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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-01-17 07:25:09 -0800 |
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diff --git a/77723-h/77723-h.htm b/77723-h/77723-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d69f90 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/77723-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6243 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + Jungle Days | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; font-weight: normal; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + + +blockquote { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Footnotes */ + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +.ph1 { + text-align: center; + font-size: xx-large; + font-weight: bold; +} +.ph2 { + text-align: center; + font-size: x-large; + font-weight: bold; +} +.transnote { + margin-left:17.5%; + margin-right:17.5%; +} + +/* Conventional dropcaps */ +p.dropcap { + text-indent: 0em; +} +p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: left; + margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 0.85em; +} +.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; +} + +.upper-case +{ + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +.oldenglish {font-family: "Old English Text MT", + "Engravers Old English BT", + "Old English", + "Collins Old English", + "New Old English", + serif; +} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp40 {width: 40%;} +.illowp50 {width: 50%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp50 {width: 100%;} +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77723 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_frontispiece" style="max-width: 30em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>Indian Hut on the Mazaruni River</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</span></p> +</div> + + +<h1> +JUNGLE DAYS +</h1> + + +<p class="center p2">BY</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: x-large;">WILLIAM BEEBE</p> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF<br> +“GALÁPAGOS: WORLD’S END,” ETC.</p> + +<p class="center p4">∽</p> + +<p class="center p4"><i>Illustrated</i></p> + +<p class="center p4"><span style="font-size: large;">G.P. Putnam’s Sons</span><br> +New York & London<br> +<span class="oldenglish">The Knickerbocker Press</span><br> +1925</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</span></p> +</div> + +<p class="center p4">Copyright, 1923<br> +by<br> +The Atlantic Monthly Co., Inc.</p> + +<p class="center p2">Copyright, 1925<br> +by<br> +The Curtis Publishing Co.</p> + +<p class="center p2">Copyright, 1925<br> +by<br> +William Beebe</p> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp40" id="i_colophon" style="max-width: 5em; margin-top: 6em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_colophon.png" alt="" data-role="presentation"> +</figure> + +<p class="center">Made in the United States of America</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"> + CONTENTS + </h2> +</div> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<th class="tdl"> +CHAPTER +</th> +<th class="tdr"> +PAGE +</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +I.—<span class="smcap">A Chain of Jungle Life</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_3">3</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +II.—<span class="smcap">My Jungle Table</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_26">26</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +III.—<span class="smcap">A Midnight Beach Combing</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_49">49</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +IV.—<span class="smcap">Falling Leaves</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_71">71</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +V.—<span class="smcap">The Jungle Sluggard</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_92">92</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +VI.—<span class="smcap">Mangrove Mystery</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_113">113</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +VII.—<span class="smcap">The Life of Death</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_137">137</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +VIII.—<span class="smcap">Old-Time People</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_166">166</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +IX.—<span class="smcap">The Bird of the Wine-Colored Egg</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +<a href="#Page_182">182</a> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv"></a><a id="Page_v"></a>[Pg v]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"> + ILLUSTRATIONS + </h2> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<th class="tdl"> +</th> +<th class="tdr"> +FACING<br> +PAGE +</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_frontispiece"><span class="smcap">Indian Hut on the Mazaruni River</span></a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="padding-right: 2em; vertical-align: bottom;"> +<i>Frontispiece</i> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_014fp">“<span class="smcap">And there was a Grandmother Frog</span>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +14 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_032fp">“<span class="smcap">Well Within the Realm of Black Magic</span>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +32 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_060fp">“<span class="smcap">Silent and Smooth as a Mirror</span>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +60 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_080fp">“<span class="smcap">The Jungle</span> <i>du Printemps Eternel</i>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +80 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_100fp">“<span class="smcap">A Fitting Inhabitant of Mars</span>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +100 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_122fp">“<span class="smcap">In the Sunshine and Warmth of the Mangrove Tangle</span>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +122 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_154fp">“<span class="smcap">The Giant Etaballi Fell Last Night</span>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +154 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_176fp">“<span class="smcap">One Wistful Little Chap</span>”</a> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: bottom;"> +176 +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +<a href="#i_192fp"><span class="smcap">The Tinamou</span><br></a> +<span style="padding-left: 2em;">From a painting by Helen Damrosch Tee Van.</span> +</td> +<td class="tdr" style="vertical-align: top;"> +192 +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a><a id="Page_3"></a>[Pg 3]</span></p> +</div> + + + <p class="ph1"> + Jungle Days + </p> + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="I"> + I + <br> + A CHAIN OF JUNGLE LIFE + </h2> + +<div style="display: flex; justify-content: center;"> +<p> + <i>This is the story of Opalina</i><br> + <i>Who lived in the Tad,</i><br> + <i>Who became the Frog,</i><br> + <i>Who was eaten by Fish,</i><br> + <i>Who nourished the Snake,</i><br> + <i>Who was caught by the Owl,</i><br> + <i>But fed the Vulture,</i><br> + <i>Who was shot by Me,</i><br> + <i>Who wrote this Tale,</i><br> + <i>Which the Editor took,</i><br> + <i>And published it Here,</i><br> + <i>To be read by You,</i><br> + <i>The last in The Chain,</i><br> + <i>Of Life in the tropical Jungle.</i> +</p> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap">I <span class="upper-case">offer</span> a living chain of ten links—the first a +tiny delicate being, one hundred to the inch, +deep in the jungle, with the strangest home in the +world—my last, you the present reader of these +lines. Between, there befell certain things, of which +I attempt falteringly to write. To know and think +them is very worth while, to have discovered them is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span>sheer joy, but to write of them is impertinence, so +exciting and unreal are they in reality, and so tame +and humdrum are any combinations of our twenty-six +letters.</p> + +<p>Somewhere today a worm has given up existence, +a mouse has been slain, a spider snatched from the +web, a jungle bird torn sleeping from its perch; +else we should have no song of robin, nor flash of +reynard’s red, no humming flight of wasp, nor +grace of crouching ocelot. In tropical jungles, in +Northern home orchards, anywhere you will, unnumbered +activities of bird and beast and insect +require daily toll of life.</p> + +<p>Now and then we actually witness one of these +tragedies or successes—whichever point of view +we take—appearing to us as an exciting but isolated +event. When once we grasp the idea of chains of +life, each of these occurrences assumes a new meaning. +Like everything else in the world it is not +isolated, but closely linked with other similar +happenings. I have sometimes traced even closed +chains, one of the shortest of which consisted of +predacious flycatchers which fed upon young +lizards of a species which, when it grew up, climbed +trees and devoured the nestling flycatchers!</p> + +<p>One of the most wonderful zoological “Houses +that Jack built,” was this of Opalina’s, a long, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span>swinging, exciting chain, including in its links a +Protozoan, two stages of Amphibians, a Fish, a +Reptile, two Birds and (unless some intervening +act of legislature bars the fact as immoral and +illegal) three Mammals,—myself, the Editor, and +You.</p> + +<p>As I do not want to make it into a mere imaginary +animal story, however probable, I will begin, +like Dickens, in the middle. I can cope, however +lamely, with the entrance and participation of the +earlier links, but am wholly out of my depth from +the time when I mail my tale. The Akawai Indian +who took it upon its first lap toward the Editor +should by rights have a place in the chain, especially +when I think how much better he might tell of the +interrelationships of the various links than can I. +Still, I know the shape of the owl’s wings when +it dropped upon the snake, but I do not know why +the Editor accepted this; I can imitate the death +scream of the frog when the fish seized it, but I +have no idea why You purchased this volume +nor whether you perceive in my tale the huge bed +of ignorance in which I have planted this scanty +crop of facts. Nor do I know the future of this +book, whether it will go to the garret, to be ferreted +out in future years by other links, as I used to do, +or whether it will find its way to mid-Asia or the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>Malay States, or, as I once saw a magazine, half +buried, like the pyramids, in Saharan sands, where +it had slipped from the camel load of some unknown +traveller.</p> + +<p>I left my Kartabo laboratory one morning with +my gun, headed for the old Dutch stelling. Happening +to glance up I saw a mote, lit with the +oblique rays of the morning sun. The mote drifted +about in circles, which became spirals; the mote +became a dot, then a spot, then an oblong, and +down the heavens from unknown heights, with the +whole of British Guiana spread out beneath him +from which to choose, swept a vulture into my very +path. We had a quintet, a small flock of our own +vultures who came sifting down the sky, day after +day, to the feasts of monkey bodies and wild peccaries +which we spread for them. I knew all these +by sight, from one peculiarity or another, for I +was accustomed to watch them hour after hour, +striving to learn something of that wonderful soaring, +of which all my many hours of flying had +taught me nothing.</p> + +<p>This bird was a stranger, perhaps from the +coast or the inland savannas, for to these birds +great spaces are only matters of brief moments. +I wanted a yellow-headed vulture, both for the +painting of its marvellous head colors, and for the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span>strange, intensely interesting, one-sided, down-at-the-heel +syrinx, which, with the voice, had dissolved +long ages ago, leaving only a whistling breath, and +an irregular complex of bones straggling over the +windpipe. Some day I shall dilate upon vultures +as pets—being surpassed in cleanliness, affectionateness +and tameness only by baby bears, sloths +and certain monkeys.</p> + +<p>But today I wanted the newcomer as a specimen. +I was surprised to see that he did not head for the +regular vulture table, but slid along a slant of the +east wind, banked around its side, spreading and +curling upward his wing-finger-tips and finally +resting against its front edge. Down this he sank +slowly, balancing with the grace of perfect mastery, +and again swung round and settled suddenly +down shore, beyond a web of mangrove roots. This +took me by surprise, and I changed my route and +pushed through the undergrowth of young palms. +Before I came within sight, the bird heard me, rose +with a whipping of great pinions and swept around +three-fourths of a circle before I could catch +enough of a glimpse to drop him. The impetus carried +him on and completed the circle, and when I +came out on the Cuyuni shore I saw him spread out +on what must have been the exact spot from which +he had risen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p> + +<p>I walked along a greenheart log with little crabs +scuttling off on each side, and as I looked ahead at +the vulture I saw to my great surprise that it had +more colors than any yellow-headed vulture should +have, and its plumage was somehow very different. +This excited me so that I promptly slipped off the +log and joined the crabs in the mud. Paying more +attention to my steps I did not again look up until +I had reached the tuft of low reeds on which the +bird lay. Now at last I understood why my bird +had metamorphosed in death, and also why it had +chosen to descend to this spot. Instead of one +bird, there were two and a reptile. Another tragedy +had taken place a few hours earlier, before +dawn, a double death, and the sight of these three +creatures brought to mind at once the chain for +which I am always on the lookout. I picked up my +chain by the middle and began searching both ways +for the missing links.</p> + +<p>The vulture lay with magnificent wings outspread, +partly covering a big, spectacled owl, whose +dishevelled plumage was in turn wrapped about +by several coils of a moderate-sized anaconda. +Here was an excellent beginning for my chain, +and at once I visualized myself and the snake, although +alternate links, yet coupled in contradistinction +to my editor and the vulture, the first two +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>having entered the chain by means of death, +whereas the vulture had simply joined in the pacifistic +manner of its kind, and as my editor has dealt +gently with me heretofore, I allowed myself to believe +that his entrance might also be through no +more rough handling than a blue slip.</p> + +<p>The head of the vulture was already losing some +of its brilliant chrome and saffron, so I took it +up, noted the conditions of the surrounding sandy +mud, and gathered together my spoils. I would +have passed within a few feet of the owl and the +snake and never discovered them, so close were +they in color to the dark reddish beach, yet the +vulture with its small eyes and minute nerves had +detected this tragedy when still perhaps a mile high +in the air, or half a mile up river. There could have +been no odor, nor has the bird any adequate nostrils +to detect it, had there been one. It was sheer +keenness of vision. I looked at the bird’s claws +and their weakness showed the necessity of the +eternal search for carrion or recently killed creatures. +Here in a half minute, it had devoured an +eye of the owl and both of those of the serpent. It +is a curious thing, this predilection for eyes; give a +monkey a fish, and the eyes are the first titbits +taken.</p> + +<p>Through the vulture I come to the owl link, a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>splendid bird clad in the colors of its time of hunting; +a great, soft, dark, shadow of a bird, with tiny +body and long fluffy plumage of twilight buff and +ebony night, lit by twin, orange moons of eyes. +The name “spectacled owl” is really more applicable +to the downy nestling which is like a white powder +puff with two dark feathery spectacles around +the eyes. Its name is one of those which I am fond +of repeating rapidly—<i>Pulsatrix perspicillata perspicillata</i>. +Etymologies do not grow in the jungle +and my memory is noted only for its consistent +vagueness, but if the owl’s title does not mean <i>The +Eye-browed One Who Strikes</i>, it ought to, especially +as the subspecific trinomial grants it two eye-brows.</p> + +<p>I would give much to know just what the beginning +of the combat was like. The middle I +could reconstruct without question, and the end was +only too apparent. By a most singular coincidence, +a few years before, and less than three miles +away, I had found the desiccated remains of +another spectacled owl mingled with the bones of +a snake, only in that instance, the fangs indicated a +small fer-de-lance, the owl having succumbed to +its venom. This time the owl had rashly attacked +a serpent far too heavy for it to lift, or even, as it +turned out, successfully to battle with. The mud +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>had been churned up for a foot in all directions, +and the bird’s plumage showed that it must have +rolled over and over. The anaconda, having just +fed, had come out of the water and was probably +stretched out on the sand and mud, as I have seen +them, both by full sun and in the moonlight. These +owls are birds rather of the creeks and river banks +than of the deep jungle, and in their food I +have found shrimps, crabs, fish and young birds. +Once a few snake vertebræ showed that these reptiles +are occasionally killed and devoured.</p> + +<p>Whatever possessed the bird to strike its talons +deep into the neck and back of this anaconda, none +but the owl could say, but from then on the story +was written by the combatants and their environment. +The snake, like a flash, threw two coils +around bird, wings and all, and clamped these tight +with a cross vise of muscle. The tighter the coils +compressed the deeper the talons of the bird were +driven in, but the damage was done with the first +strike, and if owl and snake had parted at this moment, +neither could have survived. It was a swift, +terrible and short fight. The snake could not use +its teeth and the bird had no time to bring its beak +into play, and there in the night, with the lapping +waves of the falling tide only two or three feet +away, the two creatures of prey met and fought +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>and died, in darkness and silence, locked fast together.</p> + +<p>A few nights before I had heard, on the opposite +side of the bungalow, the deep, sonorous cry of +the spectacled owl; within the week I had passed +the line-and-crescents track of anacondas, one +about the size of this snake and another much +larger. And now fate had linked their lives, or +rather deaths, with my life, using as her divining +rod, the focussing of a sky-soaring vulture.</p> + +<p>The owl had not fed that evening, although the +bird was so well nourished that it could never have +been driven to its foolhardy feat by stress of +hunger. Hopeful of lengthening the chain, I rejoiced +to see a suspicious swelling about the middle +of the snake, which dissection resolved into a +good-sized fish—itself carnivorous, locally called a +basha. This was the first time I had known one of +these fish to fall a victim to a land creature, except +in the case of a big kingfisher who had caught two +small ones. Like the owl and anaconda, bashas +are nocturnal in their activities, and, according to +their size, feed on small shrimps, big shrimps, and +so on up to six or eight inch catfish. They are built +on swift, torpedo-like lines, and clad in iridescent +silver mail.</p> + +<p>From what I have seen of the habits of anacondas, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>I should say that this one had left its hole +high up among the upper beach roots late in the +night, and softly wound its way down into the rising +tide. Here after drinking, the snake sometimes +pursues and catches small fish and frogs, but +the usual method is to coil up beside a half-buried +stick or log and await the tide and the manna it +brings. In the van of the waters comes a host of +small fry, followed by their pursuers or by larger +vegetable feeders, and the serpent has but to +choose. In this mangrove lagoon then, there must +have been a swirl and a splash, a passive holding +fast by the snake for a while until the right opportunity +offered, and then a swift throw of coils. +There must then be no mistake as to orientation of +the fish. It would be a fatal error to attempt the +tail first, with scales on end and serried spines to +pierce the thickest tissues. It is beyond my knowledge +how one of these fish can be swallowed even +head first without serious laceration. But here was +optical proof of its possibility, a newly swallowed +basha, so recently caught that he appeared as in +life, with even the delicate turquoise pigment beneath +his scales, acting on his silvery armor as +quicksilver under glass. The tooth marks of the +snake were still clearly visible on the scales,—another +link, going steadily down the classes of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>vertebrates, mammal, bird, reptile and fish, and +still my magic boxes were unexhausted.</p> + +<p>Excitedly I cut open the fish. An organism +more unlike that of the snake would be hard to +imagine. There I had followed an elongated +stomach, and had left unexplored many feet of +alimentary canal. Here, the fish had his heart +literally in his mouth, while his liver and +lights were only a very short distance behind, followed +by a great expanse of tail to wag him at its +will, and drive him through the water with the +speed of twin propellers. His eyes are wonderful +for night hunting, large, wide, and bent in the middle +so he can see both above and on each side. But +all this wide-angled vision availed nothing against +the lidless, motionless watch of the ambushed anaconda. +Searching the crevices of the rocks and logs +for timorous small fry, the basha had sculled too +close, and the jaws which closed upon him were +backed by too much muscle, and too perfect a +throttling machine to allow of the least chance of +escape. It was a big basha compared with the +moderate-sized snake but the fierce eyes had judged +well, as the evidence before me proved.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_014fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_014fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“And there was a Grandmother Frog”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Still my chain held true, and in the stomach of +the basha I found what I wanted—another link, +and more than I could have hoped for—a representative +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>of the fifth and last class of vertebrate +animals living on the earth, an Amphibian, an enormous +frog. This too had been a swift-forged link, +so recent that digestion had only affected the head +of the creature. I drew it out, set it upon its great +squat legs, and there was a grandmother frog almost +as in life, a Pok-poke as the Indians call it, +or, as a herpetologist would prefer, <i>Leptodactylus +caliginosus</i>,—the Smoky Jungle Frog.</p> + +<p>She lived in the jungle just behind, where she +and a sister of hers had their curious nests of foam, +which they guarded from danger, while the tadpoles +grew and squirmed within its sudsy mesh as +if there were no water in the world. I had watched +one of the two, perhaps this one, for hours, and I +saw her dart angrily after little fish which came too +near. Then, this night, the high full-moon tides +had swept over the barrier back of the mangrove +roots and set the tadpoles free, and the mother +frogs were at liberty to go where they pleased.</p> + +<p>From my cot in the bungalow to the south, I +had heard in the early part of the night, the death +scream of a frog, and it must have been at that +moment that somehow the basha had caught the +great amphibian. This frog is one of the fiercest +of its class, and captures mice, reptiles and small +fish without trouble. It is even cannibalistic on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>very slight provocation, and two of equal size will +sometimes endeavor to swallow one another in the +most appallingly matter-of-fact manner.</p> + +<p>They represent the opposite extreme in temperament +from the pleasantly philosophical giant toads. +In outward appearance in the dim light of dusk, +the two groups are not unlike, but the moment they +are taken in the hand all doubt ceases. After one +dive for freedom the toad resigns himself to fate, +only venting his spleen in much puffing out of his +sides, while the frog either fights until exhausted, +or pretends death until opportunity offers for a +last mad dash.</p> + +<p>In this case the frog must have leaped into the +deep water beyond the usual barrier and while +swimming been attacked by the equally voracious +fish. In addition to the regular croak of this +species, it has a most unexpected and unamphibian +yell or scream, given only when it thinks itself at +the last extremity. It is most unnerving when the +frog, held firmly by the hind legs, suddenly puts +its whole soul into an ear-splitting <i>peent! peent! +peent! peent! peent!</i></p> + +<p>Many a time they are probably saved from death +by this cry which startles like a sudden blow, but +tonight no utterance in the world could have saved +it; its assailant was dumb and all but deaf to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>aerial sounds. Its cries were smothered in the +water as the fish dived and nuzzled it about the +roots, as bashas do with their food,—and it became +another link in the chain.</p> + +<p>Like a miser with one unfilled coffer, or a gambler +with an unfilled royal flush, I went eagerly +at the frog with forceps and scalpel. But beyond +a meagre residuum of eggs, there was nothing but +shrunken organs in its body. The rashness of its +venture into river water was perhaps prompted by +hunger after its long maternal fast while it watched +over its egg-filled nest of foam.</p> + +<p>Hopeful to the last, I scrape some mucus from +its food canal, place it in a drop of water under my +microscope, and—discover Opalina, my last link, +which in the course of its most astonishing life history +gives me still another.</p> + +<p>To the naked eye there is nothing visible—the +water seems clear, but when I enlarge the diameter +of magnification I lift the veil on another world, +and there swim into view a dozen minute lives, oval +little beings covered with curving lines, giving the +appearance of wandering finger prints. In some +lights these are iridescent and they then will deserve +the name of Opalina. As for their personality, they +are oval and rather flat, it would take one hundred +of them to stretch an inch, they have no mouth, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span>they are covered with a fur of flagella with which +they whip themselves through the water. Indeed the +whole of their little selves consists of a multitude +of nuclei, sometimes as many as two hundred, exactly +alike,—facial expression, profile, torso, limbs, +pose, all are summed up in rounded nuclei, partly +obscured by a mist of vibrating flagella.</p> + +<p>As for their gait, they move along with colorful +waves, steadily and gently, not keeping an absolutely +straight course and making rather much leeway, +as any rounded, keelless craft, surrounded +with its own paddle-wheels, must expect to do.</p> + +<p>I have placed Opalina under very strange and +unpleasant conditions in thus subjecting it to the +inhospitable qualities of a drop of clear water. +Even as I watch, it begins to slow down, and the +flagella move less rapidly and evenly. It prefers +an environment far different, where I discovered +it living happily and contentedly in the stomach +and intestines of a frog, where its iridescence was +lost, or rather had never existed in the absolute +darkness; where its delicate hairs must often be +unmercifully crushed and bent in the ever-moving +tube, and where air and sky, trees and sun, sound +and color were forever unknown; in their place +only bits of half-digested ants and beetles, thousand-legs +and worms, rolled and tumbled along in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>the dense gastric stream of acid pepsin; a strange +choice of home for one of our fellow living beings +on the earth.</p> + +<p>After an Opalina has flagellated itself about, +and fed for a time in its strange, almost crystalline +way on the juices of its host’s food, its body begins +to contract, and narrows across the center until it +looks somewhat like a map of the New World. +Finally its isthmus thread breaks and two Opalinas +swim placidly off, both identical, except that +they have half the number of nuclei as before. We +cannot wonder that there is no backward glance, or +wave of cilia, or even memory of their other body, +for they are themselves, or rather it is they, or it +is each: our whole vocabulary, our entire stock +of pronouns breaks down, our very conception +of individuality is shattered by the life of +Opalina.</p> + +<p>Each daughter cell or self-twin, or whatever we +choose to conceive it, divides in turn. Finally there +comes a day (or rather some Einstein period of +space-time, for there are no days in a frog’s +stomach!) when Opalina’s fraction has reached a +stage with only two nuclei. When this has creased +and stretched, and finally broken like two bits of +drawn-out molasses candy, we have the last divisional +possibility. The time for the great adventure +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>has arrived, with decks cleared for action, or, +as a protozoölogist would put it, with the flagellate’s +protoplasm uni-nucleate, approximating +encystment.</p> + +<p>The encysting process is but slightly understood, +but the tiny one-two-hundredth-of-its-former-self—Opalina +curls up, its paddle-wheels run down, it +forms a shell, and rolls into the current which it +has withstood for a Protozoan’s lifetime. Out into +the world drifts the minute ball of latent life, a +plaything of the cosmos, permitted neither to see, +hear, eat, nor to move of its own volition. It hopes +(only it cannot even desire) to find itself in water, +it must fall or be washed into a pool with tadpoles, +one of which must come along at the right moment +and swallow it with the débris upon which it rests. +The possibility of this elaborate concatenation of +events has everything against it, and yet it must +occur or death will result. No wonder that the +population of Opalinas does not overstock its limited +and retired environment!</p> + +<p>Supposing that all happens as it should, and that +the only chance in a hundred thousand comes to +pass, the encysted being knows or is affected in +some mysterious way by entrance into the body of +the tadpole. The cyst is dissolved and the infant +Opalina begins to feed and to develop new nuclei. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>Like the queen ant after she has been walled forever +into her chamber, the life of the little Onecell +would seem to be extremely sedentary and humdrum, +in fact monotonous, until its turn comes to +fractionize itself, and again severally to go into the +outside world, multiplied and by installments. But +as the queen ant had her one superlative day of +sunlight, heavenly flight and a mate, so Opalina, +while she is still wholly herself, has a little adventure +all her own.</p> + +<p>Let us strive to visualize her environment as it +would appear to her if she could find time and ability, +with her single cell, to do more than feed and +bisect herself. Once free from her horny cyst she +stretches her drop of a body, sets all her paddle-hairs +in motion and swims slowly off. If we suppose +that she has been swallowed by a tadpole an +inch long, her living quarters are astonishingly +spacious or rather elongated. Passing from end +to end she would find a living tube two feet in +length, a dizzy path to traverse, as it is curled in a +tight, many-whorled spiral,—the stairway, the +domicile, the universe at present for Opalina. She +is compelled to be a vegetarian, for nothing but +masses of decayed leaf tissue and black mud and +algæ come down the stairway. For many days +there is only the sound of water gurgling past the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>tadpole’s gills, or glimpses of sticks and leaves and +the occasional flash of a small fish through the thin +skin periscope of its body.</p> + +<p>Then the tadpole’s mumbling even of half-rotted +leaves comes to an end, and both it and its guests +begin to fast. Down the whorls comes less and less +of vegetable detritus, and Opalina must feel like +the crew of a submarine when the food supply runs +short. At the same time something very strange +happens, the experience of which eludes our utmost +imagination. Poe wrote a memorable tale of a +prison cell which day by day grew smaller, and +Opalina goes through much the same adventure. +If she frequently traverses her tube, she finds it +growing shorter and shorter. As it contracts, the +spiral untwists and straightens out, while all the +time the rations are cut off. A dark curtain of +pigment is drawn across the epidermal periscope +and as books of dire adventure say, the ‘horror of +darkness is added to the terrible mental uncertainty.’ +The whole movement of the organism +changes; there is no longer the rush and swish +of water, and the even, undulatory motion alters to +a series of spasmodic jerks,—quite the opposite of +ordinary transition from water to land. Instead +of water rushing through the gills of her host, +Opalina might now hear strange musical sounds, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>loud and low, the singing of insects, the soughing +of swamp palms.</p> + +<p>Opalina about this time, should be feeling very +low in her mind from lack of food, and the uncertainty +of explanation of why the larger her host +grew, the smaller, more confined became her quarters. +The tension is relieved at last by a new influx +of provender, but no more inert mold or disintegrated +leaves. Down the short, straight tube appears +a live millipede, kicking as only a millipede +can, with its thousand heels. Deserting for a moment +Opalina’s point of view, my scientific conscience +insists on asserting itself to the effect that +no millipede with which I am acquainted has even +half a thousand legs. But not to quibble over details, +even a few hundred kicking legs must make +quite a commotion in Opalina’s home, before the +pepsin puts a quietus on the unwilling invader.