Robinson

A Country Lane:
its Flora and its Fauna

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

Crmtttrg faiu:

ITS FLORA AND ITS FAUNA.

BY JAMES E O B I N S O N.

" Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy." — WOIIDSWOUTH.

LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS, & Co.
KENDAL: Vf. F. ROBSON.

Any profit ar';sinn fr»,n !'i<< sale of this lift!? book irill be yh-en to tht
" Carimeljell Parish Church Restoration Fund,"

ane:

ITS FLORA AND ITS FAUNA.

BY JAMES ROBINSON

" Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to letvd
From joy to joy."— WORDSWORTH.

LONDON: HAMILTON. ADAMS, & Co.
KENDAL: W. F. EoBSON.

SI

" It may be deemed unmanly, hut the wise
Read nature like the manuscript of heaven,
And call the flowers its poetry. Go out !
Ye spirits of habitual unrest,
And read it when the fever of the world
Hath made your hearts impatient, and, if life
Hath yet one spring unpoisoned, it will be
Like a beguiling music to its flow."— N. P. WILT-IS.

A COUNTRY LANE.

NE of the pleasures enjoyed
by a contemplative resident in
the country is a quiet rural
lane. Independent of its many
attractions, you can pace to and
fro in it, whenever you please,
unmolested, and without being
looked upon as an intruder. This
is not always the case when your
footsteps stray in other directions.
If you happen to take an innocent
stroll through the green fields it is
not unlikely you may be brought
up by a glaring notice-board, nailed
on some conspicuous tree, giving
you the neighbourly intimation that, if
caught, you will be prosecuted "to the
utmost rigour of the law." Wishful,
perhaps, to evade such dire punition, you
raise your eyes to the breezy uplands, and scaling the

intermediate slope, begin to breathe the pure air of
the heathery moorland ; but here, where you might
think all would be free as the winds, you are met by a
gaitered individual, armed with wand of office, in the
shape of a double-barrelled gun, carried loosely under his
arm, who proclaims by his presence, if not by his words,
that you are treading on forbidden ground. But no one
arrests your feet, and no legal threatening disturbs your
mind, in the leafy lane. You can walk leisurely through
it in undisturbed meditation, or calmly study nature on
the right hand and on the left. Even a philosopher might
find its comparative seclusion and peaceful surroundings
favourable for the solution of abstruse problems, and the
settlement of disputed points, religious, political, and
social.

It has been my good fortune to be located near a quiet
lane, which for some years has been my habitual resort.
It is a hard, well-formed, level road, of a mile or so in
length, trending nearly north and south, and forming a
connecting link between two other lanes. Parallel with it,
but two fields-breadth distant, runs another road, which,
for reasons I need not name, now absorbs nearly the whole
traffic of the district, and leaves my lane almost altogether
unfrequented by passengers, either riding or afoot. Half-way
between the two, flows a willow-fringed river of some size,
whose soothing murmurs, like some subdued melody, I often
hear in my solitary walks. At no great distance, on every
hand, agreeably wooded hills rise to a gentle elevation ;
while in one direction may be seen the tip of one of the
lake mountains, peering over into our happy vale, as if not
satisfied with the rich beauties that lie at its own feet.
The fields on either side of the lane are cultivated, and

their features change with the changing year. In the
spring-time the grateful eye may rest on some, smiling in
verdurous freshness, where you may watch groups of sportive
lambs, full of exuberant frolic, engaged in mimic fight, or
see them racing together run

"Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb,
Where every molehill is a bank of thyme ; "

while in others may be seen the plough-boy, with measured
precision turning over the green lea in long straight furrows,
the sound of his voice, as he cheers his docile team, falling
in harmony with all around. In summer come the busy
hay-makers, and their merry laugh rings pleasantly in your
ears, as you enjoy the sweet fragrance of the new made hay.
In autumn, the golden grain undulates to the breeze, or is
being cut down by the ruthless reapers. While in winter
the frost bespangles the branches in the hedge-rows, and the
long grass, where any remains, shines like a silvery spear ;
or, nature, pitying the condition of the naked landscape,
brings from her wardrobe a covering of snow, and throws
over the whole scene a gleaming robe of immaculate
whiteness.

