seen the moths you are telling us about,” said Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“They are too small to be noticed by any one who is not on the lookout for them.”
-</p>
-<p>“I have often seen the nests of leaf-rolling caterpillars on fruit-trees and bushes
-and all sorts of plants. There are leaves folded lengthwise so that the edges join
-and make a sort of tunnel; others are in twos or threes or more; and there are some
-fastened together in a big bunch, all twisted and ragged, with silk threads holding
-them together. On opening these nests of leaves and silk I have sometimes found a
-caterpillar and sometimes a spider.”
-</p>
-<p>“Various spiders with too little silk to spin a large web for catching flies make
-an ambush by bringing the edges of two or three adjacent leaves together. Like the
-leaf-rolling caterpillars they use silk threads to hold the pieces of their abode
-in place, but their ultimate object is quite different. The rollers bring the leaves
-together so as to nibble them in peace, safely hidden away in the shelter thus formed;
-the spiders bring them together to make a simple abode for themselves and an ambush
-from <span class="pageNum" id="pb367">[<a href="#pb367">367</a>]</span>which they can pounce upon such insects as come within their reach.”
-</p>
-<p>“The spiders that make a nest of leaves joined together do not harm trees?”
-</p>
-<p>“I should rather say they are helpful to trees. They are vigilant guardians, always
-on the watch for flies, gnats, little moths, and other ravagers that would come and
-infest the trees with their eggs.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb368">[<a href="#pb368">368</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch51" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e679">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER LI</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE HOP-MOTH</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“What is that pretty butterfly in your box, next to the pyralis?” Emile asked his
-uncle when the latter was showing the children some of his specimens of moths and
-butterflies. “It has silver wings bordered with red.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is not a butterfly, my boy,” replied Uncle Paul; “it is a moth that infests
-hop-vines.”
-</p>
-<p>“Are hops those things they make beer with?”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p368width"><img src="images/p368.png" alt="Hop Plant" width="313" height="405"><p class="figureHead">Hop Plant</p>
-<p class="first">1, male flowering branch; 2, fruiting branch; <i>a</i>, male flower; <i>b</i>, female flower; <i>c</i>, single fruit; <i>d</i>, embryo.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Beer is not made from hops, my boy; it is made from barley. First the barley is slightly
-moistened, after which it is kept at a mild temperature. The grain begins to sprout
-just as it would do if sown in the field. For the nourishment of the little plants,
-which have no roots as yet, a special food already prepared is needed, just as <span class="pageNum" id="pb369">[<a href="#pb369">369</a>]</span>the young kitten, not yet big enough to catch mice, needs its mother’s milk. All grain,
-in beginning to grow, whether it be wheat or oats or rye or any other, requires a
-special form of nourishment, ready prepared. But where do you suppose it is to be
-found? You hadn’t thought of that. I will tell you. The grain has it in itself. In
-a kernel of barley or wheat or oats or rye there is a white substance which, when
-ground to powder, is known as flour.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then the sprouting plant feeds on flour?”
-</p>
-<p>“Not exactly; flour is too coarse a food for it. The little plant takes its nourishment
-much as we do when we are very small. It sucks up water holding in solution the substances
-needed for its growth. But flour will not dissolve in water, as you very well know;
-consequently, the little plant would die of hunger right beside its store of provision
-if the flour were not prepared for it—I might say, cooked for it—in a way suited to
-its needs.”
-</p>
-<p>“That must be a funny arrangement—food cooked for a plant!”
-</p>
-<p>“It is more wonderful than you can imagine. As the sprout pushes upward the flour
-in the grain is being turned to sugar, real sugar, very sweet and easily dissolved
-in water; so that the young plant has for its nourishment a sufficient supply of sweetened
-water or, to express it in another way, a sort of milk.”
-</p>
-<p>“Oh, yes!” cried Emile. “Now I understand. <span class="pageNum" id="pb370">[<a href="#pb370">370</a>]</span>Last Christmas Mother Ambroisine put some wheat to sprout in a plate and kept it moist
-on the mantelpiece. When the little blades began to show, the wheat was all soft and
-would crush under your fingers; and it gave out a sort of very sweet milk.”