</p> + +<p>From now on there is no lack of food, for at +each sudden jerk of the whole amphibian there +comes down some animal or other. The vegetarian +tadpole with its enormously lengthened digestive +apparatus, has crawled out on land, fasting while +the miracle is being wrought with its plumbing, and +when the readjustment is made to more easily assimilated +animal food, and it has become a frog, +it forgets all about leaves and algæ, and leaps after +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>and captures almost any living creature which +crosses its path and which is small enough to be +engulfed.</p> + +<p>With the refurnishing of her apartment and the +sudden and complete change of diet, the exigencies +of life are past for Opalina. She has now but to +move blindly about, bathed in a stream of nutriment, +and from time to time, nonchalantly to cut +herself in twain. Only one other possibility awaits, +that which occurred in the case of our Opalina. +There comes a time when the sudden leap is not +followed by an inrush of food, but by another leap +and still another and finally a headlong dive, a +splash and a rush of water, which, were protozoans +given to reincarnated memory, might recall times +long past. Suddenly came a violent spasm, then +a terrible struggle, ending in a strange quiet: +Opalina has become a link.</p> + +<p>All motion is at an end, and instead of food +comes compression, closer and closer shut the walls +and soon they break down and a new fluid pours +in. Opalina’s cyst had dissolved readily in the tadpole’s +stomach, but her own body was able to +withstand what all the food of tadpole and frog +could not. If I had not wanted the painting of a +vulture’s head, little Opalina, together with the +body of her life-long host, would have corroded and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>melted, and in the dark depths of the tropical +waters her multitude of paddle-hairs, her more or +fewer nuclei, all would have dissolved and been re-absorbed, +to furnish their iota of energy to the +swift silvery fish.</p> + +<p>This flimsy little, sky-scraper castle of Jack’s, +built of isolated bricks of facts, gives a hint of the +wonderland of correlation. Facts are necessary, +but even a pack-rat can assemble a gallon of beans +in a single night. To link facts together, to see +them forming into a concrete whole; to make A fit +into ARCH and ARCH into ARCHITECTURE, +that is one great joy of life which, of all +the links in my chain, only the Editor, You and I—the +Mammals—can know.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="II"> + II + <br> + MY JUNGLE TABLE + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Many</span>, many, many years ago, in some distant +place, among trees or rocks, perhaps on the +banks of a river, certainly in the warm light of the +sun, one of your ancestors and mine became tired of +squatting on a branch or on the ground, and sat +himself—or herself—on a fallen log. If it was +himself then he must soon have felt the need of a +lap on which to rest things—his hands if nothing +else. And from that day to this, his male descendants +still feel that lack down to the last unfortunate +who is handed a cup of tea or a three-legged egg-shell +of cocoa, a serviette and a cake with no support +other than wholly inadequate knees.</p> + +<p>Of the first table I can relate nothing with certainty, +but of the last I could gossip endlessly, +limited only by writer’s cramp and my supply of +adjectives. For I am at this moment sitting at the +last table ever made—last because it is not quite +finished. I am forever tacking on a little shelf or +an annex at one side, and so I feel a right to place +it at the opposite end of our distant forebear’s piece +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span>of bark or stiff frond or whatever it was that he +balanced on his hairy, bowed knees. And yet his +table and mine are much more alike than the mahogany +roll-top with swinging telephone and +octave of assistants’ push buttons to which our +more sophisticated but less happy bank presidents +sit down.</p> + +<p>That reminds me, however, that my laboratory +table is also of mahogany, because here in the +jungle of British Guiana it is the cheapest material +in the form of boards.</p> + +<p>The crab-wood top grew in this very jungle, its +first, rich red-brown cells fashioned from the water +and earth and sun at least a century and a half ago. +It is possible to detect the double character of the +rings, indicating the two annual rainy seasons—the +two springs which quickened the sap and leafage, +and the two periods of drought when the life of the +tree slowed down. Close to the heart of the great +board is a strange ring, or rather node between +rings—a wide, even space, which my reckoning +places about 1776; about the time when our fore-fathers +were fighting for freedom, whose memory +we cannot toast even in wine; they had just penned +a Declaration of Independence, whereas we are +considering passing a law to keep monkeys in their +proper place. I pause in my table talk long enough +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span>to thank heaven that we are still allowed to believe +in the rotundity of the earth, that the Indians’ gift +of tobacco is still permitted us, and that tea is not +yet thrown overboard!</p> + +<p>The year 1776 at Kartabo was one of almost continual +rain,—so much my broad, crab-wood space +shows—with no slack-growth period for this +slender sapling. And imagination helps us still +farther when we recall something of the human +history of the place. Ever since 1600 the Dutch +had strived to make this region habitable. The +little fort, on the island off shore had barely pointed +its guns down river, had fired its well-weathered +cannon in victory, and had silenced them in defeat +to English and French privateers (often an old-fashioned +way of pronouncing pirate!). Hundreds +of Indian slaves had worked on the four large +plantations and only in 1772 had the settlers admitted +that this region was fit only for jungle, +wild animals, and future enthusiastic scientists with +tables. And now I realized that my table-top had +sprouted in the very year that the Dutch left for +the coast—one of the first wild things to spring up +in their retreating footsteps, a pioneer in again +“letting in the jungle.”</p> + +<p>The magic of my jungle table is always apparent +in one way or another. No thoughts which it generates, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>nor happenings on its surface are aught but +vivid, vital, memorable: It is an event to hurry +out to in early morning, it is a regret to leave for +jungle tramps and for meals, it is only exhaustion +which excuses its midnight abandonment. A magic +carpet transports one’s body from place to place, +whereas my table impels mental gamuts from quiet +meditation to dire tragedy, from righteous anger, +to wonder at the marvellous sights it vouchsafes +me, and despair at thought of their interpretation. +Only once have I ever become impatient with my +artificial lap, when an injury to my foot compelled +me to remain indoors for a time. Then indeed the +jungle called and <i>les affaires de ma table</i> palled,—a +commentary on my lack of philosophy.</p> + +<p>The first magic which my table made was to +prove to be alive. The top was undeniably dead, +well seasoned and inert, but my black boy Sam had +cut the legs from jungle saplings. I put my hand +down one day and felt a soft tissue something, half +way to the floor. It seemed a moth’s wings or a +tangle of dense cobwebs, but to my surprise I saw +that my table was sprouting leaves, rather pale and +dwarfed, limp and flabby, to be sure, but of rapid +growth, and besides there were four other buds +just started. I had put cans of water on the floor +beneath the legs to discourage ants, and the sap of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>the new-cut poles had greedily sucked this up, and +even in the dimness of the laboratory light had begun +to spread into foliage. It was proving a real +jungle table and I was rather thrilled to see that +the warfare of the wilderness had already begun at +arm’s reach,—a tiny caterpillar had crawled from +somewhere to the new blown leaves and had eaten +out a bit. I pictured my table as sprouting, growing +higher and higher, until, in lieu of Alice’s toadstool, +I cut jungle saplings for my chair legs too, +and mounted with the table! The Indian summer +of my table legs soon passed however, the sap dried, +the leaves wilted, and from saplings they became +furniture.</p> + +<p>But the magic continued. If the crab-wood +boards of the top were not quickened into even passing +vitality, they could do equally surprising +things, the first of which was to become vocal. Day +after day there arose a low grating throb, lasting +for a few seconds, and sometimes increasing in +rapidity and pitch until it assumed a true musical +quality. Its direction eluded me until I happened +to have my ear close to the table, when the vibrations +seemed to sound at my very ear-drum. Then +one day I noticed a tiny pile of sawdust on the +floor and traced it to a rounded hole from which at +intervals came the sound. For three months my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span>musical table continued its monotone, day and +night, until in the quiet of midnight it became part +of the silence, and I was aware of it only with effort. +Then it ceased, and its cessation held my +attention more than its occurrence had done.</p> + +<p>Months later when the last of my small table +furnishings had been packed, I tipped up the table +to carry it away, and there in the hole from which +the monotone and the sawdust had flowed there +hung suspended a gorgeous, mummified beetle, its +long antennæ of salmon and black curved up and +over its back, while its fluted cuirass shone through +dust and dim light, deep forest green framed with a +delicate border of primuline yellow. My table top +had furnished nourishment, sanctuary, sounding +board, through all the long period of immaturity, +but at the climax of this little life, the hardened +vegetable fibre had held firm, despite all the efforts +of the green beetle, and cruelly withheld freedom +by some slight, needless entanglement of its hind +legs. So passed two tragedies of my table,—the +first vegetable, the second animal.</p> + +<p>Usually my table is littered with beautiful mysterious +things which, to a casual onlooker, could +have absolutely no meaning. There is a small, +exquisitely molded bony cup or vase, partly +covered at the top, and with a long, daintily curved +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>handle, which I keep suspended as a receptacle for +pins. It might well be a delicate netsuke carved +in pre-democratic Japan by some craftsman who +wrought for love; it might be almost anything but +a music-box. And now my reverie was interrupted +by a sound from the neighboring jungle,—a sound +common but never old. As the bony box might +have been far other than it was, so the deep vibrations +could well be elemental,—a distant wind, +sinister as if it came straight from blowing across +terrible fields after battle, or through cities wracked +with pestilence; the eaves around which it had +howled must have been very evil, roofing ancient +castles which sheltered thoughts of treachery and +deeds of unfair violence. But I knew that the rich +primeval resonances came echoing from bog bony +boxes exactly like my pin holder, in the throats of +a tree-top circle of beings like aged, thick-necked +dwarfs squatting high on swaying branches, looking +out toward me over the expanse of quicksilver +water. At the climax, when it seemed impossible +that any one animal could produce such an appalling +volume of sound, a blur swiftly feathered +the surface of the river, as if the impinging ululations +of monkey voices had actually been translated +into visibility—as liquid in a glass is troubled +in sympathy with certain chords of music. My ear +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span>changed focus, and like a search-light shifting from +distant cloud to airplane, attended a sound at my +very elbow, throbbing, muffled—and again my table +sang.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_032fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_032fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“Well within the realm of black magic”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Amazing things, things apparently well within +the realm of black magic occur and recur on my +table. Late this evening a windless tropical rain +fell so evenly and steadily that the monotone on the +bamboos seemed intended for some other sense than +the ear. I sat describing the delicate arrangement +of the tiny bones and muscles of the syrinx of a +flycatcher, striving to understand how there could +emanate from this instrument such an intricate +vocabulary of screams and whistles, trills and +octaves as this bird and its fellows uttered every +day in the laboratory compound.</p> + +<p>Suddenly something flew swiftly past my face +and alighted clumsily among my vials and instruments. +I saw a giant wood roach all browns and +greys, with marbled wings, strange as to pigment +and size, but with the unmistakable head and poise +and personality of a New York “Archie.” The +insect had flown through the rain and into the +window, but a glance showed that it was in dire +extremity, being in the grasp of a two-inch ctenid +spider. The eight long legs held firmly, but had +not been able to prevent the roach from flying. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span>At the moment of alighting the arachnid shifted its +grip, and secured the wings so that further escape +was impossible. Both were desirable specimens +and I instantly slipped a deep stender dish over +them and again lost myself in my binocular microscope.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later I looked up and saw a sight +so strange that Sime himself would hesitate to +delineate it. The spider still clung tenaciously to +its victim, but the wood roach had her revenge. +She was barely alive, yet in a quarter of an hour she +had changed from a strong, virile creature to an +empty husk, dry and hollow, while over her and the +spider, over glass and table-top scurried fifty-one +active roachlets. They had burst from their mother +fully equipped and ready for life, leaving her but +a vacant, gaping shell, a maternal film, the ghost +of a roach: Tiny, green, transparent, fleet, they +raced back and forth over the spider. He grasped +in vain at their diminutive forms at the same time +still clutching the dying, flavorless shred of a +mother roach, holding fast as though he hoped that +this unnatural miracle might reverse itself at any +moment, and his victim again become fat and toothsome.</p> + +<p>I knew that some of the fish swimming in the +aquarium near by lay thousands of eggs, and that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>other insects leave myriads of offspring, yet this +magic of the wood roach, this resolution of one into +fifty made wonderfully vivid the reproductive +powers of tropical creatures. When in a moment of +time, relatively speaking, a single insect can be +broken up into half a hundred active, functioning +duplicates of herself, the chance for variation, for +new adjustments, for survival of the more delicately +adapted is faintly understood. Here was +spontaneous generation with a vengeance.</p> + +<p>To hark back again to sounds and voices; I could +fashion a whole essay on the calls and songs and +noises which come to me at my table, from river, +compound and jungle. On very still days I can +hear the giant catfish thrumming deep beneath the +water, and the cry of hawk-eagles high in the +heavens; at hot, high noon Attila, the brain-fever +Cotinga, calls and calls and calls, while through +the hush of midnight there comes the hopeless cadence +of the poor-me-one; I know from a sudden +babel of humming-bird squeaks and frenzied +shrieks of flycatchers that a tree snake has been +discovered in the bamboos; I am certain without +looking that it is very close to five o’clock, when +the first old witch cuckoo begins whaleeping on its +regular evening excursion for a drink in the river, +and so on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span></p> + +<p>Probably by virtue of my table’s magic, I have +learned, like Chubu and Sheemish, to work a little +miracle all by myself. My principal technical +work just now is the study of the syrinx of birds, +their remarkable, complex organ of voice placed +far down beyond the throat, in the very body itself, +and the correlation of its structure with the actual +voice of the bird. At present I try to solve some +knotty problems of tinamous, strange, bob-tailed +game-birds, related both to fowls and to ostriches, +which live on the jungle floor, lay eggs like +burnished turquoise and age-purpled jade, and call +to one another with sweet, liquid whistles. My +Indians bring in numbers of these birds for the +mess, so I have an abundance of material for study. +I try an experiment on my table which has been +already successful in other cases. I decapitate a +bird before it is plucked for the pot, and holding it +firmly on its back, I strike a sharp blow on the +muscles of the breast. Nothing results, so I shift +position and try again. This time a short, high +note is produced. I draw out the neck a little and +obtain a lower note, still further and strike a half +tone lower in the scale. If I could prolong these I +could reconstruct the whole plaintive evening call +of the variegated tinamou here on my very table +top.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span></p> + +<p>Then I take the windpipe and carefully work out +the wonderful architecture of the whole organ, the +delicate adaptation and adjustment of each part +fulfilling its special function, the whole working +together as no man-made machine ever could. +From throat to syrinx the windpipe extends, composed +of thin membranous tissue, kept open by a +series of a hundred and twenty-five perfect rings. +Here we have assurance of an entrance for air +forever clear and open, so mobile that it bends back +double, yet with no chance of closure through any +contortion of the neck. The throat end is guarded +by a slit which opens and closes at the slightest +need; the opposite end marks the top of the syrinx +and the division into two tubes each leading to a +lung. For twenty rings above this point, the windpipe +is slightly enlarged and almost solid, forming +a bony sounding board which acts, in a less degree, +like the throat box of the red howling monkeys; +giving resonance and carrying power to the voice.</p> + +<p>The syrinx itself is boxed in by four pairs of +large rings and semi-rings, which protect two pairs +of cartilage pads. The pads of each pair touch one +another along their inner sides, and when the windpipe +is relaxed the seam between them is closed +tight. A slight tug, as in my decapitated bird, +corresponding to a raising of the head and neck in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>a live individual, and the pads revolve slightly, +bringing a constricted part of each into the seam, +forming a tiny gap. Through this the air from the +lungs and air-sacs rushes and we have the mechanism +of the first, high, clear note of the call, a +superlatively sweet whistle on middle C, carrying +a mile through the thick jungle. Although quite +another story, my mind rushes on, away from the +technical anatomical problem, to the realization +that this sound is a summons from the very advanced +female of this species to any unattached +male bird, an announcement that she is ready to lay +an egg for him, provided he will incubate it, hatch +it and assume entire charge of the young bird. +And I do not know whether to cheer or blush for +my sex when I state that the woods hereabouts are +full of amiable, domestically inclined males who are +eager and willing to agree to this rather one-sided +contract. Their syringes are almost identical but +the loud evening calls are invariably those of the +idler sex. Notes for Women! must have been the +slogan of the long since successful tinamou suffragists.</p> + +<p>It is amusing to trace a circular gamut of human +interest in animal sounds: Listening to various +screams, warbles, whistles, roars, chirps, trills and +twitters in the jungle, an intelligent interest impels +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span>us to desire to know the author; having accomplished +this by patient stalking and watching, and +if needs be, shooting, the wish is aroused to discover +the accompanying emotion, the incentive, and then +the fascinating problem presents itself of the answer, +whether in terms of action or vocal, whether +filial, amorous, pugnacious, or merely companionable. +This is more difficult, but in many cases possible. +Almost always this ends the quest, while it is +still incomplete. The method, the physical mechanism +is after all, the foundation of the phenomenon, +and when we have secured a specimen, taken it to +our table,—a tinamou in the present instance—then +we may produce the call artificially, and by tireless +and detailed dissection detect air channel, resonance +chamber, syrinx mechanism, vocal chords, controlling +muscles, and envy the enormous bodily +reservoir of air—lungs, sacs, the very hollow bones +themselves. Leaning back and listening to a living, +wild tinamou calling in the neighboring forest, +feeling rich in the possession of its Who! Why! +and How!, we realize the fullest joy of intimacy +with the furtive beings of earth, with the elusive +small folk of the jungle.</p> + +<p>After a long jungle tramp I was leaving Hacka +Trail for the Station clearing when I caught sight +of a group of small objects on the under side of a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span>gigantic bromeliad leaf. If the leaf had been fifty +feet up they might have been great fruit bats, if +twenty feet their size would have equalled that of +vampires, but as they were only of arms’ reach +above my head they could not be more than an inch +in length. When I had hacked off the leaf and +dodged its fall, I found nine little chrysalids clustered +together, and even on close scrutiny their resemblance +to a group of diminutive bats was still +absurdly real. This intimate association of chrysalids +is a rare thing, as rare as the nocturnal association +of butterflies sleeping in jungle glades.</p> + +<p>I carried off the leaf curved into a great emerald +arch, and fastened it over my table, where it dried +into a fluted dome of green tissue. Three days +passed with no sign of change from the chrysalids +swinging from their silken pendants, when my eye +caught a glint of silver far down the under side of +this same leaf, near the tip. Another glance made +me think them inexplicable dewdrops, a third crystalized +them into pearl-like consistency, while a +fourth careful scrutiny showed me they were two +eggs of a scarlet and black heliconid butterfly, the +kind which fluttered fearlessly ahead of me along +the jungle paths. Here was a splendid example of +oblique discovery, of scientific second sight.</p> + +<p>I wondered what sculpture the surface would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>show,—these two isolated spheres, shining like the +third zodiacal sign against a dark green heaven. +At the first look through the microscope I forgot +all about surface and possible spines or hexagonal +lattice-work; it was the contents which drew and +held my attention. A butterfly egg in due course +of time should yield a caterpillar, which before it +emerges is wound into a curve to fit its minute +spherical home. But here was a new cosmos,—a +planetful of slowly moving creatures which had +nothing in common with a heliconian caterpillar. +Slowly they milled around their little world, living, +like some Gulliverian organisms, on the inside looking +out. The egg was an opalescent sphere, a +twelfth of an inch across, and in my microscope +field it seemed really suspended in space,—in a dark +chlorophyll ether. More than once as my eye tired in +watching I seemed to see the whole egg revolving +while the inmates remained stationary. Now and +then one of the egg-beings turned and went against +the current, setting up a traffic whirlpool which +caused all to cross and recross in confusion. The film +of eggshell was translucent and clear immediately +beneath my eye, clouding into exquisite purplish +pearl at the periphery. One of the inmates came to +rest directly beneath the surface, and I saw it was a +tiny grub, legless, searching about blindly, feeling, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span>sensing, living, after whatsoever manner grubs live +who find themselves prisoned in a butterfly egg. +The grub hastened on, fell into wriggle with its +companions and soon slipped from view below the +edge of its world. Doubtless in a few seconds it +completed its internal orbit and again crossed my +field of view, but like a circulating Roman army on +the stage, or the sequence of ideas in some sphere +not attached to jungle leaves, all seemed identical. +I could never tell when the same one appeared +again; indeed while they moved I could make no +estimate even of their numbers. I only knew that +some minute hymenopteron, doubtless a member of +the wonderful tribe of Chalcids, had, a few days +before, thrust her ovipositor through this translucent +pearl and left within as many eggs as there now +were grubs, then flown on to the next egg. I once +was fortunate enough to observe this fairy egg-laying,⁠<a id="FNanchor_1_1" href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +and now I was trembling with excitement +at the unexpected treasure trove I had unwittingly +brought to my table.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1_1" href="#FNanchor_1_1" class="label">[1]</a> <i>Edge of the Jungle</i>, pp. 38-40.</p></div> + +<p>Closest examination from every side with high +power lens revealed to me no hint of the place of +entrance. Once when I crawled from the heart of +great Cheops out through the robbers’ tunnel, and +finally scraped and squeezed through the narrow +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>crevice through which they had broken in, I thought +it small indeed. But here was a phenomenon far +more wonderful than a full-rigged ship in a bottle, +a snow-storm in a paper weight, or the thieving +Arabs’ entrance in the pyramid.</p> + +<p>Four days passed, the wonderful globes lay before +me, and then I examined them again. A remarkable +change had been wrought, a living planet +had devolved into a dead satellite; the egg had become +a sarcophagus with a dozen mummies. The +little cases were arranged around a central core of +débris, some standing on end as in the Egyptian +room of a museum, a group facing one another as +some wordless gossip passed from one sealed mouth +to the next. A single mummy doll rested against +the opal shell, with eyes pressed close to the translucent +pane, eyes which at present existed only in +outward form as insensitive tissue. This one individual +had chosen for his final pupal change a position +at the very outer rim, where the first nerve +tingles of sight would reflect the mysteries of the +world beyond that sphere of food and fellows which +had heretofore bounded his existence; my pronouns +masculine are merely adumbrative.</p> + +<p>So passed a week with the little silent mummies +still unchanged; seven days,—sufficient time, +Biblically speaking, for the creation of the world. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>But just as all the glorious truth and beauty of +evolution is concealed within the metaphor of +Genesis, so, hidden from our groping senses, +miracles of change were being wrought within the +butterfly’s egg. The following morning the spell +had broken, and the sphere again seethed with life, +resurrected, reincarnated. On the central compost +heap were piled twelve suits of second-hand +pupal skins, tissue paper cartoons of their wearers, +glimmering weirdly through the shell. The tiny +wasps had all emerged and were active, and already +there was a hole bitten through, with small ships +of splintered opal scattered outside. As I watched, +a wasp midget shoved aside a group of idlers, +pushed his way to the door and began to gnaw with +all his might. His great bulging scarlet eyes +blocked the way as he tried time after time to press +through. The whole eggful knew that something +of great import was happening, and the outside air +must have carried exciting tidings, for all moved +about as quickly as their crowded quarters permitted. +Twice the Gnawer left his labors and +walked about nervously, once making the entire +circuit of the egg. His leadership, his pioneer daring +was marked not only by action; I found that I +could readily distinguish him from the others. He +was a shade smaller, his lines were trimmer, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span>upon his back was a round insignium of gold +which the others lacked.</p> + +<p>Several others came to the opening, tried to pass +and turned aside—none made attempt to aid in the +escape from prison. Back came the ambitious one +and fell to with all his strength. He lacked leverage, +and only when three of his companions came +up at once, was he able, by pressing his hind legs +against their faces and bodies, to break off an +unusually large bit of the horny shell. This made +a splendid gap, and after two smaller bits had been +chewed off, the little insect wriggled through the +jagged hole, and stood upon the summit of his +world. Tiny though he was, needing thirty-five of +him to cover an inch of space, his coloring was +exquisite; eyes dull scarlet, sparsely covered with +golden hair, body armor of glistening black from +head to tip of abdomen, with badge of yellow gold +shining from between his wings. These wings +were small, paddle-shaped and almost free of veining, +while the scales on their surface glowed with +iridescent play of lilac, yellow and pale green.</p> + +<p>Now ensued an elaborate cleaning of every part +of his body, and then he ran off at top speed. +Several quick turns near-by on the leaf and back he +came, gave a final wipe to his forelegs, climbed up, +antennæd the hole and took his stand a wasp’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span>length away. This action came as a complete surprise; +I never expected him to return after such a +laborious escape.</p> + +<p>Soon a second wasp came to the breach and +squeezed through. Hardly had its combing and +scraping been completed when, to my astonishment, +the Gnawer rushed forward, roughly seized the +second wasp and began to bang its head most +unmercifully. At every push, the head of the unfortunate +insect wobbled as if about to fall off. Suddenly +it rose to its feet and the first wasp mated +with it. I then realized that instead of assault and +battery, this was courtship, that in place of horrible +fratricide, this was the nuptials of brother and +sister. The mating lasted but a second, when the +first wasp returned to its watchful waiting, and +the other spun its paddle-shaped wings and flew off +as far as the confines of the covered glass dish +permitted. I never took my eye from the lens as +the miracle continued. One after another the sister +wasps emerged, to the number of eleven, and in +each case the male enacted his rough courtship and +mated for not longer than two seconds. In each +case, without a moment’s hesitation, the female +flew swiftly away. Once, when three emerged +quickly one after the other, they did not leave the +egg but waited quietly for the male.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<p>The whole thing began and ended so quickly that +it was some time before I could review the whole +wonderful performance from the conjectured laying +of the eggs, through the grub, pupa and now +the adult stage. I looked again at these midgets, +only a thirty-fifth of an inch in length, and considered +their necessities in life,—food, mate and a +butterfly’s egg, and I realized the enormous advantage +of this simplification of the mating +problem. But the most astonishing thing of all +was the thought of the anticipation, of the perfect +adjustment of sex in the unformed organisms, the +pre-natal compulsory affiancing, together with the +apparently satisfactory disregard of inbreeding +adumbrated in the very eggs themselves of the +original mother wasplet.</p> + +<p>No matter how imperfectly I have translated +this event, disregarding my futile phrases and in +spite of my inadequate description, it was a most +wonderful happening, which for a time completely +eclipsed all other affairs of my table top. In delicate +achievement, astounding unexpectancy and +magical matter-of-factness, it left the onlooker +with a supreme realization of ignorance and a +dominant sense of awe.</p> + +<p>And so as I sit at my table, my little cosmos of +space and time presents deaths by violence, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span>lives of quiet, unperturbed peace; acrid, burning +odors and smashing, sweeping brilliancy of color; +living skin soft and smooth as clay, or fretted like +shagreen; voices almost high enough to become +visible; comedy so delicate that appreciation never +reaches laughter, and tragedy so cruel and needless +that it stirs doubts of the very roots of things. All +these and many more, begin, occur and pass before +me,—things which go to make up a world.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="III"> + III + <br> + A MIDNIGHT BEACH COMBING + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">A tropical</span> night may be quiet and calm, +and yet full of a strange restlessness. It was +such a one when I lay in my bathing suit close to the +grey granite of Boom-boom Point, and watched the +low-hung North Star twinkling through the fretwork +of mangrove roots. Three great planets added +their separate lustre, Mars overhead in the very +heart of Scorpio, Jupiter well down to the west, +and Venus just setting, shining with the light of a +half moon. It was, however, predominantly, a +Night of the Milky Way. The great luminous +highway stretched from horizon to horizon, illuminating +hundreds of the tiny mica facets in my +rocky couch. Great Cygnus climbed slowly, majestically, +along the glowing path, and Pegasus +reared his head just above the horizon. Has the +composite light of these myriad stars the same sinister +psychic effect as the moon rays? Else why +were I and so many creatures restless? Only the +giant tree-frogs, the Maximas, wahrooked in endless, +stoical reiteration, unaffected by stars or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>planets, as endless as an after-dinner speech and +as unintelligible. Now and then a trio of Typhon’s +toads exploded in a short, hysterical outburst, +as if intercalating <i>Hear! Hear!