One advantage which this lane possesses, is, that you may
comfortably walk to and fro in it in nearly all seasons. For
a considerable portion of its length it is enclosed by high
hedges, which afford a winter's shelter and a summer's
shade. Not far from one end is planted my humble
dwelling, and near to the other are the ivy-clad ruins of an
ancient hall. When I walk through it in one direction,
I see these relics of a by-gone age, and when I pass in the
other, 1 have the attractive vision of my own sweet home.
Gloomy reflections on the dim past, are followed and

corrected by pleasant thoughts of- the clear present, and
cheerful anticipations of the future.

"Hope rules a land for ever green."

By dint of frequent perambulation, at all times of the
year and at all hours of the day, I have become familiar
with the natural garniture of the lane — its flora and its
fauna ; and I venture to think that a short description of
some of the things which may be seen and heard in this
peaceful by-way (a representative of many more), may
possess an interest to those who love to regard nature even
in her lowliest aspect, and who, in their quiet walks, can
heartily join in the sentiment of Linnseus, and " thank God
for the green earth."

" Better for man,
Were he and nature more familiar friends."

THE BANKS.

HOUGH the declivitous banks
on either side of the lane are
attractive at all seasons — and
every season has its peculiar
attractions — the time of early
buds and blossoms is perhaps
fraught with the greatest
interest and the liveliest
pleasure. The first of Flora's
forerunners to open its tiny
petals to the soft breath of
early spring, and the fitful
gleams of a February sun, is
the Vernal Whitlow Grass
(Draba xerna), which appears
on a dry sunny part of the
slope. So small is this plant,
that but for its growing in
patches, it would often remain
unobserved, especially in wet
or cloudy weather, when its small pearly flowers close up.
The scape is about two inches high, and the narrow toothed
leaves form a circle at the root. Next to the snowdrop it is
perhaps the first flower of spring, and, on this account,

as well as for beauties of its own, has a particular claim on
our notice. Closely following in the train of this humble
pioneer comes the common Primrose (Primula vulgaris),

with its wrinkled
leaves, the known
and loved of all.
As its salver-shaped
blossoms (which
have given their
name to a colour)
lighten up the grassy
slopes of field and
lane, bright hopes
are awakened in the
breasts of old and
young, for they are a token and a pledge that sullen
winter is at last vanquished, and that victorious spring —
soon to be crowned with garlands — has taken possession of
the earth. Worthy companion of the Primrose is the
Wood Anemone (Anemone nemorosa), a white star of six
rays, with golden stamens and dark-green foliage. This is
the Wind Flower of many lands. Profusely mingling with
these appears the Lesser Celandine (Ranunculus ficaria),
with its bright yellow flowers of eight or nine petals, whose
praises have been so beautifully sung by Wordsworth.
These three alone give a gay appearance to the banks ; and,
as no school-girl, with shining morning face, passes through
the lane, they are permitted to bud and bloom unmolested,
and remain for a considerable time to cheer the eye and
gladden the heart.

But they do not remain long in sole possession of the
banks. Early in April there are other occupants. Then

are found small beds of the fragrant purple Ground Ivy
(Nepeta Glec/ioma), whose many virtues made it highly
prized by our remote ancestors. And then appears that
emblem of constancy the Violet, ( Viola canina), which in

some places is so
abundant as to
give its blue lilac
tint to a con-
siderable space.
A few days later,
and the whole
bank, in some
spots, is ablaze
with the purple
racemes of the
Wild Hyacinth (Ayr aphis nutans), set off by its green
and glossy linear leaves. At the same time is found the
pendent bells of the "Wood Sorrel (Oocalis acetosella),
formerly called Wood Sour, from the oxalic acid contained
in its bright green triple leaves. This is a much admired
vernal visitant, so graceful is its form, and so delicately
beautiful its blossoms. It possesses, too, an additional
interest in being a peculiarly sensitive plant. The white
flowers, streaked with purple, close at the approach of rain,
and, at night, petals and leaves alike fold up, and,
apparently, the whole plant goes to sleep.

Not a few eminent observers (after carefully noting the
way in which the Wood Sorrel, the Scarlet Pimpernel, and
others of the solar tribe, expand and contract,) have come
to the conclusion that plants are endowed, more or less,
with a kind of sensibility. Wordsworth, who in this view

may be taken as a faithful representative of the poets, says,

"And 'tis my faith that every flower,
Enjoys the air it breathes."