-</p>
-<p>“This wonderful transformation of flour into sugar during germination is turned to
-account by man in making beer. He causes barley to germinate, and when he judges that
-all the flour substance it contains has turned to sugar he quickly kills the little
-plants, as otherwise the sweetened liquid would be taken up by them and would undergo
-another transformation by being turned into plant substance. Accordingly, the grain
-is promptly dried in an oven, after which it is ground in a mill, and this ground
-barley is called malt. By adding water and keeping it at a mild temperature we induce
-a fresh change: the sugar turns to alcohol, which is the essential element of beer
-and wine.”
-</p>
-<p>“The flour of the grain, then,” said Jules, “turns to sugar or to plant substance
-or to alcohol, according to the way it is treated; is that it?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, and it can be converted into many other things. Boiled with water it becomes
-paste. After entering into the composition of beer it can be turned into vinegar by
-being left exposed to the air and allowed to sour. But we will not now dwell on these
-various changes. Let us return to the subject of beer. In order to impart to that
-beverage the bitter taste and the aroma peculiar to it, we use hops. <span class="pageNum" id="pb371">[<a href="#pb371">371</a>]</span>Barley is the fundamental ingredient of the drink, hops are the flavoring.
-</p>
-<p>“The hop-plant is a long, slender vine unable to hold itself up without supporting
-poles, around which it twines to the height of perhaps ten meters. Its leaves are
-lobed somewhat like those of the grape, and its fruit takes the shape of cones or
-catkins similar to those of the pine-tree, but much smaller and composed of thin scales
-coated with a sort of bitter resin. It is these cones that are used in making beer.
-Hops are extensively cultivated in Alsace and in Germany. The chief enemies of the
-hop-vine are two worms, one of which nibbles the roots and the other the inside of
-the stem or vine.
-</p>
-<p>“The epialidæ are distinguished from all other moths by their very short antennæ.
-Their larvæ live in the ground and feed on roots. The most important member of this
-family is the hop-moth, of which the male has white wings touched with silver and
-edged with a reddish border, and the female has fore wings of bright yellow with tawny
-edges and two tawny oblique stripes. The grub is whitish, covered with little yellow
-tubercles overgrown with black hair. It does great damage to hop plantations by gnawing
-the roots. To destroy it the hop-grower is advised to spray the base of the vine with
-water in which hog-manure has been left to steep—an application that is said to kill
-the worms.
-</p>
-<p>“Within the stem of the plant lives the grub of the pyralis that I show you here.
-The moth has <span class="pageNum" id="pb372">[<a href="#pb372">372</a>]</span>dark-yellow fore wings edged with a scalloped stripe of a lighter shade and marked
-with a number of red spots. The hind wings are white with purple spots and yellowish
-edges.”
-</p>
-<p>“Alongside of that moth there are two more in your box,” Emile pointed out.
-</p>
-<p>“They are the madder-moth and the woad-moth. Madder used to be cultivated for its
-root, which yields a red dye, the most beautiful and lasting of all red dyes.”
-</p>
-<p>“Isn’t Mother Ambroisine’s Sunday kerchief dyed with madder?”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes; and with the red there are black, pink, garnet, and violet on the kerchief,
-all obtained from madder. In the methods formerly in use various drugs were first
-applied to the goods to be dyed, this being done by means of wooden blocks engraved
-with the desired patterns, after which a bath of boiling water containing powdered
-madder root brought out all the different colors, at once, their respective tints
-depending on the drugs previously applied. These colors, of which there were many
-varieties, had the great advantage of never fading in the sun and of resisting soap;
-hence madder used to be the most highly prized of dyestuffs and was a source of much
-profit to Alsace and the department of Vaucluse, the only districts devoted to its
-culture. Its insect foe was the moth I now show you. At weeding-time it was the custom
-to destroy the caterpillars, which fed on the leaves of the plant.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb373">[<a href="#pb373">373</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Woad is another plant used in dyeing. Prepared in a certain way, the green matter
-of its leaves gives a fine blue color. The caterpillar of a leaf-rolling moth eats
-first the woad leaves and then the stalk.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb374">[<a href="#pb374">374</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch52" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e689">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER LII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">THE INCHWORM</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">One day Uncle Paul was in his garden engaged in an operation on his pear-trees that
-greatly puzzled Emile and Jules. He had a pot of black, sticky stuff with a strong
-smell, and was smearing it with a brush all around the base of the trees. Oh, how
-One-eyed John would have laughed if he had peeped through the hedge and seen Uncle
-Paul daubing the foot of his pear-trees with black! But he would have been greatly
-in the wrong, as is proved by what the boys’ uncle said to them that same evening.