</i> or <i>Cut it +out!</i>—a very impudent, undesirable, nervous +protest against the brain-fever repetitions of the +great frogs.</p> + +<p>I was ready for something unusual, and it came,—merely +a sound, but one which will probably be +as mysterious on the day of my death as it is now. +Without warning through the air overhead, against +the translucent celestial glow, came an <i>izzzzzzzz-wonk! +wonk! wonk!</i> as evanescent as the low twang +of a bullet, wholly indescribable in its true weirdness +and richness. No beetle ever turned as quickly +as the <i>wonk! wonk! wonk!</i> indicated; no bat ever +achieved a twang with its velvet wings. It was no +sound of bird or insect that I knew; and it came +again and again from the same direction, and +seemed to emanate from some creature which +watched me. The <i>wonk! wonk!</i> as of sudden, banking +flight, happened close in front, over the water. +I flashed my electric torch and saw nothing, although +the sound continued, and for half an hour +one or more mysterious beings swept about me +close overhead. As once before, my mind went to +Pterodactyls and I imagined a pair of the little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>web-fingered creatures launched out from some +secret crevice in the distant mountains, for a brief +time to hawk about in the light of the Milky Way, +peering down with their great eyes, toothed beaks +half open, whipping back and forth through the +air, now and then snapping up a bat, and stirring +the imagination of a curiosity-tortured human, who +would willingly give a year of his life to see such +a sight.</p> + +<p>I had meant to spend part of the night among the +mangroves, but the glimmer of the white sand drew +me up instead of down the shore, and I crept over +the rocks and padded silently over the sand to our +swimming beach.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_060fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_060fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“Silent and smooth as a mirror”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The tide was half-way down, silent and smooth +as a mirror with every star doubled. As I watched, +they were erased, one by one as if the reflections had +become water-logged and sunk, and looking up I +saw a mist swept by the high trade-winds +across the sky, while around me not a breath of air +stirred. I wriggled into a form half below the +surface of the sand; I worked down lower and +lower until I was at the very edge of the water, +which is one of the most wonderful spots in the +world. Being there is the very least part of it. +Thousands of people are there all through the summer +at Coney Island and Margate, but never think +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>themselves anywhere but swimming at Coney +Island or bathing at Margate.</p> + +<p>Between tides is really the wildest place left in +the world, the truest no-man’s-land, for while you +may sail in all waters just beyond or loll in a hotel +a few yards behind, you cannot remain where you +are except anchored and in a diver’s suit. And +whatever man erects there is sooner or later +smashed into joyful chunks of cement by the storm +waves. The delight of it is to feel yourself as I +did at this moment, a third under water, a third +buried in solid sand, and the rest of me bathed +in and breathing the air. We sometimes feel a +thrill at bestriding the border line of two states or +countries. How tremendously more wonderful to +snuggle close to the three states of matter, solid, +liquid and gaseous, and then indeed to realize it and +thrill to it with what seems a fourth state—the +mental and spiritual.</p> + +<p>The crunch of the sand grains, the lap of the +water, the breath of air,—it makes the world very +primitive and new. Without my flash I can detect +no hint either of vegetable or animal kingdom—my +little cosmos at the meeting place of the elements is +wholly inorganic and mind. If only earth-fire were +added, it would be complete, and here, a hundred +feet from my cot, there would truly be an epitome +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span>of the primeval earth. I wonder however, whether +it is all not more adumbrative of ages to come, when +the last animal has fallen, the last leaf shrivelled, +and only the inorganic and spirit remain, than of +the infinite past.</p> + +<p>My day-dreams or rather nocturnal meditations +were leading me into hypnotic depths when, with a +single bound, I deserted my most ancient medium, +water. Momentarily I even left my more recently +ancestral acquisition, earth, and entered the third +which I had conquered only during the last eight +years. Gravitation, faithful through all physical +and mental vicissitudes, brought me down with a +resounding thump. At first I was simply dazed. +What had happened? From the infinite calm +of abstract meditation I had been galvanized into +the most violent paroxysm, and here I was sitting +on the sand, unhurt, stupidly wide awake, with my +heart trip-hammering. Then all at once the physical +me calmed down and the mental took charge, +first in a thrill of excitement at realization of what +had happened, then in joyous recognition that, as +at a well-planned dramatic dénouement of a play, +the miracle had happened. Nature, tired of being +ignored, had entered my inorganic make-believe +cosmos, completed it and split it apart with a vengeance. +Instead of sending a firefly into my ken, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>she had been more subtle, and an electric eel had +brushed against the sole of my foot, and discharged +his diminutive broadside. The shock had been +slight, but unprepared as I was and completely +relaxed, it had seemed to my nerves like the discharge +from a third rail. With my flash I caught a +momentary glimpse of the lithe black chap, and I +dabbled my hand in his direction, but he eeled away +and became one with the dark water.</p> + +<p>I could not get back to my former isolation, even +if I greatly desired to do so; the eel had changed +all that. He seemed so modern, so conventional +and specialized an organism drawing the lightning +down into the dark waters, and liberating it at the +will of his fishy brain.</p> + +<p>I rolled over and flattened myself, and with my +electric torch held at eye height, horizontally, I +entered one of the strangest of worlds,—a beach at +black midnight. My mind kept wandering back to +my trio of elements, and I thought of the water +ouzel which has conquered them all. In the wilderness +of western China I have seen this delicate, +thrush-like bird run rapidly in and out of a tangle, +over leaves and sand to the edge of a high river +bank, and then taking wing, fly in and out between +the boulders of the stream, finally to dive headlong +into the swift water and creep along the bottom, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span>feeding as it went. Here, in the space of a minute +or two, was exhibited mastery of earth, air and +water; only the phœnix could claim superiority.</p> + +<p>This evening I was to find a living rival to the +ouzel, an insect, a cricket, which, like so many wonders, +was not in the heart of the Asiatic continent, +but at the very door of my British Guiana laboratory. +In the level glare of my flash all the beach +creatures became unreal and of low visibility, while +their shadows took full possession. This fanciful +phrase reflected a very real and interesting scientific +fact, that the reason for this lay, not in the unusual +lighting, as much as in the color of the little +people themselves. Picking its way over the sand +came a low-swung, weird, blackish thing, whose +silhouetted head swung from side to side, and just +above it there appeared a fearful thing, on long +emaciated legs, which crept nearer and nearer, and +finally rushed at the first and sank down upon it. +The attack was so sudden and the images relatively +so huge that I involuntarily sat up and raised my +light. The two images rushed toward me and +vanished and my eyes suddenly shifted to nearer +focus. I had been watching the shadows of a small +insect and a daddy-long-legs, the substance of +which now appeared ridiculously small and close to +me, with their shadows well under control beneath +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>them. Slowly I lowered the flash again, and in +spite of all I could do, my eyes gradually lost the +creatures themselves and followed back along the +lengthening lines of legs, to the gargoylesque false +phantoms,—the gyrating monstrous phantasmagoria +on the sands. Never have I seen a more completely +sense-deceiving phenomenon. Sitting up, +I looked down upon small, slowly moving, barely +distinguishable beach beings; prone, I was surrounded +by unnamable apparently ectoplasmic +ghosts. If I should accurately describe their +anatomy and actions as revealed by my low-hung +light they would fit into no living or fossil phylum +of earthly organisms. By shifting back and forth +I again focussed on the terrible battle going on +at my side, and now the giant had lifted the lesser +beast bodily in its jaws, and was staggering about, +mumbling it as it went. My scientific terms +locustid and phalangid faded from mind with their +substance, and I lay watching the midnight shadow +struggle between Plash-goo and Lrippity Kang.</p> + +<p>I had always thought of daddy-long-legs as +harmless living skeletons, who clambered aimlessly +about and dropped their legs at a touch. Now I +found that they could be ravenous beasts, their +dwarfed and rounded body swung high aloft on +their eight thready legs, creeping over the sand, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span>and actually running down, pouncing on and killing +insects as large as themselves. In this case it +was a green grasshopper nymph who was seized, +bitten and worried with an unnecessary amount of +dragging about and vicious chewing. I leaned +slowly forward with my hand lens until I could see +every detail, and if daddy-long-legs were magnified +in life only fifteen times I should flee in terror from +what would be a worse danger than any wold. The +horrid eyes, grouped in their solid clump seemed to +be even now watching me malignantly, and the +great needle-sharp fangs were sunk deep in the +grasshopper, and being worked back and forth as +the juices of the still living insect were sucked up.</p> + +<p>Soon the creature set to work to sever the abdomen +from the rest of the insect, and the head and +legs fell to the sand, the feet waving slowly and +vaguely. The daddy-long-legs did not move, except +now and then to lift one or two legs and hold +them aloft when a passing ant brushed against +them; twenty minutes later it was still there, draining +the last drop from the shrivelled grasshopper.</p> + +<p>My attention was attracted to the approaching +shadow of another spectre, only in this case the +shadow was indefinite, humped; it might have enshrouded +a low fluttering moth or awkward beetle. +Instead of which, when I followed down the shadow +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span>path to its substance there loomed suddenly a +figure even more terrifying than the daddy-long-legs. +But this was awful in a wholesome way. +You started at first sight, then smiled, then felt a +liking for the apparition. It was decidedly the Personality +of the beach, claiming full attention as long +as it was in sight, clownlike in its comicality, and +childlike in its seriousness and the affection it +aroused. Many will doubtless wonder mildly at +thought of the possibility of holding a mole cricket +in affection or esteem. Yet it is true that when +I return in memory to Kartabo, my thoughts of +beauty go to the great blue morpho butterflies, of +grace to the soaring vulture, of adorableness to infant +sloths, and of amusement and affection to the +jolly white mole crickets of the sand.</p> + +<p>These are the chaps who fairly outdo the water +ouzel, outflying, outrunning and outswimming +that bird, and in addition being powerful leapers +and the most perfect burrowing machines in the +world. Unlike their neighboring relations of the +jungle these shore crickets have taken on the color +of the sand, keeping only a few hieroglyphics of +dark pigment. Their eyes alone remain solid black. +No matter how deserted the beach, how lifeless the +tropical jungle may seem, I was always certain of +finding these optimists abroad after dark, scurrying +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span>here and there, or popping unexpectedly up +from the wet sand which a few minutes before had +been covered with the tide.</p> + +<p>As my new visitor approached, after my first +emotion I was able to call him by name, a name as +bristling with sharp-angled syllables as the tips of +his front legs. Indeed his sponsors must have been +profoundly impressed with these great limbs for in +<i>Scapteriscus oxydactylus</i> they dubbed him the +Shovel-winged, Sharp-fingered One.</p> + +<p>In the month of March I found little spurts of +wet sand on the upper beach, and following down +each tiny hole for an inch, I surprised a diminutive +white cricket, almost a replica of the large ones, +just hatched and bravely starting out in life for +itself. In the following months their numbers sadly +diminished and the size of the few remaining individuals +increased, being gaugeable exactly by the +calibre of their hole which they open when the tide +goes down. Now, later in the year, the adult mole +crickets were in the full prime of life, vital, virile, +meeting on equal terms all the dangers and advantages +of nocturnal life on a tropical beach. I +appreciated these insects all the more because of +their local distribution, being found nowhere up or +down the river, except on our short stretch of sandy +beach.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> + +<p>The hind legs are swollen with muscles for leaping, +and with broad, flat soles for pushing, the middle +legs are normal supports, but the front ones are +a study as scientific, mechanically perfect excavators. +There are sharp, horny, downward-projecting +pickaxes, lighter pitchforks, backed by +spade-shape implements, and bordered with stiff, +broom-straw edges for sweeping away the loose +débris. In fact this little insect has everything but +dynamite for making easy its passage underground. +It even has long feelers behind as well as +in front of the body.</p> + +<p>Like the kick-off of a big football game, or Fred +Stone, or a shark on your fish line, when one of my +mole crickets came into sight, I knew that something +exciting was certain to follow. On this midnight, +while the big insect had zigzagged toward +me, the tide undermined my sandy elbow-rest, and +I slipped. At the first scrape of sand, he put both +oxydactyl hands together over his head and half +buried himself with three flicks. But he was neither +coward nor ostrich and after a moment he had +turned and rested his great arms upon the mound +of sand, the strangest parody upon Raphael’s +cherubs imaginable. His head turned from side to +side as he watched, and, I almost added, listened, +for the source of danger. I remembered in time +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>that his ears were on his front arms just below the +elbows, sandwiched between the pitchfork and the +shovel. He twisted sharply to the left at the same +instant that a miniature hidden mine was sprung, +and a spray of sand shot upward. Almost before +my eye could follow, a second mole cricket appeared, +and each saw in the other the summation +of all past troubles and future hatreds; they hesitated +not a second, but flew at each other.</p> + +<p>At first there was considerable side-stepping and +feinting, and they whirled about one another until +a well-marked ring was worn in the damp sand. +Then they clinched and to my horror a leg flew up +and off into the darkness. Now the timeworn, and +at best inadvisable simile was reversed, and ploughshares +as well as shovels, brooms, scissors and pitchforks +were in a twinkling transformed into +slap-sticks, swords, pikes and daggers. Twice the +insects reared up on their hind legs, their arms +working like flails. Now and then the lace-like +wings unrolled and shot out as balancers, glistening +like metal in the light of my flash. One cricket +fell for a moment, the other pounced and a whole +front arm rolled away. Nothing daunted, and indeed +apparently lightened by the loss of his left +arm, my cricket leaped at the other and bowled +him over. I cheered—they both reared again—and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span>were washed away in a tiny swirl of water,—the +tide had turned and the first of the trios of incoming +wavelets had caught all of us unawares. +<i>Le duel minuit de les courtilières</i> was over. Each +opponent had lost a leg, yet they scampered off and +dug in with little appearance of crippling,—one +limped a bit and the other sank his well somewhat +obliquely, that was all. I remembered my first experience +with these crickets, when I confined four +together in a glass dish, and next morning found +but one, large, plump and happy, surrounded with +the crumbs of eighteen limbs; and I recalled the +diminution in numbers of the broods of infant +crickets, and I wondered whether I had better not +slur over part of the home life of my little friends +if I wished the mirror of my affection to remain +untarnished.</p> + +<p>I turned my light toward the water which was +lapping shoreward, and on the surface were two +white spots, mole crickets again, scurrying here +and there with short strokes of the forearms, which +had now become efficient oars. They soon sculled +to shore and vanished, and a threat of moralizing +came into my mind; how wonderful it would be if +any of us could so completely master the conditions +of life in our environment! Here were two sandy +depressions where the crickets had disappeared; in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span>a few minutes the tide would cover them, and for +eight hours thereafter the two bundles of vitality +would remain buried beneath the waves, able somehow +to breathe and to resurrect, to scamper about +on their business of life on what remained of their +legs, to spread their wings and fly wherever they +wished—one place at least being to the lighted lamp +on my laboratory table.</p> + +<p>The wash of the tide made me restless and I +swept my flash about in a last survey, when I saw +a multitude of little orange-red lamps drifting +toward me. Holding the light obliquely I saw the +wraiths of many shrimps with their periscope eyes +illumined by my electric wire. They swam steadily +ahead, half blinded by the glare, until suddenly +there came Nemesis with a rush and a swirl. I +caught sight of long waving tentacles, a gaping +mouth, flash after flash of glittering silver, and +there at my feet was a catfish, half stranded with its +headlong rush. Mindful of poisonous spines I +flicked him up the beach with a hand blanket of +sand, where he lay protesting with rasping twitters +and peevish grunts until I salvaged him.</p> + +<p>My last glance at the beach showed something +so strange that I turned back, and discovered a +wholly new field for enthusiasm. Many years ago +I found that tracks in the snow could best be observed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span>and photographed in slanting rays of the +sun, and now my final, casual sweep threw out into +strong relief a series of rabbit tracks; this in spite +of the fact that I was some two thousand miles from +the nearest bunny. Looking down at the tracks +they completely vanished, not a depression or +marking could be detected, but oblique lighting +showed the scar of claw marks, all four feet close +together, with a good eighteen inches between +leaps. I puzzled long over it, I traced it almost to +the water and up to the soft, dry sand. At last a +thought came to me, and I went up to where I +knew there would be, day or night, a file of leaf-cutting +ants. There solemnly watching, and waiting +for some favorable omen to begin her midnight +supper, squatted my pseudo-rabbit, a huge, +friendly grandmother of a toad. She blinked, and +I reached down and tickled her side, whereat she +grunted and puffed out prodigiously.</p> + +<p>At this moment my eye wandered to a near-by +bush and I made a discovery which whole hours +and half days of intensive search and watch had up +to this time failed to reveal. The line of leaf-cutting +Atta ants led up this low shrub and many +scores were deployed over the leaves busy on their +eternal work of cutting off circular pieces. For +years I had watched them carry these leaves back, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>and had seen the free rides which many small individual +ants took back to the nest on these wavering +bits of leaf. Here, in the light of my flash, a medium-sized +ant staggered along beneath a load, as if +a man should balance a barn door on edge on his +head. Like small boys hitching on behind a wagon, +there were seven small ants clinging to the top and +sides of the bit of leaf, probably doubling the +weight, and altering the whole centre of gravity. +I have seen a Japanese acrobat in the circus balancing +a ladder with several men clinging to it, but +this feat was infinitely more difficult. And there +was no display to this. It was all in the night’s +work. These ants know not the meaning of play +or vacations or any moment of unnecessary rest, +and yet here were seven of them for their own convenience +making much more difficult the labor of +their larger brother, or rather sister. I knew there +was some vital reason, some <i>quid pro quo</i>, but +hitherto I had been able only to guess at it.</p> + +<p>The small bush made all clear. There were +enemy ants in the bush, who were attempting to +drive away the Attas, and their scouts made attack +after attack on the busy harvesters. Unless +actually attacked and bitten, the Atta workers paid +no attention to their assailants. I saw one partly +crippled and yet go on with his load as best he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span>could, playing pacifist for duty’s sake. Their work +was definite and inviolable, to cut a leaf and to +transport it to the nest. The huge Atta soldiers, +fat and enormous, who guard the depths of the nest +and occasionally wander aimlessly along the line +of march, getting in the way of their fellows, were +nowhere to be seen, but the battalions of the Minims +were in full action. They were too small to +cut leaves or carry them, and had not even strength +enough to walk both ways, to and from the nest. +But on the leaves, facing the legions of the giant +tree ants, they showed their worth, their <i>raison +d’être</i>. I have never seen such fighters. They +equalled the army ants, and lost leg after leg, even +the whole abdomen, without slacking their efforts +in the least.</p> + +<p>On one leaf I saw a most exciting engagement. +Three workers were cutting along the edge near the +tip, and five small Minims were standing about +with jaws raised suspiciously, when three black +tree ants came on at once. One got past on the +under side, tackled a worker and was seized in turn +by one of the tiny bulldogs. The black ant let go +the worker and tried to get at his tormentor, who +had a good grip on his tender antenna. Chop went +a leg of the Atta, but then another came to the +rescue and got his jaws in a crevice of the armor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span>beneath the black body. This was too much and the +trio fell from the leaf, out of the range of my light, +into the darkness of the sand below. There were +left three Minims and two black ants, the latter +four times their size, and yet so furiously did the +little chaps wage battle that the invaders had no +chance to get past to the workers at the leaf edge. +Another black ant now appeared, but close on his +heels six Minims, and in the face of this squad they +all fled minus a leg or two, and carrying three +Minims with them who refused to let go, one of +which had little of him left but his jaws which still +retained their grip.</p> + +<p>I saw only two workers killed or forced to drop +their loads in spite of all the black tree ants could +do. All the time new contingents of Minims were +arriving, and in the midst of the hardest fighting, +a little warrior would now and then climb upon a +passing leaf and settle down for a rough trip home. +It was as if they belonged to some autocratic labor +union and had to punch a time clock at the nest, regardless +of how things were going in the front line +trenches. So the Mediums are the workers, the +providers. The Maxims are the home guard, and +the Minims are the standing army for border warfare, +trudging bravely as far as they are needed to +convoy the outgoing workers, but after battle or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>their share of watchful waiting getting a free ride +home on any passing chlorophyll lorry.</p> + +<p>Immensely pleased with the discovery of another +detail of the Attas’ life history I returned to my +search for more sand tracks. Walking along the +reeds with light held low, I saw clearly where an +opossum had come out shortly before, dug a little in +the sand and passed on, and most amusing was the +record, in an isolated patch of clear, soft sand, of +where a young one had fallen from her back, and +straightway clambered on again. Farther on a +big lizard had shuffled along, but the next track +took me thousands of miles northward to New +England sands in autumn,—the fairy footwork of +a pair of spotted sandpipers which that evening, +had teetered along the edge of this tropical river.</p> + +<p>One last thrill my beach gave when, drawn by +some instinct, I scanned the sand just beyond a +clump of sedge. There, fresh and strongly etched, +was a broad, sinuous line up from the water’s edge, +flanked alternately by crescents, deep bitten into +the wet surface. This had been made by no creature +with legs, but by some long, heavy body, alternately +pushed up the beach,—the line and crescent +sand signet of a great anaconda—king of all these +waters, who, while I watched shadows a few feet +away, had slowly drawn his mighty length past me, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span>up into the gully beyond,—who shall say where or +why!</p> + +<p>No wonder this night, so calm and peaceful on +the surface had aroused an ill-defined suspicion of +hidden things far otherwise. I looked out over the +water, again alight with reversed constellations, I +listened to the soft lapping of the rising tide, felt +the first faint breath of the new day, and thought +of the tragedies I had witnessed—the mole crickets +nursing their wounds in their dugouts deep beneath +sand and water, of the dead grasshopper +nymph, the shrimp, the fire in whose orange eyes +was forever quenched, and of the death struggles +of the ants going on in the darkness at my +feet.</p> + +<p>The opossum was searching for food for itself +and its young, and somewhere the great snake was +coiled, watching with lidless, untiring eyes for its +share in some life of lesser strength. It seemed +somehow so cruel, this eternal alternation of life +and death. If only the lower animals,—and then +I remembered that perhaps at this very moment my +Indian hunter was pulling trigger on an unsuspecting +agouti or curassow or peccary for my next +dinner; it came to me that the very emotions of +compassion and sympathy which moved me, were +materialized and sustained by the strength derived +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span>from the sacrifice of many, many lives of these same +lower animals. I stopped thinking, stepped carefully +over the line of insanely industrious Attas, +and went to my hammock.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="IV"> + IV + <br> + FALLING LEAVES + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Next</span> to the dynamic crashing syncopation of +a regimental band, or the subtle, infinitely +more emotionally hypnotic beat of a tomtom, comes +the thrilling rhythm hour after hour, of a double +row of paddles tearing and eddying through water +in unison, not only the thump and splash from the +dugouts of tropical savages but the deep-dipped +rush and swirl from bark canoes. This is the +obvious, the much-described, but how many of us +have listened for, and heard, the low, sibilant swish +of the blades through the air, as they reach forward +for the next stroke. Until mind and ear are focussed +it is inaudible, but when once caught it out-sings +more blatant sounds of water and voice. The +blind spots of our perceptions conceal many phases +of delicate beauty in the things around us, aspects +which are dulled by the opacity of familiarity, +passed over by the unseeing activity of our surface-skimming +minds.</p> + +<p>The living leaf—both singly and in foliage mass—has +been epitaphed, eulogized, sung, praised and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span>similed for centuries, but except for occasional +references to the “sere and yellow leaf,” dying, +falling and dead leaves have been left where they +lie, with only the incense of their funeral pyres +woven into the haze of Indian Summer.</p> + +<p>I have seen an orang-utan build him a sleeping +platform of leaves in less than three minutes, so it +is not improbable that the first artificial home our +more direct ancestors knew was a leafy nest. +Leaves at least formed the sole clothing of our early +parents, according to Scripture, and from nursery +days we have always known that falling leaves were +a shroud for the babes in the wood. More than this, +botanists tell us that the leaf is the foundation of +flower and fruit, so that it was really only a mass of +highly specialized leaves which introduced Newton +to gravitation.</p> + +<p>But the importance and interest of falling leaves +in this world needs no brief from me. I merely +want to know them better for my own pleasure, I +wish to hear and see and feel them, and so I leave +my laboratory after a day of intensive technical +work and slip into the jungle, where millions of +leaves are falling during my lifetime, and hundreds +of millions fell before I was born.</p> + +<p>I am sitting at the edge of a tropical swamp and +for the moment trying to close my mind and sense +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>to the sounds and sights of birds and insects, and +focus on leaves, and especially dead ones. This is +no more difficult than it would have been to have +forgotten Caruso and the orchestra in order to +meditate on the kind of wood of which the chairs +were fashioned.</p> + +<p>Further than this I am putting out of my mind +the letters L E A V E S and thinking of them +innominately as a vast multitude of spread-out +sheets of green and brown tissue. They are really +the jungle, for without them it would be like the +bare masts and rigging of a vessel. High overhead +beyond the clouds of chlorophyll are other white +clouds of moisture, driven swiftly westward by the +steady trade-wind. Around me the air is as quiet +as in a room, and, as so often the case, of just the +right temperature to be forgotten, neither too hot +nor too cold, a distinct effort being necessary to +realize that I am not in some great enclosed chamber; +so calm and equable are the surroundings.</p> + +<p>It is the dry season, and the short daily shower +does little to soften the crackle of the fallen leaves. +Even after a month of heavy unseasonable rain +when our records show that it is the dry season, +the noise of treading on the jungle floor reveals the +actual lack of humidity at times other than actual +precipitation. Now and then, near my feet, a leaf +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span>draws its edges together, turns a little and rustles +gently all by itself as if even in death it dreamed of +some pleasant trifle, something which would please +a green leaf, in sunlight, swaying high in air. +Then, like a crumpled bit of paper in a wastebasket, +it settles lower among its fallen fellows. +Here it will wait patiently for the impact of the +heavy rains, three or four months hence, to soften +its stiff, crinkling tissues, and re-mold it into incarnations +of other leaves to come.</p> + +<p>Fallen leaves have a wind song all their own +which is to be heard only when listened for consciously. +When a fitful breeze is blowing, if the +ear is held close to the ground, a low intermittent +clatter and shuffling is audible, with occasionally a +real rustle as a delicately balanced leaf is blown +over. Stand up and the carpet of dead leaves becomes +silent, their gentle talk lost in the hubbub of +living, moving foliage.</p> + +<p>In this quiet, cool swamp I am impressed with +the vast number of leaves which have started to +fall but have not reached the earth. Some have +landed in crotches, or become entangled in masses +of vines, others have driven their stems clear +through the live tissue of leaves in their downward +path and hang dangling. Just above me a living +and a dead palmated frond have their leafy fingers +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>intertwined like the outer points of fighting buckles, +with no chance of release until the death and fall +of the second leaf.</p> + +<p>As I watched, three leaves fell, each with characteristic +motion. I once made a key to more than a +dozen kinds of jungle trees, based on the way the +leaves fell, and to anyone who wishes to enter an +untrodden botanical field I commend this idea. +The third leaf fluttered and eddied, fighting with +all its expanse of plane against the pull of gravitation, +and at the very last, came to rest on a mattress +of fern frond—a respite merely, for the first real +gust would send it to the ground. As it touched +the fern a butterfly rose, a black heliconian, with a +large red spot on each wing. Its flight was astonishingly +like that of the descending leaf, a tremulous +fluttering just carrying it along, now rising, +now descending—a flight wholly deceiving, for +these butterflies can thread the mazes of jungle +vines all day without tiring. But this butterfly was +also like the leaf in its sear and faded garb. The +wings were frayed and torn—the black was a +thread-bare brown, the red weathered to faded +salmon, and the seams of its wings showed plainly. +Life was nearly over, yet weak as it was, it would +probably die no violent death. The most awkward +bird or predatory insect could catch it at will, yet +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span>it flew slowly along, unmolested by jacamars and +cuckoos, dragon and robber flies. Its conspicuous +colors and slow, tantalizing flight, like all else in +the jungle, had a reason—it was its own advertisement +of inedibility. Soon, however, this Wandering +Jew of a butterfly would slip from its +sleeping porch, and, like the fluttering leaf, make +a last ineffectual struggle against the pull of earth +and its wings would lie among the leaves.