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BIOLOGY

LIBRARY

ANIMAL INGENUITY OF TO-DAY

Science of To-Day
Series

NEW VOLUME

SUBMARINE WARFARE OF
TO-DAY.

Telling how the Submarine Menace
was met & vanquished. By C. W.
DOMVILLE-FIFE, Staff of H.M. School
of Submarine Mining. With 53 Illus-
trations.

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How SOME SPIDERS ESCAPE THEIR ENEMIES AND CATCH THEIR PREY

"In the upper illustration a large centipede is shown invading the branched nest of a trap-door spider.
The centipede has discovered the Sicond door of the nest, but the spidar has taken refuge in the upper
branch of the inner tube and is pulling back the door in such a way that her retreat will be hidden. The
spider in the other large nest, on the left, has taken alarm and is clinging to the lid of her tube, by the
lutle holes made in it, to prevent it being opened. At the top of the picture a spider is seen pouncing
upon an insect ; another keeps watch under the half-opened door of her nest. Close to the centipede's
i ail are represented the tiny lids of two nests made by " baby" spiders.

The lower illustration represents a tarantula pouncing upon a cricket from the turret which surrounds
the opening of her nest.

ANIMAL INGENUITY
OF TO-DAY

A DESCRIPTION OF THE SKILL, CLEVER DEVICES 6-

STRATAGEMS OF BIRDS, REPTILES, INSECTS

AND OTHER FORMS OF ANIMAL LIFE,

THEIR MEANS OF SUBSISTENCE

& PROTECTION

C. A. EALAND, M.A.

* i ' .

AUTHOR OF "INSECTS <&* MAN"
"ROMANCE Of THE MICROSCOPE" &c. &*c.

WITH 26 ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON

SEELEY, SERVICE &f CO. LIMITED

38 GREAT RUSSELL STREET
1921

BIOLOGY

PREFACE

IN the following pages I have attempted to raise a corner
of the veil which shrouds the face of Nature. To disclose
her secrets entirely is beyond the power of any human being,
so we must be satisfied with a glimpse of a feature here
and there which may seem likely to awaken our interest.

There are those who would deny to animals the posses-
sion of intelligence ; but I trust the pen pictures in this
book will prove that they are ingenious, and that many
of them are extraordinarily so.

Animal Ingenuity covers a wide field, so wide that I
have been compelled to enlist the aid of a number of
standard works. Amongst those into which I have delved
somewhat deeply are — Dr Wheeler's delightful book on
Ants ; the works of Mr Chas. Dixon, who so charmingly
describes Birds and their habits ; Professor Dittmar's
monumental work on the Reptiles of the world ; Dr
Dakin's Pearls ; Mr Warburton's Spiders ; Professor J. A.
Thompson's Study of Animal Life^ and, needless to add,
that mine of information, the Cambridge Natural History.
To the authors of these works I make my excuse, that
their writings are practically indispensable to one who
would pen a book of the nature of Animal Ingenuity.

My publishers throughout have shown me such kind-
ness and consideration that I wish to take the opportunity
of thanking them here.

C. A. E.

LONDON,

517703

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

PAGE

SOCIAL BEES AND WASPS . • . •»•• . 17

Lazy Bees — Members of the Bee Family — How the Honey-
comb is made — Regal Duties — Attentive Nurses — Rivals —
The Bees' Legerdemain — Collecting Honey — Living Venti-
lators— How Honey is preserved — Scavengers and Door-
keepers—A Thief in the Night— A New Community— The
Home of the Bumble-bee — The Trumpeter — Cats and Clover
— The Wasp as Wood-pulp Maker— The Wasp's Toilet— A
House upside down

CHAPTER II

SOLITARY BEES AND WASPS . . , . . 31

A Bed of Roses — Living Compasses — Taking a Mean Ad-
vantage—Bees as Carpenters — Waste not, Want not — A Bee
Mason — Curious Nesting Sites — Burrowing Bees — A Careful
Mother — The Solitary Wasp's Larder — A Troublesome
Burden and how the Wasp overcomes a Difficulty — An Insect
Surgeon — Training for a Combfat — How a Mother Wasp
preserves its Grub from Danger

CHAPTER III

ANTS . . . ; '.,», . * . 42

In praise of the Ant — Stages of Ant Civilisation — A Large
Family — The Queen Ant as an Engineer — A Labour-saving
Device — Regulating the Temperature of a Nest — Official
Nut-crackers — Methodical Nurses — The Evening Promenade
—A Well-timed Flight — The Sweet Tooth of the Ant — A
living Sweetshop — Fungus - growing Ants — A Careful
Gardener — Harvesters — Ant Gardens — Protecting the Home
— A Biting Stopper — Slave Makers — Helpless Amazons

CHAPTER IV

TERMITES OR WHITE ANTS . '•••'.••* ' . . 55

Some Misnomers — Giant Houses — A Lonely Queen — Growth
extraordinary — An Egg-laying Machine — A Wise Provision

Contents

CHAPTER IV— continued

PAGE

of Nature — Busy Workers — Doughty Warriors— Models of
Cleanliness — How the Ant-lion builds its Pit — The Uses of
a Flat Head— On Guard— A Struggle in the Pit— The
Curious Eggs of the Lacewing — An Ingenious Disguise

CHAPTER V
WOODWORKERS . . . . . .65

An Expert Woodworker — Superstition and a Beetle — The
Taps of the Death-watch — A Beetle Garden — The Connoisseur
— An Awe-inspiring Wasp — A little Resin Moulder — Robin's
Pincushion — Currants and Spangles — The Oak-apple — A
Maleless Race — Pine-apple Makers

CHAPTER VI
LARWE AND THEIR WORK . . . . 79

A Watchful Sentinel — Insect Submarines — How Ballast is
added — An Ingenious Decoy — A Water-baby — Tapping the
Main — Joseph's Coat — A Clever Engineer — Cuckoo Spit and
what it contains -Leaf- miners — Safety in Numbers — An
Insect Periscope

CHAPTER VII

COCOONS, NESTS AND EGGS . . \ . .• 92

A Living Shuttle — A Long Pull and a Strong Pull — A
Modern Ark — The Cockroach's Purse— The Praying Mantis
and its Egg Chamber — -A Henpecked Water-bug — Eggs in
Showers — The Careful Mother — A Butterfly befooled — The
Troubles of a Horse —The Mosquito Porter

CHAPTER VIII
MIMICRY . . . . . , 100

A Dead Leaf and its Story — The History of a Green Leaf
—Living Sticks — A Spider's Strange Garb — A Hornet Mimic
— A Beetle and a Wasp — An Exploded Myth — The Mimic
and his False Burden— The Wily Cuckoo

CHAPTER IX

GROUND AND UNDERGROUND NESTS . . .109

How to use one's Feet as a Nest — Bird Etiquette — An Apology
for a Nest — Eggs first, Nest afterwards — A Soup-plate Nest
— Mound Builders — A Natural Incubator — A Bird House-
boat— Tending the Incubator — A Deft Engineer — Living
Rainbows — Capture made easy — A Living Pickaxe — A
Dutiful Spouse

Contents

CHAPTER X

PAOB

NESTS IN TREES . . . . . .123

A Use for Spiders' Webs — A Bird Felt-maker — Concealment —
A Downy Couch — Nestlings as Nest-builders — No Robbers !
— A Bird Colony — The Weaver-bird's Two-roomed House — A
Wise Bird — Thrush's Linoleum — Edible Nests — A Fungus
and its Uses — The Shrike's Larder — A Good Port in a Storm
—The Little Tailor

CHAPTER XI

BIRDS' EGGS , , . . . ' . 136

The Three-gallon Egg — A Bird which lays its Weight in
Eggs— Round and pointed Eggs — Colour and the Reason
why— Plumage and Song — The Green Eggs of Spring — A
Bird which never fears Discovery — The Story of Two Eggs —
The Eccentric Eggs of the Guillemot — Eggs one cannot miss

CHAPTER XII

PLUMAGE AND ITS MEANING , ,. . . 145

Nestlings and their Markings — Tropical Green — The Appro-
priate Livery of the Pheasant — A Change of Scene and a
Change of Coat — The Elusive Bittern — The Ptarmigan and
his Wardrobe — Identification Discs — Powder-down — The
Strange Story of the Heron

CHAPTER XIII

COURTSHIP . . . « . j 153

Fine Feathers make Fine Birds— A Failing Voice — An
Admired Deformity — A Dazzling Display — An Avian Panto-
mime—The Ruff and his Amours— A Blase Mate— An Early
Morning Parade— The Peacock's Tail— Floral Offerings and
the Building of a Palace

CHAPTER XIV

QUEER FRIENDSHIPS .-,.,/ .!jfc , t . • * . 165

An Ant Farm— The "Cows" and a Myth— The Green-fly's
Battery — Farmsteads in miniature — The Lure of Honey-dew —
Ingratitude to a Butterfly — An Artful Dodger— How a Fly
spends its Time with the Ants — A House Removal and how
it may be avoided — A Modern Jonah — Accidents will happen
— The Rhino and his Friend — A Little Jockey

Contents

CHAPTER XV

PAGE

MIGRATION . . . . . .178

The All -devouring Locust — Why a Move is necessary — Har-
bingers of Spring — A Long Journey — To the Far North —
Favoured Spots — High Flyers — The Fatal Lighthouse— A
Deep-rooted Habit— The Wandering Salmon— The Eel and
its Story — The Springbok's Search for Water

CHAPTER XVI

HUNTERS AND HUNTED .... , 189

The Cat and his Whiskers— The Panting Dog— The Wily Fox
—A Combat in the Air— A Living Torpedo — The Seal's Warm
Coat— A Fifth Sense— The Blind Bat— The Mole and his
Larder — The Uses of a Long Neck — Eyes and how they are
used — Shadows and how to avoid them. A Bat which uses
a Powder-puff— A Moss-green Coat — The Skunk and his
Perfume Bottle

CHAPTER XVIX

ENGINEERS . •. . . . . 201

An Animal Town— The Beaver's Dam— A Comfortable
House— The Idler shunned — Tree-felling — An Edible House
—The Moose-yard

CHAPTER XVIII

SAPPERS AND MINERS . . . . 206

The Mole's Fortress — A Stolen Home — A Great Sapper —
An Underground Town — A Food Hoarder — The Anomalous
Duckbill — Hunting below Ground — Cheek Pouches and what
they hold.

CHAPTER XIX

NEST-BUILDERS . . . . . .215

A Useful Tail— The Home of the Harvest Mouse— A Well-
hidden Door— The Squirrel's Dual Home — The Dormouse's
Sleeping Apartment — Curious Nesting Sites of the House
Mouse — The Chimpanzee's Shelter

CHAPTER XX

SEASONAL CHANGES . . . . .221

The Influence of Surroundings— The Effect of Temperature—
What Warmth and Food will do— The Prolific Aphis— A
Winter Fast— The Curious Story of the Plaice — Giant Tad-
poles— Twin Brothers whom no one recognised

Contents

CHAPTER XXI

PAGE

REPTILES . . . . . . .227

The Clever Turtle— Strategy extraordinary— A Tortoise
Warren — A Tail used as a Gimlet — Love-making by the Giant
Tortoise — Crocodiles as Nest-builders — The Alligator's Roar
and his Scent Bag — A Deceptive Tail— Sucker-toes and
their Uses— A Stream of Blood— A Tail as a Larder— How
a Chameleon feeds — A Clever Malingerer — Snake-charming

CHAPTER XXII
FROGS AND TOADS . . . . . 241

The Frog's Rosary— Toy Balloons— A Portable Nursery—
An Obliging Father — An Ingenious Nest — The Midwife Toad
— A Striking Attitude — Spade Feet — A Mason Frog— A
Nest in a Shell— The Stickleback's Nest— A Head Nest for
Eggs— The Sea-horse

CHAPTER XXIII

CRABS, LOBSTERS, ETC. . , . * . 253

Land Crabs and their Claws — The Curious Antics of the
Fiddler Crab — A Tree-climbing Crab — Visits to the Sea —
The Hermit Crab's Home — A Friendly Anemone — An In-
genious Crab and his two Friends — A Living Roof-garden —
The Masked Crab's Breathing- tube

CHAPTER XXIV
SPIDERS .... | ; ..' . . 261

Useless Silk— A Silk Factory— The Spider's Web and how
it is made — Spring Traps — Trussing a Victim — A Telephone
Line— The Water- spider's Home— A Spider's Boat — Trap-
doors— Aeronaut's Gossamer and its Meaning

CHAPTER XXV

SHELL-BEARERS . . . . . .276

How a Mussel walks— The Scallop's Antics — How the Oyster
repairs its Home— Boring Molluscs — The Piddock as a Coast
Eroder — Rock-borers — The Ship-worm and his Depredations
— The Limpet's Preserve — Housing Molluscs — A Snail
Aeronaut— Pearls and Pearl-fishing

Contents

CHAPTER XXVI

PAGE

CORALS, WORMS, ETC. . . . . .287

The Story of the Amoeba — The Building of the Ocean Floor
— Sponges — Corals and their Story — A Battle Royal — More
Lives than a Cat — The Sea-urchin's Comb — The Earthworm
and his Home

CHAPTER XXVII

PARASITES AND PREDATORS . . . ". 296

A Useful Ladybird— A Predaceous Beetle— The Tragedy of
the Museum-beetle — A Parasite indeed — The Story of the
Liver-fluke

INDEX ....... 307

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

TRAPDOOR-SPIDER ..... Frontispiece

PAGE

SOLITARY WASPS . .... 32

A RIDE ON BEETLE-BACK, AND A LIVING SWEETSHOP . 48

AN ANT HILL BY DAY . . . . . .56

PRAYING MANTIS . . . . . . 96

BUCCANEER-FLY AND LEAF-RESEMBLING INSECT . . 104

PROTECTIVE MIMICRY ..... . . .112

A WILLING PRISONER . . , . . . 120

A BIRD-CATCHING SPIDER , . f . . 128

BUTCHER-BIRD'S LARDER .. ; , . . . 132

NEST OF THE WEAVER-BIRD . ••'.,.' . . , 136

BIRD PIRATES . . . . . , . 144

PTARMIGAN '. . - . . . . , 152

BOWER- BIRD ., ..... , 160

INSECT FREEBOOTER AND INSECT BEGGAR . . .168

CROCODILE-BIRDS . . . . . .176

THREE versus ONE . . . . . .192

BEAVERS TREE-FELLING ..... 200

POCKET-GOPHERS . . . . . .208

List of Illustrations

PAGE

BUILDING A HOME . . . . . .216

AN UNEXPECTED MEAL . ... 232

FROG " MASONS ". ... 248-

ROBBER-CRABS ... .256

A MISCHIEVOUS BEAST . . 288

ANIMAL INGENUITY OF
TO-DAY

CHAPTER I

SOCIAL BEES AND WASPS

AT the present time there are known to be rather more
than five hundred thousand different kinds of animals.
Of these, three hundred and fifty thousand are insects.
Small wonder, then, that this great class of the Animal
Kingdom provides some of the most remarkable examples
of animal ingenuity. A well-known writer has described
the present time as the Age of Man and Insects, just
as earlier times were known as the Age of Reptiles or the
Age of Fishes or of backboneless animals. Sad to relate,
this host of industrious creatures — insects are rarely lazy
— embraces but few kinds that are of immediate benefit
to man : the insect goats far outnumber the sheep.

In comparatively recent times it has been discovered
that some of the most fell diseases of the human race are
carried from man to man, or from animals to man, by
insects. But four of the hundreds of thousands of different
kinds of insects have been domesticated. A domesticated
insect sounds rather an anomaly, but the activities of the
honey-bee, the silkworm, the cochineal insect and the
lesser known lac insect have actually been subjugated
to the will of man.

For the moment we are only concerned with bees, not
only honey-bees, but also with certain of their wild rela-
tives. The honey-bee is of very special interest because
of its very highly developed social habits, which are only
approaclied by those of the ants and termites. True,
B 17

Social Bees and Wasps

much of the honey-bee's so-called intelligence has been
fostered by man ; but, putting aside man's agency, the
honey-bee community, as shown by the wild bees, is
worthy of close study.

Let us examine a hive that we may learn something
of its industrious inmates. Industrious the majority of
them certainly are, but there is one kind of individual in
every hive who leads a lazy, often useless, life. His very
name denotes his uselessness : he is called a drone. The
drones are the males. They are always more stoutly
built and more hairy than their sisters. Moreover, they
are never furnished with any of the special structures for
carrying pollen, making or moulding wax, etc., as are the
workers. The drones perform one function and one only
during their lives : they mate with the queen bee, when
necessary. As there is only one queen in each hive and
some hundreds of drones, it follows that the majority of
drones are simply loafers.

The workers, though really undeveloped females, are
practically sexless and, on this account, are often called
neuters. They are the smallest, neatest members of the
community, but they are beautifully adapted for the work
they are called upon to perform, such as building the food
and brood cells ; gathering, storing and preparing the
honey ; nursing the young ; cleaning, ventilating, warming,
repairing and guarding the hive.

Needless to say, the most important member of the
community is the queen. She is a fully developed female,
with a slender, well-proportioned body, about half as large
again as the workers. She lays the eggs from which the
future stock of the hive will arise ; this, in the case of the
queen honey-bee, is her sole function. Accordingly she,
like the drones, is unprovided with special structures
necessary for carrying out the general work of the com-
munity. She gathers no food, nor does she construct any
part of her nest, thereby differing from the queens of the
bumble-bees and social wasps.

Social Bees and Wasps

Now, having learned something of the inmates of the
hive, let us pay a little attention to some of the events
which take place in the bee home. It is better to start
at the beginning of the story — that is to say, at the period
of the formation of a new community. Everyone has
heard of a " swarm " of bees. Most people are aware that
a " swarm " consists of one queen and some workers, whose
numbers may vary from two to twenty thousand or even
more. The reason for swarming may not be so generally
known : it simply arises from a desire on the part of the
queen to seek a new home. If left to themselves, the
swarming bees would find some convenient hollow and
settle there, but they are too precious to be allowed to
stray in this manner, so the alert bee-keeper transfers
them to a new hive.

Once in possession of their home, the workers lose no
time in making it habitable. Without delay they secrete
wax with which the comb is built up. The formation of
wax is a very interesting process. On the under surface
of a worker bee there are four pairs of thin, five-sided
plates, called wax plates. They are perforated with a
number of fine holes through which the wax oozes ; it
is really formed by certain cells of the skin beneath the
plates. The wax-producing workers fortify themselves
for their task by eating an inordinate amount of honey
— it is said that I Ib. of wax represents a consumption of
15 Ib. of honey. Then they gather together in such a
manner as to form a festoon, hanging from the roof of
the hive. In this position they remain for hours, or maybe
for two or three days, during which time they contrive
to increase the temperature of their bodies. Eventually
their transparent, shining scales appear on the wax plates.
When sufficient wax has been produced it is nipped off
by the workers by means of special nippers on their hind
legs, chewed up in their mouths so that it will be well
mixed with saliva and then taken to the spot where the
comb is to be constructed. Here it is compressed and

Social Bees and Wasps

moulded by the mouth parts of the worker, which are so
modified as to form miniature trowels, till the well-known
six-sided cells are formed.

Honey is so frequently sold in combs for the table that
it is hardly necessary to add that these cells are always
built in a double layer, back to back, a common wall
separating the two layers, whilst the open end of each cell
is tilted upwards, ever so slightly, to prevent the honey
from flowing out. Honey is stored in cells made of new
wax ; for the brood cells, which we shall mention presently,
old wax is used, or even wax mixed with pollen. Bees
are exceedingly economical of their wax, and damaged or
unwanted cells are pulled to pieces for the sake of their
material, which is used in making other cells.

With the completion of the cells the queen, who has
already been mated with one of the drones, begins her
activities. Selecting certain of the cells, she lays a single
fertile egg in the bottom of each one. The other cells are
filled by the workers with food in the form of nectar, sipped
from flowers and pollen. After three days the eggs
deposited by the queen hatch ; a tiny, white, soft-bodied,
helpless grub or larva comes from each egg. Their advent
is the signal for the nurse workers to bestir themselves,
for the grubs are quite unable to feed on their own account.
For the first two days their food consists of nourishing
"bee jelly," a substance which the nurse workers have
already partially digested in their own bodies, pending
the time when they regurgitate it to feed their charges
from their own mouths. This food is literally pumped
into the cells, so that the larvae are actually bathed in it,
and probably a good deal of the food is absorbed through
their skins.