Some, indeed, go still further, and affirm that some plants
possess a kind of memory, as is clearly shown by the
regularity of their habits. The Goats' Beard opens at three
in the morning, and closes before noon ; the Wild Succory
expands at eight, and closes at four ; and the Water Lily
also retires at the same early hour. Though these, and
similar facts, afford ground for speculation, we may never
be able to ascertain, (and it is, perhaps, not to our advantage
to know) the kind or degree of feeling which causes the
several motions in plants, or the object of their appearing
in a particular succession. Their Maker, for some good
reason, has appointed them their seasons and their hours.

"The green-robed children of the spring
Will mark the periods as they pass,
Mingle with leaves time's feathered wing,
And bind with flowers his silent glass."

In April, too, may be found by the wayside, (but they
require looking for), tufts of that meek but interesting
plant, the Tuberous Moschatel (Adoxa moschatelina)
The foliage is pale green, the leaves being ternate, and the
flowers, which are yellowish green, grow in terminal heads,
forming five sides of a cube, a blossom on each side, and
one on the top. These, however, are not all exactly alike.
Those on the sides have five petals and ten stamens each,
while that on the top has only four petals and eight stamens.
One of the names of this unassuming and delicate little
flower is Musk Crowfoot, which has been given it on
account of its pleasant odour, which, like that of many

9

others, is most perceptible in the evening. If we take the
Moschatel as a type of many similar vegetable productions,
the mind becomes naturally impressed with the notion that
there is, possibly, a law of compensation running through
the whole vegetable world, and, perhaps too, through the
whole compass of natural existence. We know that amongst
ourselves the loud and the showy, the self-asserting and
unduly prominent, are, as a rule, not the wisest or the best
of men. The gorgeous Peacock is not musical, nor is it a
bird of much utility. The Dog Violet makes a great display,
in conspicuous places, but the Sweet Violet is to be sought
for, hiding amongst the green herbage. Handle the garish
Poppy or the Dandelion, and you will find them disagreeable,
but press the unobtrusive Moschatel, and you have a
delightful fragrance.*

A conspicuous object at this season, nestling close to the
hedge-row, is the Cuckoo-pint or Arum (Arum maculatum).
It is a stemless plant, with halberd-shaped glossy leaves,
dotted with dark spots. The spathe is also spotted, and the
well-known spadix is found in varying shades of green,
yellow, or violet. The ovaries, at the root of the spadix,
become in autumn a cluster of bright scarlet berries, which
remain long after the leaves have decayed. They are said
to be very poisonous. The old herbalist, Gerarde, tells us
that the tuberous roots of the Arum make a "most pure
and white starch." Gerarde flourished in the time of good
Queen Bess, when starch was in much request, the roots of
the Arum and Wild Hyacinth being used in its manufacture.

* " Yet the Moschatel is no plebeian among plants, being cousin-german of the
Honeysuckle and Guelder Hose, and even claiming a distant relationship through the
aristocratic Ivy with the queenly Vine."

10

Magnificent ruffs, a yard wide, were in vogue in those days,
so that the quantity required for the laundry would be
something prodigious.

Early in May the lane produces the pearly star-like
blossoms of the. Greater Stitchwort (Stellaria Holostea),
its long narrow leaves for some time previously having
given notice of its coming. It is a very pretty flower of
five petals, each cleft to the middle, with golden anthers,
and a stem twelve or fifteen inches high. The Smaller
Stitchwort (Stellaria graminea), makes its appearance
about a month later. In May, too, we have that favourite
the Germander Speedwell (Veronica Chamcedrys), with its'
brilliant blue flowers, veined with a darker shade, and its
egg-shaped wrinkled leaves. Long before the Chinese leaf
found its way into our land, our ancestors drank Speedwell
tea. The infusion was said to strengthen and refresh the
frame. It is by no means.an unpalatable beverage, though
it might not now be approved of as a daily drink, by a
committee of lady connoisseurs. We also find at this time
scattered here and there, solitary specimens of the Cuckoo-
flower (Cardamine pratensis), with its pale lilac or pinky
flowers.