</p> + +<p>Before the butterfly passed from view, I was +startled by a sudden, rough rip of sound,—and +just overhead a macaw put all the harshness of its +beak and the blatancy of its coloring into its voice, +and almost the leaves around me seemed to rustle. +Into a clear space of sky four great, flame-winged +birds passed, and with flight direct as arrows, but +otherwise exactly like the falling leaf and the +butterfly, they vibrated northward.</p> + +<p>Without intention, but very happily, I found I +had chosen my seat between extremes in leaves. +Close along one side lay a fallen leaf which began +eight feet behind and extended twenty-three feet +in front,—thirty-one feet of palm frond. In its +fall it had crushed several young mora saplings and +many lesser growths. The least movement near it +aroused a crashing which could be heard to the +river. The leaflets, two hundred in number, lay +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span>stretched out four to six feet on each side, and the +mighty stem was like a length of channel iron, with +edges sharp as razors. It was parched and +shrunken and had probably hung dead for a long +time before it fell. A billion ordinary leaves fall +unnoticed in the tropics, while in the north we lump +this vast assemblage of happenings under the one +word “autumn.” But the fall of a palm leaf is an +event. Once as I was leaving my Station for a +trip north, I noticed that one of the leaves of our +sentinel cuyuru palm was drooping and browned. +Months later when I returned, it was still hanging, +and two weeks afterwards fell in the night with a +crash which wakened us all. Dynasties of history +might be dated by the falling of such a leaf, and if +I could have been present at the dropping of all the +leaves of my palm, whose scars were still so plain, +there would be material for an epic. The remark +of Charles the Second on his deathbed could be applied +to the dead leaf at my side, for these gigantic +fronds grow and live their lives much more rapidly +than they die and disintegrate. Years from now I +could probably find traces of the reinforced cellulose-hardened +main stem.</p> + +<p>And now my faded and forlorn heliconian butterfly +fluttered again toward me, and almost alighted +on this paper, but turning at the last moment, it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span>rose a bit, and came to rest at my elbow, on a stem +lined with small leaflets. Hardly had the insect +furled its wings, when it fluttered and took to flight +again. The cause delighted me beyond measure,—it +had been unseated and frightened by the movement +of a living leaf! At the impact of its delicate +feet, the leaflets of the sensitive plant closed +abruptly together and the stem sank. So exquisite +was the reaction that the several leaflets beyond the +insect were unmoved. A few seconds later while I +was still watching, an adjoining twiglet closed +every one of its leaflets and dropped 120° upon its +parent branch. Nothing had touched it, no breath +of air had moved it. I was puzzled. Lifting it very +gently, it broke off and fell to the ground, green, +fresh,—as far as I could see quite without cause. I +picked it up and examined the base and there I +found the source of the trouble. A tiny beetle had +cut it almost off, and the slight fall of the twig, together +with my touch had parted the few remaining +fibres. The beetle was very small and must +have been laboring for a long time, and it was a +mystery why the featherdom tread of a butterfly’s +feet had accomplished what the hacking and sawing +of the beetle’s jaws had not.</p> + +<p>All the leaves on the mimosa would not have +equalled one of the lesser leaflets of the palm frond, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span>and on the ground they were almost invisible, sinking +almost at once into the mold. The sensitive +leaves had the semblance of animal nerves and +movement; the palm leaf would have brained me if +it had fallen while I passed beneath.</p> + +<p>In these jungles a falling leaf has a whole scale +of sounds, as it runs the descending gamut of collisions. +From the top of a tall tree a leaf may take +fifteen or twenty seconds to reach the earth, disregarding +the very good chance of lodgment, and +each touch of vine, leaves,—living and dead,—the +caroming off of branches and ripping through +thorns, gives forth a different sound, of which our +poor ears can distinguish very few, and which our +language, spoken and written, is wholly helpless +in reproducing. I would like very much to find a +word or sound which would bring to mind the fall +of a leaf upon leaves. I know it perfectly—the +generic timbre—the composite echo etched into my +mind by a thousand conscious listenings. But it +will not get past my consciousness to my lips, +and utterly refuses to siphon down my arm and +pen.</p> + +<p>Fallen leaves are of tremendous importance to +those of us who do much hunting in the jungle, and +chiefly on account of their susceptibility to moisture +in the air. In the wet season it is possible to creep +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>up to some of the wariest of animals, the thick mat +of soft, damp leaves forming an admirable muffler. +In the dry season this is hopeless, every step is +ascream with crackling, and only when a leaf-rattling +breeze is blowing can one pass through the +jungle without blatant advertisement. This, however, +is of slight assistance in hunting, for the blowing +of the leaves conceals as well the audible +whereabouts of the game. When the fallen leaves +are dry the only method is to walk to some favorable +spot, and there sit and wait for approaching or +passing animals to register their footfalls. In +estimating the abundance of jungle life I have constantly +to check a tendency to underestimate +numbers in the wet season. Ameiva lizards appear +to be many times as abundant in times of drought, +crashing along with the noise of a peccary, yet +they have no season of æstivation, but only of silent +progress.</p> + +<p>We do not realize the acuteness of hearing of +wild animals until we try to stalk them over dry +leaves. A giant leaf may crash down from branch +to branch and never cause a curassow or deer to +start. I have seen a labba feeding in late afternoon +under a nut tree when a whole branch with clusters +of dead leaves hurtled to earth a few yards away, +and the big, spotted rodent merely glanced up, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span>casually munching as it looked. My next step +slipped an inch sideways and crumbled a tiny leaf +crust, and without a second’s investigation the animal +gave one terrified squeal and fled headlong.</p> + +<p>There are silent and there are boisterous leaves. +Some, with finely pinnated foliage, have a pact of +silence with the elements, from which wind and rain +strive in vain to awaken them. Even when these +filigree ones are dead and cling long to the branches, +they give before the blasts, they let the rain drip +from their finger tips without a sound. But a +single, half-loose cecropia frond can imitate a rainstorm, +the roar of a flushed covey of pheasants or +a passing troop of monkeys, all by itself. +More than this, it will begin uncannily to quiver +and shake and rattle wildly about, while every adjacent +leaf dangles as silently as if painted. Thus +does its sensitive balance and crinkled shard betray +the wandering little wind spouts which are born +deep in the jungle, and, like other aquatic cousins, +stretch straight upward in a tiny, clean-cut whorl of +air.</p> + +<p>A book could be written upon burning leaves—how +they meet their cremation, how they curl when +this new, devastating long-bottled-up sun heat +chars their tissues. How they shout and crack in +the wind of their own swan song, and how they look +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>when the heat and roar have passed and the cold ash +remains. A month of drought at Kartabo once +made the thick mat of bamboo leaves about the +compound considerable of a menace. So we had a +great raking and bonfire of the ten million and one +elongated slivers of pale brown leaves. (Even the +color of dead leaves, like the plumage of hen pheasants, +is far more subtle and beautiful than we suspect, +for after the above sentence, I try to match a +dead bamboo leaf color in Ridgway’s color book +and fail utterly. It lies between vinaceous-buff and +olive-buff and is of no human-named color.)</p> + +<p>The ashy souls of leaves differ to as great a degree +as do their shapes and life-greens. Some are +so ethereal that they vanish in a curl of faint blue +smoke and leave scarcely a trace of ponderable +greyness. The bamboos are far otherwise. There +is nothing quiet or sad about their cremation. They +snap and crackle joyously in the flames, with more +gust than ever they rattled in the trade winds. And +indeed their passing is far less of a radical change +than for most leaves. They are so surcharged with +silica that the alchemy of glowing heat merely alters +their hue to silvery white, and when the furnace of +their tissues has cooled, they lie unchanged in shape +and outline. A heavy rain or big wind shatters this +crystalline ghost of a <i>feuille</i>, and the various salts +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span>are washed into the soil, ready for their next great +adventure.</p> + +<p>Before I lived under bamboos I never realized +how friendly fallen leaves could be. Trees with +heavy, leaded-stemmed leaves drop them straight to +the ground. But bamboo leaves are like zeppelins +when they are launched and, with the slightest +breeze float along on even keels, drifting sometimes +far into the laboratory. When at tea one day +I idly watched a leaf dangling high up from one of +the lofty stems, so far away I could not tell whether +it was brown or green. A slight gust came and it +broke off and, revolving slowly, scaled obliquely +down, through the verandah and launched in my +teacup.</p> + +<p>These leaves register very accurately the force of +the wind, and I have seen a thick bed of ashes of +burned bamboo leaves studded thickly as a porcupine’s +skin with the javelins of recent falls, two +lots having speared the ashes at different angles. +One was almost upright, having landed in a gentle +wind that afternoon, the other at an oblique angle, +after volplaning on the stronger trades of morning.</p> + +<p>Leaves in death still mirror many of the characteristics +of their living fellows. In the tropics a +host of plants flower once or at most twice a year, +but attract insects at all times by setting forth a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span>little bowl of nectar on each leaf stalk. I have +observed a small bush with forty-nine leaves and +counted nine and forty ants thereon, one guest to +each nectar-cup,—each having visited, sipped and +remained—perhaps by their jealous gormandizing +keeping away other more harmful insects. On +fallen leaves the sides of the bowls still seem to contain +some sweetness, and to these come other ants +(as we used to love to scrape the emptied ice-cream +freezer), who gnaw eagerly at the shrivelled cups +and the sweet crusts which have fallen from the +table of the jungle.</p> + +<p>There are parts of jungle clearings which I +hardly know in early morning, while their foliage +is still asleep. Some leaves are surprisingly drowsy +and not until the sun actually fillips them with its +beams do they raise their heads, twist on their +stalks in a leafy yawn, and eat to their daily stint +in their chlorophyll factory. These leaves die in +the position of sleep, so that if we had a fallen twigful +we would know their somnolent attitude in life.</p> + +<p>By far the phase of dominant interest in fallen +or dead leaves is the part they have played in the +evolution of animal life. If we can infer the position +of sleep from that in death, how vastly greater +is possible the reconstruction of dead vegetation +from living creatures of the jungle. If every leaf +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span>and twig, flower and fruit, branch and trunk were +to vanish suddenly from the earth, their memory +would remain deeply impressed in form, size, movement, +pattern and color of a host of creatures, while +we would still have even the jungle lights and +shadows etched upon fur and feathers. As we go +down the scale in life we find more and more marvels +of resemblance, and it would be an easy matter +to reconstruct an entire plant of animals. I have +caught monster walking-stick insects over a foot in +length, which were dead wood to the keenest eye. +Smaller ones carry the resemblance to an inordinate +extreme. Not only do they look like twigs and +stems, but they <i>act</i> like them, clinging with four +feet and dangling the other two out in midair, +while every now and then the whole insect sways +gently, as does a tiny twig moved by a breath. +Things such as this make a scientist’s work wonderful +and holy beyond Bryan’s utmost conception of +these words.</p> + +<p>From day to day in the jungle I add to my animal-plants. +I discover giant katy-dids so green +and flat, so veined and stemmed, that no passing +observer could say, “This is leaf, this insect.” +Others have spoiled the symmetry and perfection +of their sham chlorophyll with simulated holes, and +apparent tears and spots of fungi, and the droppings +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span>of birds. All the diseases, parasites and injuries +of leaves have been photographed upon the +wings of insects, in unconscious endeavor to escape +observation. At this point we come upon interactions, +complications, subtleties of great delicacy, +such as are shown by mantids, or “rar’hor’ses” as +they are called in the Southern States. These are +incarnated, material sophists, camouflaged under +chlorophyll color not for protection but for attack. +As the white fox creeps upon the white ptarmigan +over the white snow, so here in the tropics, the +mantids re-enact a similar, but viridescent drama.</p> + +<p>Passing on from growing leaves we find flower +bugs and orchid spiders, the latter being forced to +conceal their brilliant pigments in the shadow of +under-leaf, until some particular blossom appears. +Then, with their colors and patterns so exact that +they might have been fashioned in the same petal +shop the spiders take their place on or near the +flowers. Some even eat away the heart of the +blossom, substituting their stamen leg and pistil +palpi, and with the unharmed nectary still giving +forth perfume, these deadly frauds of flowers await +the visiting bees.</p> + +<p>Caterpillars gnaw out bits of leaf and then fill +up the space with their own painted bodies, but +butterflies and moths are the veritable reflections +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span>of leaves, they would indeed be naked and blatant +to the world were foliage to vanish. Here again +not only are color and pattern invoked but even the +movement in falling. I have had a brown butterfly +flutter in short, oblique eddies to my feet, and there +alight warelessly and sway from side to side. +Dozens of times I have crept up and enmeshed a +dead leaf in my net, and as many times have +brushed heedlessly by a dead leaf only to have it +take wings to itself and fly away.</p> + +<p>Two adventures which befell me yesterday had to +do with leaves, and touched the extremes of the +gamut of an explorer’s life—from the danger of +death to the glory of new discovery. Every morning +a bird had been calling from a certain tree-top—a +short, raucous, unpleasant call, but a new one. +So ventriloquil was it that it had wholly baffled me. +Only by triangulation, the successive focussing +from three distant points, could I ever hope to find +it. I was creeping slowly on my second lap, lifting +my feet high to clear twigs and vines, when something +drew my eyes from the tree overhead to the +dead leaves below. This has happened to me perhaps +a score of times and I hope will continue in +the future—the sudden, inexplicable perception of +a poisonous snake on which my foot is about to descend. +A large fer-de-lance, more like dead leaves +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>than the leaves themselves, was coiled less than two +feet away. On its scales it mirrored the brown dead +leaves, the dark fungus spots, the shadows of the +curled-up edges, the high lights of the burnished +surface sheen. Optically there was no interruption +of the floor of dead foliage; actually a horrible death +lay twelve inches beneath my upraised foot. The +lethal mat was coiled as evenly as a rope on a +battleship and in the exact center lay the arrow +head with its unwinking eyes and the flickering +tongue. As I withdrew my foot and began to +breathe again, I forgot my raucous-voiced bird and +sat down to ponder this. I took my strong butterfly +net and drew the netting taut across the ring +and behind this barrier I slowly approached. +Closer and closer I drew until I could see the slit-like +pupil and the green and livid mottling of the +iris. When I almost touched the sharp snout +with the other side of the mesh, I sniffed carefully +and repeatedly, dulling every other sense but that +of smell. There came to my nostrils a faint but distinct +odor, an unpleasant musk, which, once detected, +remained vivid. It was a faint adumbration +of that strong, repulsive smell which permeates the +cage where one of these reptiles is confined, and I +believe that, without invoking any more radically +psychic process, my attention is attracted and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span>focussed at these times by the faint, unconsciously +stimulating odor of the snake on the jungle floor. +I cannot otherwise explain my invariable detection +at the last minute, of creatures who more than any +others are of the leaves, leafy.</p> + +<p>My second adventure was also a thrilling one +but from a wholly different point of view. I was +walking along a trail after a shower, looking idly +at a big, palmated leaf at my very elbow when +there suddenly materialized upon it a large lizard. +It was one of the most beautiful of all lizards and +fortunately had been named with imagination—<i>Polychrus +marmoratus</i>—the many-colored Marble +One. It was sprawled flat upon the great green +expanse, its scales shimmering leaf-green with +enough spots here and there to be a convincing portion +of the full-grown, insect-defaced foliage. I +leaned toward it and it began slowly to creep away. +The long, slender tail was curled and twisted into +a lifeless tendril, and the toes dangled half in midair +like no imaginable piece of any live reptile. +Progress was by means of the forefeet alone, one +after the other being pushed ahead stealthily, taking +hold and dragging the rest of the creature onward. +The body, hind legs and tail simply scraped +over the leaf.</p> + +<p>When it reached the thick, brown twig, magic +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>began before our eyes—for fortunately I had two +companions to share this wonder. As it left the +green tissue and crawled slowly out along the twig +its course was traceable not only by its position in +space, but by most exquisitely adjusted and timed +pigmental change,—at the exact edge of the leaf +the green gradually faded and a wave of brown +swept down the reptile. Never have I seen a more +perfect use of obliterative color. In captivity these +polychrus will often run through their whole little +palatal gamut from mere emotion, or light and +shadow. The whole soul of my lizard on the leaf +was concentrated in his half-closed eyes watching +my every motion, yet it must have been through +the eye alone that the amazingly accurate somatic +color change was dictated and regulated. Here +was surely the ultimate example of vegetable imitation, +twigs, leaves—both green and brown—tendril +swaying movement, all in one organism. Not for +anything would I have betrayed the lizard’s trust +in the magnificent shield which nature had built up +about it. We pretended to be completely deceived +and left it—an irregular bit of half-greenness on +the second leaf, and half brownness on the twig.</p> + +<p>A classic volume will some day be written on the +adventures of fallen leaves, for when a leaf has +evaded the inroads of insects and fungi, has resisted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span>wind and rain, succumbing finally to the pull +of gravitation, there awaits it, in addition to +ultimate mold and desiccation, a host of possible +adventures on the jungle floor.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_080fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_080fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“The jungle <i>du printemps eternel</i>”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>With all my desire to clothe the fallen leaf with +dramatic interest and an abstract vitality, my first +and last thoughts are those of sadness. Alien as +I am to these tropical jungles, a mere transient injection +from the North, the sear and yellow leaf +means to me the end of a season, of a year—a very +appreciable fraction of lifetime—and even in this +evergreen land, this jungle <i>de le printemps éternel</i>, +the dead leaf eddying to earth is a sad and a tragic +happening.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="V"> + V + <br> + THE JUNGLE SLUGGARD + </h2> +</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_100fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_100fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“A fitting inhabitant of Mars”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Sloths</span> have no right to be living on the earth +today; they would be fitting inhabitants of +Mars, where a year is over six hundred days long. +In fact they would exist more appropriately on a +still more distant planet where time—as we know it—creeps +and crawls instead of flies from dawn to +dusk. Years ago I wrote that sloths reminded me +of nothing so much as the wonderful Rath Brother +athletes or of a slowed-up moving picture, and I +can still think of no better similes.</p> + +<p>Sloths live altogether in trees, but so do monkeys, +and the chief difference between them would seem +to be that the latter spend their time pushing +against gravitation while the sloths pull against it. +Botanically the two groups of animals are comparable +to the flower which holds its head up to the +sun, swaying on its long stem, and, on the other +hand, the over-ripe fruit dangling heavily from its +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>base. We ourselves are physically far removed +from sloths—for while we can point with pride to +the daily achievement of those ambulatory athletes, +floor-walkers and policemen, yet no human being +can cling with his hands to a branch for more than +a comparatively short time.</p> + +<p>Like a rainbow before breakfast, a sloth is a surprise, +an unexpected fellow breather of the air of +our planet. No one could prophesy a sloth. If +you have an imaginative friend who has never seen +a sloth and ask him to describe what he thinks it +ought to be like, his uncontrolled phrases will fall +far short of reality. If there were no sloths, Dunsany +would hesitate to put such a creature in the +forests of Mluna, Marco Polo would deny having +seen one, and Munchausen would whistle as he +listened to a friend’s description.</p> + +<p>A scientist—even a taxonomist himself—falters +when he mentions the group to which a sloth belongs. +A taxonomist is the most terribly accurate +person in the world, dealing with unvarying facts, +and his names and descriptions of animals defy +discretion, murder imagination. Nevertheless +when next you see a taxonomist disengaged, approach +him boldly and ask him in a tone of quarrelsome +interest to what order of Mammalia sloths +belong. If an honest conservative he will say, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span>“Edentata,” which, as any ancient Greek will tell +you, means a toothless one. Then if you wish to +enrage and nonplus the taxonomist, which I think +no one should, as I am one myself, then ask him +Why? or, if he has ever been bitten by any of the +eighteen teeth of a sloth?</p> + +<p>The great savant Buffon in spite of all his +genius, fell into most grievous error in his estimation +of a sloth. He says, “The inertia of this animal +is not so much due to laziness as to wretchedness; +it is the consequence of its faulty structure. +Inactivity, stupidity, and even habitual suffering +result from its strange and ill-constructed conformation. +Having no weapons for attack or defense, +no mode of refuge even by burrowing, its only +safety is in flight.... Everything about it shows +its wretchedness and proclaims it to be one of those +defective monsters, those imperfect sketches, which +Nature has sometimes formed, and which, having +scarcely the faculty of existence, could only continue +for a short time and have since been removed +from the catalogue of living beings. They are the +last possible term amongst creatures of flesh and +blood, and any further defect would have made +their existence impossible.”</p> + +<p>If we imagine the dignified French savant himself, +naked, and dangling from a lofty jungle +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span>branch in the full heat of the tropic sun, without +water and with the prospect of nothing but coarse +leaves for breakfast, dinner and all future meals, +an impartial onlooker who was ignorant of man’s +normal haunts and life could very truthfully apply +to the unhappy scientist, Buffon’s own comments. +All of his terms of opprobrium would come home +to roost with him.</p> + +<p>A bridge out of place would be an absolutely inexplicable +thing, as would a sloth in Paris, or a +Buffon in the trees. As a matter of fact it was +only when I became a temporary cripple myself +that I began to appreciate the astonishing lives +which sloths lead. With one of my feet injured +and out of commission I found an abundance of +time in six weeks to study the individuals which +we caught in the jungle near by. Not until we invent +a superlative of which the word “deliberate” is +the positive can we define a sloth with sufficient +adequateness and briefness. I dimly remember +certain volumes by an authoress whose style pictured +the hero walking from the door to the front +gate, placing first the right, then the left foot before +him as he went. With such detail and speed of +action might one write the biography of a sloth.</p> + +<p>Ever since man has ventured into this wilderness, +sloths have aroused astonishment and comment. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span>Four hundred years ago Gonzala de Oviedo sat +him down and penned a most delectable account of +these creatures. He says, in part: “There is another +strange beast the Spaniards call the Light Dogge, +which is one of the slowest beasts and so heavie and +dull in mooving that it can scarsely goe fiftie pases +in a whole day. Their neckes are high and streight, +and all equall like the pestle of a mortar, without +making any proportion of similitude of a head, or +any difference except in the noddle, and in the tops +of their neckes. They have little mouthes, and +moove their neckes from one side to another, as +though they were astonished: their chiefe desire and +delight is to cleave and sticke fast unto Trees, +whereunto cleaving fast, they mount up little by +little, staying themselves by their long claws. Their +voice is much differing from other beasts, for they +sing only in the night, and that continually from +time to time, singing ever six notes one higher than +another. Sometimes the Christian men find these +beasts, and bring them home to their houses, where +also they creepe all about with their natural slownesse. +I could never perceive other but that they +love onely of Aire: because they ever turne their +heads and mouthes toward that part where the +wind bloweth most, whereby may be considered that +they take most pleasure in the Aire. They bite not, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span>nor yet can bite, having very little mouthes: they +are not venemous or noyous any way, but altogether +brutish, and utterly unprofitable and without commoditie +yet known to men.”</p> + +<p>It is difficult to find adequate comparisons for a +topsy-turvy creature like a sloth, but if I had already +had synthetic experience with a Golem, I +would take for a formula the general appearance +of an English sheep dog, giving it a face with +barely distinguishable features and no expression, +an inexhaustible appetite for a single kind of coarse +leaf, a gamut of emotions well below the animal +kingdom, and an enthusiasm for life excelled by a +healthy sunflower. Suspend this from a jungle +limb by a dozen strong hooks, and—you would still +have to see a live sloth to appreciate its appearance.</p> + +<p>At rest, curled up into an arboreal ball, a sloth +is indistinguishable from a cluster of leaves; in action, +the second hand of a watch often covers more +distance. At first sight of the shapeless ball of +hay, moving with hopeless inadequacy, astonishment +shifts to pity, then to impatience and finally, +as we sense a life of years spent thus, we feel almost +disgust. At which moment the sloth reaches +blindly in our direction, thinking us a barren, leafless, +but perhaps climbable tree, and our emotions +change again, this time to sheer delight as a tiny +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span>infant sloth raises its indescribably funny face from +its mother’s breast and sends forth the single tone, +the high, whistling squeak, which in sloth intercourse +is song, shout, converse, whisper, argument +and chant. Separating him from his mother is like +plucking a bur from one’s hair, but when freed, he +contentedly hooks his small self to our clothing and +creeps slowly about.</p> + +<p>Instead of reviewing all the observations and experiments +which I perpetrated upon sloths, I will +touch at once the heart of their mysterious psychology, +giving in a few words a conception of their +strange, uncanny minds. A bird will give up its +life in defending its young; an alligator will not +often desert its nest in the face of danger; a male +stickleback fish will intrepidly face any intruder +that threatens its eggs. In fact, at the time when +the young of all animals are at the age of helplessness, +the senses of the parents are doubly keen, +their activities and weapons are at greatest efficiency +for the guarding of the young and the consequent +certainty of the continuance of their race.</p> + +<p>The resistance made by a mother sloth to the +abstraction of its offspring is chiefly the mechanical +tangling of the young animal’s tiny claws in the +long maternal fur. I have taken away a young +sloth and hooked it to a branch five feet away. Being +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span>hungry it began at once to utter its high, penetrating +penny whistle. To no other sound, high +or low, with even a half tone’s difference does the +sloth pay any heed, but its dim hearing is attuned +to just this vibration. Slowly the mother starts off +in what she thinks is the direction of the sound. It +is the moment of moments in the life of the young +animal. Yet I have seen her again and again on +different occasions pass within two feet of the little +chap, and never look to right or left, but keep +straight on, stolidly and unvaryingly to the high +jungle, while her baby, a few inches out of her +path, called in vain. No kidnapped child hidden in +mountain fastness or urban underworld was ever +more completely lost to its parent than this infant, +in full view and separated by only a sloth’s length +of space.</p> + +<p>A gun fired close to the ear of a sloth will usually +arouse not the slightest tremor; no scent of flower +or acid or carrion causes any reaction; a sleeping +sloth may be shaken violently without awakening, +the waving of a scarlet rag, or a climbing serpent +a few feet away brings no gleam of curiosity or fear +to the dull eyes; an astonishingly long immersion +in water produces discomfort but not death. +When we think what a constant struggle life is to +most creatures, even when they are equipped with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span>the keenest of senses and powerful means of offense, +it seems incredible that a sloth can hold its +own in this overcrowded tropical jungle.</p> + +<p>From birth to death it climbs slowly about the +great trees, leisurely feeding, languidly loving, and +almost mechanically caring for its young. On the +ground a host of enemies await it, but among the +higher branches it fears chiefly occasional great +boas, climbing jaguars and, worst of all, the mighty +talons of harpy eagles. Its means of offense is a +joke—a slow, ineffective reaching forward with +open jaws, a lethargic stroke of arm and claws +which anything but another sloth can avoid. Yet +the race of sloths persists and thrives, and in past +years I have had as many as eighteen under observation +at one time.</p> + +<p>A sloth makes no nest or shelter; it even disdains +the protection of dense foliage. But for all its apparent +helplessness it has a <i>cheval-de-frise</i> of +protection which many animals far above it in intelligence +might well envy. Its outer line of defense +is invisibility—and there is none better, for +until you have seen your intended prey you can +neither attack nor devour him. No hedgehog or +armadillo ever rolled a more perfect ball of itself +than does a sloth, sitting in a lofty, swaying crotch +with head and feet and legs all gathered close together +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>inside. This posture, to an onlooker, destroys +all thought of a living animal, but presents +a very satisfactory white ants’ nest or bunch of +dead leaves. If we look at the hair of a sloth we +will see small, grey patches along the length of the +hairs—at first sight bits of bark and débris of wood. +But these minute, scattered particles are of the +utmost aid to this invisibility. They are a peculiar +species of alga or lichen-like growth which is found +only in this peculiar haunt, and when the rains begin +and all the jungle turns a deep, glowing emerald, +these tiny plants also react to the welcome +moisture and become verdant—thus throwing over +the sloth a protecting, misty veil of green.</p> + +<p>Even we dull-sensed humans require neither +sight nor hearing to detect the presence of an animal +like the skunk; in the absolute quiet and blackness +of midnight we can tell when a porcupine has +crossed our path, or when there are mice in the +bureau drawers. But a dozen sloths may be hanging +to the trees near at hand and never the slightest +whiff of odor comes from them. A baby sloth +has not even a baby smell, and all this is part of the +cloak of invisibility. The voice, raised so very seldom, +is so ventriloquil, and possesses such a +strange, unanimal-like quality that it can never be +a guide to the location much less to the identity of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>the author. Here we have three senses, sight, hearing, +smell, all operating at a distance, two of them +by vibrations, and all leagued together to shelter +the sloth from attack.