-</p>
-<p>“What do you call that stuff you were putting on the trees this morning?” Jules inquired.
-</p>
-<p>“It is called tar, and is a substance derived from coal. To make illuminating gas
-coal is put into large cast-iron vessels and heated red-hot, all outside air being
-excluded meanwhile. The heat decomposes the coal, which cannot burn for want of air.
-The products of this decomposition are illuminating gas, tar, and coke, this last
-being a kind of coal of metallic appearance, very porous and light. The gas and the
-tar are drawn off through a pipe, the coke remaining in the cast-iron vessel. Tar
-is a very black, sticky substance with a strong odor repugnant to insects.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb375">[<a href="#pb375">375</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Then you put a coating of it around the tree trunks to keep off insects?”
-</p>
-<p>“Certain moths whose caterpillars I fear came through my hedge. The girdle of tar
-put on at the base of the trunk is to prevent their climbing to the branches to lay
-their eggs. In that way I protect the fruit-trees from the caterpillars that a little
-later would destroy the foliage.”
-</p>
-<p>“But moths can fly well enough, and your tar wouldn’t stop them. If they can’t reach
-the branches by climbing the trunk they will fly up to them.”
-</p>
-<p>“For a moth that flies, agreed. If on the contrary it cannot fly, but has to content
-itself with walking, is it not true that the coating of tar encircling the foot of
-the tree trunk will prove an impassable obstacle? In the first place, the smell of
-tar is offensive to the moth, and then if it ventures on the sticky girdle it will
-infallibly become entangled and die, stuck fast in the tar.”
-</p>
-<p>“That is plain,” assented Louis. “But are there any moths that can’t fly?”
-</p>
-<p>“There are.”
-</p>
-<p>“Are the lazy things afraid to use their wings?” asked Emile. “Perhaps they think
-it’s too much trouble.”
-</p>
-<p>“How could they use them? They haven’t any to use, poor things.”
-</p>
-<p>“That accounts for it, then. Moths without wings!”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, my boy, moths without wings. You shall <span class="pageNum" id="pb376">[<a href="#pb376">376</a>]</span>see some. This one is called by learned men phalæna geometra, which means geometer-moth
-You will soon see why it is so named.”
-</p>
-<p>“But it has wings, magnificent ones, all dotted with brown spots on a yellowish background.”
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, and I will add that the forward ones have dark stripes. Now what do you think
-of this other moth?”
-</p>
-<p>“That ugly thing isn’t a moth.”
-</p>
-<p>“You judge by appearances, my dear child, and not by reality. This ungainly creature
-laboriously dragging along its big, naked, yellowish abdomen, with large black spots,
-is the female of the other moth.”
-</p>
-<p>“I should never have guessed it.”
-</p>
-<p>“Neither you nor a great many others. Henceforth you will know that there are numerous
-species of moths whose females are either wingless or equipped with such mere stumps
-of wings that they are unable to fly, whereas the males invariably have well-developed
-wings. Now, the male is not the one to be feared; it is the female with her eggs.
-The office of the tar girdle at the foot of the tree is to arrest the moth when it
-tries to climb to the branches where the laying takes place. Repulsed by the odor,
-it turns back; or if it persists in its endeavors to pass, it sticks to the tar and
-so perishes.”
-</p>
-<p>“If the female laid her eggs somewhere else,” suggested Jules, “instead of on the
-branches—for <span class="pageNum" id="pb377">[<a href="#pb377">377</a>]</span>instance, on the ground—wouldn’t the caterpillars know enough to climb the trees by
-themselves?”