Another three days must needs elapse before the nurses
have done their duty to their charges. During this time
the fare is modified and no longer consists solely of " bee
jelly," but also of nectar and pollen, taken from the
adjoining cells. After its five days of special diet the

Social Bees and Wasps

youngster has grown in size to the extent of nearly filling
its cell and in intelligence to the point of being able to
feed itself. The nurse accordingly fills up the remainder
of the cell with " bee bread," which is merely nectar and
pollen, before capping — that is to say, sealing up — its
open end with wax. After a day or two, during which the
larva finishes its store of food, it changes into a chrysalis
or pupa within the cell, and there it remains for nearly a
fortnight before emerging as a fully developed worker.

Now a curious thing happens. It is not surprising to
learn that the newly born bee remains within the hive
for nearly a fortnight before venturing afield on foraging
expeditions ; it is surprising, however, to learn that the
duties assigned to so inexperienced a creature are those
of nurse worker. So that aiding in bringing other bees
into the world and safely through their infancy is the first
duty of the newly arrived worker.

As the queen lays her eggs continuously, the young bees
are as continuously making their appearance, and before
the lapse of many days a considerable family has arisen.
By this time careful study of the comb will reveal certain
cells which are larger than their neighbours ; in these cells
the queen lays unfertilised eggs. The ability of the queen
to lay fertilised or unfertilised eggs at will is one of the
most extraordinary phenomena in the bee world and has
been the cause of considerable argument by naturalists,
but that she can do so has been proved beyond a doubt.
From these unfertilised eggs arise larvae which are fed in
the manner we have just described, and they develop,
eventually, not into workers, but into drones.

Up to this point, excluding always mishaps, everything1
has gone smoothly for the queen and her enormous family.
But sooner or later a time comes when the home is no
longer large enough for its inmates, and it is a time fraught
with danger for the queen could she but know it. The
workers betray their anxiety by becoming vastly excited.
They tear down the walls of certain cells and build up a

Social Bees and Wasps

veritable giant cell around one of the fertilised eggs. Some-
times several of these cells are constructed. The larva
which hatches from the favoured egg is the subject of
special treatment by the nurse workers. No common food
will suffice for its needs, nectar and pollen are taboo, and
throughout its existence it is fed on "bee jelly." After
five days the larva can fend for itself, so a store of the jelly
is placed beside it and the cell, which by this time has
been fashioned roughly to the shape of a filbert, is capped.
In a week the fully developed bee eats its way out of the
cell, after having intimated that it is about to do so by
curious squeaks which are answered by the old queen.
After so much care and attention, it is only fitting that
something out of the ordinary should come into the bee
world, and this is so, for the new arrival is a queen.

It is well to pause here to consider exactly what has
happened. Many naturalists own that the surroundings
of an animal during its development have an enormous
influence on its future, and they draw no small comfort
from the case of the bee. The larva from a fertilised egg,
laid in a small cell by the queen bee, fed at first on bee
jelly, then on nectar and honey, develops into a worker ;
but the grub from the same egg, if laid in a large cell and
fed solely on " bee jelly," turns into a queen. Seeing that
the queen and worker bee differ very widely in structure
and in habit, the phenomenon is certainly remarkable.

Now there is a law in the bee world which brooks no
transgression, to the effect that one hive must harbour but
one queen, so the advent of the new queen means trouble,
and the trouble is not always of the same kind. Some-
times the rival queens will fight to the death ; the only
occasion, so it is said, on which the queen bee uses her
sting. At other times the workers settle the question
among themselves and, gathering in a compact mass
round the queen they have decided to destroy, they
suffocate or " ball " her. The happiest, and a frequent
manner of settling the question is for each of the queens

Social Bees and Wasps

to go off in a swarm with some of the workers and form
new communities. We mentioned that more than one
giant cell may be constructed : this means that there will
be several queens in the field, but that all of them should
be striving for supremacy at the same time would be too
much for any well-conducted hive. The workers surmount
the difficulty by walling up the giant cells in such a
manner that the emergence of the queens is successive
and not simultaneous.

We have told how the community arises and how it is
perpetuated, for swarming does not mean the break-up
of the old community. We have said little, however, of
the tireless activities of the workers. Now the worker
bee is a very wonderful creature. In other insect com-
munities, the ants and termites, for example, there are
various kinds of workers, modified in structure for the
better performance of their special duties. The worker
bee, however, is a veritable maid-of-all-work. Each
individual is so designed that it may efficiently
perform any of the sundry duties that may fall to
its lot.

After the initial fortnight spent in nursing, the young
worker takes part in foraging expeditions for the purpose
of collecting pollen and honey, in the shape of nectar.
Each worker bee is clothed with branching hairs which
are an invaluable aid in pollen collecting. The pollen is
taken from the ripe anthers of flowers, either in the mouth,
or the fore-legs, or on the hairs clothing the abdomen of
the forager. Having become well laden with the golden
dust, the bee manipulates its legs in a manner worthy of
a contortionist, and collects its treasure together, before
transferring it to the pollen baskets on the thighs of its
hind legs. These baskets consist of a hollow, surrounded
by stiff bristles which hold the pollen in place. Laden
with its booty, the forager returns to the hive and, with
the help of its middle legs, takes the pollen from the
baskets and deposits it in an empty cell. The inside

Social Bees and Wasps

workers attend to the rest by pressing the pollen well into
the cell.

Workers also collect nectar. This is sucked up from
flowers by the flexible tongue and swallowed into the
honey sac, which is really part of the stomach. With its
burden, the worker returns to the hive, and either passes
the nectar to the mouth of another bee or deposits it in a
clean new cell. The honey sac or stomach is a peculiar
organ ; it opens into the true stomach by two little slit-like
openings. Should the bee become hungry during its
peregrinations, it opens these slits and the nectar passes
into the true stomach, where it is digested. If it be the
aim of the bee to bring its supply to the hive, it keeps the
slits shut, so that the only means of exit for the nectar is
through its mouth, whence it passes when it is given to
another worker or deposited in a cell.

The conversion of nectar into bee honey is one of the
most remarkable happenings in the daily work of the hive.
Nectar is a very watery liquid, and it is essential that
this water be driven off. Now all liquids pass into vapour
more readily in moving than in still air, and a high
temperature is also helpful. The workers seem to know
this, for they contrive a marvellous system of ventilation
which at once purifies the air in the hive and helps to
drive off the surplus moisture from the nectar. These
living ventilators are the hardest worked bees of all. In
various parts of the hive, and especially on the floor, they
settle themselves, with their heads downwards and their
hinder parts pointing upwards, the while they vibrate
their wings steadily and persistently, thereby causing a
draught. The active workers also, by their very activity
on and about the comb, raise the temperature of the hive,
and thus contribute to the evaporation of moisture from
the nectar.

When the bees are ventilating their abode " a strong
current of warm air may easily be felt coming out of the
hive, if the hand be quietly brought close to the entrance.

Social Bees and Wasps

This process is continued all night to a greater or less
extent, and is the cause of the buzzing that may be heard
inside any healthy hive long after dark in a summer
night." Honey in this state would soon decompose and
be useless to the bees as well as to mankind. When one
considers all the other marvels of bee life, it is hardly
surprising to find that this point has not been neglected.
A small quantity of formic acid is added to the honey,
to make it keep. It is uncertain whence the bee derives
this acid ; it has been said that it is supplied by the
poison sacs of the sting, which certainly contain formic
acid. It is more probably derived, however, from
special glands in the head, at the time the nectar is
regurgitated.

Besides pollen and nectar, the bees bring water and
propolis, a red resinous substance derived from buds, to
their home. At times the supply of moisture in the hive
reaches a low ebb, despite the rapid evaporation from the
watery nectar. As a result the young larvae are over-
come with thirst which must be quenched. Then and
then only the foragers fill their honey stomachs with
water, sipped as dew from leaves, and carry it back to
the parched youngsters in the hive. Propolis is used in
the repair of the cells ; it is composed of the gummy
matter which oozes from certain plants.' It is carried by
the foragers in their pollen baskets and, on their return
to the hive, is used at once and never stored away in any
of the cells.

The inside workers, to which, with the exception of the
nurses, we have paid scant attention, are' no less in-
dustrious than the foragers. The greater number, of
course, find employment in wax and honey making, cell
building and repairing. Others are told off to attend to
the ventilation ; others, again, keep the hive clean —
excreta, old wax, their dead comrades and other refuse,
which perforce collects in the hive, are all removed by
the workers. Then there are the doorkeepers. The bees

Social Bees and Wasps

are too wide awake to allow intruders in their hive if they
can help it, so certain workers are given posts as guardians
of the entrance. They run about near the door, caressing
all and sundry with their feelers, to discover if the
strangers' intentions be good or evil. Wasps are frequent
intruders, for they are always eager to destroy the honey
cells.

By night the inmates of the hive are no more secure,
for it is then that the dreaded bee moths, both large and
small, steal through the entrance and deposit their eggs
about the hive. The larvae which hatch from these eggs
are exceedingly destructive ; they devour the wax and at
the same time spin a dense silken mantle over the comb.
However vigilant the doorkeepers may be, there is one
enemy with which they cannot cope, in the shape of a
little bee louse, which attaches itself to the hairy coat
of the bee and, plunging its mouth into some vulnerable
spot, sucks out the life juices of its host.

The well-known bumblebee dwells in a smaller, less
perfect community than its relative the honey-bee ; more-
over, the workers do not differ very markedly from the
queens. With the approach of winter, all the bumble-
bees, except a few mated queens, die off. They hide
away during the cold weather and spend the time in a
semi-torpid state. The advent of warm weather brings
each queen bumble-bee from her hiding-place, intent on
founding a new community. Unlike her domesticated
relative, who takes no part in the building of her home,
the bumble-bee queen gathers together an odd assortment
of stray herbage and, in some hollow in the ground, con-
structs a single waxen cell, lined with a paste of pollen
and honey. Several eggs are laid in the cell and it is
then closed by the mother bee ; later on a second and a
third cell will be made, each one being fastened to its
neighbour by a glue made of pollen and honey. Before
long the eggs hatch and the grubs quickly devour the
store of food in their cell ; then the queen makes a hole

Social Bees and Wasps

in the lid of the cell, through which she can feed her grubs
from her own mouth.

The first of the new brood of bees are all small females,
but their diminutive size does not prevent them from
helping their mother, with the consequent rapid growth
of the community. The construction of further cells is
left to the workers ; these later cells are not lined with
pollen and honey, but the grubs are fed solely by the
workers. In the bumble-bee community there are workers
of various sizes and their duties appear to depend upon
their size. The large workers repair the exterior of the
nest and gather honey ; the smaller individuals repair the
cells and tend the young. At this period the eggs are
laid by the queen, several together, in mere hollows
scooped out of wax. When the grubs hatch from the
eggs they remain in their waxen case, but soon become
separated from one another by waxen walls.

The nursing of the larvae is most interesting. One of
the workers makes a small hole in the cell and a nurse
bee, having gathered together and prepared a mixture of
pollen and honey, injects the brownish liquid through the
hole prepared by its fellow. The inmates of the cells
devour their sweet provender with evident relish. When
they are fully grown they spin silken cocoons, from which
they emerge in about three weeks. The vacated cells are
promptly put in order by the other workers, their upper
parts are bitten off and all the refuse in and around them
is removed, so that a number of clean, cup-shaped vessels
remain; these are used as receptacles for the storage of
the honey and pollen brought to the nest by the foragers.
Towards the end of the summer workers no longer arise
from the cells ; their place is taken by males or drones and
fully developed females or queens. These couples leave
the nest after their arrival in the world and the bumble-
bee community comes to an end.

A curious statement has arisen with regard to these
bees, a statement which has ofttimes been confirmed, yet

Social Bees and Wasps

is still received with scepticism. It is said that every
community, of certain species, is aroused to its daily toil
by a trumpeter, who sounds the reveille. He or she must
be an early bee, for work with the bumble-bees begins at
three o'clock or so, in the early morning.

There is a fly, or rather a bee, in the ointment, or in
the wax of the bumble-bee home. A lazy individual who
goes so far as to clothe herself in raiment remarkably
similar to that of her hosts enters the nest, constructs
cells and deposits her eggs therein. And there her labours
end, for she leaves the upbringing of her family to the
worker bumble-bees and lives an idle life herself, devouring
the pollen and honey which the other bees bring to the
nest.

Darwin told a neat little story about cats and clover
in which bumble-bees are indirectly concerned. We will
give the story as it is told by Professor J. A. Thompson,
because he carries his point a step further than Darwin.
" If the possible seeds in the flowers of the purple clover
are to become real seeds," he says, " they must be fertilised
by the golden dust or pollen from some adjacent clover
plants. But as this pollen is unconsciously carried from
flower to flower by the bumble-bees, the proposition must
be granted that the more bumble-bees, the better next
year's clover crop. The bumble-bees, however, have their
enemies in the field-mice or voles ; so that the fewer field-
mice, the more bumble-bees, and the better next year's
clover crop. In the neighbourhood of villages, however,
it is well known that the cats make as effective war on
the field-mice as the latter do on the bees. So that next
year's clover crop is influenced by the number of bumble-
bees which varies with the number of field-mice, that is
to say, with the abundance of cats ; or, to go a step
further, with the number of lonely ladies in the village."

We cannot afford a chapter to the social wasps, but
they so closely resemble the bumble-bees, in many
respects, that it would be superfluous to describe their

Social Bees and Wasps

activities in detail. Our common wasps and hornets
are all social insects, and their communities, like those of
the bumble-bees, come to an end with the approach of
autumn. There is one outstanding point of interest
about the social wasps : they are the original paper-makers,
from which man himself has not been ashamed to copy.
Nearly all these insects construct their combs and nests
of paper, not coarse imitation stuff, but paper made from
real wood-pulp. In fact a South American wasp goes
a step further and makes its nest of thick pasteboard,
with a covering of paper so fine in texture that it may
easily be written upon with pen and ink.

The insects prepare their wood-pulp by scraping the
wood fibres from old weather-beaten fences, etc. A
careful examination of such places, in the summer-time,
will reveal faint scratches, as though made by one's finger-
nail ; these are the marks left by the jaws of the wasps.
They chew up the wood with saliva till it is in a fit state
for the construction of their nests. As in the case of the
bumble-bees, a mated queen, which has survived the
winter, founds the colony. These hibernating queens
may often be found on lace curtains and similar situa-
tions, suspended by their jaws, for their feet are rarely
used as supports in this torpid state.

The cells composing the comb are six-sided, like those
of the honey-bee ; but they are made of paper instead of
wax, for no wasp possesses the wax plates of the honey-
bee ; the cells also are in a single instead of a double
layer. In most cases the cells are vertical, a position
which one might consider dangerous for the young grub.
Every provision, however, is made against its falling out.
When young it is glued to the cell ; as it grows older it
becomes so plump that it is wedged tightly between the
encircling cell walls.

The queen herself constructs the first cells of the nest,
and her work may always be distinguished by the finer
texture of the material used in its construction. She

Social Bees and Wasps

covers these cells with an umbrella-shaped shelter to
protect them from moisture and keep them warm. Later
this shelter is made into a complete envelope for the cells,
but for a small opening on the lower surface — a door for
the wasps to enter and leave their home. In each of her
cells the queen deposits a single egg and in about a week
the larvae hatch. The queen feeds them on insect food
which they are able to masticate in their relatively strong
jaws. They grow so rapidly that their mother perforce
must make constant additions to the length of their cells,
lest they outgrow their temporary homes. Within the
cell the grub spins a silken cocoon, from which it emerges
in about a month from the time of egg-laying as a perfect
wasp. Her first impulse on coming into the world is to
clean herself, and her toilet is performed with the greatest
care. She carries her brush and comb on her front legs,
so they are always at hand when she requires them. Her
toilet completed, she visits some of the larvae which are
almost ready to spin their cocoons and caresses their heads.

Evidently pleased with such unwonted attention, the
larvae give up a minute drop of liquid which the young
wasp readily drinks. For the first two days she helps the
queen to feed the larvae, after that she leaves the nest and
becomes a forager of food or wood-pulp. With the arrival
of the first dozen or so workers the queen relinquishes
all her work, with the exception of egg-laying. The
workers enlarge the nest as the exigencies of the family
may dictate ; often it is necessary to make the burrow,
in which the nest is situated, more commodious. Then
the workers may be seen issuing in a living stream, each
one bearing a little pellet of earth in its mouth, a tiny con-
tribution towards the engineering feats of the community.

Though man has copied the paper-making of the social
wasps, he has not yet gone so far as to emulate their
architecture, and it would be difficult to do so, for the
wasps build their houses from above downwards. We
could hardly build our attics before our basements.

CHAPTER II

SOLITARY BEES AND WASPS

OF the so-called solitary bees, none are more interesting
or display more ingenuity in the construction of their
nests than the leaf-cutting bees of this country. To lie
on a bed of roses is supposed to signify a life of ease and
luxury ; maybe this is the lot of the young leaf-cutter
bees, for in their larval stage, at any rate, if they are not,
strictly speaking, provided with beds of roses, their abodes
are lined with rose leaves. Usually the leaf-cutter bee
selects some old and weather-beaten willow for its nest ;
in one of the branches of the tree it makes a tunnel, a feat
which is easily accomplished, for the pith has generally
decayed away. Sometimes the burrow is in the ground,
then some disused worm-hole comes in handy,

Wherever the site, when it is once settled the mother
bee betakes herself to some plant, a rose-bush or privet or
to some gaudy-petalled flower, such as a geranium, and
busies herself with a careful examination of its leaves or
flowers. The rose-bush seems to be the favourite. When
she has once made up her mind which is the most suitable
leaf for her operations, she loses no time in cutting it up.
There is no neater cutter of material in Savile Row than
the leaf-cutter bee. Perfectly circular or oval pieces are
cut, according to the use to which they are to be put.
So accurate are the circles that one cannot help wondering
how the insect accomplishes the feat. A peep at one of
these bees at work will soon provide an explanation.

During the performance of her feat the bee converts
herself into a living compass. She straddles the margin
of the leaf with her hind legs, plants them firmly against
either surface, thus using her legs as one arm of the

Solitary Bees and Wasps

compass ; with her mouth as the second arm she bites
her way through the tissues of the leaf. Towards the
end of the cut her wings begin to vibrate rapidly, and not
without reason, for with the severance of the piece of leaf
she will be left without any solid support.

Directly the leaf is cut she folds her piece in the
middle, takes firm hold with three legs on each side and
flies off with it to her tunnel She bends the piece of leaf
to fit the curve of the walls of her tunnel and pushes
it through the opening. This performance she repeats
time and again, using circular pieces for the ends of her
cells and oblong ones for the sides. Eventually she con-
trives one of the prettiest pieces of insect handiwork
imaginable. Each little cell resembles a miniature
thimble composed solely of leaves or petals, glued
together with wax. Each piece of leaf includes a portion
of the serrated margin, an arrangement which appears to
aid in the better adhesion of the pieces. In each cell the
mother bee deposits a single egg and a little bee bread.
Then she puts a circular piece of leaf on the top and pro-
ceeds with the construction of another cell, and so on, till
she has built up a string of cells, maybe two inches or more
in length, and so strong that, with the drying of the leaves,
they will bear comparatively rough treatment. Often the
complete nests contain as many as thirty cells, with an
average of about the same number of pieces of leaf in each
cell. Nearly a thousand rose-leaf snippings, all cut with
mathematical accuracy, represents no mean feat on the
part of the bee, and the expenditure of about three weeks'
labour.

This industrious little bee is not without her enemies and,
curiously enough, the worst of them is one of her own kind.
The parasite bee is a cunning creature. Experience has
taught it that, from the nature of her work, the leaf-cutter
bee must needs be absent from home very frequently.
This is the eventuality for which the parasite is waiting.
When the leaf cell is partly completed, and the owner has

SOLITARY WASPS

In the upper part of the picture a solitary wasp is seen attacking a caterpillar on a le..f.
Beneath is another of the same species busy pounding the entrance to its burrow with a
pebble.

Solitary Bees and Wasps

begun to store it with bee bread, the intruder secretly and
rapidly enters and deposits a single egg in the food mass.
The leaf-cutter, unaware that there is anything wrong,
continues her work, fully stocks her cell with food, lays
an egg therein and seals it with a circular piece of leaf.
Then she proceeds with the construction of another cell in
blissful ignorance that her labour is in vain. The larva
of the parasite bee is the first to hatch, but it is followed
a little later by the rightful owner of the cell. Both larvae
feed on the bee bread, the parasite from below, the leaf-
cutter from above.