</p> + +<p>But in spite of this dramatic guard of invisibility +the keen eyes of an eagle, the lapping tongue of a +giant boa, and the amazing delicacy of a jaguar’s +sense of smell break through at times. The jaguar +scents sign under the tree of the sloth, climbs +eagerly as far as he dares and finds ready to his +paw the ball of animal unconsciousness; a harpy +eagle half a mile above the jungle sees a bunch of +leaves reach out a sleepy arm and scratch itself—something +clumps of leaves should not do. Down +spirals the great bird, slowly, majestically, knowing +there is no need of haste, and alights close by +the mammalian sphere. Still the sloth does not +move, apparently waiting for what fate may bring—waiting +with that patience and resignation which +comes only to those of our fellow creatures who +cannot say, “I am I!” It seems as if Nature had +deserted her jungle changeling, stripped now of its +protecting cloak.</p> + +<p>The sloth however has never been given credit +for its powers of passive resistance, and now, with +its enemy within striking distance, its death or even +injury is far from a certainty. The crotch which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span>the sloth chooses for its favorite outdoor sport, +sleep, is unusually high up or far out among the +lesser branches, where the eight claws of the eagle +or the eighteen of a jaguar find but precarious hold. +In order to strike at the quiescent animal the bird +has to relinquish half of its foothold, the cat nearly +one quarter. If the victim were a feathery bush +turkey or a soft-bodied squirrel, one stroke would +be sufficient, but this strange creature is something +far different. In the first place it is only to be +plucked from its perch by the exertion of enormous +strength. No man can seize a sloth by the long +hair of the back and pull it off. So strong are its +muscles, so vise-like the grip of its dozen talons that +either the crotch must be cut or broken off or the +long claws unfastened one by one. Neither of these +alternatives is possible to the attacking cat or eagle. +They must depend upon crushing or penetrating +power of stroke or grasp.</p> + +<p>Here is where the sloth’s second line of defense +becomes operative. First, as I have mentioned, the +swaying branch and dizzy height is in his favor, as +well as his immovable grip. To begin with the innermost +defenses, while his jungle fellows, the ring-tailed +and red howling monkeys, have thirteen +ribs, the sloth may have as many as twenty; in the +latter animal they are, in addition, unusually broad +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span>and flat, slats rather than rods. Next comes the +skin which is so thick and tough that many an +Indian’s arrow falls back without even scratching +the hide. The skin of the unborn sloth is +as tough and strong as that of a full-grown +monkey. Finally we have the fur—two distinct +coats, the under one fine, short and matted, the +outer long, harsh and coarse. Is it any wonder +that, teetering on a swaying branch, many a jaguar +has had to give up after frantic attempts to strike +his claws through the felted hair, the tough skin +and the bony lattice-work which protect the vitals +of this Edentate bur!</p> + +<p>Having rescued our sloth from his most immediate +peril let us watch him solve some of the very +few problems which life presents to him. Although +the cecropia tree, on the leaves of which he feeds, +is scattered far and wide through the jungle, yet +sloths are found almost exclusively along river +banks, and, most amazingly, they not infrequently +take to the water. I have caught a dozen sloths +swimming rivers a mile or more in width. Judging +from the speed of short distances, a sloth can swim +a mile in three hours and twenty minutes. Their +thick skin and fur must be a protection against +crocodiles, electric eels and perai fish as well as +jaguars. Why they should ever wish to swim +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span>across these wide expanses of water is as inexplicable +as the migration of butterflies. One side of +the river has as many comfortable crotches, as many +millions of cecropia leaves and as many eligible +lady sloths as the other! In this unreasonable desire +for anything which is out of reach sloths come +very close to a characteristic of human beings.</p> + +<p>Even in the jungle sloths are not always the +static creatures which their vegetable-like life +would lead us to believe, as I was able to prove +many years ago. A young male was brought in by +Indians and after keeping it a few days I shaved +off two patches of hair from the center of the back, +and labelling it with a metal tag I turned it loose. +Forty-eight days later it was captured near a small +settlement of bovianders several miles farther up +and across the river. During this time it must +have traversed four miles of jungle and one of +river.</p> + +<p>The principal difference between the male and +female three-toed sloths is the presence on the back +of the male of a large, oval spot of orange-colored +fur. To any creature of more active mentality such +a minor distinction must often be embarrassing. In +an approaching sloth, walking upside-down as +usual, this mark is quite invisible, and hence every +meeting of two sloths must contain much of delightful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span>uncertainty, of ignorance whether the encounter +presages courtship or merely gossip. But +color or markings have no meaning in the dull eyes +of these animals. Until they have sniffed and almost +touched noses they show no recognition or +reaction whatever.</p> + +<p>I once invented a sloth island—a large circle of +ground surrounded by a deep ditch, where sloths +climbed about some saplings and ate, but principally +slept, and lived for months at a time. This +was within sight of my laboratory table, so I could +watch what was taking place by merely raising my +head. Some of the occurrences were almost too +strange for creatures of this earth. I watched two +courtships, each resulting in nothing more serious +than my own amusement. A female was asleep in +a low crotch, curled up into a perfect ball deep +within which was ensconced a month-old baby. +Two yards overhead was a male who had slept for +nine hours without interruption. Moved by what, +to a sloth, must have been a burst of uncontrollable +emotion, he slowly unwound himself and clambered +downward. When close to the sleeping beauty he +reached out a claw and tentatively touched a shoulder. +Even more deliberately she excavated her +head and long neck and peered in every direction +but the right one. At last she perceived her suitor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span>and looked away as if the sight was too much for +her. Again he touched her post-like neck, and +now there arose all the flaming fury of a mother at +the flirtatious advances of this stranger. With +incredible slowness and effort she freed an arm, deliberately +drew it back and then began a slow forward +stroke with arm and claws. Meanwhile her +gentleman friend had changed his position so the +blow swept, or, more correctly passed, through +empty air, the lack of impact almost throwing her +out of the crotch. The disdained one left with +slowness and dignity—or had he already forgotten +why he had descended?—and returned to his perch +and slumber, where I am sure, not even such active +things as dreams came to disturb his peace.</p> + +<p>The second courtship advanced to the stage +where the Gallant actually got his claws tangled +in the lady’s back hair before she awoke. When +she grasped the situation she left at once and +clambered to the highest branch tip followed by the +male. Then she turned and climbed down and +across her annoyer, leaving him stranded on the +lofty branch looking eagerly about and reaching +out hopefully toward a big, green iguana asleep on +the next limb in mistake for his fair companion. +For an hour he wandered languidly after her, then +gave it up and went to sleep. Throughout these +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span>and other emotional crises no sound is ever uttered, +no feature altered from its stolid repose. The head +moves mechanically and the dull eyes blink slowly, +as if striving to pierce the opaque veil which ever +hangs between the brain of a sloth and the sights, +sounds and odors of this tropical world. If the +orange back spot was ever of any use in courtship, +in arousing any emotion æsthetic or otherwise, it +must have been in ages long past when the ancestors +of sloths, contemporaries of their gigantic +relatives the Mylodons, had better eyesight for escaping +from sabre-toothed tigers, than there is need +today.</p> + +<p>The climax of a sloth’s emotion has nothing to do +with the opposite sex or with the young, but is exhibited +when two females are confined in a cage together. +The result is wholly unexpected. After +sniffing at one another for a moment, they engage +in a slowed-up moving-picture battle. Before any +harm is done one or the other gives utterance to the +usual piercing whistle and surrenders. She lies +flat on the cage floor and offers no defense while the +second female proceeds to claw her, now and then +attempting, usually vainly, to bite. It is so unpleasant +that I have always separated them at this +stage, but there is no doubt that in every case the +unnatural affray would go on until the victim was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span>killed. In fact I have heard of several instances +where this actually took place.</p> + +<p>A far pleasanter sight is the young sloth, one of +the most adorable balls of fuzzy fur imaginable. +While the sense of play is all but lacking his +trustfulness and helplessness are most infantile. +Every person who takes him up is an accepted +substitute for his mother and he will clamber +slowly about one’s clothing for hours in supreme +contentment. One thing I can never explain is +that on the ground the baby is even more helpless +than his parents. While they can hitch themselves +along, body dragging, limbs outspread, until they +reach the nearest tree, a young sloth is wholly without +power to move. Placed on a flat bit of ground +it rolls and tumbles about, occasionally greatly encouraged +by seizing hold of its own foot or leg +under the impression that at last it has encountered +a branch.</p> + +<p>Sloths sleep about twice as much as other mammals +and a baby sloth often gets tired of being confined +in the heart of its mother’s sleeping sphere, +and creeping out under her arm will go on an +exploring expedition around and around her. +When over two weeks old it has strength to rise on +its hind legs and sway back and forth like nothing +else in the world. Its eyes are only a little keener +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span>than those of the parent and it peers up at +the foliage overhead with the most pitiful interest. +It is slowly weaned from a milk diet to the +leaves of the cecropia which the mother at first +chews up for her offspring.</p> + +<p>I once watched a young sloth about a month old +and saw it leave its mother for the first time. As +the old one moved slowly back and forth, pulling +down cecropia leaves and feeding on them, the +youngster took firm grip on a leaf stem, mumbling +at it with no success whatever. When finally it +stretched around and found no soft fur within reach +it set up a wail which drew the attention of the +mother at once. Still clinging to her perch, she +reached out a forearm to an unbelievable distance +and gently hooked the great claws about the huddled +infant, which at once climbed down the long +bridge and tumbled headlong into the hollow awaiting +it.</p> + +<p>When a very young sloth is gently disentangled +from its mother and hooked on to a branch something +of the greatest interest happens. Instead of +walking forward, one foot after the other, and upside-down +as all adult sloths do, it reaches up and +tries to get first one arm then the other <i>over</i> the +support, and to pull itself into an upright position. +This would seem to be a reversion to a time—perhaps +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span>millions of years ago—when the ancestors of +sloths had not yet begun to hang inverted from the +branches. After an interval of clumsy reaching +and wriggling about, the baby by accident grasps +its own body or limb, and, in this case, convinced +that it is at last anchored safely again to its mother, +it confidently lets go with all its other claws and +tumbles ignominiously to the ground.</p> + +<p>The moment a baby sloth dies and slips from its +grip on the mother’s fur, it ceases to exist for her. +If it could call out she would reach down an arm +and hook it toward her, but simply dropping +silently means no more than if a disentangled bur +had fallen from her coat. I have watched such a +sloth carefully and have never seen any search of +her own body or of the surrounding branches, or a +moment’s distraction from sleep or food. An +imitation of the cry of the dead baby will attract +her attention, but if not repeated she forgets it +at once.</p> + +<p>It is interesting to know of the lives of such +beings as this—chronic pacifists, normal morons, +the superlative of negative natures, yet holding +their own amidst the struggle for existence. Nothing +else desires to feed on such coarse fodder, no +other creature disputes with it the domain of the +under side of branches, hence there is no competition. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span>From our human point of view sloths are +degenerate; from another angle they are among +the most exquisitely adapted of living beings. If +we humans, together with our brains, fitted as well +into the possibilities of our own lives we should +be infinitely finer and happier,—and, besides, I +should then be able to interpret more intelligently +the life and the philosophy of sloths!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="VI"> + VI + <br> + MANGROVE MYSTERY + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">One</span> day I found a hammock-form of roots, a +maze of gentle curves which gave and +braced, and, taking paper, looked to see if a mangrove +had anything of interest to offer. At the end +of three hours I slid painfully down into the rising +tide, my unpenciled sheet fluttered off, and I went +away with my mind in a whirl.</p> + +<p>I rejoiced in Barnum’s Circus long before I +learned to write, but, if the first time thereafter, +my mother had given me pencil and notebook with +instructions to describe everything that took place +in all three rings and on the stage, as well as the +freaks, side shows and menagerie, my ideas would +have been of equal clarity and inclusiveness as at +my first mangrove séance. Above, around, beneath +were interlacing trapezes, flying rings and rope +ladders, liana nets and gaily painted poles, waving +banners of emerald strung along the rafters, and +high over all the canvas of the sky. And everywhere +the performers—acrobats and leapers—worked +mighty feats of balance and of strength; +whiffs arose of strange and unknown creatures; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span>thrilling, tuning-up squeaks and umpahs came +from hidden orchestras which surely soon must +burst forth in full fanfare of breath-shortening +music. Now and then a being would creep slowly +past, (doubtless on his weary way to a long parade +about some invisible arena), of such sight and +form, that if raised to man’s height would be a side +show in himself.</p> + +<p>But even at the first confusing survey, the mangrove +stood out vivid and clear-cut. It had the aspect +of a god, an Atlas, with feet firm planted upon +earth, regardless whether currents of water or +winds of air swirled about its knees, and with wide +arms out—upward spread to the sky, upon which +thousands of weaker beings found sanctuary. +Some alighted for temporary rest of weary wings, +others for longer periods, day boarders who came +for meals or season residents who built their houses +and reared their families upon the vibrant roots. +And finally were those who knew no other world or +scene, but, born or hatched upon the mangroves, +clung to them until loosed by death. By their little +body dropping to the water, they paid their final +debt to Gravitation, returning to his implacable coffers +this small meed of elevation-energy, which by +grip of tendrils or of fingers they had possessed +throughout their lives.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_122fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_122fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“In the sunshine and warmth of the mangrove tangle”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>These were all kindly, or at most indifferent folk, +who if they gave nothing of value, did no harm. +In a circus, the smiling faces of two acrobats who +catch one another in midair may mask bitter hatred, +a desire to swing short, or grip loosely; the story +writers are fond of showing us the tragic sorrow +obverse of the clown’s grinning visage. In the sunshine +and warmth of the mangrove tangle, behind +the swaying leaves and bee-beckoning blossoms’ +fragrance is terrible strife and slow death. The +splendid plant gives shelter and support upon its +sturdy uplifted arms, not only to the fairy homes +of humming-birds, but to parasites whose gratitude +is never to cease strangling with inflexible coils, or, +more insidiously, gently to insert living threads of +death into the very heart of their supporter. Out +of all this, how futile it seems to try to give any real +idea of the marvel of mangrove life. At most we +can hope only to arouse a worthy discontent, a disquieting +desire also to go and see. For here are +living tales, complete but as yet unworded, worthy +to fill volumes of Carroll or Dunsany or Barrie or +Blackwood; here are scenes needing only paper +tracing to equal the best of Rackham or Sime, to +touch the emotional gamut of Böcklin and Heath +Robinson.</p> + +<p>About ten thousand years before I filled this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span>fountain pen, some ancestor of yours and mine—our +“touch of nature”—discovered that by building +a house of piles out in a lake, he could thwart +the wild animals which ever threatened him, and +lessen the danger of a surprise attack from equally-to-be-dreaded +envious or hasty-tempered neighbors. +Few carnivores care to swim after their +prey, and war canoes had hardly been invented. +Such sanctuaries gave to families and to small +tribes time to think, to invent new weapons, to +seize new opportunities and to take better care of +their babies.</p> + +<p>Today, while pushing a canoe through the roots +of the mangrove jungle, I thought enthusiastically +of my pile-dwelling ancestors as I noted many exciting +similes, and then paddled hastily back to the +laboratory to see what botanists had thought about +it. I found much of interest, but my mind was +sobered, my imagination quieted. There was nothing +of Swiss lake dwellings, but a very definite +title of <i>Rhizophora Mangle</i>, and a casual remark of +branches being supported by simple, vertical roots; +it was put down that the petals were lacerate-woolly +on the margin, exceeded by the calyx limb; but +their delicate odor was passed by without comment; +the living shifts of greens on the foliage, with the +veins carrying shafts of parrot color over the background +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>of pale chrysolite—this was ignored; to the +botanist the leaves were leathery, quite entire, +obovate-lanceolate and blunt—a statement unquestionably +to the point. Finally I learned that the +astringent bark is employed for tanning, and I returned +to my living mangroves, alias R. Mangle, +wondering if too constant pondering upon astringent, +unadulterated facts is not often efficacious in +a sort of mental tanning. Our mangrove might +yield a new harvest to us if we could choose a different +contact of thought, clothing the fruit with the +vital interest hidden in “one-seeded by abortion,” +and yet avoiding sentimental pleonasms.</p> + +<p>However we decide to think of this plant, it is +sure to be with admiration, for it stands out as a +pioneer. Among earthly vegetation the mangrove +is an aristocrat, a true dicotyledon, but it has dared +to seek again the watery habitat of the lowlier +growths, indeed of the very green algæ from which +land plants originally developed. Like the penguin +which has relinquished the ærial wing for an +aquatic fin, or the seal which has encased its five +fingers and five toes in flipper mittens, so the mangrove, +while retaining all its badges of aristocracy, +has returned to the haunts of the ancestors of all +plants, from whence it can look calmly shoreward +at the terrible struggle for life a few feet away, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span>where every inch of soil is battled for, where the +vigorous monopolize air and sunlight.</p> + +<p>Such a radical change cannot be achieved without +far-reaching adaptations and readjustments; the +banker does not become a farmer merely by moving +to the country, and every part of a mangrove shows +delicate modes of meeting the strange new conditions +as cunningly as the shift of muscles of +a jiu-jitsu wrestler encountering an unknown +opponent.</p> + +<p>In the month of February, Kartabo mangroves +are covered with flowers—and yet to a passing +glance reveal no trace of inflorescence. Small and +yellowish white, in irregular clusters of six to a +dozen, they make no kind of visual showing, but +their nectaries call to small trigonid bees in no uncertain +way, and through the hours of sunlight the +branches of the mangrove are busy marts of trade. +Each cluster of blossoms becomes a corner grocery +where the customers come for their buckets of nectars +and packages of pollen and rush away without +paying, or so they may think. But there are leaks +in the pollen bags, and when they enter another +blossom, the little stream of sifting yellow dust +drifts across the entrance, a few grains or even a +single one, falls upon the waiting pistil, and the +bee has repaid for his bread and honey many fold +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span>and with compound interest. Its destiny fulfilled, +the flower falls apart, the petal, lacerate-woolly +margins and all, drifting off on the first tide. The +ovary swells, two seeds form, and now comes the +first adjustment, and we realize that in the botanist’s +dry remark “one-seeded by abortion” may be +concealed tragic doom and a wealth of subtle meaning. +No spear can be thrown straight which has +twin heads and shafts, and so one seed shrivels and +dies, and the other thrives and grows. What decides +the fate of life or death we do not know. +Some delicate balance, some subtle test of worth or +lack takes place in every one of the thousands upon +thousands of fertilized mangrove blossoms, and +there is no appeal. The reason, as we shall see, is +too vital, the target too difficult and treacherous for +a thought to be given to unborn plants.</p> + +<p>The problem of the next generation of mangroves +is a serious one. The seeds are formed over +an everchanging surface; soft, sticky mud giving +place to strong currents, flowing first in one, then +in the opposite direction; rough waves plough up +the mud and splash against the stilt-like roots. No +sticky secretion, no mere weight, no hooks or ærial +wings will suffice for these seeds. From their natal +branch high above the tidal area, some sure method +of anchorage must be found to enable them to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span>avoid being smothered in the mud, stranded on +the shore, rolled into deep water or washed out +to sea.</p> + +<p>The method is the arrow or loaded dart, and the +force is the energy of gravitation stored in particle +after particle by the mother plant, as she drew up +salts and water and elements, raising them sapfully +from mud and tide, and condensing them into a +solid, slender, pointed weapon capable of coping +with all the difficulties of the new environment. +But no seed alone can thus function, and in solving +this problem the mangrove reveals itself as one of +the most remarkable plants in the world. The +lower forms of vegetation form their seeds and +thrust them forth naked upon the world; the more +advanced plants ensheath their offspring in swaddling +clothes of protection against heat and cold, +moisture and aridity. These are comparable to +egg-laying creatures, with yolk and shell to shield +the embryo from dangers. But the mangrove is +truly viviparous, and the embryo seed remains attached +for months, nourished by the sap of the +parent branch. Out of the pear-shaped head a +root-like structure grows downward, often to a +length of twenty inches and a width of one. Like +an airplane bomb, or the deadly throwing assagai +of the Zulus, the mangrove seedling is thickest +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span>three-fourths of the way down, and then tapers +rapidly. With a weight of as much as three ounces +and driving force generated by a height of twenty +feet, the umbilical cord of sap may safely dry, the +connecting sheath shrivel, and one day there is a +dull little spatter of mud, or a splash of water, and +the unconscious work of the bees, the months of +slow invigorating by the parent plant are fulfilled. +The seed sticks upright in the mud, propelled +through even two feet of water to its goal, and immediately +rootlets sprout and consolidate the +anchorage.</p> + +<p>I once blazed two dozen seedlings which seemed +ready to drop, and three of these were loosed at low +water, so that they fell unhindered directly into the +mud. The others I missed and I can only surmise +whether this is the rule; whether some subtle influence +of moon or tide is not sufficient to cause the +final separation. Such a stimulus would be of great +value to the young plant and is no more improbable +than the marvellous effect of the moon’s rays upon +the palolo worms of the sea bottom.</p> + +<p>Let us for awhile forget the mangrove circus +medley,—crab clowns, strong men of the ants, hairy +wild tarantulas, prestidigitator opossums producing +ten infant opossums from a single fold of skin, +white elephant membracid larvæ, living statue +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span>lianas, frog barkers and lightning change lizards. +Let us think of birds, or of a single bird.</p> + +<p>I have seen more than a hundred kinds of birds +among the mangroves of Kartabo, but a mere +enumeration of these would be of little value and +of no interest. And instead of selecting the rarest, +most bizarre of tropical forms, let us choose the +commonest, the most blatant, apparently the most +ordinary bird, with average habits and usual traits; +which is another way of saying that we have observed +it casually, watched it with unintelligent +inattention, and wholly failed to interpret its +activities in the terms of their desperate significance.</p> + +<p>A kiskadee flew to a root before me and called +loudly. For a moment it was only a kiskadee, and +hardly registered color or sound, so common a feature +of the day was it. It was threatened with the +oblivion of the abundant, the neglect of the familiar. +In New York City on a day of slush and +humid chill, with rush and worry and congested life, +to hear the loud, certain call <i>kis-ka-dee!</i> from a cage +in the Zoological Park was to thrill in every fibre, +and to remember peace, and calm thoughts and vast +quiet spaces. As the steamer moved up to the +Georgetown telling, <i>kis-ka-dee!</i> from a corrugated +iron roof signalized the approach of another season +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span>of wonderful jungle existence. But from that first +moment on, the kiskadees were ungratefully allowed +to sink into the subconscious, while jaded, +conscious senses strained after new forms and novel +sounds.</p> + +<p>Today, however, looking up from my canoe +among the mangroves, I saw the bird as first I +saw it many years ago—it became more than one +among hundreds, it assumed a miraculous rejuvenation.</p> + +<p>Its very presence among the mangroves was +significant. To the eyes of all immigrants through +the ages the mangrove and the kiskadee must have +come first—the tourist on the last ocean steamer, +dark-haired men of quaint Spanish galleons, Carib +Indians in their dugouts paddling from islands of +the sea, and the man whose stone ax I found the +other day, squatting on a couple of vine-tied logs, +drifting from God knows where.</p> + +<p>Here on the very apex, the outermost root, marking +the junction of the Cuyuni and Mazaruni +Rivers—here a kiskadee perched and here it had +built its nest. It was exciting thus to be able to fix +a locality with almost planetary, or at least continental +accuracy. I have felt the same thing when +circling in a plane over the very tip of Long Island, +or standing on the spray-drenched, southernmost +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span>boulder of Ceylon, or squatting on a Buddhist cairn +on the verge of Tibet. Now I knew that even a +small map of South America would show this very +spot of mangroves and the exact perch of my kiskadee,—and +the bird grew in importance.</p> + +<p>To Northern appraisement, our kingbird is nearest +to this tropical tyrant, except that the latter is +even more wonted to man’s presence. The kiskadee +has nothing of delicacy or dainty grace. It is +beautiful in rufous wings and brilliant yellow under +plumage, it is regal with a crown of black, white +and orange. But in life and caste it is decidedly +middle class. It is the harbinger of the dawn, but +so is an alarm-clock, and in regularity and blatancy +of announcement there is much in common between +the two.</p> + +<p>The husky call crashes upon the ear soon after +the bird is sighted, and from early times has caught +the attention and been translated into human +speech. I know not what the stone-ax man dubbed +it, he may only have grunted and hurled his weapon +at it, hoping for a morsel of food. The Arrowaks +and the few remaining Caribs know it as <i>Heet-gee-gee</i>, +and the Spaniards, prompted perhaps by the +Jesuit Fathers, interpreted it <i>Christus fui</i>; to +Dutch ears it became characteristically tangled up +with <i>g’s</i> and <i>i’s</i>, <i>Griet-je-bie</i>, the French more +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>cleverly phrased it with the onomatopoetic <i>Qu-est-ce-qu’il-dit?</i> +or <i>Qui? Oui, Louis!</i> while the negroes +laugh it into <i>Kiss, Kiss, me deh’</i>.</p> + +<p>I leaned back in the canoe and watched my kiskadee +through a lattice of curved roots. Within five +minutes it gave me a hint of the living chains of life +with which the mangroves abound. The bird left +its perch and with a wild outpouring of screams +and shrill cries flew with unwonted directness, +straight out and up over the river. Its mark was a +caracara hawk—a menial, degenerate, vegetable-feeding +<i>Accipiter</i>, who, when eggs or nestlings +offer, loves to be tempted and loves to fall! Swiftly +after the kiskadee swept the next link in the chain, +two humming-birds whirring past, catching up at +once and buzzing about the tyrant’s head, well +knowing that this sturdy eight inches of feathers, +alias flycatcher, so quick to cry “wolf” at every +passing hawk, was far from being wholly guiltless +in the matter of certain nestlings.</p> + +<p>But this is only an occasional failing and we pass +to admiration of other, more worthy attributes. +The kiskadee, like most strong characters has a +number of doubles and imitators; one has drawn a +grey veil over the yellow breast, another has a wider +bill, two are almost replicas in miniature, but they +are all conventional in haunt and food. They all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span>live in the compound of the bungalow and search +the air diligently for winged insects as their names +say they should. But kiskadee has overthrown the +traditions of his family. A kindred spirit to the +mangrove, his quick eye has caught the advantages +of aquatic isolation and so we often find him nesting +among the outer growths. And having accepted +the sanctuary of this strange amphibious +tree, he has altered his habits in other ways. A +grey-throated kingbird or a lesser kiskadee will +often choose a perch over the water from which it +gracefully swoops for flying ants and termites. +But watch the kiskadee!</p> + +<p>As a returning crusader flaunts the infidel’s +scimiter, and keeps silence upon certain ways and +means and happenings, so kiskadee returned to +perch, wiping from its bill the sordid taint of +tweaked hawk’s feather, and ready to explain the +lost feather from its own crown as worthy mark of +battle. Its next movement was significant of much +of earthly progress and evolution—indeed an +accumulation of similar achievements would be +quite enough to explain my sitting in a canoe, +watching the kiskadee with high power glasses, and +endeavoring to philosophize upon what I saw, instead +of still pushing my body into pseudopodia +with my erstwhile amœbic confrères in the mud below. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span>This thought came when the bird fell from +its root, plopped into the water, and with effort, +and a bit bedraggled as to plumage, rose with a +small fish in its beak.</p> + +<p>The eternal restlessness of two of our pet monkeys, +“Sadie” and “Holy Ghost,” suggested to one +of us the excellent definition of a monkey:—“An +animal which never wants to be where it is,” and this +applied to habits and traits emphasizes the importance +of the kiskadee diving after a fish instead of +merely swooping after a passing insect: the wide +beak, the fringe of guiding bristles, soft plumage, +the examples of its relatives and the instinctive dictates +of hundreds of past generations, all point +flycatcherward, yet it chooses otherwise and taps +a more nourishing source of food supply closed to +its superficial imitators, nearer to its new home, and +less dependent on sun and season.