-</p>
-<p>“The tar barrier would still be there to stop them. Besides, caterpillars hatched
-on the ground would hardly think of climbing the tree to the place where, in the usual
-order, the hatching would have taken place. As long as the customary conditions remain
-unaltered, insects show an astonishing instinct; beyond these conditions they do not
-know how to act.
-</p>
-<p>“The caterpillar of the geometer-moth is gray with a yellow stripe running lengthwise
-on each side. It has a curious way of walking common to it and other caterpillars
-of the same group.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p377width"><img src="images/p377.png" alt="Linden Inchworm" width="347" height="280"><p class="figureHead">Linden Inchworm</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, male moth; <i>b</i>, wingless female; <i>c</i>, larva, slightly enlarged.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“These caterpillars are long and cylindrical in shape, and they usually have but two
-pairs of false legs, at some distance from the true front legs. In walking they first
-rest themselves on the forward legs and then bring up the others by curving the body
-into a loop or ring. The next movement is to raise the forward legs and advance them
-in a stride as long as the creature itself, after which the body again bends into
-a loop by the bringing up of <span class="pageNum" id="pb378">[<a href="#pb378">378</a>]</span>the hind legs as before. These peculiar strides give the worm the appearance of a
-pair of dividers getting over the ground by alternately opening and closing its two
-legs. You might say the creature surveys or measures the road it travels, and that
-is why its moth is known as the geometer-moth. The common name of inchworm applied
-to the caterpillar is familiar to you as referring to the caterpillar’s length.
-</p>
-<p>“Further characteristics are to be noted. Clinging to the branch solely by their hind
-creepers, these worms remain for hours in the strangest postures, the body stiff and
-motionless. You will see some stretched out straight, some turned up behind, some
-arched in a semicircular position. Not one moves, not one shows weariness in these
-uncomfortable attitudes which demand an incredible amount of strength. You have witnessed
-the feats of those strong-armed acrobats who, in the side-show at the fair, seize
-a vertical bar with both hands and without further support sustain themselves in the
-air, the body horizontal. Inchworms do the same thing, but with this difference: whereas
-the acrobats are exhausted in a few moments, the caterpillars keep their balance all
-day if necessary.”
-</p>
-<p>“Why do they do all those stunts?” was Emile’s question.
-</p>
-<p>“They are not doing stunts, as you call it; they are simply using their natural means
-of escaping observation on the part of their enemies. By reason of their complete
-immobility, rigid posture, and <span class="pageNum" id="pb379">[<a href="#pb379">379</a>]</span>grayish hue they are confounded with the small dry twigs which they closely resemble.
-Unless examined at very short range they deceive all eyes, even those of birds, whose
-sight is so keen.”
-</p>
-<p>“Ah, the crafty rogues! To stiffen themselves and stay perfectly still so as to look
-like little dry twigs and in that way fool the birds that would come and snap them
-up, is a very clever trick.”
-</p>
-<p>“The name of leaf-stripper, which is also given to this moth, indicates its way of
-living before it is transformed into the perfect insect. The caterpillar gnaws the
-leaves of all fruit-trees without distinction, and even of other trees, such as oaks,
-birches, and lindens. For trees that have not been smeared with a tar girdle to stop
-the moths at laying time there is but one mode of defense left, and that is not nearly
-so good as the first: it is to shake the infested trees so as to make the caterpillars
-fall, and then crush them.”
-</p>
-<p>“I prefer the tar girdle,” said Louis.
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, but it must be applied in time, in the autumn when the moths are about to make
-their appearance.
-</p>
-<p>“Another moth of this group, sometimes called the winter moth, has fore wings of a
-grayish wine-color dotted with brown and striped crosswise in a darker shade. The
-female is a little better favored than that of the one we have just been considering,
-having wings of a sort, but too rudimentary to admit of flying. It may be seen running
-over the ground toward the end of autumn, when cold <span class="pageNum" id="pb380">[<a href="#pb380">380</a>]</span>weather is approaching. Its tardy appearance has earned it the name of winter moth.