In June, the Red Campion (Lychnis diurna), appears
in great force, bearing loose panicles of blossoms, varying
slightly in tint, according to situation and age ; while its
relative the White Campion (Lychnis vespertina), is in
less abundance and solitary. The last emits a pleasant
odour as the evening dews fall on its petals. Several
of the Crane's-bills may be mentioned here : — Herb
Robert (Geranium Robertianum) ; Dove's-foot Crane's-bill,
(Geranium molle] ; Meadow Crane's-bill (Geranium

11

pratense) ; Shining Crane's-bill (Geranium lucidum) ;
and Jagged Leaved Crane's-bill (Geranium dissectum), a
numerous family, varying, perhaps, more in foliage than in
flower. At intervals, towering above all these to the height
of three or four feet, rises the Purple Foxglove (Digitalis
purpured}. The pale purple flowers are spotted within,
and hang in spiky clusters ten or twelve inches long. But
the whole plant is so well known as to need no description.
It is said to have received its proper name from its
resemblance to a thimble (digitabuluni). Very appropriate
are most of the names of our common wayside flowers ;
although some which have been christened by our remote
ancestors, whose language has fallen somewhat into
desuetude, are not always understood. If any change,
however, should be thought of, I humbly protest against
permitting scientific botanists having any part or share in
bringing it about. The matter should be left entirely to a
conclave of poets, who would prove most efficient botanical
nomenclators. As a proof of their appreciative qualities,
take as an example what old Cowley says of the Digitalis : —

"The foxglove on fair Flora's hand is worn,
Lest, while she gather flowers, she meet a thorn."

As the summer advances, some rough stony places
produce the Yellow Toad Flax (Linaria vulgaris),
which, next to the Foxglove, is perhaps the most imposing
plant in the lane. The pale yellow spurred flowers are in
dense spikes ; and its narrow, grass-like leaves, are pale
green. This, as well as the Foxglove, still finds a place in
our Pharmacopoeias, but great care should be exercised in
the use of it. Then we have the Silver Weed (Potentilla

12

anserina), growing on the edge of the hard road, with
yellow flowers and beautiful downy leaves; the Wood
Betony (Betonica officinalis), with interrupted spike of
bright purple flowers; the White Dead Nettle (Lamium
album) ; and the Hedge Woundwort (Stachys syhatica).
The two last are pretty and tempting objects, but it is
better not to give them a place in your gathered bouquet,
as they do not improve on a closer acquaintance.

One more plant, plentiful in the lane, demands a short
notice, as well for its great beauty, as for its historical
associations. This is the Perforated St. John's Wort
(Hypericum perforatum). It has a wreath of golden
flowers, growing on a branched stem, the petals being dotted
with black. The leaves, which are of delicate green, are
full of transparent spots, caused by an essential oil, which
is also found to pervade the whole plant. Its virtues are
well known to medical botanists. It was dedicated by the
old monks to St. John the Baptist and they probably gave
it its ancient name of Fuga Dcemonum, because its pos-
session was considered a sure defence against evil spirits,
phantoms, and ghosts. On the vigil of St. John's Day
(Midsummer Eve) it appears to have been specially used
for this purpose, among the other curious ceremonies of old
observed at that time. Then, too, we are told, young girls
gathered sprigs of the plant, and suspended them on the
walls of their chamber. If they remained on the following
morning fresh it foretold a prosperous marriage ; if they
drooped and withered, a state of single blessedness. In
Scotland, formerly, many were in the habit of carrying it
about their persons to protect them from witchcraft and
the evil eye, and from the designs of bad spirits.

13

I have mentioned the chief, but by no means all, of
the plants that adorn the banks of the lane. They make a
constant and varied succession, from early spring to late
autumn, and afford a never-failing source of interest.
Things of beauty are they all, from the largest to the
smallest ; perfect in their colour, form, and adaptation ;
the minutest detail of the least bearing the signet-mark of
its Maker. I have dwelt little on their utility ; but they
all possess some good property. The meanest of 'earth's •
products has its objects and its uses. Of the simplest weed
it has been said :

" That even this to please receives
From Him who made it power ;
I've seen an insect on its leaves,
A bee upon its flower."

" Here unmolested, from whatever sign
The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist
Nor freezing sky, nor sultry, checking me,
Nor stranger intermeddling with my joy." — COWPER.

THE HEDGES.

ITH the changing year
comes a perceptible change
in the foliage and fruitage
of the fences of the lane,
which as well as the banks,
attract our notice, by a
beautypeculiar to themselves.
Even in the depth of winter,
the various kinds of mosses
which cover the trunks and
roots of some ancient trees
and parts of a decrepit wall ;
the grey-hued lichens which
cling to wood and stone ; the
various shaped and different
coloured fungi ; and (in
sheltered spots) the still green
fronds of the Polypody and Male Fern, afford a
pleasing study to the lover of nature, so wonderfully
are they adapted to the places they occupy, and so
full of modest beauty. Simple as mosses and lichens