The parasite, having the bigger appetite, grows the
faster and soon reaches his less fortunate cell companion.
When they meet a battle royal takes place, in which the
larger and stronger parasite always comes off victorious.
Not content with this treatment, and having finished the
store of bee bread, it makes a meal of its victim. A little
later, instead of a leaf-cutter bee, a parasite bee emerges
from the cell. As the leaf-cutter, though ingenious, can
hardly be called a friend of the rose-grower, perhaps the
tragedy enacted in the leafy cell is all for the best, in this
best of all worlds.

The carpenter-bees, or rather their architectural efforts,
are not altogether dissimilar to those of the bees we
have just mentioned. For the most part they are tropical
insects and remarkable for their enormous size. In
appearance they somewhat resemble very large bumble-
bees, though their bodies are flatter and less hairy. Some-
times the males and females are so unlike one another
that they have been described by entomologists as
belonging to different species. Whatever the species and
whatever its habitat, the carpenter-bee always works in the
same methodical way — that is to say, when it does work,
for not all bees are industrious and this bee, given the
opportunity, is one of the lazy ones, using an old nest in
preference to making a new one.

Let us watch this insect carpenter at work and note that

c 33

Solitary Bees and Wasps

she leaves nothing to chance. Her first care is to select
a site for her home, and this is either a dead tree, a wooden
post or some similar structure. Having chosen a suitable
spot, she proceeds to bore a perfectly symmetrical hole,
just large enough to permit her to enter, across the grain
of the wood. She bores in this manner, using her jaws
for the purpose, till the cavity is just the length of her
body. Then she turns at right angles and tunnels directly
downwards, with the grain, for from eighteen inches to two
feet. Her rate of progress depends largely on the hard-
ness of the wood, but in moderately hard timber she
tunnels almost half-an-inch a day.

All the sawdust which is made during her work is used
by the bee at a later stage and for the time being is care-
fully stored away in safe keeping, usually in some hollow
in the tree on which she is working. Having completed
her task as a carpenter, the bee flies around and seeks
honey and pollen with which she stores the bottom of her
tunnel. On this " bee bread " she deposits a single egg
and then proceeds to build a roof, composed of the saw-
dust she has saved, mingled with her saliva. The roof or
partitions which form chambers in the tunnel vary in
structure with the different kinds of carpenter-bee. In
general, they are about the thickness of a penny and
composed of about four layers of macerated sawdust.
Each partition forms a roof to the cell below and a floor
to the one above ; the roofs are rough and flat, whilst the
floors are smooth and concave. The bee repeats her work
time and again till, in the end, the completed nest is com-
posed of a tunnel divided into several chambers, often as
many as twelve, one above the other. In each chamber
there is a store of " bee bread " and a single egg. When
her labours are almost completed, the last act of the
mother bee is to seal the mouth of the tunnel with the
same material she has used in making its partitions.

There is a family of very small yet very active little bees,
some of which are native to this country, which are known

Solitary Bees and Wasps

as small carpenter-bees. They have been given the name
because their nests somewhat resemble those of the true
carpenter-bees. These diminutive insects are not hairy, as
are most of the other bees, yet they are remarkable for the
brilliancy of their colouring, the prevailing shades being
blue, blue-black, black or green, with a metallic sheen.
Being tiny creatures, they do not possess the architectural
capabilities of the bees from which they take their name,
so they select plants with a soft pith for their operations.
The British species makes its home in the bramble ;
hunting about till it finds a broken branch, it has no
difficulty in scooping the pith from within. The whole
of the tunnel thus formed is lined with a delicate silky
membrane. It is partitioned into chambers, much in the
same way as is the tunnel of the carpenter-bee, but, instead
of using the material taken from its burrow for the
purpose, the bee collects little pellets of mud and with
these constructs her partitions, storing each cell with
honey, pollen and a single egg after the manner of all
solitary bees.

The wool-carder bee constructs a nest which is worthy
of notice ; in appearance it is a ball of white wool enclosing
the wax cells. It is said of this bee that it never makes
a hole of its own in which to place its nest, but that it
prefers door locks, snail shells, etc. The "wool " of which
this bee constructs its nest is obtained from the hairs of
various plants. Gilbert White, in his Natural History of
Selborne, wrote of this insect : " There is a sort of wild bee
frequenting the garden-campion for the sake of its
tomentum, which probably it turns to some purpose in the
business of nidification. It is very pleasant to see with
what address it strips off the pubes, running from the top
to the bottom of the branch, and shaving it bare with the
dexterity of a hoop-shaver. When it has got a bundle
almost as large as itself it flies away, holding it secure
between its chin and its fore-legs."

The ingenuity displayed by the solitary bee is diverted

Solitary Bees and Wasps

into the most varied channels. We have mentioned the leaf-
cutters and carpenters, then there are potters and masons ;
cuckoo-bees, so called because they resemble cuckoos in
habit, as nearly as an insect can resemble a bird ; blunt-
tongued burrowing bees and sharp-tongued bees of similar
habit. Of the latter there are an enormous number of
species in this country alone. They, or rather the females,
dig moderately deep holes in the soil — clay is preferred —
and at the end of the burrow an oval chamber is con-
structed. The walls of these chambers are always quite
hard, for they are well " puddled " by the females, and
not without reason. They are used as storehouses for the
honey and pollen destined to nourish the larvae, so that,
unless the walls were well hardened, the honey would soak
into the soil and be lost to the bee. Nature seems to have
ordained that the males of the sharp-tongued burrowing
bees should be lazy, for she has provided them with fore-
legs which are useless for digging and hind legs which are
unable to carry pollen.

The solitary wasps differ from the bees of similar habit
in one very remarkable particular : whereas the food of
the bee larva in every case consists of "bee bread," that of
the wasp larvae always consists of insects, and each species
of solitary wasps stores its larder with a special kind of
insect. Some of these wasps are partial to spiders, which,
by the way, are not insects at all ; others prefer beetles,
others again cockroaches or locusts or cicadas, and so on,
each species exhibiting a partiality for a particular species
of insect. Of the solitary wasps none are more interesting
than the sand-wasps. Small wonder that Fabre, who was
described as the insects' Homer, made them the object of
special study. Though others have described their habits
more accurately, the French naturalist always contrived
to weave a beautiful romance around his beloved insects
and their doings.

The sand-wasps excavate tunnels in the earth, using
their mouths for the work. Their jaws are remarkably

Solitary Bees and Wasps

strong, and with them they bite at the earth till they have
removed a pellet. Then they come to the surface with
their burden in their mouths and deposit it a short
distance away from the entrance to their burrow. All
the time they are at work they keep up a loud buzzing,
apparently with the object of scaring away strangers.
After the completion of her burrowing operations the
female covers the door of her nest with a small pebble,
and over this, in turn, she scrapes dry earth, tamping it
down, marvellous to relate, with a small stone held in her
powerful jaws. Over all she often places a few pieces of
dried grass. The solicitude of the mother wasp for the
effectual concealment of her burrow is one of the most
remarkable traits of these wonderful insects. Sometimes
the wasp will return again and again to the site of her
home, to assure herself that all is well. On these visits
she frequently places other objects over the burrow to
make assurance doubly sure.

Having made certain that she has done all that is
possible to hide her nest, the wasp hunts about for insect
prey. Some sand-wasps prefer caterpillars and others
spiders. Having found a suitable insect for her purpose,
she stings it in such a manner that, although it is for ever
incapable of movement, it does not actually die, and there
is reason in her action. Bearing her burden with unerring
accuracy to her burrow, she removes the earth and stones
from its mouth and enters, dragging her paralysed prey
after her. The end of the burrow is formed into a
chamber. Here she leaves her living burden, deposits an
egg upon it and flies away in search of further provision
for her larder, after carefully closing and concealing the
entrance to her home. More provender is collected and
stored in the same way and an egg deposited upon each
individual, then the life work of the mother wasp is com-
pleted. Her last act is to conceal the entrance to her
burrow, and this she does with scrupulous care, for never-
more will she be able to tend it. Satisfied with her efforts,

Solitary Bees and Wasps

she flies away as far as her failing strength will carry her,
and dies. The young sand-wasps, however, will perpetuate
her work, for her eggs will furnish lusty grubs well pro-
vided with living food, seeing that their mother was careful
to paralyse and not to kill her prey, thereby ensuring that
it would be in fresh condition for her offspring.

Two American entomologists noticed a very distinct
personality among the female sand-wasps they watched at
work. " This personality was not of individual appearance
but of such mental attributes as careful painstaking or
carelessness, and industry or laziness. One seemed to
hurry tremendously and spent no time on non-essentials.
Another was an artist, working for a long time on the
closing of her burrow, arranging the surface with
scrupulous care and sweeping away every possible particle
of dust to a distance. Still another went to the extreme
in carelessness, carrying the caterpillar in a very careless
way and making a nest which was a very poor affair.
Still a fourth was the most fastidious and perfect little
worker of the whole season, so nice was she in her adapta-
tion of means to ends, so busy and contented in her
labour of love, and so pretty in her pride of her completed
work. In fact, they seem to have almost as much in-
dividuality as human beings, and the result of these
observations has a strong bearing on the discussion of
instinct." Fabre, the ^French entomologist, who studied
the same insects, considered that they were inspired by
automatically perfect instincts which can never have
varied to any appreciable extent from the beginning of
time. Deviation from the regular rule, he thought, would
mean extinction. The American authorities, however,
found that variability was " the one unmistakable and ever-
present fact, and this variability existed in every particular :
in the shape of the nest and in the manner of digging it,
whether it is left closed or open, in the manner of stinging
the prey and of crushing it, in the manner of carrying the
victim, in the way of closing the nest and in the condition

Solitary Bees and Wasps

produced in the victim by the stinging, some dying and
others living for a long time though nearly motionless."

Every imaginable variation of the nesting and food-
storing habits of the sand-wasps may be found amongst
their near relatives. One solitary wasp lays in a store of
cockroaches ; its nest is always built in walls between the
crevices of the stones, and the entrance thereto is usually
large enough to admit an average-sized cockroach. Now
the cockroach, for reasons which it is outside our province
to discuss, is very variable in size — in short, it grows — and
unlike the wasp which preys upon it, or the house-fly or
the dragon-fly, is not of the same dimensions when it
makes its entrance into the world as when it makes its
exit. This is awkward for the wasp, for a day assuredly
arrives when its prey is too large to be dragged into the
nest. Such a happening, however, does not daunt the
little huntress. Her first act is to snip off the horny wing-
cases of her victim, thereby allowing its body to be com-
pressed. Then probably a leg will become jammed in
the doorway and cause an obstruction ; again the wasp is
equal to the occasion and amputates the offending limb,
and so on, till finally the sadly dismembered cockroach
is safely within the burrow. »••'.

Another of these wasps does not seem to have fully
learned the art of completely paralysing the creatures
destined for the food of its grubs. Moreover, it is obvi-
ously conscious of its shortcomings, therefore the spiders
on which it preys suffer amputation of their legs, so that,
should they recover consciousness, they are unable to
escape from the nest. The case of yet another of these
wasps is even more hopeless, at least it would be hopeless
but for the ingenuity of the mother wasp. As one writer
aptly puts it, she has not inherited from her ancestors the
receipt for the paralysing sting. It is impossible, there-
fore, for this wasp to lay up a store of living food. She
builds her nest somewhat after the fashion of the sand-
wasp and deposits her eggs therein. At the time the

Solitary Bees and Wasps

larvae emerge the mother wasp goes on a foraging ex-
pedition and returns with a small fly, with which she feeds
her progeny. Each time she leaves the nest she carefully
covers the entrance ; every time she returns with prey she
must perforce remove the covering. As the larvae grow
so do the flies supplied by the mother wasp increase in
size ; starting with the most minute flies, she so orders
her household that the final larvae meals shall consist of
plump gadflies. She feeds her young exactly after the
manner of a bird, with the added labour of filling up the
entrance to her nest over and over again.

A straightforward recital of the ingenious nesting habits
of the solitary wasps conveys no idea of the dangers they
encounter in their hunt for prey. Crickets and locusts,
which some of them attack, are provided with very strong
hind legs, and active withal, so that a false move on the
part' of the wasp would afford the victim a chance to
disembowel its enemy — a chance that would not be
allowed to pass. Certain solitary wasps prey upon spiders
much larger than themselves, and spiders possess cruel
poison fangs which they do not hesitate to use. Is it
surprising, then, to learn that the wasps engage in sham
fights with one another, to keep in training for their
encounters with the spiders ? Mr Latter thus describes
one of these sparring matches : " Frequently two females
—note this is no love dance, for both are females — may
be seen to settle down face to face on a patch of sand, to
move round and round as though searching for an oppor-
tunity, to lean over first on one and then on the other
side, and from time to time to lash round with their
wonderfully flexible abdomens as though delivering a
stab from the venomous sting.

" In their actual encounters with the spiders it behoves
them ever to face the enemy, for the poison fangs of the
spider are situated at the head end, and it is thus from
that quarter that danger threatens. The wasp, on the
contrary, carries her weapon at the tip of her tail, and

Solitary Bees and Wasps

needs to be expert in at once keeping her eye on the foe
and at the same time delivering an attack from her rear
armament. Of course the poor spider is heavily handi-
capped by the absence of wings, which enable the wasp
to move and make circles round her less agile opponent."
The graceful little mud-wasps are often described in
natural history books, because of their curiously formed
little earthen nests, and the still more extraordinary places
in which they build them, such as door-locks, window
catches, cotton reels, and the like. An ingenious nesting
habit which is rarely mentioned is worth a moment's
attention. In each cell the little wasp deposits a single
egg and a store of paralysed caterpillars, which, by the
way, are usually pushed into their hiding-place by means
of the wasp's head. The egg is always suspended by a
silken thread to the roof of the cell in such a manner that
it hangs just clear of the nearest caterpillar. The wasp
grub, when it comes into the world, is very fragile, and
might easily be mortally wounded by any movement on
the part of its living fare. Therefore, tethered as it were
to the silken thread, it makes its first meal out of harm's
way, off the nearest caterpillar. But more wonders are
yet to come. It is necessary for the wasp larva to reach
more food, and it is yet too feeble to venture alone in its
larder. The difficulty is overcome in this manner. The
egg, from which the larva has emerged, breaks up into
a ribbon, thereby lengthening the tether and enabling
the hungry little being to reach more of its food supply.
With increasing age the young wasp larva gains strength,
so that the last of its provisions, in the shape of the
caterpillars, are devoured without the aid of the protecting
silken thread.

CHAPTER III

ANTS

No insect, with the possible exception of the bee, has
been more highly and more frequently eulogised than the
ant. From Biblical times to the present day its industry
has been considered worthy of imitation. There is another,
more subtle, reason why the ant appeals to man. Its
habit of living in permanent communities bears an un-
deniable resemblance to our own condition. " In order
to live in permanent commonwealths an organism must be
not only remarkably adaptive to changes in its external
environment, but must also have an intense feeling of
co-operation, forbearance and affection towards the other
members of its community."

Ants occupy a unique position in the insect world
because of the number of their individuals and kinds ;
their wide distribution over the earth ; their longevity,
their perfect adaptation and special modes of life and their
relationships with plants and other animals, including
man. Wherever one goes, ants may be found — from the
Polar regions to the Tropics, from the dampest forests
to the driest deserts, on the summits of the highest
mountains or on the seashore. Their colonies often out-
live a generation of men. They are not handicapped in
their mode of life like other social insects ; their diet is not
restricted, as in the case of the termites and bees ; nor,
as a rule, do they build their nests of expensive material,
so that they can easily remove themselves and their
broods to another place, when their nest is threatened with
destruction or when weather conditions are unfavourable.
Espinas says, that ants owe their success to their terrestrial
habits. " When it is necessary for an aerial animal, like

Ants

the bee, to build its nest it must either secrete the substance
of its nest or seek it at a distance, as does the bee when
she collects propolis, or the wasp when she gathers material
for her paper. The terrestrial animal, like the ant, has its
building materials close at hand, and its architecture may
be as varied as these materials." Also ants have few
enemies, a fact which caused the naturalist Forel to
remark that " the ant's most dangerous enemies are other
ants, just as man's most dangerous enemies are other
men."

It is curious to note how ant societies resemble and
differ from those of man. Human societies may be divided
into six classes or stages — the hunting, pastoral, agri-
cultural, commercial, industrial and intellectual ; and ants
have stages corresponding to the first three. Some ants
live solely by the products of the chase : they are known as
driver and legionary ants ; some keep domestic animals,
in the shape of plant lice, scale insects and caterpillars,
these belong to the pastoral class ; the agricultural class
is represented by the harvesting-ants, which collect, store
• and, it is said, plant seeds.] Against these resemblances
may be set the fact that ant societies are almost solely
composed of females, for the males take little part in the
social life of the colony ; each female is predestined to
a certain task, and an ant community may be likened to
a big family. A very big family in some cases, for Forel
has estimated that a community may consist of five
hundred thousand individuals. Such a community re- ,
sembles a perfect republic where each works for the good
of the whole community, each having her appointed work,
labouring constantly for the good of all and each ready to
sacrifice herself for the good of all. A veritable insect
Utopia.

Before we turn our attention to some of the more
extraordinary ant colonies let us examine the typical
life history of these insects. An ant's nest may be built
above or below ground ; in hollows in trees ; in plant galls ;

Ants

in decaying wood — in fact, no situation may be said to be
wholly unsuitable for a nest if the right kind of ant is at
hand to make use of it. With few exceptions, the general
life of one community is very similar to that of any other.
At the end of her nuptial flight, the mated queen returns
to her hiding-place, below ground if she belongs to an
earth-frequenting kind, and her first care is to rid herself
of her wings, which henceforth will be useless to her. The
offending encumbrances are either pulled off with her legs
and jaws, or rubbed against stones, grass blades and the
like, till they break away. Having performed this surgical
operation, which, in reality, is not very difficult, for the
wings easily break away after their one flight, the queen,
whose body is well stored with fat, proceeds to found her
colony by herself. She makes a little burrow in the soil
and enlarges the blind end into a chamber and, having
done so, she closes the entrance. This engineering feat
costs the ant much tribulation ; she wears away her jaws,
with which she excavates the soil, rubs the hairs from
her body and, at length, with scratched and bruised
armour, she settles down unaccompanied and lonely, in
her little chamber for days, weeks or even months, till
her eggs are ready to be laid.

At length the eggs are deposited in a little packet, and
from them very small grubs emerge. These new-comers
are nourished by the saliva of the queen, which, in turn,
is derived from the fat stored in her body, for she takes
no food during the whole of the time she is founding her
colony. They grow slowly and little, but, mishaps aside,
they eventually develop into undersized workers, whose
first care is to break a way into the outer air and proceed
with the enlargement of the nest. But let us first of all
follow the fortunes of the queen. The newly hatched
workers bring her food, but she takes little interest in her
progeny ; at their birth she becomes excessively timid
and shuns the light, her sole care is to produce more and
more,eggs. She laps the liquid food which her attendants

Ants

bring her and regains some of her original plumpness, but
she remains all the time, perhaps for fifteen years, a lonely,
self-sacrificing, egg-laying machine.

In an incredibly short time the community is in full
swing. The ill-formed original workers are replaced by
more lusty individuals, as the eggs, so freely provided
by the queen, mature. These eggs are elongate and
yellowish ; they are always laid in clusters and not in
special cells, as with the social bees and wasps. The
greatest care is bestowed upon them by the workers.
Almost hourly they lick their charges, covering them
with saliva, which causes them to stick together in batches
and also acts as an antiseptic, preventing the growth of
harmful moulds. The drying of the eggs and their con-
sequent falling away into separate units would be very
inconvenient for the workers. Single eggs would entail
much labour in transport, batches of eggs are more easily
carried, and an accident to the nest might render necessary
their rapid removal to a place of safety.