-Like the moth of the inchworm it climbs trees to lay its eggs, but can be prevented
-by the use of tar on the trunk. Its eggs hatch in the spring, and the caterpillars
-are full-grown by May. They are generally blackish, with white, yellow, or green stripes
-running lengthwise. On leaving the egg these caterpillars bore the buds of pear, apple,
-apricot, and other fruit trees. Later they install themselves, one by one, between
-two leaves, the edges of which they unite with threads of silk.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb381">[<a href="#pb381">381</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch53" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e699">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER LIII</h2>
-<h2 class="main">SAP-SUCKERS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">“What do plant-lice eat?” asked Jules one day. “I have never seen them feeding on
-leaves.”
-</p>
-<p>“They do not feed on them,” his uncle replied; “they drink the sap through a very
-fine, short, pointed sucker which they carry against the breast when not in use. The
-insect plunges it into the plant and for whole days without moving drinks the sap
-at the point pricked. When this place is sucked dry it passes to another, but without
-much change of position. The plant-louse is a sedentary creature; to move around a
-stem no bigger than your little finger is for the louse a long journey fraught with
-perils not lightly to be faced, a few steps forward to make room in the rear for some
-fifty children as fast as they are brought into the world being about all that the
-boldest of these creatures dares to undertake. But plant-lice of the last generation
-of the year have wings and lay eggs which in the spring renew the race annihilated
-by the cold of winter. These winged lice are no timid stay-at-homes like the others:
-they gladly quit the natal leaf to see a bit of the world. It is their business to
-travel hither and yon and lay their eggs in many places so that in the following spring
-all plants <span class="pageNum" id="pb382">[<a href="#pb382">382</a>]</span>shall have their share of lice, and it is to fulfill this duty that they are expressly
-provided with wings. Clouds of these traveling plant-lice, dense enough to obscure
-the light of day, have been observed.
-</p>
-<div class="figure p382width"><img src="images/p382.png" alt="Periodical Cicada" width="429" height="392"><p class="figureHead">Periodical Cicada</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, pupa; <i>b</i>, cast pupa-shell; <i>c</i>, fully developed insect; <i>d</i>, punctured twig; <i>e</i>, two eggs. (<i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>c</i>, natural size; <i>d</i>, <i>e</i>, enlarged.)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Many other insects have, like the plant-louse, a straight, pointed sucker which they
-plunge into the substance they wish to drain of its juice, and which they hold against
-the breast when not in use. The cicada furnishes us a very good example, as do also
-the large bugs found on trees and on many plants. The cabbage feeds two of them: the
-harlequin cabbage-bug, which is red with numerous black spots, and still another cabbage-bug
-of a bluish-green color with white or red spots.
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb383">[<a href="#pb383">383</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“Bugs of this class have four wings, the upper pair covering the other pair when in
-repose. The forward half of each upper wing is hard like the beetle’s wing sheaths,
-but the other half is membranous and of fine texture. This structure makes them half
-sheaths for protection and half wings for flying, and it is because of this peculiarity
-that insects of this sort are called hemiptera, or half-winged creatures. The cicada
-is a half-winged insect, as is also the plant-louse, although its upper wings (I am
-speaking of winged plant-lice, of course), instead of being one half hard and the
-other half of a more delicate texture, have the same fineness and transparency throughout.
-But the most striking characteristic of these insects, and the one that determines
-their mode of life, is the beak for sucking. So we will call hemiptera all insects
-equipped with a pointed sucker which lies against the breast when in repose, and we
-will not concern ourselves with the question of wings, whether half or entirely membranous.”
-</p>
-<p>“Do the hemiptera form an order by themselves?” asked Jules.