15

may appear to the ordinary looker-on, they, nevertheless,
sustain an important part in the economy of nature.
Geologists tell us they were the first forms of vegeta-
tion that covered the earth. And now they are to
be found everywhere. They are the first to spring
up on inorganic matter, appearing mysteriously on the
newly-quarried stone, and by their decay produce a
vegetable fertilizing matter, thus forming a primary link
in the chain of nature, by means of which the whole earth
becomes clothed with a robe of vegetation. To a cursory
glance they may appear but patches of green or grey, 'but
a minute and close investigation reveals great variety of
foliage, and diversity of form, and wonderful fitness of
parts — so much so that the cryptogamic student can fully
endorse the expression of Pliny, that " Nature is nowhere
greater than in her smallest works." Beautiful indeed
are those soft mossy cushions placed here and there 'neath
the hedge-row, reminding one of the description given by
Wordsworth in his poem of " The Thorn."

" A fresh and lovely sight,
A beauteous heap, a hill of moss,
Just half a foot in height.
All lovely colours there you see,
All colours that were ever seen ;
And mossy network too is there
As if by hand of lady fair
The work had woven been ;
And cups, the darlings of the eye,
So deep is their vermillion dye.
Ah me ! what lovely tints are there
Of olive green and scarlet bright,
In spikes, in branches, and in stars,
Green, red, and pearly white."

16

It is at. this season, too, when the wintry winds have
scattered the leaves of other trees and shrubs, that the
glossy verdure of the clinging Ivy appears to such
advantage. Its clusters of yellowish-green flowers are
seen in November and December, followed by those brown
juicy berries, the food of some of our common birds when
other fruits are rare. Equally ornamental and attractive is
the dark shining prickly-leaved Holly, with its clusters of
bright red berries — still used as of yore for the Christmas
decoration of churches and homely dwellings.

As the harsh winds of winter give place to soft vernal
breezes it is interesting to note the changes which the hedges
gradually undergo. Among the first " to welcome the time
of buds, the infant year," appear the snowy blossoms of the
Sloe or Blackthorn, (Prunus spinosa],

" Whose early flowers anticipate the leaf,"

the bare black branches affording a striking contrast to the
beautiful white flowers which they carry. Earlier, however,
than the Sloe, and sometimes before the pale green catkins of
male flowers open, the initiated look for those-crirnson stigmas
of the hazel which give promise of the brown nuts of autumn.
Most people know the hazel tree, with its roundish leaves of
sober green, and many can remember some glorious day or
days devoted to a nutting expedition ; but it is not every
one who knows that the forked branch of this tree has been
used from time immemorial, and is still used, as a divining
rod ! By means of it, it is said, certain persons who possess
the gift, can discover springs and minerals, lying hidden in
the bosom of the earth. In Cornwall about one in forty is

17

accredited with this power. It is recorded that Lady Noel,
the mother of Lord Byron, acted in this capacity, and was
a successful diviner or douser.*

In May the blossoms of the Sloe are succeeded by those
of the Hawthorn (Cratcegus Oxyacantha), so universally
known and admired. Its corymbs of white flowers studded
with pink stamens, please alike the sense of sight and smell.
In olden times they were much used in the May Day
customs then observed, religious and festive, and the tree
has been celebrated by our poets from Chaucer downwards.
Beautiful as the hawthorn blossoms are in my lane, they
somewhat pale before those of the Bird Cherry (Prunus
padus), with which at this time the hedges are adorned.
The white flowers of this pretty shrub hang in drooping
clusters, and, like those of its rival, yield a pleasant odour.
Bright and cheerful indeed is the lane at this season, and
sweet the combined fragrance from flowers of bank and
hedge, while the different shapes and variety of tints of the
leaves are objects which the grateful eye delights to rest
upon.

In this month, too, may be found, climbing amongst the
bushes, the whorled-leaves and the small wax-like flowers of
the Sweet Woodruff (Asperula odorata). The leaves, when

*The following is the correct mode of procedure : A hazel twig is cut just below
•where it forks ; it is stripped of its leaves, and then each branch is cut to about a foot
in length, leaving a stump about three inches long. The fork thus prepared is to be
held by the branches, one in each hand, the stump or point projecting forward. The
arms of the douser hang by his 'side, but the elbows being bent at a right angle, the
forearms are advanced horizontally. The hands are held eight or ton inches apart,
the knuckles down, and the thumbs outwards; the ends of the branches appear
between the roots of the thumbs and the forefingers. Thus ARMED, the operator
walks over the ground, fully expecting when he passes over a vein of metal, or a
hidden spring, that the fork will begin to move spontaneously in his hands.