Also, as the temperature and moisture of the nest varies
from hour to hour, so do the workers carry the eggs from
chamber to chamber in the nest in an endeavour to keep
the conditions equable. As they are held together by
saliva it is possible to move several at a time. The grubs
which hatch from the later eggs of the queen or queens —
each nest may contain as many as thirty of these royal
insects — are just as helpless as were their elder brothers
and sisters. They are translucent, soft-bodied, blind,
legless, helpless little creatures, in shape like a miniature
" crook-necked " gourd. Sometimes they are hairless but
more often hairy, to their advantage. A hairy coat raises
their bodies a little way from the ground and so preserves
them from damp, just as one raises a wooden hut from
the ground to allow a current of air to pass beneath. Such
a coat acts as a protection against their elder sisters who
may feel hungry, for ants are cannibals on occasion ; it
causes them to stick together in groups, an advantage in

Ants

transport, as we have seen in the case of the eggs. Some
grubs have hooked hairs, and these are very useful, for
by their means the workers simply hang the youngsters
to the wall of the nest out of harm's way, much as an
Indian squaw hangs her baby to her tent. -

Now the grubs are so helpless that they give their
nurses no end of trouble. In the first place, they are
quite unable to feed themselves, so their nurses supply
them with nourishment from their own mouths, which
may consist of partly digested food, masticated insects
caught by the workers, portions of seeds or other vegetable
matter. In some communities, the soldier ants, which
we shall speak of later, are appointed carvers and cut up
tough-skinned insects for the grubs ; in other communities
the soldiers act as official nut-crackers to the colony.
For a month or more the nursing continues, and during
all this time the nurses are kept very busy. In order
that the grubs may develop into healthy, well-grown ants
it is necessary that during their various stages of growth
they should be surrounded with an atmosphere of constant
temperature and humidity ; they require different condi-
tions at different stages of development To bring this
about the nurses remove their charges from place to
place within the nest. They are arranged in piles
according to their ages : this alone is a heavy task for the
nurses. In addition, the grubs are constantly cleaned
by licking : particles of soil must not be allowed to stick
to their delicate bodies. The nurses' saliva also acts as
a waterproof and an antiseptic covering for the grubs. A
further duty consists in protecting the youngsters from
light and enemies. Usually they are stored in the
darkest recesses of the nest ; however, the nurses of one
Texan species are in the habit of bringing their charges
to the surface after nightfall, and slowly promenading up
and down with them, after the manner of human beings.

At length the grubs reach the stage at which it is
necessary to change into chrysalids. Here again the

Ants

nurses lend their aid. The grub cannot spin its cocoon
without some points of attachment for its silk, so what
do the nurses do ? They embed the grubs in the earth
till they have spun their silken cocoons ; then, the
operation complete, they dig them up and store them in
their different piles, according to age, as they did with
the grub. These cocoons are sold under the misleading
name of ants' eggs, and used, amongst other things, for
feeding gold-fish. In the cocoon wonderful changes take
place as the ant grub transforms into the adult insect.
When these changes are almost complete the nurses once
more come to the rescue. Splitting up the silken envelope,
they remove the helpless half-formed ant from within.

In this stage the creature is known as a callow, and it
is in very fact unfledged. The callow is helpless, its legs,
feelers and wings, if it be a winged form, are closely folded
to its body ; all these organs are carefully cleaned, licked
dry and unfolded by the diligent nurses. In short, they
literally set the callow on its feet. When the time arrives
for the formation of a new colony, and the consequent
mating of the queens, a curious thing happens.

It is well known that mating with near relatives is bad
for any animals. How is this prevented by the ants ?
By a remarkable dispensation, the nuptial flights of the
members of all the adjoining nests take place at precisely
the same moment, so that there is every chance of a queen
mating with a male from another nest. Just before the
flight the workers may often be observed holding back
the impatient males and queens till the proper time
arrives. In these nuptial flights there are always hundreds
of queens, and in this respect they differ widely from a
swarm of bees, where one queen only is concerned. This,
in short, is the life story of a typical ant community.

The structure of the nests, the number of castes — that
is to say, individuals modified in some special manner for
the accomplishment of definite duties — the habits of the
workers differ widely in the various species. The nests

Ants

are so varied that we can only mention a few of the more
interesting ; the castes so numerous that only those with
which we are immediately concerned will be described ;
the ways of the workers — well, volumes have been filled
with their doings. In certain respects all ants are alike.
They are all exceedingly cleanly. It is hardly surprising
that large quantities of waste matter, excrement, cast
skins and the like, should be found in the nests, or would
be were the ants not so tidy. Every scrap of rubbish is
carefully removed by the workers, either to some place
outside the nest or to a deserted gallery within it. Veri-
table little kitchen middens are these rubbish-heaps.
Any evil-smelling substance which finds its way into the
nest and cannot be removed is dealt with equally promptly.
The ants simply throw little pellets of earth upon the
offending object till it is buried.

All ants, with the exception of some flesh-eating
species, have a common failing — they are all partial to
sweet things. In this connection there is nothing more
remarkable in the ant world than the " honey pots " of a
small American ant. The nest of this ant is never very
large, and is always situated in the vicinity of shin oak
thickets, for a reason which will be apparent in a moment.
Externally, the home of the honey-ant is a low, gravel-
covered mound, about six inches in diameter by three
inches in height. Internally, it contains certain special
chambers with dome-shaped roofs, to the rough surfaces
of which certain peculiarly contrived individuals cling.

The ordinary workers display little activity by day,
but at night they issue from their nests in thousands and
ascend the oak-trees. Now the shin oak is especially
liable to the attacks of gall insects, and there is a certain
gall which gives off a sugary substance called honey-dew.
It is for the honey on these galls, together with the sweet
exudations of green-fly and scale insects living on the
oaks, that the nightly forays of the ants are made. The
worker ants lick up all the honey-dew they can find and

A RIDE ON BEETLE-BACK, AND A LIVING SWEET-SHOP.

Enjoyment seems to be the only motive the fly has for riding on the back of the African beetle
shown in the upper part of this illustration. Beneath is shown the well named honey-pot
ant with its distended body full of honey, which it gives away to any hungry working ant.

Ants

return to the nest fully laden. Once in their home, they
lose no time in seeking out the individuals waiting for
them in the vaulted chambers. The mouths of forager
and prospective honey-pot are closely applied, the honey-
dew is regurgitated by the worker and absorbed by its
fellow till it becomes so distended as to resemble a six-
legged currant. It is changed into a positive living
storehouse, filled with grape sugar. So utterly incapable
of movement does it become, by reason of its sugary
burden, that, should it fall by accident from its vaulted
roof, it will lie, with its legs in the air, a helpless mass of
ant anatomy.

Why, it may be asked, should the worker ants display
such solicitude for their seemingly lazy relatives ? Be
assured there is a reason for their behaviour. Bad times
may fall upon the community, either through drought or
the natural sequence of the seasons. Then, at anyrate,
the honey-ants become objects of prime importance.
Hungry workers will stroke them gently with their feelers
and, pleased with such unwonted attention, the " honey
pots " disgorge their store of grape sugar, drop by drop,
to the evident delight of the workers. As Dr Wheeler
has remarked : " Those who are wont to extol the fervid
industry and extraordinary feats of muscular endurance
in ants should not overlook the beatific patience and self-
sacrifice displayed by the replete ant as it hangs from the
rafters of its nest, month in, month out — perhaps for
years — a reservoir of temperamental as well as liquid
sweetness."

The cultivation of mushrooms might be thought to be
beyond the powers of even the intelligent ant ; well, ants
do not cultivate the mushrooms we are accustomed to
eat, but they come very near to it. They grow fungi of
various kinds in their underground nests. These fungus-
growing ants all dwell in tropical America, and very
destructive they are, for they have a pernicious habit of
removing leaves from trees and carrying them to their
D 49

Ants

nests. Why they do so remained a mystery for a long
time. Some naturalists concluded that they used the
leaves as food, others that they lined their nests with
them ; the real use, however, of this vegetable matter is
to act as a manure on which their much-loved fungus
will grow.

The nests of these ants consist of numerous rounded,
underground chambers, about as large as a man's head,
connected together by tunnels. In these chambers there
is stored a speckled, brown, spongy mass of vegetable
matter, the prepared leaves, interwoven with a minute
white fungus. Other vegetable matter, including the
white rind of oranges, is used for the same purpose. An
astonishing thing about these ants is the care they take
over the ventilation of their fungus beds. Numerous
tunnels connect the chambers with the air. These are
constantly opened, and as often closed, to keep up a
regular temperature. Certain of the workers are told off
to weed these fungus gardens, and the task is no light
one, because the vegetable manure is a favourable medium
for the growth of many kinds of fungi, but the ants only
permit one kind to flourish.

When a move is made to a fresh nest, portions of the
fungus are taken to the new home by the workers so that
the food supply may remain unimpaired, but stranger
still is the proceeding when the queen sets forth to start
a new colony. When she leaves her nest for the marriage
flight she takes with her the remains of her last meal,
consisting of her favoured fungus. After mating, she
digs a hole in the ground, closes its opening to the outside
world and sets to work to found a colony. She spits out
the pellet of fungus threads and cultivates it, while she
is at the same time laying eggs and rearing the larvae.
Wonder upon wonder confronts us in the study of these
marvellous insects. How does the solitary, fully occupied
queen gather leaves on which to grow her little store of
fungus? She uses no leaves, but simply crushes up a few

Ants

of her first formed eggs in her mouth, and on this medium
the fungus flourishes exceedingly.

As the young ants develop, the queen must needs tend
her fungus garden as well as her offspring, for the fungus
is a necessary food for the young ants. From time to
time the queen tears off a little of the fungus growth in
her mouth and holds it to the tip of her body. At the
same time she gives forth a small drop of brownish liquid,
which is rapidly absorbed by the fungus. Then she
inserts the little tuft amongst the main fungus growth
and puts it into place with her fore-feet. This operation
is repeated once or twice an hour, and the fungus thrives
on its manuring. Sometimes a queen will find herself
without a fungus garden, then another queen will present
her with sufficient of the growth to start horticultural
operations, to her evident delight.

The first grubs to hatch do not feed on the fungus, as
might be expected, but are fed by their mother on her
own eggs. As soon as they are grown into fully fledged
workers they enlarge the nest by making other chambers ;
they bring pieces of leaves, cut them into minute wads
and insert them in the fungus garden. The manuring of
the garden by the queen ceases, and she degenerates into
a sluggish egg-laying machine.

From the fungus-growing to the harvesting-ants is not
a very far cry. Harvesters are found in practically all the
warmer parts of the earth, and wherever they live their
habits are very similar. They usually scour the country
in droves, gathering seeds of all sorts as they go and
returning with them to their underground nests, where
they are stored in special chambers or granaries, to be
used as food for the young and for themselves. More
extraordinary than their proven habits are the stories that
have been woven round their doings. They are said to
bite off the young growing points from the seeds in order
to prevent them from germinating. So far from this being
the truth, the stored seeds often germinate within the

Ants

granaries and are then promptly thrown out by the
tenants. True, the ants take the skins from all the seeds
before storing and carry the husks outside their nests, but
nipping off the growing points — never !

Another fable of the harvesters is that they cultivate
certain plants on the mounds over their nests, for the
sake of their seeds. Careful observation has shown that
these so-called cultivated plants are simply throw-outs
from their nests. As one writer remarked : " To say that
the ant, like a provident farmer, sows this cereal and
guards and weeds it for the sake of garnering its grain, is
as absurd as to say that the family cook is planting and
maintaining an orchard when some of the peach stones,
which she has carelessly thrown into the backyard with
the other kitchen refuse, chance to grow into peach-trees."

Of the other ants with horticultural proclivities, the
most remarkable are those Brazilian species which build
" ant gardens." These gardens are composed of particles
of earth, carried into trees by the ants and built up
into spherical masses bearing a close resemblance to bath
sponges. According to the naturalist who discovered them,
the seeds of certain plants are carried up the trees by the
insects and planted in the masses of earth, in order that
their roots may bind the soil particles more firmly
together.

The relations of ants to plants are many and varied, and
form a special study in themselves. Certain ants dwell in
the thorns of acacia-trees and sally forth to protect their
living home from the ravages of leaf-cutting ants when
these destructive insects threaten an attack. Another
species of ant dwells in a large gall, with a single opening,
which is plugged, day in day out, with a living stopper, and
in this manner. Some of the workers of this species are
known as soldiers and, as always happens among soldier
ants, are possessed of very large heads and powerful jaws.
The galls in which the ants take up their abode resemble
large, hollow oranges. Entrance to and exit from the

Ants

cavity of the gall is by means of the single hole which
is exactly the size of the soldier's head, and there he sits,
an animated portal with a stopper-shaped head. When
a worker wishes to go out into the world she strokes the
soldier's back and he moves aside to let her pass, at once
plugging the hole with his massive head when she has
done so. On her return, the worker strokes the soldier's
head with her feelers and he once more steps aside to let
her pass.

In striking contrast to these relatively peaceful ants are
the slave-making species. These fall naturally into two
classes according to their habits. In the first class are
those slave-makers which pillage neighbouring nests and
carry off the young, as much from a spirit of conquest as
from necessity, for they are quite capable of existing, and
often do exist, without slaves. In the second class are the
ants which without their slaves are quite incapable of look-
ing after themselves. The European slave-maker, of the
first class, is a bloodthirsty little beast. It lives under
stones, in logs of wood or tree stumps. By many it is
considered the most gifted of ants, certainly it is the most
war-like, biting all intruders, and injecting acid from the
end of its body into the wound thus made. It is capable
of making its own nest, securing its own food and rearing
its young without the aid of slaves. In fact the enslaved
species, when present, only carry out the duties of ordinary
workers.

The slave raids take place in July and August, after the
nuptial flights of the slave species have taken place.
Before a raid, scouts are sent out all over the neighbour-
hood to spy out the land and to discover favourable nests
for attack. The raiders, on the return of the scouts, leave
their nests in a straggling open phalanx, or even in several
detachments. They move over the ground by the most
direct route to their objective, continually shifting their
positions in the ranks as they go, some dropping back
as stragglers, others coming forward to take their places.

Ants

When they reach the nest to be pillaged they do not
attack it at once, but surround it and await the arrival of
the other detachments. This is the signal for the other ants
to prepare to defend their home, or to seize their young
and attempt to break through the encircling cordon. The
latter is a false move, for some of the slave-makers snatch
away their charges, whilst the others enter and pillage the
nest. Soon the raiders return home laden with grubs and
chrysalids, whilst the bereft ants slowly enter their pillaged
home and take up the nurture of the few remaining young
or await the appearance of future broods.

The Amazons, of which there are representatives in
Europe and America, never excavate their own nests or
care for their young. They are even incapable of obtain-
ing their own food. For the essentials of food, lodging
and education they are wholly dependent on the slaves
hatched from the worker cocoons they have stolen from
alien colonies. Apart from these slaves they are quite un-
able to live : they even dwell in nests whose architecture
throughout is that of the slave species. While in the
home nest they sit about in stolid idleness or pass long
hours begging the slaves for food or cleaning themselves
and burnishing their ruddy armour, but when outside the
nest on a predatory expedition they display a dazzling
courage and capacity for concerted action compared with
which the raids of other ants resemble the clumsy efforts
of a lot of untrained militia. And what of the slaves?
Are they discontented with their lot? Apparently not,
for one of the most extraordinary happenings of the
Amazonian raids is the obvious excitement of the stay-at-
home slaves when the raiders return with their booty.

CHAPTER IV

TERMITES OR WHITE ANTS

HE would be a churl indeed who failed to admire the
work of the early naturalists for, with primitive apparatus
and often limited fields of study, they greatly advanced
our knowledge of the animal kingdom. Nevertheless,
these one-time worthies were anything but happy in their
choice of names. Misnomers are as common in the insect
world as mites on a seasoned cheese. The insects known
as green, dragon or may flies respectively are not flies at
all, and there are many still more flagrant misnomers.
The common black beetle is neither black nor a beetle ;
white ants are neither white nor are they ants. How
white ants earned their name we do not know ; probably
the fact that they are social insects, living in colonies
after the manner of true ants, may have something
to do with it. At anyrate, they are not related to
the true ants, but to the dragon and may flies. To
scientists, sticklers all for accuracy, white ants are
known as termites, and that is the name we will use,
for it has the merit of brevity, in addition to being
more correct.

At the risk of labouring the question of the non-
relationship of ants to termites, we will mention one
important point of difference. Our readers will remember
that we mentioned the great care bestowed by ants on
their helpless, footless grubs. Termites, on the other
hand, do not pass through all the changes usual to insects ;
they skip some of the stages and, instead of being grubs,
unable to fend for themselves, the young ones are as
active as their parents, in fact they are miniatures of the
adults. Each termite community is made up of winged

Termites or White Ants

and wingless individuals and of several castes. To each
caste a special duty is assigned.

Let us examine one of the giant termite mounds of
tropical Africa, Australia, Asia or America and learn for
ourselves the marvellous work which is carried on therein,
hidden from the outside world. It is in the Tropics that
these destructive insects attain their greatest development,
both in individual dimensions and in the extent of their
colonies. Some of the African termite mounds, exceeding
twenty feet in height and measuring over a hundred feet
in circumference, house literally millions of inmates.
They are composed solely of clay and the saliva of the
insects, and by the aid of the tropical sun they become
baked as hard as bricks. In outline they are conical and
usually consist of one large central cone surrounded by a
number of smaller cones.

Although termites are stealthy workers, avoiding the
light as a cat shuns water, there is one season of the year
when they blacken the air with their presence. This is
the time of the nuptial flight, and, as it marks the
beginning of a new community, it forms a fitting starting-
point for our study of a termite colony. When the
nuptial flight takes place, thousands upon thousands of
winged termites issue from the dark recesses of their home
and fly into the air. Their appearance is the signal foi-
all the insect-eating creatures of the neighbourhood to
assemble, for they know by experience that a time of
plenty is at hand. Birds, dragon-flies, robber-flies and the
like forgather to feast upon the luckless termites. As a
consequence few individuals survive their brief flight,
taken with the object of pairing, away from their homes.
Such, however, is the confusion caused by the advent of
voracious enemies that as often as not the insects making
their bridal flight are defeated of their object. In any
event the flight is never repeated, for although the winged
male and female termites which embark on this great
adventure are good flyers, when they first come to light

AN ANT-HILL BY DAY

The red wood-ants cover their dwelling with a thatch of leaves and straw or pine-needles, to ker p the'r
nurseries and living-rooms warm and dry. During the daytime in line weather the roof is crowded with
busy insects, but at nightfall or when it bsgins to rain the ants retire within the nest and "shut up
house " by closing all the entrances with bits of stick and leaves.

Termites or White Ants

their wings soon break off short and with the stumps that
are left to them they are quite incapable of rising from
the ground.

After the nuptial flight the winged females or queens
which have escaped the attentions of their enemies seek
shelter in the ground and start a new colony. This may
be brought about by the queen and her consort, who is
known as a king, or, and this is more usual, by the com-
bined efforts of the queen and some individuals from the
old colony who join forces with her.

Let us follow the fortunes of the queen and her willing
workers. They are all wingless individuals — ordinary
workers, nurses, soldiers and, most curious of all, nasuti
or nosed ones. The first duty of the ordinary workers is
to construct an earthen cell for their queen ; this, though
termed a royal cell, is merely an oblong chamber of clay,
constructed in such a manner that it may be enlarged
from time to time. It forms the very centre of the new
colony and in it the queen spends the whole of her exist-
ence. Her royal palace is also her burial-place. Her
whole life is given to the formation of a new colony, she
is denied the excitement of the fights in which the soldiers
take part, or the distraction of building her home ; she
cannot even share the work of the nurses who tend her
progeny. In solitude she produces her eggs and then,
her work accomplished, she dies, and her arduous duties
fall upon another younger queen.

Around the royal cell the workers labour unceasingly,
day and night, in the construction of hundreds of little
chambers, so that in an incredibly short space of time a
good-sized structure is formed, with the queen's abode as
a centre. Surrounding these small cells there are larger
ones connected by passages, and in course of time the
home of the termite colony is completed.

During the building operations great changes have been
taking place in the appearance of the queen. During and
immediately after her nuptial flight she was a slim,

Termites or White Ants

sprightly individual. The cares of motherhood, however,
have wrought wonders in her form and long before her
home is completed she increases enormously in size. She
becomes so swollen with eggs that she attains dimensions
thirty thousand times as great as those of the workers
who attend her, yet once she was little bigger than they.
So distended is the unfortunate queen by this time that
she is quite unable to move ; on this account her internment
is not quite the hardship it might appear, in fact it acts
as a good and necessary protection for her. She forms a
queer-looking object ; her head and legs have not grown
and in size " bear about as much relation to the rest of her
body as the tuft on his glengarry bonnet bears to a six-
foot Highlander." As a consequence they appear hope-
lessly out of place at the end of her soft, creamy-white,
pulpy body, which resembles nothing so much as a young
potato. Her attendants are kept constantly busy en-
larging her cell to keep pace with her rapidly increasing
proportions.

Marvellous as is the rapid growth of the queen, her
almost incredible egg-laying capacity is far more extra-
ordinary. Had the fecundity of the queen termite not
been proved beyond doubt time and again, it would be
unbelievable. She produces eighty thousand eggs a day
at the average rate of one a second, and this not for a
limited period, for she never slackens her output till she
has produced upwards of thirty million eggs.