-</p>
-<p>“They form an order in the same way that coleoptera, lepidoptera, hymenoptera, diptera,
-and so on, form each an order. But hemiptera do not undergo so thorough a transformation
-as other insects, being born with very nearly the form they will always have. The
-chief change consists in the growing of wings, which the insect does not have at first,
-but acquires later when it has attained sufficient <span class="pageNum" id="pb384">[<a href="#pb384">384</a>]</span>size. In some species several generations succeed one another before the winged state,
-which is the perfect one, is reached. Plant-lice belong to this class, the earlier
-generations of the year having no wings, and only the last being equipped with them.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p384width"><img src="images/p384.png" alt="Pear-tree Flea-louse" width="293" height="157"><p class="figureHead">Pear-tree Flea-louse</p>
-<p class="first">(Cross shows natural size)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“A hemipterous insect with habits somewhat like those of the plant louse causes considerable
-damage to pear-trees. It is commonly called the flea-louse of the pear, and is a small
-reddish insect with diaphanous wings that fold at an angle like the two sides of an
-acute-angled roof. It is found on pear-trees, and more rarely on apple-trees, toward
-the end of April. The eggs are laid one by one in slight gashes made in the leafstem
-by the female with a little auger situated at the end of the abdomen. The larvæ that
-come from these eggs grow rapidly and differ from the perfect insect only in their
-lack of wings. By sloughing the skin these larvæ become nymphs, short and stubby and
-already having on each side a rudimentary wing. In its final form the insect acquires
-perfect wings. In all three of its successive stages the insect plunges its sucker
-into the tender bark, or into the leaves, and sucks the sap. The best way to destroy
-these creatures is to use a hard bristle brush on those parts of the bark where they
-are to be found in multitudes.”
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb385">[<a href="#pb385">385</a>]</span></p>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div id="ch54" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e709">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead">
-<h2 class="label">CHAPTER LIV</h2>
-<h2 class="main">QUEER MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS</h2>
-</div>
-<div class="divBody">
-<p class="first dropcap">Uncle Paul had placed in the lettuce bed two large pots half full of water and set
-into the ground flush with the surface. He said they were a trap for mole-crickets,
-which, from the withered appearance of some of the plants, he suspected were in the
-garden. One morning, on going to look into the pots, Emile found three drowned mole-crickets
-in them. That evening Uncle Paul told the children about these creatures.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p385width"><img src="images/p385.png" alt="Mole-cricket" width="268" height="288"><p class="figureHead">Mole-cricket</p>
-<p class="first"><i>a</i>, adult, somewhat enlarged; <i>b</i>, fore foot, greatly enlarged.</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“The insects Emile found in the trap,” said he, “are called mole-crickets from their
-habit of burrowing into the ground like moles and from their resembling in certain
-other ways ordinary crickets. The mole-cricket has the common cricket’s long and slender
-antennæ, its two flexible filaments at the end of the abdomen, and its rough wings
-which are rubbed against each <span class="pageNum" id="pb386">[<a href="#pb386">386</a>]</span>other so as to make a sort of singing noise. It is a formidable ravager of our gardens.”
-</p>
-<p>“Do crickets really chirp with their wings?” asked Emile, in surprise.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatLeft p386-1width"><img src="images/p386-1.png" alt="Field Cricket" width="188" height="312"><p class="figureHead">Field Cricket</p>
-<p class="first">(Lines show natural size)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“Yes, my boy. In chirping the cricket raises its wings, which are dry and wrinkled,
-and rubs the edges together vigorously. The other chirping insects do about the same.
-The vineyard grasshopper, the one with the large green and yellow belly, has on its
-back two round scales which fit together and rub against each other. They constitute
-its musical instrument. Other grasshoppers play the violin; that is to say, they scrape
-the rough edges of their wings with their big curved thighs as bows or fiddle-sticks.
-The cicada has under its stomach in a double cavity, protected by covers capable of
-being raised more or less, two dry and shiny membranes stretched as taut as drumheads.
-The insect sings by making these vibrate in their cases.”
-</p>
-<p>“Does the mole-cricket say <i>cree-cree</i> like the ordinary cricket?”
-</p>
-<p>“No; its song has a monotonous sound, being a sort of sharp buzzing, rather subdued,
-and continuous.”
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p385-2width"><img src="images/p386-2.png" alt="Red-legged Grasshopper (female)" width="255" height="94"><p class="figureHead">Red-legged Grasshopper (female)</p>
-</div><p>
-<span class="pageNum" id="pb387">[<a href="#pb387">387</a>]</span></p>
-<p>“And why does the mole-cricket sing? What an ugly creature with its little crafty
-eyes, short wings, big stomach, and frightful fore feet!”