18

dried, emit an agreeable perfume, like new hay, and will
preserve this aroma for years. The name of this plant
seems to have been, according to the old orthography,
Woodderowffe, as we gather from the ancient rhyme handed
down to the present day.

" Double U double 0 double D E
R 0 double U double F E."

But it is perhaps in June that the hedges are decked
with the greatest grace and beauty. Then appear the red
and yellow blooms of the Honeysuckle (Lonicera
Periclymenum), which shed their delicious fragrance all
around. The leaves appear some months earlier; it is
indeed,

" The first of wilding race that weaves
In Nature's loom its downy leaves,"

which present themselves in February or March. The
Honeysuckle is a persevering climber, embracing and
twining with tightening coil, round tree and shrub, thus
well meriting its old name of Woodbine or Woodbind.

" In spiral rings it mounts the trunk and lays
Its golden tassels on the leafy sprays."

In thus winding round the stem, like the Convolvulus and
other climbers, it follows the course of the sun from east to
west.

Equally beautiful, and as sweetly odorous, are the
delicate pink and white blossoms of the Wild Rose, which
at this time brighten, at intervals, the whole length of the
lane. In some variety or other this has been the favourite

19

of all times and of all countries where it flourishes. It is
the floral badge of England, as the Thistle is of Scotland,
and the Shamrock of Ireland. In its cultivated state
it embellishes the bower of the palace, and the walls of the
peasant's lowly cot ; and is emblematic alike of love, anger,
joy, and grief. Sparsely mingled with the Wild Rose are
found the white blossoms of the Common Guelder Rose
( Viburnum opulus) ; while the Bramble (Rulms fruticosus)
perseveringly asserts its claim to a favourable notice in this
competitive flower show of the hedges.

In July the Bitter Sweet or Woody Nightshade (Solanum
Dulcamara), makes its appearance in a moist part of the
hedge-row. The flowers, which are in clusters, are of a dull
purple hue, relieved by two green spots at the base of each
segment, while the yellow anthers meet in a point at the
top. The egg-shaped leaves are a dull green. Altogether
it is a peculiar looking plant, and is said to be poisonous in
every part of it. In some places it is called Felon-wood.

As the §ummer advances the floral display of the hedges
begins to wane ; and, gradually, the leaves turn brown, or
yellow and sere ; and unmistakable signs of decay begin to
manifest themselves. These losses are partly compensated for
by the varied mellow-tinted foliage, and by the store of rich
fruits which present a tempting feast to the wayfarer.
Even as early as the end of July we can gather the dainty
Strawberry; in August enjoy the delicious Wild Raspberry;
in September and October we have an abundant supply of
the glossy berries of the Bramble, and these months too
bring to perfection the brown clusters of the Hazel, and the
black fruit of the Bird Cherry and the Sloe. Thus

20

supplied, the haws of the Whitethorn, the scarlet hips of
the Wild Rose, the crimson berries of the Mountain Ash,
and the ruby clusters of the Guelder Rose, we can afford to
leave to our feathered friends, while we avoid the bright
red berries of the Bitter Sweet as dangerous.

THE FAUNA.

" Not rural sights alone, but rural sounds
Exhilarate the spirits, and restore
The tone of languid Nature.
Ten thousand warblers cheer the day,

Whose notes
Nice fingered art must emulate in vain." — COWPEB.

jjjf CONSIDERINGthe

^^jlm privacy and shelter

fkiffijj^R of the lane, it is

somewhat remark-
able that it is not
frequented by more
of our common birds.
The Redbreast, the
Dunnock, the
Chaffinch, and the
Wren, are frequently
met with, but, for
the rest, they seem
to prefer the larger
trees by the side of
the river, the near
proximity of a human
dwelling, or even
the dusty highway. Their supply of food, has, no doubt,