How comes it that the whole tropical world is not
peopled by hosts of termites? They exist in plenty to
be sure, but the remarkable fertility of the queens is in
line with a well-recognised law of nature that the number
of young produced by a female at one time is roughly
proportional to the risks the young will run before they
are grown up. Animals with few enemies produce but
one or two young at a time ; with added risks the number
of young increases and attains its zenith with the termites,
some other insects and certain fishes. Many of these

Termites or White Ants

much-persecuted creatures would soon be exterminated
were their young numbered even by hundreds.

Thousands upon thousands of individuals never survive
the nuptial flight. Nature has wisely made provision for
this loss by seeing to it that not only shall the surviving
queens produce eggs innumerable, but also by the pro-
vision of supplementary queens in each colony. These
queens may be likened to the dormant buds of a tree
which only develop when the active shoots fail to grow
or are destroyed. They are always retained in the colony,
though their services may never be required. Should the
true queen die, however, they come to the rescue and
carry on her work, though to a much more limited
extent. In reality they are female workers which are fed
in a special manner so that they develop more than their
worker sisters, without, however, attaining to the dignity
of wings.

After this digression let us turn our attention once
again to the royal cell. Its walls are pierced with dozens
of holes, through which a constant stream of workers
passes unceasingly. Those individuals entering the cell do
so empty-handed, or, to be more exact, empty-mouthed ;
the workers issuing from the cell each bear a single egg
in their mouths. With these they scurry off to the small
cells surrounding the queen's abode and hand over their
burdens to the nurses in waiting. The duties of the
nurses are highly specialised ; they pack the eggs in the
cells in such a manner that they may be freely ventilated ;
they attend to the temperature and moisture of the
surrounding atmosphere, by changing the position of the
eggs from time to time, by blocking up the entrances to
the cells and by various other devices they contrive to
keep the eggs under equable conditions till hatching-time.
No incubator was ever tended more carefully. Now their
duties are almost at an end, for the young termites are
early able to fend for themselves.

During all this time it is hardly likely that the happy

Termites or White Ants

life of the colony has continued undisturbed. There are
many beasts who, with powerful claws and feet, tear down
the brick-like walls of the nest and endeavour to feed
upon the inmates. Man himself is not altogether guileless,
for by certain black races stewed termites are considered
a delicacy. When a breach is made in the walls of the
nest all the soldiers of the colony are marshalled for its
defence. The soldiers, who may easily be distinguished
by the enormous development of their heads and jaws,
and by the fact that they are quite five times the size of
the other workers, hurry off to the scene of the trouble,
followed at a respectful distance by the nasuti. Now
these termite warriors are absolutely devoid of fear ;
moreover, they are impelled by a blind fury in their attacks
upon their enemies. Blind it is indeed, for, having no
eyes, they snap right and left with their powerful jaws,
and as often as not their own relatives fall victims to their
vicious bites.

When, as frequently happens, the intruder is driven off,
the soldiers retire and the nasuti set to work to repair the
damaged home. The word nasuti means the nosed ones,
and they are so called because of the abnormal elongation
of their heads which terminate in a hollow nose-like
structure, at the end of which there is a hole whence a
fluid passes at the will of the insect. This fluid is used
as a glue, to bind the particles of clay together so that
they will form a solid mass with the property of rapid
hardening. When the work of rebuilding is completed
the nasuti assist the ordinary workers in their search for
food and in cleaning out the home, for a termite colony is
a model of cleanliness.

Different'species of termites feed on different substances,
as might have been expected, but in certain respects all
termites agree. The soldiers of every colony are not
averse to making a meal of their brothers, should other
food become scarce. True, they usually attack sickly
individuals, but healthy ones are not altogether immune

Termites or White Ants

from their attacks. The other workers bring small pieces
of vegetable matter to the nest, and these are chewed up
and reduced to a pulp before being eaten. But food from
the outside world forms only a small portion of the daily
menu. Their own cast skins, regurgitated food and even
their excrement form the staple foods of a termite colony.
They eat everything eatable ; their excrement is devoured,
and greedily too, time and again, till it contains no further
nourishment. Small wonder, then, that their nests are
models of cleanliness.

When food is scarce and a termite is hungry it will
stroke the back of a fellow-worker with its feelers, a
proceeding which causes the stroked individual to void
partly digested food. This the hungry termite seizes im-
mediately and devours with gusto. For the young,
special food is stored after being rolled into balls. This
food, which may weigh several pounds in all, is stored in
special cells ; it is so hard as to be quite beyond the
powers of the young termites' jaws. The nurses, accord-
ingly, come to the rescue and moisten the food masses
with their saliva, thereby rendering it soft and palatable.

Allied to, though not very closely related to, the
termites are the ant-lions. The adult insects are of little
interest, except for their beauty; with their elongated
bodies and lustrous, gauzy wings, they closely resemble
dragon-flies. The larva, however, is a totally different
being to its active parents. It is as ugly as they are
beautiful, as sluggish as they are nimble. Though scarcely
able to drag its ill-formed body along the ground by the
aid of its feeble legs, it lives upon the most active insects,
and its mode of trapping them is truly remarkable. The
larva is a thick-set, soft-bodied little creature, armed with
a pair of formidable, grooved jaws. Sand is absolutely
essential to the insect's welfare, for in sand alone is it
able to construct the pitfalls which it uses in the capture
of its prey.

Having selected a suitable site, which is probably near

Termites or White Ants

at hand at the time of its birth, for the ant-lion's eggs are
laid in sand, the larva walks round and round in a circle
of from one to three inches in diameter. The result of
this preliminary manoeuvre is the formation of a shallow
circular trench which marks the outer boundary of its pit.
Having marked out a site, the business of excavating the
pit is taken in hand, and the method of doing so is in-
genious and peculiar. Travelling in a circle, just within
the boundary line, the ant-lion larva scoops up sand with
its front legs and piles it upon its flat head. When the
load is big enough the creature jerks its head upwards
and backwards, thereby throwing its burden to a con-
siderable distance. This delving is continued till the
complete circle has been traversed, then it excavates
smaller and smaller circles, till finally the pit is completed,
and when finished consists of a moderately deep conical
hollow in the sand with shelving sides.

At the centre of the pit the ant-lion larva keeps guard,
not in full view, as might be expected, but quite buried
in the sand, except for its long jaws, which project
upwards, opened their widest and ready for immediate
use. Sooner or later, and probably sooner than later —
for the Tropics, where most of the ant-lions live, are
teeming with insect life — an unfortunate insect will pass
over the edge of the pit and then its fate is sealed. The
sides of the pit are built at such an angle that anything,
finding itself upon them, immediately slides down to the
bottom, where the fateful jaws are in waiting. When once
the larva has seized its prey it never leaves go ; it holds on
with the tenacity of a bull-dog, meanwhile sucking the
life-blood from its victim. Then, with a backward jerk
of its head, it casts the carcass well out of the pit and
waits for more.

For the capture of small insects, such as ants, no trap
could be more cunningly devised than the ant-lion's pit ;
in the case of larger prey it is not quite so effective. A
powerful insect, struggling on the shifting sand slope, will

Termites or White Ants

make every effort to escape, and in its struggles destroys
the pit by gradually filling it up — at least it would do so
were it not for the energy displayed by the ant-lion, who,
by vigorous upward jerks of its head, throws out the sand
almost as quickly as it falls to the bottom of the pit.
Few insects escape, for the ant-lion, though slow on its
feet, is a tireless digger, and will continue to throw sand
from its trap till long after its prospective victim is tired
and, through sheer exhaustion, falls back on to the ever-
expectant jaws. Frequently in its frantic efforts to clear
its pit the ant-lion will hit the struggling insect with one
of its loads of sand and thereby bring it tumbling down
to be devoured. This little happening has given rise to
the popular though erroneous story to the effect that the
ant-lion deliberately throws sand at its victim, with the
object of knocking it off its feet. After a struggle with
an insect large enough to destroy its pit the fastidious
owner promptly proceeds to construct another one ; no
patched-up pit will suffice. When sufficient food has
been devoured to enable the larva to go through its last
moult and so complete its growth, it buries itself in the
sand and changes into a chrysalis within a silken cocoon
and a short time afterwards emerges as a shimmering,
winged insect.

In this country we have no ant-lions, but we have some
very closely allied insects, in the shape of the lacewings,
or golden eyes, as they are sometimes called. They are
pale green, gauzy-winged little creatures, whilst their
larvae, big-jawed and ferocious-looking, are deadly enemies
of all plant lice. The eggs are perhaps better known
than either the larvae or the adults. They are always
attached to a leaf blade, preferably one which is attacked
by some kind of green-fly. Each egg is stalked and in a
cluster, as they are laid ; they resemble a group of fairy
hat-pins. There is a reason for the stalks. The lacewing
larva is a voracious customer, and he would have no
scruples about eating the eggs containing his own brothers

Termites or White Ants

and sisters, but he is frustrated because the succulent
eggs are held aloft and out of harm's way by their stalks.
The larvae are rendered more fearsome by reason of their
coats of stiff bristles. In some of the foreign lacewings
these bristles give place to spines, with which a curious
habit of the insects is connected. After a spiny larva
has made a meal of an insect — all lacewing larvae eat
insects — the hard, indigestible parts are not thrown away,
but are affixed to the spines on the creature's back, so
that after several meals every spine bears the remains of
a victim. This may be a case of strategy or simply of
vanity, the trophies being kept, as a huntsman keeps a
fox's brush. In any event, a prosperous larva rapidly
becomes so covered with the remains of its repasts that
it no longer resembles an insect.

CHAPTER V

WOODWORKERS

THE number of wood-boring insects, the carpenters of the
insect world, are legion. One or two of them we have
mentioned already. The greatest, most industrious, of all
the carpenters are the termites. Their activities render
furniture, as we know it, useless in the Tropics. They work
furtively, and the results of their work are not apparent
till too late, and for this reason. A host of these marauders
will attack woodwork during the night to such good
purpose — entering rafters, for example, at the ends and
hollowing out the interior in an incredibly short time —
that eventually nothing but a thin outer shell of wood
remains — a shell destined to collapse with the slightest
strain. The only bright spot in this sordid story is that
certain woods, such as teak and various resinous timbers,
are left severely alone by these insects.

In Britain we have an excellent though destructive
carpenter in the shape of the goat-moth larva ; so called
on account of the nauseating goat-like smell which it
gives off. The female moth, a large, heavy, grey-coloured
creature, lays her eggs in cracks on the bark of some tree,
preferably a willow. She usually chooses a spot not very
far from the ground. The larvae, when they emerge,
waste no time in tunnelling into the tree, through the
bark to the wood beneath. Needless to add that, even
at this early stage of their existence, they possess in-
ordinately powerful jaws and, in addition, they give off
a fluid from their mouths which is supposed to have
the power of rendering the wood soft and more easily
worked.

To give some idea of the life work of these caterpillars,

E 65

Woodworkers

we may mention that they go on tunnelling in the tree for
three years, and during this time each one increases in
weight seventy-two thousand times ! Small wonder then
that the goat-moth is looked upon with great disfavour by
foresters. At the end of three years the larvae are fully
fed and are, withal, repulsive-looking creatures. In colour,
they resemble boiled prawns somewhat ; in odour, the
rankest billy-goat, a failing which renders them undesir-
able as pets, but that is not their only drawback. Their
wood-boring propensities are liable to lead to unpleasant
consequences. We once knew of an enthusiastic young
entomologist who brought home a couple of these larvae
in a cardboard box and deposited them for the night on the
family grand piano. In the morning the box was empty
and the caterpillars were in the piano ; furthermore, they
had entered by the shortest route, boring holes right
through the rosewood case. Nothing short of a tin box
will prevent these larvae from straying and possibly
damaging furniture.

The fully fed larva constructs a very ingenious cocoon.
Inside it is smoothly and snugly lined with silk ; outside
it is armour-plated by means of a mixture of wood-
shavings and saliva. Comfortable and warm within, yet
secure in his armoured cocoon, the goat-moth undergoes
the changes which convert him from a fat and juicy
caterpillar to a large smoke-coloured moth.

The mention of furniture calls to mind another humble
carpenter, in the shape of the death-watch, a beetle which
causes so-called worm-eaten wood. The popular name
of this beetle may occasion some curiosity. The beetle
maintains an intermittent tattoo on the sides of its burrow
in the wood. These taps were, and are still in some parts
of the country, thought to presage death ; those who are
not superstitious will not cavil at a more matter of fact, if
less romantic, explanation : they are simply the calls of
the female to her mate, the wireless telegraphy of the
death-watch. Five times she taps rapidly by knocking

Woodworkers

her head against the end of her burrow in the wood, and
awaits an answering tattoo.

Here let us relate an interesting little story. One of
these beetles was made captive in a small glass-topped
box, and captivity did not impair its amorous nature.
Five taps, on the lid of the box, with a pencil or a similar
object, elicited a similar number of taps in reply. Six
taps, or four, brought forth no response. Now it has been
alleged that the taps are not actually heard by the beetles,
but are simply communicated from one to the other by
the vibrations of the wood when it is tapped. The little
box, therefore, with its inmate, was suspended by a string
to the ceiling. Taps on a table below were still answered
by the beetle in its aerial prison, thus settling once and
for all the question of its hearing powers. The last per-
formance of this beetle was a triumph. Its performance
was exhibited before the members of a well-known society.
It gave a stirring performance, which raised the audience
to a high pitch of excitement — the members were all
entomologists and therefore easily amused — applause
greeted the beetle's efforts, at the end of its " turn," but
the beetle, not to be outdone, answered the applause with
a series of taps, a feat which wellnigh overcame the afore-
said entomologists.

But we have digressed. The death-watch bores into
timber, our most valued furniture for choice, making little
holes therein resembling shot holes. When within the
wood, boring operations are carried out with considerable
energy, and the female deposits her eggs at the end of each
tunnel. The white grubs which hatch from these eggs are
armed with strong jaws, enabling them also to carry on
the woodwork of their parents. Within the burrows the
chrysalids are formed, and the following season a new
generation of beetles arises to carry on the work of
destruction and scare some country bumpkins with their
taps.

Certain wood-boring beetles, popularly termed Ambrosia

Woodworkers

beetles, not only display considerable ingenuity in the
construction of their homes but are possessed of maternal
instincts foreign to most insects. In the spring, the
season when the thoughts of most animals are turned
towards parental duties, the mother Ambrosia beetles seek
out a suitable tree for their operations. Into this tree
they bore a horizontal tunnel, which in a short distance is
diverted vertically. The sawdust formed in the tunnelling
operations is for the most part pushed backwards through
the tunnel, and trickles in a fine stream down the tree
trunk — a certain indication that work is going on within.

On the completion of the first vertical tunnel the mother
beetle deposits a group of six eggs at its extremity and
closes the entrance with a little plug of damp sawdust ;
more vertical tunnels are made, and eggs are deposited
therein, and they are plugged in exactly the same manner.
Often the mother beetle will make nearly fifty of these
tunnels, with the result that those first formed contain
larvae long before she has finished her labours, for the
eggs hatch in a few days. Now these larvae, unlike those
of the death-watch, have very feeble jaws, quite incapable
of biting wood.

A most wonderful Providence watches over the
youngsters, and in this manner. We mentioned that at
the entrance to every side tunnel the mother beetle placed
a plug of damp sawdust ; these plugs are so many doors
to so many rooms, all opening into a long passage, the
horizontal tunnel. As the operations of boring and egg-
laying are going on, the long passage, into which the side
doors open, becomes filled with a dark coloured fungus, a
fungus upon which the larval beetles feed. As soon as a
batch of eggs hatches, the mother beetle removes the plug
of sawdust, opens the door of the side chamber, and the
inmates are free to browse upon their fungus fare.

How does the fungus find its way into the tunnel ? It
is placed there by the far-seeing mother beetle. As the
work of tunnelling proceeds, sap oozes from the sides of

Woodworkers

the chambers ; the sap forms excellent material on which
to grow the fungus, so the mother beetle brings to her
home a few fungus spores (spores of fungi may be com-
pared to seeds of flowering plants) and places them on
the sappy wood, with the result that in an incredibly
short time there is a growth ample for all her needs.
When the grubs are fully fed they change into chrysalids
and, eventually, into adult beetles in the tunnels, and
there they spend the winter. In the following spring
they mate, the future mothers swallow some of the fungus
spores and seek fresh spots for their woodworking opera-
tions. The skins of the spores are exceedingly tough, and
should the need arise they will remain in the gizzard of
the Ambrosia beetle for nearly three months without
suffering any damage.

The Cigarette beetle is a little insect of fastidious tastes ;
though not strictly speaking a wood-borer, he may safely
be included here. Though diminutive, he is capable of
doing considerable damage. The mother beetle lays her
eggs, one at a time, either on the tobacco leaf or just
within the open end of a cigar or cigarette, but she does
not do so at haphazard, for she is something of a con-
noisseur ; she selects Glares rather than Maduras, Turkish
tobacco by preference to shag. The larvae hatch in about
a week, and tunnel in all directions, rendering the tobacco
useless. Cigars and cigarettes become so riddled with
holes that they will not " draw."

The little beetle is, however, catholic in its tastes and,
failing tobacco, will bore into and breed in or amongst
raisins, belladonna, ginger, rice, dried fish, turmeric,
rhubarb, cayenne pepper, books, canned goods, cartridge
wads, liquorice, saffron and in pyrethrum powders strong
enough to kill any other insect. Certain moth larvae will
bore and tunnel into wine corks to such an extent that
the wine either runs out of the bottles in which the corks
are situate or turns sour.

Hosts of beetle and moth larvae either bore into biscuits,

Woodworkers

cereals or other seeds, or at least so damage them that
they are rendered unfit for consumption. But let us return
to the true insect carpenters.

A relative of the goat-moth, one of our most beautiful
British insects, the wood-leopard moth is in its larvae'
stage an industrious carpenter. A handsome cream-
coloured moth, decorated with spots and splashes of steel-
blue, it is a common object of our country-side. The
female la,ys her eggs on or near the tips of the small
branches of some favoured tree — the apple is commonly
selected — and the caterpillars, when they emerge, bore
into the centres of the twigs and eat away the pith. They
are long-lived and eat the whole time, with the result that
the twigs they have favoured with their attentions wither
and die. Like its cousin the goat-moth, this insect makes
for itself a silk-lined armoured cocoon.

The clearwing-moths, which mimic wasps and hornets,
have similar habits, but they display an amount of
ingenuity which is lacking in the wood-leopard moth.
Their larvae bore into the pith of certain trees, but when
they are fully fed, instead of building reinforced cocoons,
they work their way almost to the outside of the branch
in which they have lived, just before they change into
chrysalids. So nearly do they travel to the exterior that
but the thinnest tissue of wood separates them from the
air. Settling down with their heads towards the outside
of the tree, they change into chrysalids, which are armed
with backwardly directed spines. When the moths are
about to emerge, the chrysalids, by means of these spines,
push their way outwards, break the thin shell of wood,
and pass half-way out of the end of their burrow. When
the moths escape, the empty chrysalid cases project from
the tree.

Concerning these larvae, an entomologist once wrote :
" We observed about a dozen of them during this summer,
in the trunk of a poplar, one side of which had been
stripped of its bark. It was this portion of the trunk

Woodworkers

which all the caterpillars selected for their final retreat,
not one being observed where the tree was covered with
bark. The ingenuity of the little architects consisted in
scraping the cell almost to the very surface of the wood,
as thin as writing-paper. Previous, therefore, to the
chrysalis making its way through the feeble barrier, it
could not have been suspected that an insect was lodged
under the smooth wood. We observed more than one
of these insects in the act of breaking through/ this
covering, within which there is besides a round movable
lid, a sort of brown wax."

Beetles of various other kinds are notorious carpenters ;
it would, however, require a good-sized volume to describe
them and their doings.

Before we leave the wood-borers and devote our space
to woodworkers of another kind, we must mention an
insect which, though absolutely harmless to human
beings, never fails, by reason of its formidable appearance,
to arouse a considerable amount of apprehension in the
minds of those who look on it for the first time ; we refer
to the giant wood-wasp. The female, which measures
about an inch and a half, is banded with yellow and black
and of wasp-like appearance ; at the end of its body is a
formidable-looking instrument which is usually mistaken
for a sting ; as a matter of fact it is simply the apparatus,
called an ovipositor, with which the female bores a hole
in wood, that she may lay her eggs in its tissues.