-</p>
-<p>“It sings to cheer its solitude and call its mate. You think it ugly; I find it admirably
-equipped for the work it has to do. It lives in the ground, just as moles do, and
-like them it is provided with a special tool for digging in the earth and cutting
-the roots that bar its way. Have you ever noticed a mole’s fore feet? They are broadly
-shovel-shaped and furnished with strong claws. The mole-cricket’s fore feet are very
-much like them, being short and wide and edged with saw-teeth. With this pair of powerful
-tools the insect digs its subterranean tunnels.”
-</p>
-<p>“Then that,” said Jules, “must be the reason for calling it a mole-cricket: it has
-the mole’s wide feet for digging.”
-</p>
-<p>“I should like to know,” Emile interposed, “what the mole and mole-cricket do under
-the ground.”
-</p>
-<p>“They hunt for worms and all kinds of insects for food. In their subterranean operations
-both cut with their fore feet the roots that obstruct their progress, but the mole,
-exclusively carnivorous, does not eat them, whereas the mole-cricket, living on both
-animal and vegetable matter, nibbles them at its pleasure. Nor does it disdain a tender
-lettuce leaf when at night it comes up above ground to get a little air and cultivate
-the acquaintance of its neighbors. Hence the mole-cricket does a great deal of damage
-in gardens by laying bare the roots <span class="pageNum" id="pb388">[<a href="#pb388">388</a>]</span>of young plants when it is boring its tunnels, or by severing these roots with the
-saw-like edges of its feet, or by nibbling them when hungry.
-</p>
-<p>“Not far beneath the surface of the ground the female makes her nest, which is in
-the form of a hollow ball of earth about as large as your fist. In this cavity, after
-it has been carefully smoothed and prepared, she lays her eggs, to the number of three
-or four hundred, after which she remains in the neighborhood as if to watch over them.
-When first hatched the young ones are white all over and look like big ants. When
-the ground is spaded these nests should always be destroyed.
-</p>
-<p>“The mole-cricket’s domain is composed of passages running down to a greater or less
-distance, with hunting galleries just under the surface. To dislodge the insect from
-its retreat a little oil is poured into the hole where it is thought to have taken
-refuge, and then plenty of water from the watering-pot, until all the passages are
-inundated. Threatened with suffocation by the oil, which interferes with its breathing,
-the mole-cricket soon comes to the surface. One can also use the trap that I have
-found serviceable. A wide and deep vessel is set into the ground, level with the surface,
-and half filled with water. Attracted by the coolness, the mole-crickets fall in and
-drown in the course of their nocturnal promenades. Sometimes, again, at the approach
-of cold weather holes are dug here and there and filled with horse manure. The warmth
-of the manure is agreeable to the mole-crickets, <span class="pageNum" id="pb389">[<a href="#pb389">389</a>]</span>and they come and hide in it for the winter. When cold weather begins, these lurking-places
-are searched and the foolish occupants destroyed.
-</p>
-<p>“The mole-cricket, the house-cricket, the locust, and the grasshopper belong to a
-family of insects called orthoptera, so named from their straight wings; that is,
-the lower wings, those used for flying, are folded lengthwise in a straight line when
-in repose, like a closed fan. Look at the red or blue wings of the crickets that abound
-in autumn, in dry grass, and you will see them neatly folded lengthwise, while the
-upper wings, which are somewhat leathery, are usually brought together in the shape
-of a roof. Many, but not all, of the orthoptera have thick thighs ending in long and
-bristly legs that serve for jumping. Finally, some of these insects have at the end
-of the abdomen a terebra, commonly called a sword, its office being to lay the eggs
-in the ground.
-</p>
-<div class="figure floatRight p389width"><img src="images/p389.png" alt="Migratory Locust" width="239" height="81"><p class="figureHead">Migratory Locust</p>
-<p class="first">(About half natural size)</p>
-</div><p>
-</p>
-<p>“One of these orthoptera commits terrible ravages in Africa. It is the migratory locust,
-so named because it assembles in immense swarms and migrates to another region when
-food fails. The migrating swarm takes flight as at a given signal and moves through
-the air like a great cloud, even intercepting the light of the sun. Sooner or later
-the devastating hordes swoop down like a living storm on the cultivated fields of
-some province, and in a few hours leaves, grain, pastures, <span class="pageNum" id="pb390">[<a href="#pb390">390</a>]</span>fields, all are browsed bare as if swept by a conflagration, the ground showing not
-a green blade of any kind surviving.”