22

something to do with this. But though the feathered
tribe do not frequent the lane in numbers they are
sufficiently near for me to have the full benefit of their
harmony. In the spring and summer the fields on each
side abound with Larks, and their songs are an almost
unfailing source of pleasure. One never tires of watching
them ascend and descend, their aerial journey occupying
sometimes ten minutes, or even more. In commencing its
upward flight the Lark turns its head to the wind. At
first its course seems to be somewhat irregular and
fluttering, then with tremulous wings it cleaves the air
rapidly, sometimes upward, sometimes slantingly or in
circles, till, (as occurs, perhaps, oftenest in the summer), it
reaches a height scarcely discernible to the naked eye —
although its wings, when expanded, are fourteen or fifteen
inches across. The descent is a little more rapid, the
motions then being exceedingly graceful, till it approaches
the earth, when, with closed wings, it drops like a stone on
the greensward. During the whole of this time its song
has never ceased. It is indescribably delicious and varied.
You are fixed to the spot, listening with all your ears, from
the first clear notes at starting, to the fainter music which
reaches you from its highest altitude, and again to the
gently-increasing melody of its descent, the strain closing
in the sweetest cadence just as it drops to its earthly
treasures. In the plumage of the Lark we have another
illustration of that law of compensation I alluded to in
speaking of the Tuberous Moschatel. Among the winged
creation, as a rule, the sweetest singers wear the plainest
garb, as is shown by the dusky hue of this aerial warbler.
Sober, too, is the dress of the melodious Thrush, whose rich

23

•

tenor notes, sometimes harmoniously mingled with the
Blackbird's baritone, in the spring months, salute me,
morning and evening, from the tall trees by the
neighbouring river. A pair of the latter annually honour
the lane by building their nest in the thick hedge. The
eggs are four or five in number of a dull blue with brownish
spots.

That very handsome bird the Chaffinch or Spink, with
its cheery " tweet, tweet," or "pink, pink," enlivens the
lane during the spring and summer. A pair build their
nest in the forked branch of a crooked Crab Tree. It is a
model of neatness and beauty, and so skilfully placed and
made, in its exterior, so like the bark of the tree itself, that
even the piercing eyes of a prowling school-boy would have
some difficulty in detecting it. It generally contains four
or five eggs of a dullish blue, or green, with a slight
admixture of red. The nest of the Dunnock, (which,
though very compact, is not to be compared in
architectural beauty or skilful concealment with that of the
Spink) is still lower, in the thick of the hedge ; while that
of the Redbreast is cleverly concealed in the grassy bank.
The plaintive Yellow-hammer utters his " chit chit churr,"
during the spring, and no doubt builds somewhere in the
vicinity.

Amongst the occasional visitors to the lane must be
mentioned the Blue Tit, with its brilliant plumage ; the
Cole Tit ; the Tom Tit ; and the pretty long-tailed Tit —
the last of which comes in flocks of about a dozen (probably
a family), and restlessly flits from tree to tree. The
Whitethroats arrive late in the spring, and leave again
during the summer. The Redbreast and the Wren appear

24

«

to remain in the lane all the year through. I have seen
them there very early in the morning, and late in the evening,
and suspect that of all small birds they are the first to rise
and the last to retire. A bold and valorous bird is the
Wren. To some of his deeds of daring I have been a witness.
Often is he seen perched on the highest twig in the hedge,
with bill extended to the utmost, pouring out his shrill
treble. That such a volume of sound should proceed from
such a tiny object is wonderful. Undisturbed by noisy
traffic or juvenile foes the birds in my lane are
comparatively tame, and apparently take little heed of my
presence. One feathered visitor, however, seems to have a
decided objection to my intrusion. The crested lapwings,
which in spring and summer take possession of the fields,
on each side, continually cross and recross the road, and
utter unceasingly their querulous " peewits."

But few quadrupeds are to be found in the lane.
Occasionally a Squirrel is seen, perhaps frightened from the
Larch Planting not far off, or it may be on a foraging
expedition. When disturbed, it runs along the hedge with
such surprising agility that it is difficult to get a good sight
of it. If less hunted and persecuted these innocent and
beautiful creatures would, no doubt, become much tamer,
and impart great pleasure in exhibiting their rapid and
graceful motions.

Sometimes, on a summer's evening, a solitary traveller
may be met with in the shape of a Hedgehog. On such
occasions he is generally trotting along at the apparent rate
of four or five miles an hour — it may be on a visit to
a friendly neighbour, or on the way from his day's sleeping
quarters to his night's feeding ground. The food of the

25

hedgehog is said to consist principally of worms, slugs,
snails, and frogs, and some kinds of grass and roots for
procuring which his nose is well adapted. He is said too to
have & penchant for hen's eggs, when the nest happens to be
within his reach — an unfortunate partiality, which not
unfrequently brings on the purloiner immediate execution,
and is probably the only cause of a bad name being given
to the whole family. When met with on the road he
usually stops and fixes his glassy eyes upon you, but if not
rudely interfered with does not change his position. It is
only when his instinct tells him that he has to do with
deadly foes — human or canine — that he turns in his crested
snout, and, rolling himself up, presents to his assailant a
round ball of acuminated spikes.