</p> + +<p>In this, as in all similar cases, the vital interest +lies not in the fact of the actual change of habit, but +how it came to arise. It were easy in the comfort +of one’s study with eyes fixed on pencil and paper +to devise the method of origin, clothing it with facile +words. There come to memory the shrill chatter, +the swift short flights, the trim, stream line forms +of midget mangrove kingfishers, tiny Isaak Waltons +whose plunge, strike and return embody the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span>perfection of piscatory art. How easy for the +intelligent eye of the kiskadee to observe the mode +of life of these little neighbors of the roots, to essay, +to practice and to succeed! Or if this strains our +credulity, let us take another sheet of paper and +again logically explain the origin of the habit; a +pursued insect falls into the water, the kiskadee +swoops at it at the same moment when a minnow +arises; the fish is unintentionally seized instead of +the flying ant, the foundation of cause and effect +is laid; and so, “dearly beloved,” that is the way +the kiskadee learned to fish!</p> + +<p>For my part, I have not the faintest idea of how +it began, in fact the little I have been able to ascertain, +tends more to complicate than to clarify the +problem, but there is one very significant thing +about this flycatcher fishing. The Kiskadee Tyrant +(<i>Pitangus sulphuratus</i>) in some of its several +forms ranges from Texas to the Argentine, and +from Guiana to Peru.</p> + +<p>Many years ago in western Mexico I observed +the Northern form of Pitangus plunging for minnows +in an arroyo pool, later, in the Orinoco delta +and in Trinidad the subspecies <i>trinitatis</i> fished for +me in both places; during five separate visits to +Guiana I have seen many individual kiskadees +catching fish in widely separated localities, and I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>have heard of a similar habit in birds of Brazil and +Argentina.</p> + +<p>Now while some unusually adaptable or quick-sighted +bird may learn a new habit, or a new variation +of an old habit, it is quite another thing to +imagine a similar spreading of it wholesale among +the individuals of the species ranging over mountains, +plains and islands throughout a continent +and a half. Such an achievement is as absurdly +improbable as the theory of a kingfisher tutor. We +do not know how it has come about, but when it +is made clear I believe that many other equally +mysterious phenomena will be understood; why +so many groups of hoofed animals quite distantly +related, all began in past time to develop horns +more or less simultaneously; why in hundreds of +tropical lakes which never know spring, untold +hosts of ducks and geese are, as one bird, stirred +by something beyond themselves—as inexplicable +and invariable as the magnetic needle; why a flock +of birds in flight has no individual will, but is +swerved and turned, carried aloft or settled to rest +by some inclusive spirit of flock or species. All +this is not recognized by any taxonomist, it is not +explained by psychologists, it is hardly ever thought +of by naturalists, but some day it will demand of +our philosophy an explanation. When that time +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span>comes, I will understand the fishing of my mangrove +kiskadee as now I understand only how much +I want to know.</p> + +<p>A strange city or shore or jungle, a new friend, +or house or garden should always first be seen at +night; should be glanced at, not scrutinized, +listened to, not examined, wondered at, not studied. +The glamour rightly born of dusk will then forever +mitigate defects apparent in the glare of day, ash-cans, +thorns, thick wrists, oilcloth tiles or blight. +But no studied plan led my feet to the mangroves +on a May midnight of the wettest moon at full. +Raindrops from distant Venezuelan storms, and +others which had spattered upon the mysterious +heights of Roraima had filled the rivers up to their +brims. And now the pull of the moon had slackened, +and gently let the liquid mass sink down. +There was not a ripple, only an occasional heave +and settling, more effective, more potent of cosmic +energy than any crashing waves or surging bore. +And I did not wonder that ancient man failed to +connect the tides and moon, for here high overhead +hung the great satellite, while before me the gravity +pull of yesternight’s moon was just relaxing.</p> + +<p>The light was somewhat grayed with clouds, but +quite bright enough for type, if I had not forgotten +that there was such a thing; the mangrove world +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span>was oxidized, the leaves lost all their semblance to +foliage,—the branches merely dripped dark, oblong +sheets of tissue. The slowly sinking mirror +stretched the completed curves of roots,—slits +widening to ellipses, ellipses to circles, until suddenly +the earthly halves were shattered upon the dull +glisten of exposing mud.</p> + +<p>I was perched upon the buttress of a small mora +which had ventured far out beyond its jungle +brethren, or had been long since isolated by encroaching +waters. Behind me was a black palm +swamp and the narrow trail between. Optically +both were invisible, aurally they were clearly outlined. +From the swamp came the cheery little +voices of the black and scarlet leaf walkers, the +cubee frogs of the Indians, snapping out their brief +but vital message, and from end to end the white-collared +nighthawks patrolled the trail, with short, +silent flights, thistle-down alightings, and never-ending +queries of <i>Who-are-you?</i> as distinct as +though worded by human lips. I remembered my +Brazilian frog who pursued my researches with his +eternal <i>Why?</i> I looked at the moon and the water +and the mangroves, I thought of my imperfect self +and I knew that never in this world would I form +a satisfactory answer to either bird or batrachian.</p> + +<p>Beyond the outermost roots came the low thrumming +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span>of a catfish singing in the shallows, forced +perhaps by the lowering tide from some moonlit +feeding ground hidden from my sight. It ceased +abruptly and like an aerial antiphony came a deep +rumbling throb from a root at my right,—the call +of the greatest of all tree frogs, a well-named <i>Hyla +maxima</i>. Here night after night I had heard him +and had tried to approach. But always he detected +my lightest step and became silent. His is the +resonant bass violin in the orchestra of a jungle +night. At this moment from two miles away, a +chorus of these great frogs rang clear from a distant +swamp. For about three-fourths of the time +the calls were perfectly synchronized, coming in +great successive waves; <i>wahrrook! wahrrook! +wahrrook!</i> Wahruk, by the way, is their Akawai +Indian name. Then some batrachian with a poor +sense of rhythm got out of tempo, and this threw +all the rest into confusion.</p> + +<p>Now that I had remained quiet for many minutes, +the fears of the giant tree frog were allayed +and he called, almost within reach. I examined +every branch near me and at last saw the outline of +his great goggle eyes, standing high above his inconspicuous +head. I even distinguished a huge +webbed hand, looking like a bit of splayed out +moss, resting flabbily against a bit of bark. In five +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span>minutes he rumbled forty-two times, grouping his +emotional reiterations in series of eight, with long +rests between. Steadily I watched him, until without +warning, in the midst of a deep-throated +<i>wahrrook!</i> he leaped into mid air. Only it was not +my supposed frog with the outstretched hand which +sprang, but a shapeless bit of dangling lichen a foot +away, my image reverting into moss and bark; a +lifetime of carefully trained eyesight availed nothing, +even in this brilliant tropical moonlight, when +pitted against the dissolving power of a giant tree-frog. +He splashed into the water, reaching another +mangrove root in two kicks, and vanished again. +This was not maxima’s usual habit of a creeping +walk from leaf to leaf, now and then leaping to a +higher part of the foliage,—and I waited, and +wondered.</p> + +<p>In front of me were several twigfuls of leaves, +and just below two curved roots, one complete from +trunk to water, the second lacking a few inches of +crossing the arc of the other. The air was motionless, +the water like glass, when I distinctly saw +three of the leaves move to and fro. Then two +more farther on, followed by quiet, then all waved +simultaneously, as with memory of the breeze of the +past rising tide, or anticipations of the breaths +which would usher in the coming dawn. No other +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>leaf in sight even trembled,—only these rocked and +swung. Another vegetable miracle followed,—the +shortened root began to grow before my eyes! I +had recently measured and marvelled at a bamboo +shoot which pushed steadily upward almost ten +inches a day, but here was a mere root which had +added six inches to its length in half as many minutes! +Finally my dull eyes cleared, and as the +detective stories say, there was solved the mystery +of the frog’s leap, the shaking leaves and the +sprouting root; a snake flowed slowly along through +the leafy twigs, over the arched root to its tip, and +then, with its suspended body, spanned the gap +between it and the next root. Long before I had +even seen the moving leaves, the frog had sensed +the danger and fled.</p> + +<p>As I watched the root apparently grow thicker, +then diminish, and finally again become a shortened +segment, my memory pared down the moon, +cleared the sky of clouds, held fast to the mangroves, +but raised the flat lines of bordering jungle +into rounded hills. The palms and dark water and +cool tropic air were the same, but instead of the +roar of distant howlers there came to the ear the +joyous whoops of gibbons,—the wa-was of the deep +Bornean jungle.</p> + +<p>All this leaped vividly to mind because it framed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span>the last time I saw a snake among mangroves. +That time the snake was smaller, but its effect was +of infinitely greater moment. I was hunting Argus +pheasants, but had unwillingly allowed my interest +to be temporarily distracted by two great apes, +orang-utans, which I saw now and then, and which +were remarkably tame. One of these, a small animal +about half grown, invariably retreated toward +the river-bank, and then vanished. No matter how +carefully I trailed the strange little being, every +trace of him disappeared when I reached the mangrove +fringe. One moonlight night I sat upon a +mangrove root, compass in hand, trying to locate +a distant calling Argus pheasant, as the correct +lining-up of the bird would be sure to bisect its +dancing ground. After I had sat quietly for a long +time, something drew my eyes upward and there, +high overhead, peering down at me, was the orang, +chin on hand, leaning on the edge of his nest of +branches. There was no fear in his glance,—he +looked like a meditative, aged man, who would +have been more in place leaning on a cane in a +chimney corner, than on a frail platform of broken +boughs in a mangrove tree. I gradually focussed +my electric flash on his face and he blinked at the +strange light. He mumbled with his lips as if talking +to himself, saying strange tree-top things about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span>huge fireflies which burned too brightly. Once he +swept a huge hand across his face, then sucked a +great, crooked forefinger and without moving his +head, rolled his eyes upward at a passing bat.</p> + +<p>I shut off my light and we gazed at one another +in the moonlight, with interest, but without malice +or suspicion, until suddenly his twitching lips drew +together, and I saw his whole body rise and stiffen. +I followed his glance as best I could, somewhere beyond +me, and before long I saw a small snake +climbing out of the water up one of the roots. I +knew it for a harmless species and after watching +it draw out its whole length of three feet, I looked +upward again. Not a sound, neither snap of twigs +nor rustle of leaves had come to me, but the monkey’s +nest was empty. I could see the branches +more or less clearly on all sides for thirty feet, yet +there was no hint of the great ape. The harmless +little snake had sent him off in violent but silent +haste into the jungle, whereas my presence had +given him no apparent disquietude. He was absent +the following night, but the second night was back +and actually snoring before I came close enough to +disturb him. I never saw him again.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="VII"> + VII + <br> + THE LIFE OF DEATH + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">We</span> humans stand upright, but we look straight +ahead. So for a long time I was blind to +the mighty expanse of branch and foliage of my +giant tree. I had passed it often and now and then +reached out and touched it, for its mighty girth +fascinated me. My Indian hunter gave me its +name, Etaballi, and my botany added the less +harmonious <i>Vochisia</i>. But it was my ear which +first led my eye upward to a deep resonant humming +which filled the dim air of the jungle. The +sun was clouded as I looked, but the air was +aglow with a solid dome of color, a gigantic +mound of clear gold which eclipsed all the +foliage and made the tree glorious. Humming-birds +and bees, butterflies and nectar-loving wasps +were there, and their wings of feathers, scales or +mica tissue churned the air each with an individual +note, the sum of which was a composite tone of +wonderful quality.</p> + +<p>Lizards and woodhewers scampered easily up +the trunk, birds and insects flew where they willed, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span>but I was bound to earth and by stretching could +reach at the utmost only eight feet from the ground. +I could kill any bird in the top of the tree, I could +call myself one of the Lords of Creation, but that +helped not at all in my wish to study this majestic +jungle growth.</p> + +<p>Day after day I watched new masses of flowers +come into bloom. Finally, so hopeless seemed the +outlook and so marvellous appeared the teeming +life of the tree-top, that I directed two amiable +murderers, who were trail-cutting for me, to fell +the jungle Etaballi. It was late when they began +and the wood proved as hard and tough as metal, +so when the warder came for them they had made +but slight impression on the giant bole.</p> + +<p>Then using a brain far better for mechanical +achievement than my own, we evolved a plan for +surmounting these ninety feet to the first limb. +The plan did what I always like plans to do—it +combined the primitive and the sophisticated. With +a bow and special arrow of an Akawai Indian, a +slender cord would be shot over the branch, then a +rope pulled over, and with boatswain’s seat and +pulleys the rest would be easy.</p> + +<p>The following day was one of great import both +to the tree and myself. Much has been written of +portents and warnings, and if I should narrate all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span>the inexplicable things which have happened to me +near the street called Prophecy, no one would believe +the more ordinary events which occur as I +traverse the avenue of Science. But in this case +there was nothing. I left my friend in the late +afternoon, standing in majestic quiet, leaves hanging +motionless, although, a few hundred feet upward, +white cloudlets were scudding before a +mid-heaven trade breeze. I had seen this friendly +tree lashed in tropic storms, I had watched it by +day and night; parts of five years of our lives had +been spent together, and I had seen but not observed +its towering form as long ago as sixteen +years when I passed up-river for the first time.</p> + +<p>I had left Etaballi in the dusk, with its glory of +gold pouring forth a stream of honeysuckle perfume +and I looked forward to my new experiment +in the morning, having to do with scaling its height. +In the night arose one of the storms of the early +rains. I heard the roar far down the Mazaruni +and looked out of my tent to see first Pegasus and +then the Pleiades erased when there sounded the +patter of the first few drops, followed by the +steady, long, audible lines of downpour. Once +and only once there came a deep distant <i>kr-ump!</i> +such as used to roll over the wide sands and drown +the surf on the coast of Belgium when the Germans +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span>were vainly strafing to the north. This single sound, +as of a subdued exclamation of some great God +looking down upon the jungle, was the only hint +of anything unusual, and no one could call a far-distant +thunder mumble a portent.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more pitifully out of place than a +fallen tree. It is like a foundered, deserted ship +with decks awash, covered with a maze of broken +masts, remnants of sails and tangled rigging. Thus +I found my Etaballi, brought low, but worthy even +in the manner of its fall. Human murderers had +nicked it, but the final surrender was at the demand +of one of the natural elements, whose brothers had +brought the tree into being and nourished it into +maturity,—a stroke of lightning,—sister of the +sun, the rain and the winds.</p> + +<p>Down it had come, straight to the north and cut +for itself a mighty glade. All other trees in its +path, all stumps and saplings, had gone down with +it, and where for centuries had been dimness was +now clear sunlight and a great expanse of open +sky. The surrounding trees leaned far outward as +if looking down with some strange arboreal sympathy +for their fallen comrade.</p> + +<p>I walked up and down the mighty hole, I swung +myself up among the high branches, and even from +those crippled, dying limbs I looked down upon +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span>earth from as great a height as the summit of an +ordinary tree. I began to realize that in the death +of my great friend I might achieve intimacy with +many unknown things.</p> + +<p>At present all was silent except for the rustle of +shrivelled leaves and an occasional deep groan as +some overstrained mass of fibres gave way. If +birds had been perched or nesting among its +branches last night, they had fled; insects had been +shaken off, or were now making their way to other +trees, as rats swarm along a ratline from a sinking +vessel.</p> + +<p>I left at once and did not return for two weeks. +After that I spent an hour or two of many days +with the fallen tree, and if I could have had my +way every hour of daylight would have found me +there. I wrote and collected until my fingers and +body ached, and gathered a mass of astonishing +facts which, when digested, will fill many papers +with a multitude of very true, but to the layman, +very tiresome, technical observations.</p> + +<p>But always there kept breaking through the mist +of bare happenings, of actual blatant phenomena, +glimpses of the dramatic and the romantic side of +this little cosmos. For the tree-made glade became +an individual thing, a veritable worldlet, and just +as we go into a room and to our delight find new +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span>pictures on the walls and new books on the table, +so here in my gladeroom no two days were +alike.</p> + +<p>While sitting quietly in armchair, straight back +or lounge—for I had all to order among the +branches—I was forever having my attention distracted +from the business at hand of bark and +wood to visitors who came to peer or hammer, to +play or to carry on their courtship almost within +arm’s reach. My angular figure and neutral garments +were apparently an excellent camouflage +among the maze of branches, and creatures came +close which would have fled at first glance if I had +been standing in mid-trail.</p> + +<p>Every class of backboned animal except fish +came to my fallen tree, and I have no doubt that to +the leafy pools far down on the jungle floor, the +land-travelling minnows had already made their +way. Tree-frogs leaped past on damp, cloudy days +and lizards of a half dozen species crept about, +lapping up flies and other small fodder. A green +tree snake came one day, but soon turned and went +back to the protection of the surrounding foliage. +An event was when a mighty boa constrictor, seventeen +feet at the very least, weaved slowly in and +out of the tangle. When he stopped he became but +one more lichen-covered liana. In full sunlight he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span>rested his great head flat upon a limb, and for +many minutes no branch was more lifeless. Then I +walked slowly toward him. When a few feet away +he raised his head, looked at me, reached inquiringly +forward with his pliant tongue, and slowly +flowed away. We felt and showed mutual respect +and each preferred to look, and then dignifiedly to +turn aside, I the richer for the meeting, for I could +add admiration and a thrill of real enthusiasm at +the sight.</p> + +<p>Monkeys came, a band of impudent Cebus, who +dared descend to the branch tips, to shake them, +and with many simian oaths to challenge me to +come on. I took one step in their direction, and +they fled chattering. Birds were almost always in +sight—great yellow-headed vultures who swept +down out of mid-heaven to see whether my prostrate +body meant death. Doves boomed, toucans +yelped, and after the first week a berry tree ripened +its fruit, and no hour passed without flocks of parrots +screeching full-lunged and sending down a rain +of pits. Humming-birds fought overhead and +fell, locked together bill and claw, at my feet; +flycatchers found my glade a happy hunting +ground.</p> + +<p>One morning when I made up my mind to let +no outside sight or sound through to my conscious +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span>concentration on the doings of the little people of +bark and wood, I was suddenly startled into utter +forgetfulness of my work. Here in the heart of +the South American jungle there were reproduced +for me the steep hills and valleys of northern Yunnan +and Burma—the smells, the colors, the cold +eddies of wind from the Tibetan snows—all were +recrystallized in my mind by the notes of silver +pheasants. From the underbrush behind my seat +came the unmistakable low, liquid murmurs, breaking +unexpectedly into the thrilling cackling. I +dropped everything, and fifty feet away found a +pair of distracted motmots who could not make +their full-grown offspring behave, and were voicing +their shattered nerves in this amazingly pheasantine +outburst.</p> + +<p>Herein lies the threefold charm of the labor of +a scientist,—its unexpectedness, its mystery, and +the eternal march of its phenomena, approaching, +occurring, and passing into ever-vivid memory.</p> + +<p>After the first week of observation my methods +of close study had so sharpened my senses that the +tree seemed to me to have passed into a resurrection +of renewed vitality. Out of its death had come +superabundant life. It recalled an observation by +a stout fellow naturalist of mine, Samson by name, +made many centuries ago. Some time after he had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span>casually rent a lion in twain, he returned to look at +the beast, and “behold there was a swarm of bees +and honey in the carcass of the lion.”</p> + +<p>No part of it from underground roots to shrivelled +topmost foliage was free from a flutter and +bustle of vibrant beings. Thousands upon thousands +of lives would cease and their races become +extinct were it not for the occasional death of such +a jungle giant as this.</p> + +<p>An hour of undiluted, blazing sun drove me back +to the splintered stump for shelter. I walked +around and around it and then mounted it and fell +to studying the cross-section smoothed by the skilful +ax-blows of my friends the dusky criminals. +I counted carefully, marking every century with a +smudge of ink from my fountain pen, and when I +had reached the very heart, I stood up and looked +at the mighty Etaballi with renewed awe. I felt +as if I had been unduly familiar with a stranger +who was suddenly revealed as some very famous, +very great historical character. For when this huge +plant first broke from its seed and took root in this +very spot where I stood, Genghis Khan became +emperor of the Mongols. When its first leaves +struggled for light and air the Crusades were at +their height; on the opposite side of the world troubadours +and minnesingers were making music, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span>Columbus and his voyages were still three centuries +in the future.</p> + +<p>For many minutes I remained quiet, held in wonder +at the long centuries of human achievement. +Then I returned to the watching of the life of today. +I saw the excited creatures coming over the +ground, along tangled branches or upon swift +wings, and I saw that they were marvellously +equipped, forearmed.</p> + +<p>As I pondered on these mysteries and watched a +sliver of a beetle crawling on the bark, human history +blurred, faded and passed from mind. When +Genghis Khan reigned, the beetle’s ancestors were +doing exactly what he is doing; double the years +and Attila was making precedent for his successors—and +identical beetle slivers crawled over dead +bark. Ten times the years of this tree take us back +beyond human history, add twenty or one hundred +times its length of life, when our forebears were +fighting to lift themselves above the other beasts, +and in all probability not the slightest change could +have been detected in the color, size, shape or habits +of the flat predecessors of the tiny beetle under my +lens.</p> + +<p>When the bark begins to loosen a whole world +comes by day and by night to creep beneath, and +begin all the mysterious rites and achievements +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span>which fate allots to creatures of the under bark. +All are positively thigmotactic which, as I once explained, +is having the irresistible desire to touch or +be touched by something, above, below, and—a +thigmotac’s greatest joy—on all sides at once. +Twice I have experienced this and found it very +terrible; the first time when I crept out of Cheops +by the ancient, rubbish-obscured robbers’ entrance, +when sharp bits of alabaster so held me for a time +that I could not move, and my imagination pictured +the whole weight of the mighty pyramid pressing +upon me. Another time was near the end of an +obstacle race on a Toyo Kisen Keisha steamer, +when each competitor, after fifteen minutes of constant, +exhausting stunts on three decks, had to +creep through a long, canvas ventilator laid flat on +the deck. Half-way through, with the second man +at my heels, I felt the canvas tube become narrower +where an old tear had been sewn up, and my shoulders, +even when pressed together, held the tube +taut. Lungs full of coal dust, my blood beating in +my ears like turbines,—no danger from savages or +adventure with wild animals which I could recall, +had ever given me a more ghastly minute.</p> + +<p>I returned from my first day at the tree with a +dozen beetles, and from a glance at them pinned in +my collection, I can with certainty interpret their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span>respective walks or creeps or crawls of life. A +number are thin, but one is so amazingly flat that +I am preserving it carefully among a few choice +wonders of the insect world.</p> + +<p>It is a small beetle, black and shiny as a new jet +bead. It is oblong, and only by the most careful +scrutiny can the faint details of the head, wings and +body be detected. They seem no more than surface +scratches and put to shame the most delicate +watch or Japanese carving. I turn the beetle sideways +and he becomes a mere black line, less in +diameter than the slender pin which supports him. +The under surface shows a more complex maze of +lines, marking where jaws, antennæ, legs and feet +are stowed away. He is a third of an inch long +and a fiftieth thick. But above and below he wears +his skeleton outside—a solid sheath of dense, hard +chitin, and if we conservatively allot half of his +thickness to this external armor, we have a space +one hundredth of an inch into which is packed in +perfect working order muscles for spinning his +wings, walking, twiddling his antennæ and grinding +his jaws; brain, nerves, eyes and other sense +organs, mouth, stomach and intestine, and, if a lady +beetle, ovaries whose scores of eggs are brought to +maturity, with an intricate apparatus for depositing +them. On another day I caught a wafer of an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span>earwig whose bust measurement compared with its +inch length, would, translated into human height, +make a person just two inches in thickness. All the +compactness of these shavings of vitality, these +slivers of life, is in anticipation of the death of such +a tree as this and the subsequent loosening of the +bark.</p> + +<p>Other beetles are antitheses of the first one, each +a tiny cylinder with every surface rounded and +every organ curved. The outer armor is a rich, +glowing mahogany with a scattering of golden +hairs and an absurd tail-piece, round, blunt and +jagged. I did not realize the perfection of this +arrangement, until, during the second week, I came +upon a whole flock of these little chaps in their tunnels. +After dark a flash-light showed only a tiny +shaft driven into the heart of the wood, surrounded +by cores of white, chewed-up wood pulp, but the +moment the light struck down the hole, the faintest +of shuffling could be heard by placing one’s ear +close, and like magic the hole vanished. The inmate +had somehow detected the unwelcome light +and had hastily backed up and plugged the entrance +with himself. Now, looking at the pinned +insect, the funny, round, jagged end-piece, so silly +and meaningless in itself, resolved into a perfection +of adaptation. No one could jump his claim! +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span>Beetles like these are stolid folk, wholly lacking a +sense of humor, and they go through life, deliberately, +directly, with never a side-wise glance or a +light thought. In all this they have much in common +with turtles.</p> + +<p>Quick as the beetles were to take advantage of +the new manna, others were before them, and I +believe the very first comers were small, flat, wingless +roaches, which scurried away as I lifted bits of +bark. Roaches form the conservative wing of the +insect world, and have many characteristics of certain +persecuted human races. They are found +everywhere, contented with a safe, middle course of +life, seldom aspiring to size or bright colors, never +attacking or even defending themselves, or putting +on side in their life-histories. Once a cockroach +always a cockroach is their motto. They have no +responsibility of grub or pupal stage, and from the +Palæozoic Age, unknown millions of years ago, +to the present moment when one scuttled from the +flood of light which I threw into his refuge, roaches +have changed but little.</p> + +<p>After the roaches or with them, for they resent +no company provided they are allowed to creep and +thigmotac in safety, came the wedges and gimlets +of beetles, and in the next two weeks successions of +stages of these hard-backs. First all but invisible +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span>eggs, then pale grubs squirming about in the fermenting +wood, and finally a dynasty when the bark +catacombs were filled with groups of stiff little +mummies.</p> + +<p>I excavated the débris in a deep hollow in the +tree which once had been a hundred feet above the +ground, and experienced something of the thrill of +those who delve into ancient cities. At the top +was a layer of twigs and leaves shaken up by the +concussion of the fall. An inch or two below I +found many berry pits and fruit seeds and when I +scooped out several handfuls there came to light a +dried and shriveled carcass, unmistakable in beak +and foot—a nestling toucan which had never lived +to fly and yelp and pluck bright berries in the sunlight +of the tree-tops. Down I went again, into the +very bottom of this nest midden, and there came +upon rotten chips and soft, downy feathers. +Among them were two, broken, stiff tail feathers +which could have come only from one bird, the giant +Guiana woodpecker, almost half a yard in length, +with bill of ivory, and plumage of black, scarlet +and white. No one could tell whether these birds +nested in this stub within the decade, or when Galileo +faced the Inquisition,—for the age of the supporting +limbs made such latitude possible.</p> + +<p>Still another discovery was left in my arboreal +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>palimpest. I was crumbling up the wood near the +top of the hollow stub, where, long ago, it had been +reduced by heat, water, fungi and insects to a rich, +dark, pulpy mass. Suddenly, over a tiny chip, a +weird little face peered at me, and a minute millipede, +scurrying past, pushed over the wooden +screen and exposed the quaintest being in the +world. It was a doll or mummy—even the most +technical scientist would admit the first, for he +would call it a pupa, which was what little Roman +children called their dolls. Being an average pupa +it was motionless, and, propped up by accident +against the dark, red background, it presented a +multiple personality,—one thought of angel, curate, +banker, clown, simultaneously. Around its +head was an absurdly perfect replica of a halo, then +came two mournfully sloped eyes, dark brown, sad, +stolid; just midway down their diameter two translucent +shields curved across, giving the little being +the appearance of peering over horn-rimmed +glasses; mouth parts were encased in crystalline +coverings, a mouth which drooped at the corners—one +felt that nought in past experience or future +hope could ever twist that expression into a smile. +Palpi were draped in each side like the side whiskers +of a financier of the ’eighties. The two front +legs, bent, with tips touching and elbows out, were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span>laughably, like the comic paper idea of a country +curate with finger tips spread and touching, gazing +sadly over his glasses at some regretted irregularity +of life. Then came the opal-sheathed wings, +sweeping around in a beautiful curve across the +whole of the underbody, as in old prints of guardian +angels. Finally the tapering body-segments and +their tip, fashioned in projecting styles. A hasty +movement of mine sent down a shower of bits of +wood, and buried the pupa. Carefully I uncovered +him in his deep dark cavern and as I removed the +last concealing chip, my little mummy gave me an +unexpected surprise. From the hinder part of his +body gleamed two dull lights, shining with a strong, +steady glow, and illuminating the magenta walls +of his sarcophagus. No wonder the appearance of +these little chaps recalled most remarkable trilobite-like +pupæ which I had found years ago in mid-Borneo, +which proved to be firefly larvæ. I forgot +all the comedy of halo, horn-glasses and finger tips, +and with a little awe and much enthusiasm I +watched the greenish-yellow shine. In the egg +there is the first faint kindling—a dim, evanescent, +rush-light glow; and here in the pupa, although it +would have to wait perhaps many weeks before attaining +adult beetlehood, its little lamps were +trimmed and steadily alight, burning low it is true, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span>and without the lighthouse rhythm of flash and +blackness, flash and blackness. Already it was +preparing for the all-important responsibility when +upon the illumination would depend the chances of +a mate and the future of its race.