Felled or sickly fir-trees are favoured by the wood-
wasps ; the female bores a hole through the bark with her
awl-like ovipositor and lays her eggs in the wood. The
larvae, when they hatch, tunnel in all directions, eating
away the wood as they go. It passes through their bodies
and plugs up the part of the tunnel which has been
traversed, so that the larvae always dwell in a closed
chamber. There seems to be some doubt concerning the
eventual career of the insect. Some authorities aver that
the grub tunnels almost to the surface of the tree before

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it changes into a chrysalis, after the manner of the
clearwing-moths ; others aver that the change takes place
in the heart of the tree and that the perfect insects eat
their way out. That they are capable of doing so there
can be no doubt, for they can eat through lead-sheeting.

In America, where, by the way, these insects are called
horn-tails, one species displays considerable ingenuity.
The female deposits her eggs in willow branches, and,
after doing so, she girdles the tree — that is, removes a ring
of bark — and in this manner prevents the further growth
of the wood which might conceivably crush her progeny.

In a well-ordered scheme of nature it is fitting to ask :
Of what use are these destructive insects? Well, when
they first came upon the earth there were no such things
as houses and furniture, and in those days the insect
carpenters did good. Concerning them an eminent
entomologist said : " Probably no portion of the world
contains a larger number than the densely timbered
Amazon basin. In these great forests the Longicornia
[long-horned beetles] play a very important part in the
economy of nature. As soon as a tree dies and begins to
decay, their larvae, which are often of great size, attack
it and bore it through and through ; the work of boring
from their larger galleries is then taken up by various
smaller species of wood-boring beetles and free access is
then given to the rain and moisture which soon reduce the
trunks to a pulp and cause them not only to disappear, but
to act as manure to those trees that take their place."

The second class of wood artificers with which we are
concerned are the gall-makers. Like the wood-borers, they
are of many species, and their galls are as varied as their
kinds. The resin-moth is a peculiar gall-maker which
takes advantage of the fact that cone-bearing trees, when
injured, give off resins freely. The female lays her eggs
at the tip of some fir-tree, and when the caterpillars hatch
they bite into the wood, thus causing the resin to flow. The
ingenious little insects put the sticky substance to good

Woodworkers

use. They so mould and work it that it forms a good
sized double-chambered shelter, in one compartment of
which they live and in the other place their excrement
and waste food. But the resin-moth is not a true gall-
maker.

There are real galls in plenty, so let us search for them ;
the nearest oak-tree, or, failing that, a willow or rose bush,
will probably supply all we need. The oak, however, is the
tree for galls ; it bristles with them ; oak apples, spangle,
currant, kidney, and artichoke galls are a few picked at
random. These galls were familiar objects long before it
was known that they were the work of insects, and this is
hardly surprising, for the galls are conspicuous, the gall
insects minute.

Before considering any gall in detail, let us try to learn
something of general gall formation. We will therefore,
in imagination, watch a female gall insect at work ; luck
and a convenient oak leaf will supply our need, and luck
is an essential. When the insect settles on the leaf we
must watch her through a pocket lens, for she is too small
to observe with the naked eye. She wanders hither and
thither on the leaf, and her movements are by no means
easy to follow.

At length she calls a halt on a small leaf vein, and this
is the opportunity we have awaited. From the end of her
body a long, fine, thread-like structure is unfolded. It is
her ovipositor, and she loses no time in plunging it deeply
into the tissue of the leaf. A puncture made, the single
egg passes down her ovipositor and is placed in position
within the leaf. Following the egg comes a drop of fluid
whose purpose was for long misunderstood. The fluid
was thought to be the cause of the gall ; as a matter of
fact, it is merely used to heal the wound made by the
female gall insect. The gall or swelling on the plant
may assume the most varied and remarkable shapes, and
one fact we must never lose sight of is this, the same
species of insect always produces the same kind of gall ;

Woodworkers

the insect responsible for the oak apple can never produce
a spangle gall, any more than the insect which produces
the robin's pincushion on the rose can make the pea gall
on the same plant.

The Bedeguar, or robin's pincushion of the rose, is one of
our commonest galls ; the bright red woolly growths are
familiar objects of our country lanes. The female gall
insect lays its eggs in the stem of the rose, so that they
come in contact with the cambium. Now the cambium
is the part of the plant which forms the new tissue and
is very susceptible to any irritant. So long as the gall
insect remains in the egg stage no gall is formed ; but
with the hatching of the egg, the malformation, for a gall
is nothing more or less, begins to grow. And the cause —
possibly the constant gnawing of the little grub, probably
some irritant substance which it gives off from its body,
or, very likely, both combined. This particular gall differs
from most others in that it contains several larvae instead
of a single one, as is usually the case. As these larvae
develop, the well-known red pincushions come into being.
Their woolly outgrowths are really malformed leaves, the
best that the plant can do under the circumstances.

We will devote our time to a study of the oak which will
supply us with one of the romances of insect life. The
objects of our investigation for the moment are the common
spangle and currant galls. The former are to be found on
the under side of the oak leaves about July ; the latter
hang from the catkins or leaves early in the year. We
have said that the same species of gall insect always
produces the same kind of gall ; the insect producing
spangle galls is of the same kind as the one producing
currant galls : are we then guilty of a " terminological
inexactitude"? By no means, for these particular gall
insects provide examples of a very wonderful phenomenon
known as alternation of generations.

We have studiously tried to avoid wearying or perplexing
our readers with technicalities or obstuse theories, but

Woodworkers

here we are up against a problem on which we feel that
we are justified in letting ourselves go a little, for the whole
subject is of such absorbing interest that we shall prob-
ably be forgiven for our lapse. The spangle galls some-
what resemble the collections of spores, called sori, to be
found on the backs of fern fronds ; they are lens-shaped
and hairy ; they vary in colour from pale yellow to deep
brown. Towards autumn the oak leaves fall and the
spangle galls with them ; in each gall there is a gall
insect larva. During late autumn the rains cause the galls
to swell and increase in size considerably, but the larva
within continues to feed, paying no heed to frost and
snow and rain, for it is well protected from the elements.
In the spring the insect changes into a chrysalis, and
emerges as an adult insect a little later.

Each and every insect coming from a spangle gall is
a female ; no males have ever been discovered. Unless,
therefore, Nature came to the rescue, this race of gall
insects would soon die out. This is not to be, for these
females can reproduce their kind without the help of a
male, a feat which is not uncommon in the insect world.
The females from the spangle galls are provided with
very long ovipositors, and they waste no time in plunging
them deep into a dormant oak bud and depositing their
eggs on the as yet undeveloped catkins, or sometimes on
the leaves. As the bud develops the catkins elongate and
are seen to bear one or more round growths about the size
of a currant, green at first but ripening later to a bright
red colour, thus still more closely resembling the fruits from
which they derive their name. About May the adult
insects emerge from their galls, and they are both males
and females, the latter differing from their sisters of the
spangle-gall generation in many respects, notably by the
absence of a long ovipositor, which would be useless,
seeing that they lay their eggs just below the skin at the
back of an oak leaf— eggs that are destined to form larvae
causing spangle galls.

Woodworkers

Small wonder then that these gall insects received
different scientific names before it was shown that they
were merely different generations of one and the same
insect. The case of the oak apple is nearly as strange.
Long before the winter has left us the little gall-wasp,
maker of this well-known gall, is hard at work. She lays
her eggs in the end buds of the oak branches, first of all
boring a hole and then depositing her eggs therein.

A well-known entomologist once observed the work of
one of these insects. "When it had finished its first bud,"
he wrote, " it went on, without interruption, to another, and
was altogether eighty - seven hours busily employed in
laying eggs." In these two buds, five hundred and eighty-
two eggs were counted. Early in May the galls begin
to grow, and four short weeks later they are fully developed,
being soft and of a greenish-yellow colour. As the oak
apples grow they turn rose-coloured, and shortly after
this change winged males and wingless females bore their
respective ways from the galls. These females are smaller
than the individuals which produced them — their mothers
— and, after mating, they pass down the trunk of the oak-
tree, penetrate the soil and deposit their eggs in the roots,
causing hard, brown, spherical galls to be formed. From
those galls, pale brown, wingless females emerge ; they
push their way through the soil, travel up the trunk, thereby
running the gauntlet of tits, nuthatches and tree creepers,
ever on the alert for insect fare, till at length they reach
the end buds of the tree and, laying their eggs therein,
the life cycle begins anew. It is interesting to note that
the oak apples which are formed in spring, when the trees
are full of sap, are themselves sappy ; the root galls, formed
in autumn, when there is little sap in the trees, are quite
hard and effectually protect the larvae within from frost,
during the long winter months.

The marble gall of the oak, commonest of all galls and
often wrongly called the oak apple, is still a mystery, for
nothing but female gall insects have ever been discovered.

Woodworkers

Is this a case of alternation of generations in which only
one generation has as yet been discovered ? Is it, on the
other hand, a rare example of a race of females which,
from year's end to year's end, throughout the ages, can
reproduce their kind without the aid of males ? It may
be so, but it seems unlikely. Perhaps some reader of this
page may one day solve the problem — who knows ?

One of the most ingenious galls is the pine-apple gall
found on the spruce. The cause of this curious gall is a
bug. Towards autumn the larvse which are destined to
produce the galls travel to the bases of the spruce shoots,
and there they dig their beaks deep in the tissues of the
tree. Being bugs, they are all armed with sharp, pointed
beaks, and by these means they remain suspended from
and attached to a shoot till spring. During the winter no
change takes place in the host tree, and the young bugs
take no nourishment from it. With the advent of spring,
each individual, its beak still buried in the plant tissue,
begins to suck the juices of the tree, and then and then
only the pine-apple gall begins to be formed.

Without illustrative figures it is by no means easy to
make quite clear the changes which take place during the
formation of the gall. At any rate the bases of the leaves
begin to swell and, as they are situated close to one another,
they gradually fuse to form the gall ; but at the same
time some little space is left at their outer sides, so that
the result is the formation of a swollen portion of the
stem in which there are a number of little cavities,
represented by the spaces between the leaves.

As the aphides grow, for such are these gall insects, they
cover themselves with a white, waxy, woolly substance,
which affords them some protection. About a month
after the beginning of the gall formation the aphides
begin to lay their eggs, an operation they continue to
perform for about six weeks, and each egg is attached to
the spruce twig by a thread-like stalk. The larvae emerge,
just about the time the cavities between the leaves of the

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gall are ready for occupation, " a perfection of adjustment
which excites our deepest admiration." The larvae crawl
into the spaces between the already malformed leaves and
begin to feed by sucking the plant juices with their beaks,
just as their parents did.

The feeding of the larvae causes further abnormal growth
in the gall, with the result that it grows still more and, in
doing so, completely shuts in the larvae, and the " pine-
apple " is formed. In each cavity there may be as many
as fifty larvae, and the whole gall may house two thousand
larvae. Late in the summer the larvae stop feeding and
the growth of the gall ceases ; so that at the end of each
cavity, where the larvae lie hidden, a small hole is formed,
through which the pupae escape and turn into winged
females. These individuals lay their eggs at the bases of
the leaf buds and the life cycle begins anew.

CHAPTER VI

LARVAE AND THEIR WORK

IT is hardly surprising that insect larvae should display
so much ingenuity in the means they employ to protect
themselves from injury. For the most part they are thin-
skinned, plump-bodied individuals, and so form appetis-
ing fare for parasitic and predatory enemies. They are
entirely dependent on their own resources ; maternal care
is unknown in the insect world, except in the earwigs, one
species of sawfly and the wood-boring beetle we have just
mentioned. We shall have something to say concerning
protective colouring and mimicry in a later chapter, and
although these devices must certainly be included in any
account of the means of self-preservation adopted by
immature insects, we now wish to say a word or two
concerning the little buildings constructed by various
larvae, in which they may hide, using them either as lairs
for the capture of living creatures likely to make succulent
meals, or as homes in which they may live and feed
without molestation.

In the former class we must certainly place the larva of
the tiger-beetle. Many of the tiger-beetles are noteworthy
on account of their beautiful colouring, charmingly iri-
descent metallic green and blues predominating. Long-
legged creatures, the adult beetles can race along the
ground at an incredible speed, an accomplishment which
stands them in good stead, for they obtain their livelihood
by hunting. Curiously enough, the larva is also a flesh-
eating individual, but owing to his build he is quite unable
to pursue his prey after the manner of his parents. That,
however, does not upset him, for his methods are equally
efficacious and less laborious. His first and only home is

Larvae and their Work

in the ground ; he hatches from an egg laid in the soil by
the mother beetle.

A curious, almost repulsive, creature is the tiger-beetle
larva. Nearly at the centre of his body there is a peculiar
kink, so that his outline is, roughly, that of the figure 3.
His head is massive, horny and flattened, and it serves him
well for more than one purpose. In early life he uses his
hard, flat head as a hod on which to carry the earth from
the spot where he hatched to the surface of the ground,
and thus he forms his burrow. This subterranean home
may be more than a foot in length, and is perfectly
vertical. On the completion of the excavation the
creature's head serves another purpose : it acts as a stopper
for the burrow. Thus, at the open end of its earthen
home, the larva will await its living meal for hours on
end. Any insect passing near its formidable jaws is
seized and drawn into the burrow, to be devoured at
leisure.

There is one most interesting point in connection with
this larva which we have not mentioned. We remarked
that its outline is that of a figure 3 ; well, on the
hinder end of the creature's back — that is, on the outer
edge of the lower loop — there are a pair of sharp hooks
which serve a useful purpose. By their means the larva
hooks itself into position at the mouth of its burrow ;
when any prey is caught, the hooks are released and the
larva, with its victim, drops to the bottom of its lair, like
the proverbial streak of lightning. The home of the
tiger-beetle larva is indeed a simple structure compared
with some of the constructions built by other larvae.

Some of the caddis-fly larvae, like those of the tiger-
beetle, are flesh-eaters ; they also construct lairs, but they
live in water and not in the ground. The homes of these
water-dwellers are so diverse that we cannot describe
them all in detail. Two species cut green leaves into
almost rectangular pieces and fasten their edges together,
so as to form complete tubular or rectangular mantles, as

Larvae and their Work

the case may be. Another common species places short
lengths of stick transversely across one another, and fastens
them together to form its spiky home. A third constructs
a house of small shells, some of which still contain their
owners who are carried about willy-nilly by the caddis
larva. Still another builds a tube of fine sand.

As this list could be continued to considerable lengths,
let us mention a little point of interest before describing
two of the most extraordinary larval houses to be found
amongst these adept house-builders. The caddis larva
must needs be something of an engineer, or should we say
a physicist, as well as a builder. His home must be light
enough to be moved freely from place to place, yet not so
light that it will float in water. An examination of a few
of these larval cases will show some which are absolutely
ruined from an architectural point of view.

Beautifully built, in the main, of sticks, or shells, or
pebbles, or sand, or whatever material is most favoured by
the particular kind of larva, each item in the structure
being of approximately the same size as all the others,
yet the whole appearance of the case is spoiled by the
fact that a large pebble or shell is affixed to one side of
the case. These eyesores are not without their uses : they
serve as ballast for the caddis home ; they prevent the
little building from floating to the surface of the water.

And now for the more ingenious caddis dwellings.
There is one kind of larva which, forsaking the conventional
tubular case, builds one of sand exactly like a snail shell
in appearance. So close is the resemblance between the
homes of these two quite unrelated creatures that the
caddis dwelling for long puzzled naturalists, one of whom
actually described it as a new kind of snail. Curiously
enough, the home of a minute marine worm closely mimics
a snail shell ; this little creature is often found in hundreds
attached to the common bladder wrack.

The second dwelling we are about to describe is more
ingenious though no more curious. Everyone has either
F 81

Larvae and their Work

seen the decoys used for the capture of wild-duck in the
fen country, or at any rate pictures of them. These traps
consist of nets arranged to form a long tube, spread wide
at the mouth and gradually tapering off into quite a narrow
tunnel. The ducks are lured into the large open end and
driven up into the narrow part, where they are caught.

Whether man reaped his idea for this novel form of trap
from the caddis-flies we cannot say, but it is a fact that
one kind of caddis larva builds a home which is an exact
replica in miniature of a fenland duck decoy. The open
end of this funnel-shaped dwelling is composed of strong
silk netting, held in position by a few arched twigs ; in
the narrow end of the funnel the larva lurks. The mouth
of the dwelling always faces up-stream, in order that
water insects may be carried down into it ; there they are
seized and devoured by the larva.

No one watching some free flying moth disporting itself
on the evening air would ever suspect that the larvae of
some of these children of the night live in water and, what
is more, construct larval cases rivalling those of the caddis-
flies. One of these insects, the brown china-marks moth,
deposits its eggs on the under sides of water-lily leaves and
covers them with a jelly-like covering. By the way, this
habit of many water-dwelling animals of covering their
eggs with jelly is not without its uses : the jelly protects
the eggs from injury by hungry fishes. The first act- of the
caterpillars, when they hatch from the eggs, is to build a
home for themselves. This they do by cutting two neat little
oval-shaped pieces from the leaf surface and binding their
edges together with silk, so as to form a lens-shaped shelter.
The small china-marks moth lays its eggs on duckweed,
a well-known floating water plant. The larva spins
together a number of the round duckweed leaves with silk
and builds a tubular case, remarkably like the cases of
some caddis-fly larvae.

A very curious little creature is a leaf-eating beetle of
aquatic habits. The female eats circular holes in the

Larvae and their Work

floating leaves of water-lily and deposits her eggs either
in a single or double row around the hole, and on the
under side of the leaf. The larvae feed on the water-lily
roots, spending all their time below water ; they have no
gills nor other organs to fit them for such a life, for which
they appear ill adapted. The manner in which these
larvae obtain air is ingenious in the extreme.

Now water plants differ from land plants in that they
have large air-spaces enclosed in their tissues, and this
enclosed air is stolen by our little insect. On the hinder
end of his back there are two curved spines which are
connected with breathing tubes. Naturalists noticed that
the roots frequented by these larvae bore sundry slits and
scars, always at about the same distance from one another,
and the distance was the length of a larva. Further in-
vestigation showed that the cute little creature inserted
its spines into the roots of the water-lily and pushed
them home till they reached the air-spaces within ; it
literally tapped the roots of air. The cocoon of this
insect is no less ingenious. It is a close-woven silken
structure closely applied to the root, but on the side which
is in contact with the plant there is no silken wall. The
outside of the root forms the wall and is punctured with
many holes through which air passes to the chrysalis.

Another point worthy of mention is that, as a rule,
wounds on these roots quickly heal, a happening that
would be fatal to the chrysalis, seeing that it is quite
unable to keep the air-holes open. By one of those
provisions of which Nature shows so many examples, the
wounds, in this case, do not heal till the cocoon is either
removed or destroyed, till water is allowed to enter, in
other words.

There are other case-makers which we must consider,
land case-makers though. The bag worms, of which some of
the finest examples are found in Australia, build larva cases
nearly as diverse in structure as are the cases of the various
caddis-flies. Most of these cases are built of small sticks,

Larvae and their Work

laid transversely one on the other and bound together
with silk so that the whole structure forms a tube ; in
other species the sticks are laid longitudinally, but whatever
the plan, the peculiarity which cannot fail to strike an
observer is the remarkable uniformity in the length of the
sticks used in building the home. Within its case the
larva dwells and feeds contentedly on the leaves of its
favourite food plant, probably a wattle ; should danger
threaten, the insect simply withdraws into its shell after
the manner of a tortoise and remains in hiding till the
danger be passed.

Equally ingenious, but less obvious on account of their
small size, are the cases of the clothes-moth caterpillars.
The mother moth lays her eggs on some fabric, wool or
fur for choice, and in due course the little house-building
larva emerges therefrom. For the construction of its
dwelling, the creature makes use of the nap of the cloth on
which it is hatched ; from this material it builds a tubular
cell which is just long enough to conceal its body. The
diminutive tube is wider at the centre than af either end,
and purposely so, for the following reason. As the eater-
pilfer feeds, which, by the way, it does on the body of the
cloth and not on the nap, it grows and eventually becomes
too large for its home.

Now when the caddis-fly larvae are too long for their
cases they simply build others of suitable size ; not so the
clothes-moth larva, which enlarges his original home to
suit his needs, and in order to do so it is necessary to
be able to turn round, hence the larger size of the tube
towards the centre. When it is necessary to start re-
building operations, the larva cuts a triangular piece from
his tube, opens wide the cut ends and proceeds to fill up
the space thus formed with new material. Then he turns
round and repeats the operation at the other end. Should
the tube be too short, material is added to either end in
rings. The whole operation is completed without the
larva leaving the shelter of its home. By moving a young

Larvae and their Work

clothes-moth caterpillar from material of one colour to
that of another during his growth, he will end up with a
home rivalling Joseph's coat ; for with each reconstruction
he will insert material of another colour to those already
used.