Passing down the lane on an early autumn morning on
almost every bush may be seen the radiated circle of the
Geometric Spider ; while on the grass below, glittering in
the dew, hangs in profusion the silken webs of the Gossamer.
The latter, it is said, has the art of weaving a balloon with
threads from its own body, by aid of which it can sail
through the air. In this way are to be accounted for the
slender lines we often meet with, stretched from hedge to
hedge, or tree to tree.

In summer months the lane is rich in insects of different
shapes and colours, a description of which is not within the
compass of my feeble pen. It is interesting to watch
their eccentric movements, from the rapid flight of the
gorgeous Dragon-fly down to the mazy dance of the
smallest Gnat. In the day Butterflies of various hues

26

are flitting fitfully about, and in the evening delicately
tinted moths hover over the grass. During the sunny
hours of the day the Honey-bee, on its way to flowery
pastures or purple heaths, alights on the clover or
the vetch ; the Humble-bee hides itself in the foxglove's
bell ; and the yellow ground Wasp gathers sweets wherever
it can find them. The nest of the first, and the vespiaries
of the last-named insect-architects, are in the sloping bank,
where, undisturbed, they lay up a winter store, or prepare
cells for their eggs and larvae. Often very different is
the fate of those who have planted their colonies in
the banks by the side of the more public highway. No
sooner are they discovered than an immediate process of
assault and battery is commenced. A troop of merciless
boys, armed with match, brown paper, and leafy boughs,
endeavour to smoke them out, destroy them as they issue,
and (in the case of the Humble-bees) rifle their homes of
their treasured hoards. If they know it, not an insect
will be left living. Melancholy sight for those workers,
who, with tired wings, return from their distant labour,
heavy-laden with ricnes for their cherished commonwealth !

The wilful cruelty of boys towards innocent animals,
birds, and insects, is a fact not pleasant to dwell upon. It
seems to be an inherent disposition, and much too prevalent
to be gainsaid. The one who shows his unerring aim by
killing a harmless sparrow, or can manage to toss a stone into
a thrush's nest, (built with great care and patient industry
high in the fork of a tall tree), has something to boast of?
and can strut amongst his fellows a hero for that day. A
few lessons on common humanity, taught at school among
the rest of their elementary training, might perhaps be

27

serviceable. Some good might be done if every boy only
learned by heart the two lines of Wordsworth which tell us

" Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
"\Yith sorrow of the meanest thing that feels."

The reader will have seen that my lane has its attractions
in all seasons of the year, and it offers an agreeable walk at
all hours of the day. It is pleasant to pass through it when
the early morning brings the dew-drops on its dusky wings,
and the tremulous stars give place to the rising sun ; when
the flowers begin to unfold their delicate petals to his warm
embrace, and, led by the lark, the feathered choir unite in
a harmonious welcome. Pleasant, too, to walk through it
at the hour of noon, under the protecting shade of its leafy
hedge. Then nature reposes; the birds are silent; the
meek-eyed oxen lie under the trees by the river's side ; and
all is still, save the droning of some industrious bee, as it
passes from flower to flower. But pleasantest hour of all

" When conies still evening on, and twilight grey
Hath in her sober livery all things clad."

It is a time for pure and tender emotions. Then the
lovely flowers close their petals and droop their heads in
meek obeisance ; and the grateful warblers' last evensong
falls on the ear with peculiar sweetness. And then a
hallowed stillness reigns. Nature is at her devotions. Dim
and dimmer becomes the spire of the village church. The
ruins of the baronial hall, gloomy at all times, now assume

28

a gloomier aspect still ; and the ancient Oak by the three
road ends, worn by the weight of years to an almost
branchless stump", becomes invested with unearthly import.
I^ter still, and as you pass through the dark shadows of
night, your footsteps are guided by the mellow light of the
Glowworm's lovelit lamp ; and you hear the distant harsh
"jar-r jar-r" of the Night Hawk, and the "toowhit,
toowhoo " of the wakeful Owl.

W. F. ROBSON, PRINTER, KENDAL.

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY

Los Angeles
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.

rm L9-50m-4,'61(B8994s4)444

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HJVIFERSITY

LOS ANG2i.

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R563c Country "lane: |
its floi*a and

its fauna

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