</p> + +<p>The light of fireflies is one of the few things in +this world which merit the term <i>perfect</i>. A gas +flame is only three percent efficient, developing +ninety-seven percent of useless, invisible heat or +chemical rays; the blazing glare of the electric arc +is only ten percent of what it ought to be, and most +astonishing of all is the fact that sunshine gives off +only thirty-five percent of visible light rays. Unlike +Stevenson’s “Lantern Bearers” the glow, +deep-cloaked within the body of a firefly is wholly +lacking in heat; it is one hundred percent pure +flame.</p> + +<p>I returned to the loosening bark and found that +close upon the heels of the beetles came thrips, although +these stout little fellows preferred the high, +arched, dead branches to the main prostrate trunk. +Few people have ever seen a thrips, but those who +can find delightful the sound of the world itself +have part compensation. When the time comes and +one has seen and enjoyed a live thrips or a thousand +thrips, then life will have acquired a new +molecule of pleasure. If I say the word comes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span>thrippingly to the tongue, it is only because I have +just been consorting with a host of thrips, and their +joy of life, their apparent love of play is infectious. +Thrips are among the lesser folk of earth and if one +attains the length of a third of an inch he is a +Goliath of a thrips. But this, apparently like +everything in nature, is comparative, for a thrips +barely a fifth of an inch in length may harbor two +hundred parasitic worms, who doubtless consider +their host as gigantic. These tiny creatures are +peculiar in many ways, as for example in their +name which is both singular and plural. Also for +unknown, but comparatively long periods of time, +male thrips are wholly superfluous both for the +continuance of the race, or companionship, or whatever +other functions gentlemen thrips may be fitted +to perform. In loyalty to my sex I pass this by, +thoughtfully but without comment.</p> + +<p>In the sizzling midday sun I first became aware +that the era of thrips had arrived at my fallen tree. +It seemed as if the samisen cicada players and myself +were the only things awake in the world. The +bark under my eyes suddenly assumed a salmon +hue and my lens showed uncountable hosts of +minute, scarlet thrips, all doing a frantic, zoroastrian +dance. They were slender bits of life, with +nondescript head and a tapering body looking like +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span>a string of scarlet buttons. They ran swiftly to and +fro on their six legs, holding the body high aloft +or thrashing it from side to side. Sometimes a half +dozen thrashed together, in some diminutive wild +rhythm, or two circled around each other, or antennæd +some thripian scandal. Under the shoulder +of one bit of bark dust three infant thrips practiced +thrashing (a good tongue-twisting phrase!) until +I tired of watching. All these were larvæ, or +rather immature thrips, scarlet and wingless. Now +every young insect with which I have ever been +acquainted had thought and action only for food, +but here was a whole generation of thrips—all under +age—dancing and whirling about and waving +their wild tails for hours during the hottest part of +several days. I thought well of thrips for this +unique casualness.</p> + +<p>Every now and then an adult thrips appeared, +somewhat larger, glossy black with scarlet seams +and four marvellous wings. As wings they seemed +hopelessly inadequate, but as ornaments they had +much merit. If a crow were to shed all his wing +feathers and was provided instead with four, small +ostrich plumes, we would not expect him to fly. A +mature thrips sports four delicate feathers with +narrow shafts and wide, soft fringes down each +side.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p> + +<p>I was once astonished to see a bony horse hitched +to a decrepit car, slowly traversing a cross street +in New York City, and learned that it was a mere +gesture, a childish fulfilling of certain legal phrases +in order to hold the franchise of the horse-car line. +I recalled this when I saw an adult thrips coming +through the air, slowly, uncertainly, with dangling +body and pitiful feather wings barely sustaining +the owner. This too was a gesture, a needless +effort, for he landed heavily on the same branch, +quite exhausted, a few feet away from the point of +departure. On foot he could have made the distance +quickly and with little exertion. Again I +admired the thrips, for as in his youth he had +played and danced as well as eaten, so now in adult +phase he made the beau geste—the pitiful clinging +to the franchise of his volant ancestors. His wings +might be dwarfed by disuse, frayed by degeneration, +but he could still cast with shrivelled muscles a +shadow of past achievements.</p> + +<p>The coming of the thrips was sudden, their ways +were inexplicable, their going wholly mysterious. +One day there were uncounted millions. Shortly +afterward, needing a new more notes on their activities +I went out and found every one gone,—not +a single one remained. In their haunts were +growths of evil-looking fungi, semi-liquid drops of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span>scarlet trembling on yellow stalks, and around and +among these sinister growths crept vast numbers of +extremely small mites. These—plant and animal—were +in turn evanescent and lasted but two days, +but the going of the thrips will never be explained,—whether +by migration, poison from the omnipotent +fungus, or, as with so many other peoples of +earth, through enervating lives of ease.</p> + +<p>By sense of smell I could tell that radical chemical +changes were going forward in the fallen tree. +At first the glade was filled with the tang of aromatic +wood, the clean, fresh odor of new split plant +tissues; then the sap became heated and fermentation +set in. The first stages were unpleasant, musty +and acrid, but finally a malty whiff developed, +which during my hours of research, awoke exhilarating +pre-prohibition memories. If my coarse sense +could detect these successive changes, what staggering +olfactory blows must have been dealt to the +delicate flies which came with the first hint of ruptured +plant cells. Unlike the beetles they undertook +their business in life with an apparent +joyousness, and like the thrips they all had an +inordinate love of the dance. It is a strange thing +that at carrion and decaying wood we find so much +graceful and intricate action, such varied courtship, +so much effort only indirectly concerned with the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span>odorous maelstrom which has summoned them all +together. The visitors to beautiful and sweet-scented +flowers and fruit, on the contrary, come +and sip and leave, without delay or distraction.</p> + +<p>I soon realized that I could spend all my time +for at least a year on the study of the flies alone +which came to the fallen tree. For ten mornings +there came hundreds of small marble-wings, which +wave their two, parti-colored banners alternately +about. I looked closer and saw that they were +clustered in groups of six to twelve, or more usually +seven to thirteen. All the fortunate ones who had +secured a mate were busy every moment protecting +her from roaming males. The female fly had very +short legs on which she walked briskly about, +searching for suitable crevices to deposit her eggs. +Her mate, on his elongated legs, stalked just above +her, apparently anticipating every move. The pair +would progress by quick, short spurts until a wing-waving +stranger hove in sight. No introduction +or preliminary challenge was necessary. The newcomer +rushed up and tried to butt the husband +out of the way. The rightful fly would haunch +his thorax and brace his legs, for all the world like a +football player meeting interference. Running +swiftly around, the assailant would make another +attempt on the opposite side. Meanwhile the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span>female, apparently oblivious of all this strife on the +second floor, went calmly on her way, making the +engagement very confused and ineffective by thus +constantly shifting the field of battle.</p> + +<p>We should emphasize this admirable, domestic +preoccupation to the full, for otherwise it pains me +to record a lamentable lack of Lucystonism. The +lady flies seemed indeed to care little what might +be the outcome of the battles. When, now and then, +her faithful guardian was overthrown and pushed +into outer loneliness, the new protector was accepted +without demur. In fact her bark-searching +position allowed her glimpses of little more than +the ankles of her Lord and Master, and it must +indeed be difficult to be deeply moved emotionally +by choice of ankles alone.</p> + +<p>The battling of the mates was as it should be +and has been since the beginning of time—brave +gentlemen waging war over the weaker sex, +but what shall we say of another group of seven +where the seventh was an ignored wall flower! +The poor little virgin did not accept her neglect +in humble resignation, but proved herself a militant +feminist, and made one attempt after another to +drag her more fortunate sisters from the protection +of their towering mates. She was always rebuffed +and the last I saw of her, she was washing her face +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span>and hands, fly-fashion, after an ignominious tumble +into a thimbleful of dirty water, which is fly-size for +lake. How I longed to tell her of a scene being +enacted only a few inches away, where I observed +the meeting of two lonely bachelors. They began +a most terrific head-pulling contest, until finally +they separated unharmed and quite exhausted, and +went peacefully off, perhaps realizing that after all +in their case there was nothing in particular to fight +about.</p> + +<p>From a fly’s eye height I looked down the prostrate +trunk with twenty or thirty groups of tussling +marble-wings in sight, their earnest but futile +efforts to injure one another very comic to my eyes, +but to them as serious as only fate can be serious.</p> + +<p>Other flies had very different ensigns and dances. +In one the wings were divided lengthwise, the front +half being black, the rear transparent. These wandered +singly over the bark and as they went, they +swung first to one side, then to the other, at each +swing opening out the wing on that side. The +movement was exactly that of a skater taking long, +oblique strokes, and swinging his arms far out to +the side (a simile which could have no meaning for +any native of this country). When two flies meet +they do the outer edge around one another, closing +in to battle if of the same sex, or to courtship if of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>the opposite. Others are perky peacock flies, with +head and tail lifted in a position of eternal alertness, +who slither along without perceptible individual +leg motion, going sideways or backwards +with equal ease. Their battle technique is like that +of the bulldog, leaping from a distance, but the +ferocity of their intent far exceeds their power of +injury, and they bounce harmlessly off each other. +They remind me of</p> + +<p> + “Empusa’s crew, so naked-new, they may not face the fire,<br> + But weep that they bin too small to sin to the height of their desire.” +</p> + +<p>The creatures who come to gnaw and chew the +dead wood are only one component of the complex +maelstrom of life, siphoned hither by the smell of +sap and decaying bark. One day an army of white +fungus tents sprang up on a rotting branch, and +a foot away even my poor human sense could detect +a mildewy odor from them. Hundreds of insects +scattered far and wide through the jungle, +to whom the infinitely more powerful sap smell had +meant nothing, were now vitalized into instant action, +and there came into existence a whirlpool +within the maelstrom. Great wine-colored beetles +and smaller ones of various pigments, gathered in +scores, dancing flies which were never seen on bark +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span>or carrion were summoned, and strange short-winged +beings with scarlet tips to their slender +bodies which they waved in mid-air like mock +torches. As I knew from past experience the +delicate, lace umbrellas would last only three days, +and I watched with interest the race which these +vital beings ran against time. No tunnels or mines +for them, no prolonged courtship, but a quick mating +and depositing of eggs which became grubs or +maggots almost on the instant. Two days later, +grubs were eating and molting with frenzied haste, +and on the third day, when their nutritious shelters +blackened and melted away, the larvæ dropped with +them into the mat of leaf mold beneath.</p> + +<p>The dilettante flies of the fungus puzzled me. +Theirs were aerial dances, and for hour after hour +they swung and feinted, swooped or hung like motionless +motes. This mystery was solved when I +took a number of the beetle pupæ to the laboratory +and confined them in a glass observation dish. In +a few days, instead of beetles, out came dancing +flies. No wonder they had no need of haste; as +parasites they could batten at leisure on others’ +labors. I looked askance at the rich regard of life +and the new generation granted to what my Puritan +fore-fathers would have decried as sinful, ungodly +gaiety.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p> + +<p>Returning again to my bark I found a hundred +similar cases. Spiders and wasps and many other +enemies were gathering. Day by day the chains of +life were forged longer and longer. Within my +first week at the tree I could write the following +from direct observation:</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;"> + This is the bird<br> + That caught the lizard<br> + That ate the wasp<br> + That stung the spider<br> + That sucked the fly<br> + That killed the grub<br> + The son of the beetle<br> + That gnawed the tree<br> + That fell in the storm at Kartabo. +</p> + +<p>Or to be more technically explicit:</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;"> + This is the Attila<br> + That caught the Cnemidophorus<br> + That ate the Pompilid<br> + That stung the Ctenid<br> + That sucked the Tachinid<br> + That killed the immature Coleopteron<br> + The son of the Elater<br> + That gnawed the Vochisia<br> + That fell in the meteorological disturbance of Kartabo. +</p> + +<p>And so the wonderful adventure went on. It +had happened a thousand thousand times, and for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span>uncounted miles in all directions were untold numbers +of these trees whose lives would sooner or +later terminate. My Etaballi, whose roots reached +deep into the ground, and more than seven centuries +into time, was dissolving. Bark and branch, +sap and heartwood, by the alchemy of life were +being rekneaded into a host of lesser beings—crawling, +flying, dull and brilliant, hard and soft, +clever and stupid, and as these poured forth from +crevice or tunnel, cocoon or pupa, and their gauzy +wings dried, their armor crystallized into malachite +or emerald, there confronted them enemies in every +guise and form. And presently the substance of +the Etaballi, translated into the bodies of the borers, +was resurrected into spider, lizard and bird.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_154fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_154fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“The giant Etaballi fell last night”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Now and then I turn back to my journal for +May the twelfth, and read the sentence: “The giant +Etaballi fell last night.” Science, Religion, Philosophy—how +clear all these would be if we could +solve this one mystery. I had hoped for some faint +clew to the meaning of it all. I left my tree for the +last time certain only of the profound inadequacy +of my human mind.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="OLD-TIME_PEOPLE"> + OLD-TIME PEOPLE + </h2> + <h3 class="smcap">Part I—Fact</h3> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">A volcano</span> in eruption and a jungle monkey—nothing +can ever quite prepare our +minds for the first sight of these. Neither the +crude wood-cut of Vesuvius in our old school +geography, nor the latest colored moving picture +of Kilauea, adumbrates the awe of the +silent, ascending line of smoke, or the nocturnal +glow of fires, old as earth itself is old. Your +canoe slips through the reflection of everhanging +jungle, and you suddenly spy a little face +peering out from the fronds,—a face wistful, serious, +grave as with the weight of planetary responsibilities; +and so human that you feel that somewhere +in its past it too could tell of an Eden tragedy. If +not an apple, it must at least have nibbled a berry +of some little vine of self-consciousness. How unlike +the immobile features of the deer and rodents +and jungle cats is this sober, anxious little ego! +And how vividly our orchid climbing days return +when we see a family of bandarlog swarming up a +liana. These miniatures of ourselves seem to climb +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span>as easily against gravitation as we loll down hill +with it.</p> + +<p>This Guiana jungle is a strange and wonderful +place when we think of it from the view-point of its +monkey tenants. Their floors are swaying vines +and bending branches, their roofs green waving +fans and banners. Their nearer neighbors are humming-birds +and leaf-winged butterflies, gaudy toucans +and screeching parrots. Far up through +skylights they catch glimpses of vultures, soaring a +mile above earth, and yet with eyes so keen that an +accidental headlong fall to earth of any little monkey +would bring a score of hungry ghouls. Through +the skylight, too, hurtles swift death,—harpy +eagles, whose grip is the end.</p> + +<p>The jungle sends up enormous trees, one +hundred, two hundred feet, among the branches of +some of which fifteen hundred generations of monkeys +have gambolled. If these stood like oaks in +a meadow, isolated and alone, the four-handed ones +would perish or have to take to the ground. But +lignum vitæ rather than arbor vitæ should be the +simian’s password, for the vines which bind together +the whole tropical forest are the way of life +of the monkey. By means of the untold fathoms +of ratlines and suspension bridges, tight ropes and +ladders, these jungle people can range for thousands +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span>of miles without ever coming to earth, living +in the realm of orchids and birds’ nests, of sloths +and tree lizards.</p> + +<p>Their very name has come to be a byword, although, +like their physical bodies in past ages, it +is bound to us etymologically by monna and madonna. +We laugh at their comic little faces and +ways and, if we are incurably fanatic or quite +egocentric, or fearful of what comes after death, we +indignantly deny all past kinship of a common +ancestor. On the other hand, if we love the truth +and have a sense of humor, we recognize that these +little jungle folk have missed being human by some +very little accident, being, but for the grace of some +side-tracking, ourselves. And while we swagger +upright and think of our brains with complacency, +are we sure that all the advantage is on our side?</p> + +<p>As with us, the whole of the lives of these monkeys +is one long struggle against gravitation. They +are born and weaned, they play and fight, they eat +and sleep, in midair far from the ground, and only +when death comes, do the tiny fingers relax and +headlong they slip through fronds and leaves to the +earth itself. This same eternal pull of earth holds +us completely in thrall at birth, then we roll over, +struggle to hands and knees and creep reptile-like +for a space. At last we rise upon unsteady soles +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span>and from three to seventy we walk or run, swinging +our arms to balance us, frequently tumbling to +earth again, exhausted after a few hours and sinking +upon chair or bed to gather strength against +another day of upright struggle.</p> + +<p>The joys of climbing, of balance, of swaying +limbs, of headlong leaps from self-earned lofty +vistas, pass with boyhood for most of us. They are +renewed for me sometimes when I mount the ratlines +of a ship plunging through heavy seas, or in +the first rush of a nose dive from high in air.</p> + +<p>We cheat the power of earth with elevators, +though to do so we must call upon the lightning or +waters for aid. Instead of holding to clean-barked +boughs, swaying aloft in the sunlight, we creep beneath +the ground and dangle unsteadily from dirty +straps. In place of plucking our fruit fresh +from its native stem and eating it amid the green +glow of its own foliage, we barter for its shrivelled +pulp sealed in cans of tin. We gape at and applaud +those of our kind who dare, upon tight-rope or +trapeze, feats which any self-respecting monkey +would smack her child for thus bungling.</p> + +<p>The Capuchin, the bourgeois organ-grinder’s +friend, in past years now and then climbed our +gutter-pipe and at the reminding jerk on his cord, +pitifully doffed his little cap and took our pennies. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span>Here in his home we tame him and bind him to us +with affection, so that with full liberty he chooses +his sleeping box on our laps. He is silent, and +gentle and serious like the coolies who work on the +coastal rice-plantations.</p> + +<p>This is, of course, merely generalization, comparable +to the immortal description, “The French +are a gay and polite people, fond of dancing and +light wines.” Anyone who has been a friend to +creatures,—dogs, birds, monkeys or any other of +our quaint companions in this curious world,—knows +that individuals vary in disposition and +temperament only less than what we are pleased to +call the highest order, Man.</p> + +<p><i>Some</i> Capuchins are silent; we have known some +whose garrulity tried our patience and our hearing. +There was once a man who took a cage to the African +jungle and so far reversed the usual procedure +as to enter it himself, while the gorillas congregated +outside,—or so he hoped,—to gaze on the strange +sight. His purpose was to study the language of +gorillas. One suspects that the vocabulary thus acquired +would be chiefly of a scurrilous nature, but +who is so lacking in a sense of justice as to grudge +the apes a chance to get even at last?</p> + +<p>We have acquired some knowledge of monkey +talk, especially from our Capuchin pets. It does +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span>not seem an extensive tongue but the same sound +can, as with us, be given many different meanings +by inflection, pantomime, or even facial expression. +When one of our small Cebus friends is confronted +by some terrifying sight, such as a monstrous +iguana, he springs away precipitately, wide-open +mouth expelling on a sharp breath a guttural hissing +grunt. Engaged with us in a game of tag +around the laboratory, he sometimes finds himself +cornered; then he emits the same sound, but no one +could now take it for an expression of fear. It is +much prolonged, without the abrupt tone of real +terror, and his white teeth gleam in his open mouth +in an unmistakable grin as he capitulates and flings +himself confidently into our outstretched hands.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_176fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_176fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>“One wistful little chap”</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>One wistful little chap who was once a member +of the laboratory family would sustain his part in +serious discussion for minutes at a time. To open +the conversation, one had only to approach him +closely, look him in the eye, and smack the lips +gently and repeatedly. To this he never failed to +respond in kind, but much more rapidly than human +lips could move, wrinkling his brows mightily +the while with the effort of concentration, and occasionally +varying his remarks by an emphatic +shake of the head and a curious throaty chuckle +with a falling cadence, which sounded for all the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span>world as though he demanded briefly, “Whatcher +got?”</p> + +<p>Monkeys have bad dreams, nightmares that perhaps +are shared by us. Often in the evening I have +been distracted from some microscopic business in +hand by a clamor from the compound, and going +out have seen a pitiful monkey face, with frightened +drowsy eyes peering anxiously for insubstantial +bugbears, and heard small whimpers of allayed +distress as nervous little hands clung to my solid +and reassuring fingers.</p> + +<p>Most Capuchins have in their repertoires some +almost bird-like tones of clear twitters and chirrups, +and, when they are particularly anxious to be noticed, +a sweet call, Coo-coo-coo, whose blandishment +it is difficult to resist. This same phrase, loud +and prolonged is the call of the clan when widely +separated in the jungle. It carries over half a mile.</p> + +<p>The Beesa monkey, like the native Indian, is a +silent mystery. Neither likes close confinement, +and no emotion is shown by their placid, inscrutable +faces. The young do not understand the strange +new beings who have come into their lives, and soon +pine away; as long as they live they are extremely +affectionate, but mentally dull and timid.</p> + +<p>Beesas are strange-looking beasts. The fur is +black, very long and coarse, the tail appearing as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span>large around as the whole body. The face is purplish-brown, +surrounded in the adult, with a great +ruff of yellowish-white. The young Beesa is more +frowsy and less judicial in appearance. They roam +through mid-jungle heights, a single great male +leading his harem of five or six females, while as +many half-grown youngsters trail behind. As they +climb from tree to tree, sliding down vines or scaling +steep aerial ladders, they utter a low, abrupt, +penetrating grunt or cough sounding like a faint, +dull blow of wood on wood, which ordinarily would +never be noticed among the rustling of leaves and +the occasional thump of a falling fruit or dead +branch. When alarmed they slip away rapidly, and +so short are their legs and so long their fur that they +seem to flow instead of walk along the branches.</p> + +<p>The squirrel monkeys or sackawinkis are, next +to the marmosets, the smallest of the Guiana monkeys. +Their noses appear to have been dipped into +an ink bottle, and their brains into spirits of +ammonia. They are living springs, never running +down, but withal sober and silent in their contacts +with life and ourselves.</p> + +<p>There seems to be in some respects a relation +between size and intelligence, not only as in elephants +and shrews, but in monkeys. The marmosets,—tiny, +furry, nervous little beings, are very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span>stupid, food and safety occupying their almost +every moment.</p> + +<p>The monkey of monkeys of this jungle is the big +red Howler. He lives in families, and when the +great male raises his head and in the light of early +dawn sends forth his mighty voice, its reverberations +are distinctly audible three miles away. His +tail is long and full-muscled, and the bare skin beneath +its tip has lines and cushions which tell of +things forever lost to us. The color of the long, +silky hair is that of the gold nuggets in the streams +which trickle through the jungle far below, and +the emotions of our tame young Howler are those +of a very young child,—he is curious, timid, resentful, +excitable, greedy, affectionate, serious; as +fond of lifting his voice in anger or joy as a negro +at a revival and as volatile as a twenty-four-hour +thermometer chart in a desert. Jungle monkeys, +and an active volcano,—see them before you die, +or you will have missed two splendid thrills in life.</p> + + +<h3 class="smcap">Part II—Theory</h3> + +<p>A little monkey climbed down a swaying vine, +hand over hand, until his face was close to a quiet +pool of sweet water. The day before at evening, +he had done the same thing. His mother and his +ancestors for generations had done likewise. And +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span>always they chattered at the monkey they saw in +the water, and finally in anger snatched at him, and +their little fingers troubled the water and the monkey +vanished. Then they drank eagerly, turned +quickly, and clambered swiftly up to rest.</p> + +<p>Today the little monkey began to chatter, then +stopped. He moved, and the monkey in the water +moved. He brushed away some hairs from his +face and the water monkey. Then something happened. +He stopped chattering and peered again +and again at the face in the water. He put his +little paw over his eyes and slowly took it away. +Then he forgot his thirst, raised his head and gazed +fixedly before him, wrinkling his forehead and remaining +very quiet. And the more distant his gaze, +the less he seemed to observe, and the deeper became +the wrinkles.</p> + +<p>The night came quickly and the tragedies of the +darkness began. The little monkey had long ago +forgotten his momentary abstraction and was +curled in a slumbering ball high among the dense +foliage of a jungle tree.... If there is such a thing +as prophecy; if the first beginnings of great and +momentous things make themselves felt abroad, +then the cool night wind carried with it more than +the scent of orchids and the calls of the night folk. +It must have vibrated with the sense of the end of a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span>great regime. The dominance of animals was tottering, +the beginning of the end of earthly evolution. +Something introspective had come to pass—a +glimpse of the ego—a momentary flash of self +consciousness. The little face in the water was not +really another monkey. And the end of this realization +was to be man.</p> + +<p>But one such revelation was of no avail, and +whether the little monkey was finally caught by his +arch enemies—the serpents or leopards—or sometime +slipped and fell into his pool we shall never +know. But his memory can never die, for he was +the first Seer; his eyes were the first to look Beyond +and Within.</p> + +<p>Then the new thing happened to great ape-like +creatures. Day after day they would stop in their +swift, hand over hand swinging through the tree-tops +and gaze into space for a moment. These +primitive <i>penseurs</i> were at a disadvantage, for when +their less psychic brethren caught them off guard +they promptly crept up and slew them. But relentless +and remorseless as the waters of the open +sea, these waves of abstraction rolled on. And like +bits of drifting wreckage, came tossed and tumbled +thoughts, dumb and inarticulate, groping and +quite inadequate for any use.</p> + +<p>The first periods of self-realization were like +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span>trances or obsessions, wholly subconscious and involuntary. +For that which we have not conceived, +we cannot intentionally formulate. With feet and +hands clasped about branches, the great ape beings +swayed back and forth in the ecstasy of day dreams. +Then from the inward view, the inner sight with +unseeing eyes of what they could not name, they +came gradually to look again upon the outer world. +And now was wrought the great change, for linked +ideas flashed upon their confused brain, twin stars +of thought which in their grand-apesons might +evolve into knowledge of cause and effect, and the +greatest of all things thoughtful-correlation.</p> + +<p>Against single thinkers, the thoughtless ones +could easily prevail. And all the more easily because +in the beginning it was as it shall be in the end—the +law of compensation allots brawn to one, and +mind to another, as dominant attributes. This abstraction +was a thing apart, and unlike all other +changes which had come in the past. When one +stumbled upon a new way of opening cocoanuts, +or experienced witless facility in walking upright +for a few steps, one naturally kept the knowledge +to oneself. Why should any new-found ability be +shared! But these disturbing, inexplicable trances +often led to a greater interest in one’s neighbor or +one’s mate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> + +<p>Ah, one’s mate! One had not thought of this +before, except as a pleasing something to be kept +near one. Blindly one had captured it somehow +and one felt that one would tear that fellow ape +apart with teeth and sheer muscle if he came nearer +one’s mate; and if ... but here some buzzing fly +was sure to distract, or a troublesome itching of +one’s back which required one’s whole attention, +and then, ... well there was always something +else, or food or sleep.</p> + +<p>Not only to the great bull apes came these +lightning glimpses of self, but to the females. But +there was a difference. The correlation was direct. +The momentary loss due to introspection was all +but negatived by the instantaneous return to the +objective: a return which was like the ascent of the +diver with his pearl: a swift recovery of consciousness +leavened with the unfathomable mystery of +intuition. And through all the throes of thought +conception, when bull apes travailed with wrinkled +brows and aching heads for the sustained glimmer +which ever faded and died out, their mates went +about, ambling on crooked knuckles, and their little +pig eyes shot swiftly their message to one another—they +understood.</p> + +<p>They understood and waited quietly. And for +this waiting they shall have naught but praise, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>superlative praise. For it is not difficult to wait in +ignorance. Thus the crystal waits for its perfect +growth: the seed for the century-delayed warmth +and water. But with understanding to have patience: +to feel, however dumbly and blindly, the +future of equality, of splendid unanimity of interest +and respect, and to play one’s hopeless, inarticulate +part and wait—this is very wonderful.