Certain insects make cases of leaves — living leaves and
not snippets cut from a leaf. By one of Nature's in-
explicable vagaries, very small insects nearly always build
their cases of very large leaves and the means they adopt
to overcome their difficulties are ingenious in the extreme.
Of these " leaf-rollers," as they are called, one of the most
interesting is the birch weevil. The female of this little
beetle is too small to deal with a whole birch leaf, but she
is nothing daunted by that. Selecting a point on the leaf
margin nearly midway between leaf stalk and tip, she cuts
a way from margin to midrib and repeats the operation on
the opposite side, so that the leaf is cut in two, except for
the midrib, which is left undamaged.

The next proceeding consists in rolling inwards the
edges of the leaf nearest to the tip till they form a tube
and the whole structure has the appearance of a small leaf
whose tip is elongated and formed into the shape of
a cylinder. The labours of the beetle, however, are not
yet completed. The leafy home is destined to form a
shelter for eggs and larvae and, in its present state, would
permit its living contents to fall out at the end. The
beetle, therefore, by the aid of legs and head, tucks in the
tip of the leaf to form an end to its cylinder, much as
a grocer tucks in the paper of the cones in which he sells
his sugar.

A weevil, no larger than the birch weevil, constructs its
larval shelter of the poplar leaves on which it dwells.
This little beetle, though industrious, patient and, for its
size, strong, is yet far too weak to deal with the relatively
large leaf of the poplar-tree : a leaf which is far less pli-
able than the birch leaf. The ingenuity displayed by this
beetle to overcome its difficulty is little short of marvellous.

Larvae and their Work

The living leaf is too strong and lengthy to deal with ;
a dead leaf would be equally useless to the beetle, for it
would be wiry yet brittle. The object of the beetle,
therefore, is to obtain a wilted leaf, for in that condition
it may be rolled far more easily. The insect, therefore,
makes a minute puncture in the leaf stalk, not through the
skin alone, but into the parts of the leaf which are bringing
nourishment thereto from the stem. This operation
causes the leaf to become soft without killing it : brings
it, in fact, to the very condition desired by the beetle.
Next the industrious little creature, beginning at one
edge, rolls the leaf lengthways. Using her feet for the
purpose, she holds on to the leaf blade firmly with those
on one side and rolls the leaf neatly with those on the
other. The task is a laborious one ; her hold on the leaf
must never be relaxed or it would fly back like a watch-
spring. Methodically she works. As she rolls the leaf she
travels from one end to the other ; then, without turning
round, she moves backwards, continuing her rolling all the
time, a little living shuttle. When the leaf blade is rolled
to the midrib, the beetle rolls the other half of the leaf
round the portion already rolled, and eventually her
labours are at an end, or nearly so.

When a neat cylinder has been rolled, the structure of
the leaf comes to the insect's aid. On its margin there
are a number of minute glands which give off a sticky sub-
stance. These marginal glands are firmly pressed into
contact with the body of the leaf by the beetle, who uses
her snout for the purpose. The sticky secretion forms an
excellent glue, and the leaf edge remains in position. In
the cylinder, the beetle deposits one or more eggs, secure
in the knowledge that its larvae will be able to feed with-
out fear of molestation.

The caterpillars of the oak tortrix moth are leaf-rollers
which go about their business in quite a different manner
from the insects we have just mentioned. They are par-
tial to oak leaves. Though they build some remarkably

Larvae and their Work

ingenious shelters, they do not exhibit such wonderful
uniformity of architecture as the beetles. Another point
of difference is that the beetle larvae remain in their leafy
shelters, come what may, but the caterpillars of the leaf-
rolling moths, or, more correctly, the leaf-rolling cater-
pillars, when alarmed, leave their hiding-places and hang
from the leaves by silken threads which they spin them-
selves, only returning to their shelters when the danger be
over. Whatever surprise we may have felt that a creature
so small as the birch weevil could roll a birch leaf must
be intensified when we consider how it is possible for the
ofttimes exceedingly diminutive leaf-rolling caterpillars
to mould a living leaf to suit their purpose. These little
individuals perform some astounding engineering feats.
Let us see how they work.

Diligent search on the part of the caterpillar has its
reward in the discovery of a leaf which is, maybe, ever so
slightly curved. Such a leaf makes a good starting-point
for the little engineer, whose first care is to run a number
of silken threads from the curved margin of the leaf to
a point as far as it can reach on the leaf blade. This
preliminary structure may be looked upon as a kind 'of
scaffolding from which the more useful part of the work
may be undertaken, for these first threads do not cause
the leaf to roll any more. Having spun a sufficiency of
silk for its purpose, the caterpillar climbs upon them and,
by pressing thereon, sets up a tension which causes the
leaf margin to be drawn a little nearer to the blade, ever
so little nearer certainly, but sufficient for the engineer's
purpose.

Now the larva repeats its spinning operations, fixing its
new threads as far over on the convex side of the leaf curl
as possible and as far towards the centre of the leaf as
it can reach. From side to side the industrious little
creature's head waves as it spins, till at length it finishes
its system of stay ropes and the leaf has been pulled over
a shade more. The operation is repeated again and

Larvae and their Work

again; and each time the leaf becomes slightly more curled.
At length, after many hours' work, during which the larva
has scarcely ever cried a halt, the leaf is rolled and the
caterpillar seeks a well-deserved rest within its newly
built home. So common are these rolled leaves, we pass
them by unnoticed every summer in their hundreds of
thousands, yet each leaf represents the result of the
untiring labours of a clever and industrious little insect.

Equally common in our hedgerows is the home of the
" cuckoo spit " insect, or " frog-hopper." The larva frog-
hopper, unable to escape its enemies by a series of gigantic
leaps, like its parents, must needs have some protection.
He cannot build a leaf shelter, he cannot roll leaves nor
burrow into the ground, but he has a big appetite and he
puts it to good use, or would do so if certain clever birds
had not found him out. Related to the green-flies, he, like
them, possesses an awl-like mouth, which he digs into
plant stems and sucks sap therefrom in quantity. Much
of this sap he ejects in the form of a somewhat sticky,
clear liquid ; having done so, he wags his tail so violently
that the liquid is beaten up into a froth which completely
covers him ; it is, in fact, the well-known cuckoo spit. If
left alone the larva would develop into a full-grown frog-
hopper within his hiding-place, but certain birds have seen
through his subterfuge and rudely pluck him from his
shelter, to his discomfort. The leaf-rollers have their
counterpart in the leaf-miners, which may be the larvae
either of moths, beetles, or flies, the first-named being the
commonest.

The least observant among us must have seen some
mined leaves. Roses, celery, thistles and oak are amongst
the plants whose leaves are most frequently mined. It
will be easier to understand how these little insects
work if we know something of the general structure of a
leaf. In very non-technical language, each leaf may be
looked upon as a kind of sandwich, with soft green
vegetable matter between an upper and lower parchment-

Larvae and their Work

like skin. Now the leaf-miners are very ingeniously
protected from their enemies, and that without the least
effort on their own part. The mother moth, beetle or fly
lays her eggs either on, or just below, the surface of the
leaf skin, and directly the caterpillar hatches it makes a
hole through the skin, if its mother has not already done so,
and proceeds to feed upon the luscious green food below.
It walks as it feeds, so that before long a sinuous tunnel
is excavated in the leaf, resembling a winding river on
a map.

The farther the caterpillar winds its way, the wider
the tunnel becomes, for as the insect grows it naturally
requires more and more room. Accordingly it eats away
more of the green part of the leaf. By the time the
insect is ready to turn into a chrysalis its leafy burrow is of
a considerable length. At its termination the change into
a chrysalis takes place and the perfect insect eats its way
to freedom at a later date. What an elysian existence !
Food in plenty and absolute protection from enemies and
the elements, for the leaf skin prevents any harm coming
to the caterpillar short of a pinch from human ringers.

All the larvae we have described so far live lonely lives
apart from their fellows. There are certain caterpillars
which club together for mutual protection ; not, be it said,
in recognised social comnunities, as the bees and ants, but
in simple herding together for safety's sake. These larvae
are known as tent caterpillars, because they construct
silken tents of remarkably tough material, beneath which
they take shelter in time of danger. It is wellnigh
impossible to relate the shape of any of these tents, say
the one constructed by the small ermine moth larvae.
They are simply sheets of silk, woven in an irregular manner,
on the branch of some food plant, to form a hollow shelter
for the voracious creatures within.

It is not long before all the leaves enclosed by the tent
have been eaten, but before this tragic event occurs the
larvae have grown considerably and are better able to

Larvae and their Work

look after themselves than when first hatched. Then
they evince a desire to go out and see the world, so they
scatter upon the branches of their food plant and devour
its leaves greedily. At the least sign of danger, in the
shape of birds or rain, they scuttle back to the shelter of
their tent. We have mentioned that the fabric of the tent
is tough, and so it is, but not so tough that a bird could
not break it down. Why then do not the larvae, which
may easily be seen within their abode, suffer from the
depredations of birds? For the same reason that most
birds will not attack seeds or young plants which are
protected by strands of thread, though it must be admitted
that after a while thread has no terrors for the common
sparrow.

On another page we mentioned a fly bearing such a close
resemblance to the honey-bee that throughout the ages
bee and fly have been confused. Well, the " drone-fly," as
it is called, has a further interest for us. Its larva is one of
the most interesting and peculiar in the insect world.
The " drone-fly" delights in sunshine and honey and
pollen ; as it flits from flower to flower on the hottest of
days one would never associate it with reeking, stagnant
water. Yet it is on the surface of such water that it lays
its eggs.

The larva is a most eccentric individual ; he spends his
time crawling along the slimy bottom of his filthy pond,
yet he possesses no apparatus for breathing below water,
as do all the true aquatic insects. Instead, he possesses a
wonderful telescopic tail through which he breathes. The
dirty-white, soft-bodied larva is about two-thirds of an
inch in length, but his tail may be as long as five inches.
Its tip always reaches exactly to the surface of the water.
When the maggot crawls into the deeper parts of his pond
his tail lengthens ; when shallower water is sought his
tail decreases in length. This very peculiar structure has
earned the insect the name of rat-tailed maggot.

Another interesting aquatic insect is the buffalo gnat.

Larvae and their Work

The female flits along the surface of running streams and
lays her eggs on rocks just below the water. Running,
pure water is as necessary to this insect as was stagnant
water to the "drone-fly" larva. In due course the larvae
emerge, and they spend their lives standing on their tails
or crawling from place to place with a curious looping
action, like a leech or a looper caterpillar.

Now, dwelling in running water and being quite unable
to swim, there is always a danger of these little creatures
being washed down-stream. True, they are armed with
hooks on their sucker feet which enable them to obtain
a firm hold of slippery rocks. In addition to these hooks,
they spin fine life-lines. When alarmed they leave go of
their resting-places and swing out on the end of their
silken life-lines, hauling themselves back to rest when
danger no longer threatens. When fully fed, they make
slipper-shaped nests, not unlike those of swallows, and
these they glue to a water weed with the open ends
pointing up-stream.

At first the nests are closed, but later the broad ends
are removed. In these nests they turn into pupae, and
when ready to emerge as flies a wonderful thing happens.
The adult is a gauzy-winged creature which could not
stand immersion in water, yet it emerges below water and
in this manner. The pupae take up air from their sur-
roundings, and as a consequence a bubble of air collects
between the slipper-shaped nest and the pupae. When the
fly emerges, it does so in a bubble of air. Fly and bubble
rise to the surface and the insect goes on its way with
wings unscathed. Could anything be more marvellous ?

CHAPTER VII
COCOONS, NESTS AND EGGS

WHAT would you think of a mother who used her child
as a shuttle in weaving silk ? A peculiar question to ask,
no doubt ; but the young of certain ants are used in this
manner. One of the commonest ants of tropical Africa
builds a nest of leaves fastened together by a fine white
web resembling the finest silk. The leaves are fastened
together at their edges and the ant community dwells
within. The method of construction employed in these
leafy nests long remained a mystery, for no ant has ever
been known to spin silk.

An observer, quite recently, by tearing a rent in one of
the nests, solved the mystery. When the nest was damaged,
some of the workers defended the home, others repaired
the rent, and they did so in a peculiar way, by lining up in
a row and seizing the edge of the leaf, on the other side of
the rent, in their jaws, the while they took firm hold of the
nearer side with their feet. Then they slowly and cautiously
backed, holding all the time on to the farther edge of the
rent, and thus brought the two edges together. Next came
other workers who cut away the old silk web along the
edges of the rent, carried the pieces to an exposed situation,
awaited a breeze, then let them float away in the air.
After an hour's labour a strong gust of wind tore the
edges of the rent out of the ants' jaws, but, undaunted,
they began again, and in half-an-hour had pulled the
edges near together again.

Then the most peculiar thing happened. From the
inner recesses of the nest countless workers ran, each
bearing a grub in its mouth. They climbed upon the
portions of the leaves which were still held together by

Cocoons, Nests and Eggs

the workers and used their grubs as spools and shuttles.
The larva; gave off a fine silk from their mouths, and this
the ants used to bind the edges of the nest together.
From one side to the other they travelled, placing the
grubs' mouths against the leaf till the silk had adhered
to the leaf, then they passed over to the other side and
repeated the process.

It must be an interesting sight to watch these ants
building their nests. If the leaves are large and stiff,
hundreds of ants may be required to haul a leaf down and
hold it in position ; it is quite a tug-of-war. Sometimes
the insects holding the leaf have a chain of two or three
of their comrades fastened on to them, one behind the
other, each holding its neighbour by its slender waist and
all at full stretch and pulling earnestly. What a strain
for poor number one. When the leaf edges are far apart
th,e ants form themselves into chains to bridge the distance
and bring it down. " When contemplating the work done
on these nests one cannot but marvel at the wonderful
ingenuity displayed, or in endeavouring to form some
idea of the vast number of grubs which must be utilised
to supply the connecting web even for a moderately
sized nest, for with narrow-leaved trees many scores of
leaves are required to form a nest and each must be
sewn."

Of all the ingenious shelters for insects' eggs, one of
the most striking is the curious raft constructed by the
silver water-beetle. The mother beetle may often be seen
at work in the spring ; she clings, upside down, to some
water weed and spins a concave sheet of silk which she
attaches to some plant on which she has taken up her
position. Then, reversing her position, she weaves a
similar silken sheet and, having done so, fixes the two
together so that they form a nearly spherical cocoon, open
at one end. Inside this structure she deposits her eggs in
regular rows, suspended from its upper surface ; next she
closes the open end of the cocoon and spins a little spout

Cocoons, Nests and Eggs

therefrom, which projects nearly an inch above the surface
of the water.

The completed structure, as it floats on the water,
resembles a chemist's retort, with a narrow neck projecting
into the air. In this curious little ark the larvae remain
but a short time after they are hatched, before eating their
way out to the surrounding water.

Familiar as is the common cockroach, there are many
people who have never seen its remarkable red-brown egg-
case, which resembles nothing so much as a miniature
snap-purse. Each case contains sixteen eggs, deposited
in two rows, side by side, in such a manner that the ends
of the eggs, from which the young cockroaches will hatch,
all point towards the opening of the case. The horny,
purse-like structure is kept closed at its upper edge by
its natural elasticity, so that when the young roaches
hatch all they need do is to push their way out of their
temporary hiding-place. The mother roach displays the
greatest concern in seeking a suitable shelter for her egg-
case. Case and eggs are formed within her body, and
she will sometimes walk about for days with the egg-case
partly protruding from her body, till she finds a spot
where she thinks no harm can come to her precious
burden, and there she leaves it.

Many other insects protect their eggs by means of
cases ; certain locusts, for example, deposit their clusters
of eggs in holes in the ground, and cover them with a
sticky substance which sets moderately hard and forms
a case around them. The gadflies deposit their eggs in
curious masses, and so do the mantids. A mantis egg-
case is worth a moment's consideration. In its completed
form it is hard and horny, but at the time of its formation
it is soft and spongy. The egg-cases vary in size
according to the species of mantis, but many of them are
more than an inch and a half long. They are usually
yellowish-green in colour, and the eggs within are
arranged in regular rows. When the eggs are being

Cocoons, Nests and Eggs

deposited by the mother mantis, the future egg-case is
merely a mass of froth, but the action of the air causes
it to harden rapidly. Curiously enough, the last eggs to
be laid are the first to hatch, but all hatch within a short
time of one another.

The young mantids, on hatching, push their way out
of the egg-case, but do not immediately go out into the
world. They first of all spin a silken thread from which
they suspend themselves, after the manner of certain
young spiders, till they have shed their first coats. A
change of raiment seems to embolden the little creatures,
for after their moult they leave their nest and start on
their nefarious careers as crafty, bloodthirsty cannibals,
not even disdaining their own kind, for the female mantis
often devours her mate if he becomes too pressing with
his attentions.

The pernicious habit of hen-pecking is not altogether
unknown in the insect world. We have just mentioned
the mantis, and there is a large South American water-
bug which is nearly as bad, though the female does not
go quite so far as to eat her spouse. Her nature is more
utilitarian. She makes him carry her eggs. Zaitha is the
name of this insect, and the female, to rid herself of
maternal cares, simply deposits her eggs on her husband's
back. He is by no means a willing nurse, for sometimes
the couple will struggle an hour or more before the
female can accomplish her design, and then her mate
seems as much out of place as the top-hatted suburban
father who wheels his child about the roads on a Sunday
morning, the while his wife prepares the midday meal.

Miss Slater, who discovered this habit of the Zaithas,
says : " That the male chafes under the burden is un-
mistakable ; in fact my suspicions as to the sex of the
egg-carrier were first aroused by watching one in an
aquarium which was trying to free itself from its load of
eggs, an exhibition of a lack of maternal interest not to
be expected in a female carrying her own eggs. Generally

Cocoons, Nests and Eggs

the Zaithas are very active, darting about with great
rapidity ; but an egg-bearer remains quietly clinging to
a leaf, with the end of the abdomen just out of the water.
If attacked, he meekly received the blows, seemingly
preferring death, which in several cases was the result, to
the indignity of carrying and caring for the eggs."

So diverse are the forms of insects, so varied their ways,
that it is hardly surprising to learn that their eggs assume
all manner of shapes and sizes. They are rarely laid
singly ; sometimes groups of two or three are laid by
certain insects, for instance, the solitary wasps. Usually
the egg-clusters contain about one hundred eggs, and in
exceptional cases — i.e. the social insects — each mother pro-
duces hundreds of thousands of eggs. They vary from
the large seed-like eggs of the stick insects to the glass-
like transparent eggs of certain butterflies. Again, they
are arranged in every conceivable way by the female
insect ; some are simply allowed to fall anywhere without
any provision for their welfare on the part of the mother.
This is the case with the stick insects. Their seed-like
eggs are simply allowed to fall to the ground, and they
do so with such effect in certain districts, where the stick
insect is common, that they sound like raindrops falling
on the undergrowth.

At the other extreme is the earwig, an Australian saw-
fly and a wood-boring beetle, all of which tend their eggs
till they hatch and then mother their young. Midway
between the utter disregard for the fate of her progeny
displayed by the mother stick insect and the tender care
of the earwig, there are cases innumerable where the
mother insect makes every provision for her young by
seeing to it that her eggs are laid in the most favourable
situation for their welfare, and even displaying consider-
able ingenuity in preparing suitable situations for these
eggs. A case in point is afforded by a little North
American stem sawfly, which deposits its eggs in willow
twigs, but after the laying of each egg the willow twig in

PRAYING INSECTS AND THEIR EGG-CASES

In the upper part of the illustration a Mantis is shown with its legs extend id in the characteristic
attitude, suggestive of pious invocation, from which these inserts derive their name. The Mantis is
However, a wolf in sheep s clothing," for the front legs are in reality deadly weapons by means of

,
which other insects are captured and killed.

Cocoons, Nests and Eggs

which it is deposited is girdled, to prevent further growth
which would assuredly crush the egg. The manner of
depositing eggs, the situations in which they are laid, and
the form in which they come into the world are all of the
greatest interest.