-</p>
-<p>“If those ravenous locusts travel like that,” said Jules, “couldn’t they come here?”
-</p>
-<p>“Driven by a favorable wind, clouds of locusts do sometimes cross the Mediterranean
-and alight in our southern departments. At various times the territory of Arles has
-suffered this terrible visitation. It should be added that if the country suits them
-where they chance to alight, the locusts lay their eggs there, and from these there
-springs a legion of devourers more numerous than the first. To lessen the ravages
-of this second generation search is made for the eggs, which the locust lays in a
-cylindrical hole running a few centimeters into the ground. In 1832, in the neighborhood
-of Arles, nearly four thousand kilograms of eggs were gathered besides bagfuls of
-the insects themselves. It takes eighty thousand eggs to make a kilogram; hence in
-that harvest of eggs there were three hundred and twenty million locusts destroyed
-before they were born. Imagine the ravages of such a swarm of devourers alighting
-on the vegetation of any given district. Before so terrible a scourge man bows his
-head and acknowledges his powerlessness, the insect ravager overwhelming him by its
-very numbers.
-</p>
-<p>“How many other ravagers there are, my children, besides locusts, that by their inconceivable
-multitude defy our attempts to defend ourselves! <span class="pageNum" id="pb391">[<a href="#pb391">391</a>]</span>You are now in a position to realize somewhat the serious nature of these devastations
-when you think of all the moths and caterpillars and worms, all the creeping and burrowing
-and flying insects, of all shapes and sizes and appetites, that attack our gardens
-and fields. They would certainly gain the upper hand if we had to depend on ourselves
-in combating them. But fortunately we are most ably assisted in this contest.”
-</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div class="back">
-<div class="transcriberNote">
-<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2>
-<h3 class="main">Availability</h3>
-<p class="first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions
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-</p>
-<h3 class="main">Metadata</h3>
-<table class="colophonMetadata" summary="Metadata">
-<tr>
-<td><b>Title:</b></td>
-<td>Animal life in field and garden</td>
-<td></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td><b>Author:</b></td>
-<td>Jean-Henri-Casimir Fabre (1823–1915)</td>
-<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/51689251/" class="seclink">Info</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td><b>Translator:</b></td>
-<td>Florence Constable Bicknell (1858–1941)</td>
-<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/205101296/" class="seclink">Info</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td><b>Language:</b></td>
-<td>English</td>
-<td></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td><b>Original publication date:</b></td>
-<td>1921</td>
-<td></td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3>
-<ul>
-<li>2021-11-11 Started.
-</li>
-</ul>
-<h3 class="main">External References</h3>
-<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These links may not work
-for you.</p>
-<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3>
-<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p>
-<table class="correctionTable" summary="Overview of corrections applied to the text.">
-<tr>
-<th>Page</th>
-<th>Source</th>
-<th>Correction</th>
-<th>Edit distance</th>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e995">25</a></td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">hazlenut</td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">hazelnut</td>
-<td class="bottom">2</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1114">38</a></td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">‘</td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">“</td>
-<td class="bottom">1</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1254">55</a></td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">
-[<i>Not in source</i>]
-</td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">“</td>
-<td class="bottom">1</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1763">124</a></td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">LaFontaine’s</td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">La Fontaine’s</td>
-<td class="bottom">1</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e2571">228</a></td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">
-[<i>Not in source</i>]
-</td>
-<td class="width40 bottom">take </td>
-<td class="bottom">5</td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-</div>
-</div>
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANIMAL LIFE IN FIELD AND GARDEN ***</div>
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-22 11:27:14 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-22 11:27:14 -0800
commit	6fd391186c8d91c947b503532f8a147628a1ed33 (patch)
tree	8dba8294b2ddcfb61353880d63199a41789cf59f
parent	9a4f076c9f542e1e19fc4e2d38b7001703b661ff (diff)