</p> + +<p>And this was the part of the female apes, and +the ape women. And the difference between these +was too fine for any written words. But as nearly +as may be it was the difference between waiting, +and waiting with understanding. And there were +ape women when as yet there were no ape men for +them to mate with. They followed the law and +accepted any bull ape who broke through their subconscious +restraint—that restraint and appraisement +which worked for evolution a hundred thousand +years ago—and will tomorrow. So the bulls +continued to come wooing like great brutal things +of lust and brawn. And the ape women, with a +last sidewise glance at their sisters, went with them.</p> + +<p>And the bull apes, they too obeyed the law, and +performed the three functions of their life—they +sought their food, escaped their enemies, and enjoyed +their mates. But they also did a fourth thing +equally important in the long run, which was hardly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span>classifiable, because it was instinctive and its +selfishness obscured by heredity. They killed every +weakling, or crippled bull or disabled female. One +great brawny female had to use tooth and muscle to +save her baby. Thus for once the law failed. And +the failure of the law was due to intuition. And +this was the second great result of the vision of the +Seer.</p> + +<p>The bulls had made but little use of their new-found +self-realizations. But now the ape woman +fought for her babe’s life and won. Weak and +small he certainly was, but he possessed wonderful +quickness, and every pursuit and attempt on his life +was unsuccessful. And he grew up and became a +failure as an ape. For he tired of catching flies, +and scratching and sunning and sleeping did not +seem to fill up all the hours of daylight. He played +with stones and gathered them in heaps, and then +fled. For at this point all the bull apes in sight, +having forgotten yesterday’s identical experience, +rushed up, expecting that such labor must mean +new-found food. Then he found hollow trees and +beat upon them for hours with palm or stick. But +he sought no mate, which was perhaps fortunate, +for he would doubtless have returned maimed, or +else been slain outright by the outraged female.</p> + +<p>Then one day came to pass the third wonderful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span>thing. A great woman, who had left her fang +marks on every bull who had tried to woo her, came +shuffling along and joined the weakling. He fled +only a short distance and then returned fearlessly. +For deceit and treachery were still to be evolved, +and when the mighty ape woman showed favor to +him he knew that it was truth. He accepted her, +and continued to fear the world and to potter about +with his stones, and bright-colored blossoms, and +his banging of hollow trees. Then he commenced +making club-like affairs, and sat outside the burrows +of small animals and smashed them when they +appeared. And one day he smashed the head of a +female ape, who, following the fourth law had attempted +to slay him, the unbearable weakling. Her +mate was roused to such a pitch, that his self-consciousness +dominated and he hunted his victim +down. And this was the end of the weakling, who +yet had carried out his destiny.</p> + +<p>When the great ape woman bore a child, it fulfilled +the promise of the little monkey’s first ecstasy. +The prophecy of the night wind had come to pass. +Here was balance of brawn and mind. Against his +twin thoughts, his correlation, his weapons, his +resources, opponents melted away. And this first +ape man found ape women ready: waiting and +understanding.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_BIRD_OF_THE_WINE-COLORED"> + THE BIRD OF THE WINE-COLORED + EGG + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">In</span> this life of ours it is the striking and startling +things which attract our attention and the inexplicable +which focus and hold it. A tinamou +fulfills all these requirements, but thrills only one +person in a hundred thousand, because that is about +the proportion of human beings which ever sees or +hears or eats him. Nevertheless, tinamous range +over forests and pampas of such extent that the +whole United States could be laid down twice upon +them without overlapping.</p> + +<p>Quail, partridges and pheasants are birds of the +north and temperate regions, and we are all +familiar with the part they play in the life of mankind—æsthetic, +recreational, and commercial. The +stress of competition or some innate constitutional +barrier hinders the dominance of these terrestrial +birds in the jungles of the tropics. In the area of +research at my British Guiana laboratory, only a +single small partridge has found and retained a +foothold, and this is a very uncommon bird. In its +low call-note, its arched-over nest and its dead leaf +plumage, it seems thoroughly affected by the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span>great, lonely dimness of its unusual haunts, and an +observant traveller could remain for months ignorant +of its very existence.</p> + +<p>Another group of fowl-like birds has solved life +in these great jungles by taking to the trees, even +nesting high up among the branches. These guans +and curassows have retained the whiteness of egg-shell +but have reduced the number of eggs in a +single laying to two.</p> + +<p>In the abhorrence of the well-known vacuum +accredited to Nature, the absence of terrestrial +gallinaceous birds is compensated by the presence +of tinamous, bob-tailed, sturdy running chaps, who +defy all the dangers of the tropics and carry on +their lives in the face of innumerable foes. To +those few fortunates like myself, who have had +opportunity to admire, watch, study, listen to, +shoot and eat these birds, the substitution is eminently +satisfactory.</p> + +<p>Five o’clock in the afternoon of a newcomer’s +first day in the jungle apprises him of the proximity +of tinamous—although if unaided by Indian or +ornithological lore, it may be months before he +knows to what he is listening. From its sweetness, +his guess will never be far from some song bird, +perhaps of beautiful plumage, and from its ventriloquial +character he will have no idea whether +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span>it comes from high overhead or from right or left +on the ground.</p> + +<p>Little by little, year after year, I have gleaned +a habit here, a peculiarity there, until at last it is +possible to piece them together into a mosaic of +sorts, a shadowy palimpsest of life history which +gives us more or less of an idea of the voice and +fears, the food and courtship, and the strange +domestic relationship of the sexes. The most +familiar of the three species occurring in the +quarter of a square mile of jungle at Kartabo is +the variegated tinamou. My Akawai Indian hunters +know him as orri-orri or maam, rolling the r’s +like any Spaniard, and when referring to him +technically I call him <i>Crypturus variegatus variegatus</i> +(Gmelin). This, for a wonder, is appropriate +when translated, and the variegated hiddentail +is an excellent and distinctive name.</p> + +<p>My first problem was to discover whether the +birds which I heard calling every evening were the +same individuals or whether these tinamous wandered +casually through the jungle except when actually +nesting.</p> + +<p>By means of slight peculiarities in the call-notes, +I was able in two instances to locate with certainty +the home range of the variegated tinamou. One +bird, a female as it ultimately proved, was always +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span>to be found in one of two small snarls of lianas +and underbrush. Any time during the night the +bird could be flushed from this spot. In the morning +about 5:30 she began calling, timidly at first, +then with more assurance. As it grew light she +left her retreat and moved slowly west across one +of our trails and then turned south to several trees +with fallen fruit. Here the calling ceased for about +half an hour and then recommenced as she retraced +her steps, turned west again and went on until I +lost her in the maze of thick jungle. Her last call +was given about seven o’clock. During the period +of a full month she followed this identical routine +every one of the eighteen mornings on which I +trailed her, with a single change to a new feeding +ground when the supply from the first gave out. +On five evenings I found her back in the brush +pile, when she began a new period of calling, +usually beginning about 5:15 and continuing intermittently +until nearly seven o’clock.</p> + +<p>Before the beginning of the regular silvery, +staccato trill, a single high, sweet, long-drawn-out +note is uttered, of about two seconds’ duration, +followed by an interval of three or four seconds, +when the call proper is given. Rarely, when the +bird becomes suddenly suspicious, the first note is +given alone, but almost invariably it is the precursor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span>of the call. When the birds rise they are +always silent, unlike pheasants, no matter how +terrified they may be. On moonlit nights I have +heard their usual call at intervals throughout the +night, on cloudy days it is sometimes uttered at +noon, while during no month of the year is the +variegated tinamou wholly silent. The call is, of +course, always given from the ground, and probably +nine-tenths of the utterances occur between +5:00 and 7:00 <span class="allsmcap">P.M.</span> and 5:30 and 6:30 <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span></p> + +<p>The first note is usually on F natural, and is +very sweet and penetrating, with considerable +carrying power, being audible for long distances +through the jungle. Several times I have heard +these birds across the Cuyuni River, almost a mile +away. It is a characteristic vocal utterance of +solitary birds which inhabit deep woods, taking the +place of motion, elaborate plumage, pattern and +color of birds which have more of a chance to communicate +by sight.</p> + +<p>I have, as regards the enemies of the tinamou, +three times found the feathers or other remains of +this species in the jungle, once accompanied by the +tracks of a margay cat or ocelot, and again by the +pugs of some smaller carnivore; another record is +of feathers of a tinamou in juvenile plumage in +the stomach of a spectacled owl.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> + +<p>Variegated tinamous are naturally timid birds +with a regular system of escape. When flushed +in deep jungle they rise with a sudden rush of +wings and scale off for twenty or thirty yards. +They then come to earth and freeze for ten or +fifteen minutes. If, as rarely happens, their landing +place is accurately located, either by actually +seeing the bird descend or the leaves moving, it is +an easy matter to approach quite close and watch +the bird for some time. It never moves while under +surveillance but stands like a bit of mottled jungle +débris with its eye full upon the disturber of its +peace. Nine times out of ten, the individual flushed +evades all scrutiny or search. Even more than +in the great tinamou, the plumage of this species +merges with the jungle floor. There is no doubt +that the birds unconsciously trust to their protective +coloring, both at first in permitting a close +approach and in freezing after the escape dash. +When one is crashing through dense undergrowth, +the birds escape by creeping silently to one side, +as I have now and then observed when crouching +and watching the progress of one of my party +near-by.</p> + +<p>Once I saw a bird collide with a tree-trunk and +fall stunned, although it ultimately recovered. But +I believe that such accidents, due to imperfect +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span>steering ability, occur more frequently with the +large tinamou than with either of the small ones.</p> + +<p>These solitary birds seem to have no especial +association with any other creatures of the jungle; +more than once I have seen them stop feeding and +look up in alarm at the warning rattle of an ant-bird +which had discovered me, but this recognition +of the quality of alarm in other birds’ notes is +common to most of the jungle fraternity.</p> + +<p>Small berries or fruits form almost the whole +vegetable diet, many cherry-like with round pits, +wild plums with oblong stones, hard acorn-like +seeds and occasionally fleshy fruits without pits or +seeds. All the food is procured on the ground, and +the birds in company with agoutis have favorite +berry trees, under which, at the season of falling +fruit, they may be found evening after evening.</p> + +<p>They are as solitary in their roosting as in other +ways; they roost on the ground, or, as in two cases +at least, on fallen logs a few inches up. Usually +the choice of place is deep within a tangle of lianas +and vines, from which the bird could not possibly +take immediate flight. I have kept close watch on +a bird, which eventually proved to be a female, +through a brief period of intensive vocal courtship, +and neither then nor afterwards did the tinamou fail +each night to roost by herself in her solitary tangle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> + +<p>There are only three months during which I have +no record of breeding and these would undoubtedly +be filled up if I had more thorough knowledge of +the field under observation. The calling of the +females during every month would indicate that +there is no absolute cessation of breeding, as there +is in the case of the large <i>Tinamus</i>. The males of +these tinamous take full charge of the single egg +and the subsequent rearing of the chick, and I have +found a male, attended by a three-quarters grown +chick, incubating a newly laid egg.</p> + +<p>I should not like to make any assertion as to a +single male taking charge of more than three eggs +in succession, but from two-month-period reawakenings +of vocal calling in the vicinity of a single +nesting area, and the number of young secured +or reported from that place, I am quite sure that +three eggs, one after another, were incubated. It +is interesting to note that the same female, judging +from the break in a preliminary note of its +call, in the time under consideration, underwent +at least three other periods of song development +in an area somewhat to the northward, and although +I could never locate a nest or a brooding +male there, it is probable that she was courting if +not actually laying eggs for another male bird.</p> + +<p>In addition to this instance, at the end of March +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span>I have secured a male variegated tinamou with +one-third of the juvenile plumage still on the body, +incubating an egg with a week-old embryo, and +twice I have seen half-grown young birds in company +with a single adult, presumably the male +parent. My earlier experience with these birds +indicated the remarkable proportion of sexes of +eight males to one female. I now have a much +larger series for comparison, and of forty birds +secured within the area under observation, thirty-two +are males and eight females, a very exact +proportion of four to one. This is probably the +correct percentage.</p> + +<p>Almost all of the usual calling is done by the +females, while the more excited vocal courtship is +wholly feminine. Only once have I ever heard two +birds directly answering each other, and on this +same occasion I had my first glimpse of tinamou +courtship. The male (presumably) was perched +on a fallen log near my hiding place, while an approaching +bird (later proven a female) came +slowly, by short quick runs, from a bit of open +jungle farther west. In the intervals between runs +she gave utterance to a veritable ecstasy of calling—the +usual dignified, deliberate scale being run and +jumbled together in an excited, high-pitched flood +of tone. The male answered from time to time +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span>with the usual call, quite unexcitedly. With perhaps +several months of brooding cares behind him, +and more to come, we can hardly blame him for a +restrained, philosophical exhibition of emotion. As +the female approached, her runs became shorter +and more irregular, her body plumage flattened, +the head and neck were raised almost straight, and +with rapid, mincing steps, her body vibrating with +the effort of the continuous notes, she zigzagged +toward the calm recipient of her attention. An +abominable ant-bird discovered me at this moment, +and rattled and screamed his loudest. Both tinamous +seemed to perceive me at once, the male +slipped off his log, and the female rose in a sharp, +twisting spiral and I shot her as she turned, to +make certain of the presumed fact that it was indeed +the females which did the courting.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_192fp" style="max-width: 37.5em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_192fp.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption> + <p>The Tinamou</p> + <p>From a painting by Helen Damrosch Tee Van</p> + </figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>A few weeks later I was hidden between two +fallen logs waiting for a quadrille bird to return +to its nest, when a tinamou walked into view,—jigged, +I might have said, for the bird was stiff-legged, +and taking little mincing steps which shook +her whole body and scuffed up the fallen leaves. +It was exactly the tremulous heel-walk of an East +Indian dancer when, with motionless body, he +moves, or almost floats across the floor with short, +rigid, almost imperceptible jerks. The tinamou +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span>revolved slowly, and when her tail came around +into view I could hardly believe it was the usual +dull-hued species. The tail, or rather, the ten, +loose-vaned feathers which represent this almost +obsolete organ, were upright, thereby pushing up +all the elongated feathers of the lower back and +rump. Closely applied behind were the under tail-coverts +and even the feathers of the flanks, which +now, flattened and with much of their surface +exposed, proved to be really brilliant in color. +With a shaft of sunlight striking them they fairly +glowed; the tips of the tail feathers were buffy +brown, then came a row of rich chestnut, then two +rows of pale creamy buff with semi-circular narrow +bands, then a beautiful patch of variegated +feathers, white-tipped, with broad black and russet-red +bars, and finally the softer, black-banded flank +feathers. The wings drooped, the tips nearly +touching the ground, the beak pointed upward, and +the rich cinamon breast feathers were puffed out.</p> + +<p>Three and a half turns did the courting bird +make before she pirouetted behind the second log. +What followed I did not see. I knew that the +least movement on my part would send the bird +headlong. My quadrille bird subsequently returned, +I learned what I wished about her, and +then, stiff from a prolonged squat, I arose painfully. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span>Like a shot, the two tinamous were up and +bludgeoned off. Not a sound had they uttered, +and after the faint scuffling of leaves which continued +for a few moments after the birds disappeared, +I had no knowledge that any tinamous +remained in the vicinity.</p> + +<p>The proportion of the sexes makes it almost +certain that these birds are polyandrous, although +judging by the slender spatial and temporal bond +between them, promiscuous would probably be the +more appropriate term. The lack of spurs and the +insistence of vocality indicates that courtship and +rivalry are carried on in ladylike fashion.</p> + +<p>Of six nests found within the quarter mile of +jungle under observation, three were in dry, moderately +flat jungle, two in somewhat swampy +places, and one on a trail half-way up the slope of a +low hill. They are apparently chosen without any +thought of escape, for in three instances when the +bird got up, it either struck against intervening +lianas, or had some difficulty in getting away clear. +There is little doubt but that the site is chosen +by the male; the hen tinamou sticks too closely to +her calling place, her feeding and roosting areas to +do more than court the male and lay her single +egg. Once I was sure of a second site being near +a former one. I took an egg in a damp low bit +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span>of jungle and a week later flushed the bird from +a new, well-formed, but as yet eggless hollow eight +feet distant from the first. He did not, however, +return after this second alarm.</p> + +<p>No attempt is made to form a nest. Attracted +by some unknown choice, a spot is selected, and is +made into a home literally by squatting. If leaves +and twigs and other jungle litter are beneath the +breast of the bird, they are pressed down and form +the sole lining; if not, the mold alone receives the +pressure and is gradually rounded into a shallow +form.</p> + +<p>A single egg is laid at one time and incubated. +There is little variation in the color, the surface +showing an exquisitely delicate tint which is but +poorly expressed in our English term of light +purple-vinaceous. There are sometimes zones of +lighter tint about the larger or smaller end, due +to some physiological cause in the lower portion +of the oviduct. I consider the color of <i>Crypturus</i> +eggs as distinctly protective, much more so than +those of <i>Tinamus</i>, whose turquoise sheen is readily +seen against the jungle débris. As such it is at +least one ameliorative factor in the risk of the small +number, and the danger of the continuously breeding +male bird. The birds always sit close however, +and only when almost stepped on do they boom +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span>up and away. Many an egg would go undetected +if, instead, the sitting tinamou would creep stealthily +off at the first hint of danger. The gloss of the +egg is not quite as high as in <i>Tinamus</i>, but it is +still far ahead of any other bird’s egg with which +I am familiar,—one of the most beautiful shells +in the world.</p> + +<p>Out of the observation area I have known three +eggs of the variegated tinamou to disappear suddenly +long before incubation was completed, but +only in one case do I know the cause, when a herd +of peccaries trod heavily over the nest and all the +neighborhood, a few fragments of yolk-stained +shell showing how a single crunch had provided +some wild pig with a delicious mouthful.</p> + +<p>Incubation lasts about twenty-one days, and I +have two notes, one of my own and the other by an +assistant, of nests being deserted twelve hours and +twenty-four hours after hatching. The parent +therefore has at least the precocity of his offspring +to lighten his labors. We have secured two young +birds of about two and five weeks respectively, +feeding by themselves at a distance from the parent, +so the precocity extends to the independent juvenile +life, thus allowing the male to take up, unhampered, +a new round of domestic duties.</p> + +<p>The position of the chick in the egg is very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span>obviously an adaptation to facilitate shell-breaking. +The neck and head are folded close to the breast +and abdomen, while the right leg is raised far forward +and sideways until the beak rests directly on +the under side of the flexed tarsus. Pressure is +thus brought to bear on the shell not only by movements +of the head but the slightest effort at extension +of the foot and leg automatically forces the +beak in general and the egg-tooth in particular +against the inner wall of the egg-shell.</p> + +<p>On June 9, 1922, a single egg of the variegated +tinamou was taken from a nest on the ground +in the jungle. It was light purple-vinaceous with +the usual highly polished sheen, and as well as I +could determine through the dense pigmentation, +the embryo was five or six days old. The egg was +placed in the incubator in a temperature of 100 to +103 degrees and dampened and turned regularly.</p> + +<p>Sixteen days later the egg was pipped at ten +o’clock in the morning. Within two hours the chick +was out, partially dried and creeping about all over +the incubator shelf. The down dried well, but not +on the back and head until I put in a circular band +of flannel, into which the chick crept and by rubbing +around as it would under its parent’s plumage, +the dorsal down dried fluffily. There is no +doubt that the young bird would never dry well +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span>without the constant friction of the old bird’s +feathers during the first twelve hours after hatching. +This condition of the down is apparently a +rather serious thing, for when the down dries flat +and matted together, it causes such irritation that +the little chick wastes much time and strength in +trying to preen the bad places. Even a slight +thing like this might very well be a matter of life +or death, at a time when every moment of learning +to correlate eye and beak is of the utmost importance.</p> + +<p>I observed that the banging of the incubator +door caused instant fear reaction—the chick squatting +at once, but no other observations were made +until the following day at ten in the morning when +it was taken into the compound in a vivarium.</p> + +<p>Placed on the ground the tinamou chick twice +showed fear reactions, then pecked of its own accord. +I worked with it off and on all day, and at +last it took four small pieces of worms. On the +whole it was far less apt in learning to calculate +distances than <i>Tinamus major</i> of equal age. This +was so marked that I believe it to be another example +of very delicate balance between necessity +and practice. In <i>Tinamus</i> there is a single adult +to look after a brood of six to ten, while the solitary +<i>Crypturus</i> chick has the whole attention of its +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span>parent, so there is far less need for extreme precocity +in this case than in the former. With only a +single chick to look after, greater care will be taken, +and more time devoted to feeding and guiding the +offspring. In <i>Tinamus</i> the young are compelled to +forage more on their own, having the disadvantage +of only a fraction of parental solicitude.</p> + +<p>Another characteristic peculiar to this species in +comparison with the larger tinamou is its relative +silence. The other chicks, or even one by itself, +were always cheeping and calling, whereas this +one uttered only very low calls and at infrequent +intervals. Even these are given only when the +bird is quiet and undisturbed, and seem to be more +in the nature of content calls then otherwise. It +is readily seen that it is important for a covey of +chicks to keep in touch with each other by frequent +calls, whereas a single chick following its parent +could with safety do so in comparative silence.</p> + +<p>The <i>Crypturus</i> chick learned the use of its legs +and by two o’clock could make its quick, short +spurts without falling over at the end. It never +walked slowly more than a step or two, but usually +after several futile pecks at the bit of worm which +I proffered, if it heard a sudden noise, it darted +swiftly one or two feet away and squatted flat. +I tested it with various sounds and found I could +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span>cry out loudly or clap my hands together near it +without effect, but the least deep or hollow sound +such as striking the glass side of the empty vivarium, +caused it to jump and flatten. Its pecking, +as in <i>Tinamus</i>, was always forward and downward +at the ground, and its constant fault was to strike +beyond the object aimed at. The chick was uncomfortable +on a white handkerchief and scuttled +to bare ground as quickly as possible. It pecked +at worms and spiders much more readily on the +ground, even when they were of the same color +as their surroundings, than when they were laid +conspicuously on light bamboo leaves or when held +in the forceps.</p> + +<p>I tried calls and whistles with no apparent effect, +until I imitated the note of <i>Crypturus</i> itself. Like +a flash the chick turned in my direction, ran six +feet toward me, and crouched beside my foot. I +tried it again and again, then summoned the members +of my staff to watch. The shrillest whistle +brought no response, but the very first note on F +natural above middle C, attracted and held the +little bird’s attention, and the following notes +brought it headlong. After such a reaction it was +much more alert and willing to attempt another +bit of food, and not only this, but its sense of direction +was almost perfect. When I held my face +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span>close to the ground and called, the chick ran, not +only toward me, but stopped at my mouth, +although I had finished calling before it reached +me.</p> + +<p>This instinctive and perfect reaction to the call +of the species, together with its disregard of the +call of <i>Tinamus</i> and other terrestrial jungle birds, +was wholly unexpected. I have known chicks of +other groups to crouch instinctively at the cry of +a hawk, or the alarm note of their own or other +birds, but to recognize among many other imitations, +the exact summons call, was very interesting +and threw a new light on the instinct reactions of +this very generalized type of bird.</p> + +<p>It did not enjoy being in the hot sun, but ran +with quick darts toward the shade. Like the other +tinamou chicks it never showed the slightest fear +of our enormously tall figures stalking about. In +fact, if anyone passed while I was attempting to +induce it to eat, it invariably rushed off and followed, +and had to be brought back and started over +again in food interest. Unlike the large <i>Tinamus</i> +chicks no shuffling of hands or feet in scratching +motions and sounds had any effect.</p> + +<p>Like so many of the small creatures I have +watched in the laboratory compound, the chick persisted +invariably in working toward the east or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span>northeast. Again and again I turned it about and +always it changed direction and started back. I +place no special significance at present upon this, +but present it as an interesting fact as applying +to mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians and even +to armored catfish. When, however, I gave the +parent’s call the chick never failed to turn and +run toward me regardless of direction.</p> + +<p>While it learned to peck and swallow bits of +food and quartz with fair accuracy, I could not +give it the constant attention and encouragement +which it needed, and it died on the third day.</p> + +<p>For many years the tinamou was a glorious +anticipation—a hope engendered by the accounts +of travelers in the tropical wilderness. It is now +not only a memory but a stimulation, for when +the city presses too closely, when four walls suffocate +as well as enclose, when people oppress as well +as associate, then I go to the bird house at the +Zoological Park and at five o’clock there seldom +fails me a sweet, clear staccato of silvery tones. +Body and soul, I am back in the Guiana jungle, +with the cool night settling down, a distant howler +clearing his throat, and a bass chorus of giant tree +frogs rumbling across the river. Then the tinamou +calls again and the world is reorientated.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> +<p class="ph2">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</p> + +<p>The chapter numeral in the chapter headings for Chapters <a href="#OLD-TIME_PEOPLE">VIII</a> and <a href="#THE_BIRD_OF_THE_WINE-COLORED">IX</a> were +missing in the original edition. The omission has been retained.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_105">105</a>: corrected misspelled “inexplicaable”, and corrected misplaced +period after “center of the back” to a comma.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_151">151</a>: corrected misspelled “aboreal”.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_183">183</a>: corrected misspelled “emminently”.</p> + +<p>Illustrations have been moved to enhance readability. The original page +numbers in the <a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS">list of illustrations</a> remain unchanged.</p> + +<p>All other inconsistencies, particularly in hyphenation and diacritics, +have been left unchanged.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77723 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77723-h/images/cover.jpg b/77723-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c40c17b --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_014fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_014fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c58654a --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_014fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_032fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_032fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d3b7b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_032fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_060fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_060fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..99bddd5 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_060fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_080fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_080fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..72db199 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_080fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_100fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_100fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..739c291 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_100fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_122fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_122fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2616096 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_122fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_154fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_154fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6d0397 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_154fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_176fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_176fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e1b2d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_176fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_192fp.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_192fp.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..830e9ec --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_192fp.jpg diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_colophon.png b/77723-h/images/i_colophon.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..51e7b8b --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_colophon.png diff --git a/77723-h/images/i_frontispiece.jpg b/77723-h/images/i_frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea035b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/77723-h/images/i_frontispiece.jpg |