As we shall see, eggs which are destined for an aquatic
life are usually covered with a layer of jelly-like substance
after the manner of frog spawn. Eggs laid on a tree may
either be on its surface, as in the case of the rings of eggs
deposited by the lackey moth, or actually in its tissues,
as in the case of the cicada. Some eggs, those of
mosquitoes, float on water ; others, those of lacewings,
wave on stalks in the air ; some are preserved from injury
by horny coverings, others are laid in great masses and
protected by substances derived from the body of the
mother. One thing is certain, the mother always does
her best that her labours may not be in vain even if she
omits to mother her young.

Some very interesting experiments have been carried
out on this subject, of which we can but give the barest
outline here. Taking the common cabbage-white butter-
fly as our example : it is well known that this insect will
only lay its eggs on cabbages or on closely related plants,
and with a reason — these plants and these alone form
suitable food for the cabbage-white larvae. Now all these
plants possess a substance which gives them their
characteristic odour, and this substance can easily be
extracted. Taking some of the substance and smearing
it on a piece of sacking, cabbage-white butterflies were
easily persuaded to lay their eggs thereon, despite the fact
that the larvae could not possibly feed on sacking. Similar
experiments were carried out with other substances and
other insects with like results, showing that the sense of
smell probably guides the mother insects in their choice
of a site for their eggs. Be that as it may, it is wonderful
that the adult insects, which sip the nectar of flowers, should
know on which plants they may or may not lay their eggs.
G 97

Cocoons, Nests and Eggs

Certain insects' eggs cannot hatch without the aid of
some higher animal, aid which is certainly involuntary,
seeing that the larvae from these eggs are parasitic. Let
us consider two totally dissimilar cases. There is a British
fly, not unlike a honey-bee in appearance and known as
the horse bot-fly. This insect is an interesting though
obnoxious pest to horses, in whose neighbourhood it may
often be seen flying on warm sunny days. Suddenly the
fly will dart at a horse, settle for an instant and fly away
rapidly. This operation will be repeated over and over
again. Each time the fly settles on the horse she deposits
a single elongated egg which is so sticky at one end that
it becomes attached to a single hair of its host. The eggs
are always attached on some part of the horse which may
easily be reached by its tongue, for a reason we shall see
presently. The free end — that is, the unattached end — of
each egg is furnished with a little lid. Now the presence
of these eggs irritates the horse. What then is more natural
than that it should lick the offending spot ? And this is
precisely what the mother fly intended should happen.
The friction of the animal's tongue in conjunction with
its saliva causes the little lids of the eggs to open, and out
come the larvae. They pass into the horse's mouth, thence
to its stomach, and affix themselves to its wall. But that is
another story. Let us turn to our second example, which
is even more curious.

A South American fly, or rather its grub, lives in the
flesh of human beings, causing ugly, suppurating tumours.
How these grubs entered the flesh of their hosts long
remained a mystery, till a French naturalist solved the
riddle. The fly had never been seen to lay its eggs on
a human being or on his clothing, yet its grubs certainly
made a home in his flesh. How came they there ? The
capture of a blood-thirsty, blood-sucking mosquito, with
some of the eggs of this obnoxious fly adhering to its
abdomen, gave a clue to the mystery. Piece by piece the
evidence was constructed, till at length the problem was

Cocoons, Nests and Eggs

solved. The fly, it appears, was in the habit of depositing
its elongated eggs in clusters on the leaves of a certain
plant frequented by the mosquito. Now these eggs were
placed on the leaf in a most methodical manner. The ends
from which the grubs were destined to hatch were placed
on the leaf surface ; the ends which projected into the air
were covered with a sticky substance.

When the mosquito came along to disport itself on the
leaf the sticky ends of the eggs adhered to its body.
Before long it is certain that the mosquito will become
hungry, and then it will seek some unfortunate human
being to satisfy its craving. Having found its victim, it
loses no time in puhcturing his skin, but at the same time,
probably called into action by the warmth of the human
body, or stimulated by perspiration, the fly grubs beat a
hasty retreat from the eggs. When the mosquito takes
its departure it leaves the grubs behind. They find the
puncture made by the blood-sucking mosquito and, enter-
ing, take up their residence in the flesh of their new-found
host.

Many other insects' eggs depend on higher animals for
their welfare. The sheep-nostril fly lays its eggs on the
nostrils of sheep, and they hatch immediately they are laid,
and the grubs pass up the noses of their hosts, causing
them to sneeze in a vain endeavour to rid themselves of
the grubs.

CHAPTER VIII

MIMICRY

MIMICRY amongst animals may be either aggressive or
protective. Broadly speaking, if an animal imitates
another on which it preys for the purpose of its more
ready capture, the mimicry is aggressive. On the other
hand, an animal which is harmless itself, but closely
resembles a harmful creature, exhibits protective mimicry ;
for by their imitation they are frequently preserved from
danger. Cases of mimicry, both aggressive and protective,
are common amongst insects, and from them most of our
examples will be taken.

The whole realm of nature cannot furnish a better
example of mimicry, or perhaps resemblance is a more
fitting word in this case, than is afforded by the well-
known leaf-butterfly of India and Malaya. The upper
wing surface of this remarkable insect is brilliant, nay,
almost gaudy. In general colour it is metallic purplish-
blue, and each fore-wing is marked with a broad orange
band and two clear spots. But no verbal description can
do justice to its beauty. In the collector's cabinet it is
a striking object ; in its native haunts it must be of
entrancing beauty. The wings are of curious shape, and
not without purpose, as we shall see presently. Their
under sides are dull reddish-brown, mottled with deep
brown, a striking contrast to the upper sides.

In the resting position the wings are always folded,
close together, above their bodies, so that nothing is visible
except their under surfaces. The tips of the wings are
pointed, the "tails "are short and blunt; the outline of
the folded wings bears a remarkable resemblance to a dead
leaf, with the " tails " forming the stalk. The resemblance

100

Mimicry

is heightened by a dark streak Which • runs fr6m-wing-tfp
to tail, giving the appearance of a midrib. And this is
not all. We mentioned that there are clear spots on the
wings. In the resting position these spots coincide with
one another on the folded wings, so that there appears to be
a hole through them, just as there might be through an old,
damaged leaf. Keen eyes of bird or man are necessary to
detect this wonderful mimic when it is enjoying a siesta.

The leaf-butterfly is not the only insect with the out-
ward form of a leaf. There is an African insect, closely
related to the grasshopper, which bears a remarkable
resemblance to a green leaf. These creatures have
flattened bodies, and their wing-cases are leaf-like in
appearance and colour, as also are their fore and middle
legs. The hinder edges of their wing-cases, as they lie
touching one another on the insects' backs, resemble the
midrib of the leaf. The insects are slow-moving creatures ;
in fact they often remain for hours together without
moving, a habit which renders their resemblance to green
leaves of the plants on which they feed still more
remarkable. An entomologist who studied these freaks
of nature in the Seychelles relates that when food is
scarce " they frequently nibbled pieces out of one another,
just as they might have done out of leaves," and that they
always feasted off those parts which resembled leaves.

Much better known are the stick insects, also relatives
of the grasshopper. These creatures, which may be
veritable insect giants, or, on the contrary, dwarfs, always
bear a very striking resemblance to the stems of the
plants on which they feed. They may be winged or
wingless ; but, in the former event, the wings are always
folded tightly to the body so as to heighten their general
resemblance to a stick. Their long, thin legs are
frequently covered with spines, if they happen to belong
to a species which feeds on a spiny tree, or with mossy-
looking growths, if they frequent moss-covered trees.

Professor Drummond naYvely described a stick insect

10 1

Mimicry

as follows : — u Take two inches of dried yellow grass stalk,
such as one might pluck to run through the stem of
a pipe ; then take six other pieces nearly as long and
a quarter as thick ; bend each in the middle at any angle
you like, stick them in three opposite pairs, and again at
any angle you like, upon the first grass stalk and you
have my * Chirombo ' [native name for the stick insect].
When you catch him, his limbs are twisted at every angle,
as if the whole were made of one long stalk of delicate
grass, hinged in a dozen places, and then gently crushed
into a dishevelled heap. Having once assumed a position,
by a wonderful instinct he never moves or varies one of
his many angles by half a degree. The way the insect
keeps up the delusion is indeed almost as wonderful as
the mimicry itself, and you may turn him about and over
and over, but he is mere dried grass, and nothing will
induce him to acknowledge the animal kingdom by the
faintest suspicion of spontaneous movement."

The stick insects have their counterpart in this country.
Everyone knows some, at least, of the large family of
"looper" caterpillars, the insects which derive their name
from their curious looping gait, rendered necessary by the
fact that they have legs at either end of their bodies and
none in the middle. There are many species, but all have
the same habit, which renders them difficult to detect when
at rest. Feeding, for the most part, by night, when they
are safe from the attacks of birds, they rest motionless by-
day. Taking a firm hold on some twig of their food plant
with their hind legs, they attach a fine thread of silk to
their support and posture themselves in an erect position,
thus bearing a striking resemblance to a broken twig of
the plant on which they are resting.

Brown caterpillars select brown twigs, green ones
favour green twigs, and, in either event, are very difficult
to detect. The silken thread acts as a stay-rope and
takes a considerable amount of the strain which the insect
would otherwise feel in its immobile periods.

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Mimicry

Equally remarkable are the caterpillars of the pine
beauty moth, which need no artifice to render themselves
inconspicuous other than their wonderful protective
colouring. Their favoured food consists of the dark
green, needle-like leaves of the pine-tree, which are often
striped longitudinally with yellowish-white lines. The
caterpillars are dark green in colour, of such a shade as to
exactly match the pine leaves, and on either side of the
middle line of their backs they bear a white stripe.
Away from their food plant they are very conspicuous
creatures. Even from our description they probably do
not appear much like pine-needles in colour, but the fact
remains that on their food plant they are wellnigh in-
distinguishable.

It is curious to note that lichen-covered trees are very
frequently used as resting-places for insects that desire to
escape detection on account of their peculiar colour schemes,
or shall we say that many such insects are so marked
as to escape detection when resting on lichen-covered
trees? Instinct, habit, call it what you will, appears to
point out the most desirable resting-places for each insect.
The common red underwing moth, whose fore-wings are
mottled grey, must never be sought on green leaves
during its daylight resting hours, but on some old
weather-beaten fence, of such a nature that the colours of
insect and support harmonise in marvellous manner. Still
more remarkable is a little Madagascan beetle which not
only resembles the lichen-covered trees on which it lives
in colour, but to some degree in form, for its wing-cases
are knobbed all over with little warty outgrowths, which
still further heighten the illusion.

Wonderful indeed are the devices employed by Nature
in moulding her children ; among the most extraordinary
are those insects which resemble bird droppings. There
are several small moths which, with white, black-tipped
wings, so closely resemble the excrement of birds that
detection by insect-eating enemies is almost impossible.

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Mimicry

A Javan species of spider, too, has assumed this strange
garb, not as a means of escaping observation, but in order
the more readily to obtain food. Unlike the majority of
spiders, he spins no web, but rests in some exposed place,
a conspicuous black and white, inert-looking mass.
Strange as it may seem, some butterflies are given to
making a meal of such unpleasant fare and, mistaking
this spider for a meal, they settle upon him, with disastrous
results, for they are immediately seized and thus provide
a meal.

Let us now turn to some of the harmless insects which
resemble harmful ones, or at any rate insects well provided
with defensive organs. The common conception of a
moth is an insect whose wings are covered with scales
of such a nature as to give them a distinctive colour.
Occasionally there is a circular patch or eye which is
devoid of scales and thus forms a transparent spot. In
certain families there are moths whose wings are almost
totally devoid of scales, to such an extent, at any rate,
that they are popularly known as " clearwings."

One species, the hornet clearwing moth, has its body
banded with buff and orange-yellow, remarkably similar
to those of the hornet, which, in fact, it mimics. The
rapid, nervous flight of these insects heightens the
illusion, and when they are on the wing it requires an
expert to distinguish the peace-loving moth from the oft-
times aggressive, formidable hornet. Moths, however,
are not without rivals in their mimicry.

A common British beetle bears such a remarkable
resemblance to the wasp that it has earned the title of
wasp-beetle. It is well known that what may be termed
the delicate flying wings of the majority of beetles are
totally protected, when not in use, by hard wing-cases.
In the wasp-beetle, however, the wing-cases, which, by the
way, are marked with black and yellow, after the manner
of a wasp, are so reduced in size that the membrane-like
flying wings are fully exposed. This fact renders the

104

A BUCCANEER FLY, AND A LEAF-RESEMBLING INSECT.

Poised in the air, the buccaneer fly selects its victim from the bees issuing from a hive, pounces
on it like a winged fury, and kills its hapless prey. The insect depicted beneath is
protected from its enemies by its strange resemblance to a dead leaf.

Mimicry

insect more like a wasp than it would be were its wing-
cases of normal dimensions. The likeness does not end
here, though more careful observation is necessary to
detect the next point of resemblance. The wasp has
four wings, and its hind and fore wings are fastened
together by a series of minute hooks, invisible to the
naked eye. Beetles have only two wings, but the wasp-
beetle has each wing lobed at its hinder margin ; thus its
two wings appear extraordinarily like the four wings of
the wasp.

Examples of mimetic insects could be quoted at length ;
some of them have been known, or, more correctly speaking,
have been confused with other insects, since Biblical times.
The myth that animal carcases generate bees was men-
tioned in the story of Samson, in the book of Judges; it
has held sway in nearly every country the world over, and
is perpetuated as the trade mark of a well-known brand
of golden syrup, in the form of a drawing of a lion from
whose anatomy a number of bees are issuing. Now bees
do not feed upon animal matter. How can the myth be
explained and how has it arisen ? The fact of the matter
is that there is a certain fly, belonging to the family of
hover-flies, those perfect aeronauts that may be seen
hovering, with wings vibrating so rapidly that the human
eye is quite incapable of following their movements, the
while they are on the look-out for their prey, the succulent
green-fly.

These hover-flies so closely resemble the honey-bee
that they have been named " drone-flies." The drone-fly
breeds in carcases or in stagnant water, so that the
almost universal and absolutely time-worn myth does not
require much explanation after all. Another family of
flies mimics bumble-bees. The robber or buccaneer flies,
as a family, are strikingly mimetic. These flies are
veritable hawks of the insect world, pursuing and capturing
their prey on the wing, but retiring to a nearby resting-
place to devour their victims. Those of one species

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Mimicry

closely resemble wasps ; those of another are remarkably
like bumble-bees, even to the extent of having thickened
hind legs, like the pollen-bearing members of the bumble-
bee family. As this modification is perfectly useless to
the fly, it simply amounts to a device destined to add to
the fly's resemblance to a bee.

In another chapter we referred to the leaf-cutting ants.
Those destructive creatures march in droves to some
favoured shrub, and each one nibbles a piece of leaf there-
from before returning home. On the homeward march
the booty, in the shape of a snippet of green leaf, is
carried on high over the insect's head and, an ant legion,
each member of which bears a green leaf, presents a
curious spectacle and affords an opportunity for a very
striking example of mimicry.

So far all our mimetic insects have resembled a plant,
an insect or some non-living material ; but a bug which
lives in the same part of the world as the leaf-cutting
ants goes one better — he mimics the ant plus his leafy
burden. This bug is a curious-looking creature, for on
his back he bears a thin, flattened outgrowth, green in
colour, which at a little distance bears a very striking
resemblance to a piece of green leaf, and he himself is not
unlike an ant. We may well inquire the reason for this
so-called aggressive mimicry. If it be of a purpose, as
some aver, it is surely intended to help the imitator to
more readily obtain its prey ; for the fly which resembles
the bumble-bee preys upon those insects or, in other cases,
it assists the mimic to avoid its enemies ; the moth which
mimics the hornet is not nearly so likely to meet with a
tragic end as a moth which does not possess this advan-
tage, for the sting of the hornet is notorious, even among
the lower animals.

Amongst insects, there are other forms of protection
from their enemies which can hardly be termed mimicry or
even protective resemblance; perhaps protective colouring
would be a better term. These insects are all remarkable

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Mimicry

for their brilliant hues ; so vivid, in fact, are they that it
might be thought that undue attention would be drawn
to the creatures so endowed. And this is the case. To
be conspicuous, in some circumstances, is an advantage.
Most of these brightly coloured insects are extremely dis-
tasteful to birds and other insect-eating animals. Some
of them, the blister-beetles, give off an acrid fluid when
they are touched and accordingly have no enemies seeking
to make a meal of them.

A few young birds, who have not yet learned the ways
of the world, may perchance make an attempt on the lives
of some of these smartly liveried insects, but even birds
learn by experience, and the insect with the garish coat is
usually protected by his very gaudiness.

Again, certain insects are protected by their having
hairy coats. Few birds, except the cuckoo, will make a
meal of a hairy insect, however tempting he may be in
other respects. In some cases the hairs of insects are
irritable little poisoned stilettos, causing intense irritation
whenever they penetrate the skin, which they may easily
do, by reason of their small size.

Mimicry amongst birds is by no means uncommon.

" Protective mimicry is well illustrated by the common
cuckoo. This bird presents a really striking resemblance
to the sparrow-hawk, and thereby, it is supposed, it is
enabled to carry on with ease its nefarious practice of
putting its young out to nurse. By any small birds, such
as are victimised by the cuckoo, the sparrow-hawk is
greatly dreaded. So disguised then, the male cuckoo,
when its paramour is ready to dispose of an egg, hovers
over spots likely to contain nests of the desired foster
parents. These threatened, as they suppose, by the bully
of the country-side, at once commence to buffet him, gaining
courage, in the defence of home, which at other seasons of
the year they cannot command. Under this attack the
pretended marauder beats an affected retreat, followed
by his puny adversaries. When the pursuit has carried

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Mimicry

away the pursuers sufficiently far, the female quietly slips
up to the nest and then drops in her egg. On the return
of the frightened birds, they either fail to notice the
addition to the nest, or are indifferent, finding the eggs
they left still whole."

In Australia there is a remarkable case of bird
mimicry. The powerful friar-birds, which go about in
flocks, and are therefore less likely to meet with mishap
than if they lived alone or in pairs, are mimicked by
the harmless, solitary orioles, and this is good for the
orioles. Hawks hesitate to attack the orioles, for per-
chance they might be friar-birds, and the result of such an
attack would be unpleasant for the hawk. There are many
other examples of weak birds copying strong ones. The
fork-tailed cuckoo of India mimics the powerful king-
crow ; another Eastern cuckoo, the brain-fever bird, closely
resembles the Indian sparrow-hawk ; a bulbul copies a
shrike, and in each case the weaker bird benefits by the
resemblance, if only to the extent of misleading possible
enemies.

On the other hand, very many birds of prey mimic
harmless birds, thereby gaining an easier livelihood than
if they appeared in their true colours. Just as the cuckoos
commonly mimic more powerful birds, so do many of the
hawks mimic harmless ones. An Indian hawk, for ex-
ample, closely resembles so typical a sea-bird as the tern.
The great skuas, again, though sea-birds, are also birds of
prey, and curiously enough some of them mimic eagles.
Why should one bird of prey mimic another bird of similar
habits ? But we are digressing into questions too abstruse
for a book of this nature ; in fact the whole question of
mimicry in birds is beset with difficulties.

108

CHAPTER IX

GROUND AND UNDERGROUND NESTS

THERE is little in the whole realm of nature which evokes
our admiration more than the craftsmanship of certain birds.
Some, 'tis true, making no nests, lay their eggs upon the
ground or on some bare rock ; others scrape a hollow in
the ground, a mere excuse for a nest. Some nests, again,
are rough and untidy in the extreme, but they only serve
to emphasise the good workmanship of the neater, more
ingenious structures. The village boy who carelessly
destroys the hedgerow nest rarely pauses to consider that,
at one stroke, he is utterly and often literally casting to
the winds the result of much effort and no little skill.

Of the simple, shall we say primitive, nests we have
a large selection from which to choose. Birds like the
penguin and the guillemot may safely be dubbed the least
skilful of artificers ; in fact they build no nests at all, but
simply lay their eggs on the bare rock. Exactly how
and why the guillemot's eggs remain in their precarious
positions on the side of some beetling cliff we shall relate
in our chapter on birds' eggs. The case of the penguin is
extraordinary. Not only does this bird omit to build a nest,
but he, or she, uses his or her feet as supports for the
single egg. When about to sit, the egg is rolled up on to
the upper sides of the feet and the sitting bird squats upon
its charge. The hen does most of the sitting, but the
cock bird takes his turn.

When the change is made from one bird to the other,
it is carried out with as much ceremonial as the change of
guard outside a royal palace. The cock bows to the hen
when about to relieve her, she returns the compliment ;
he then carefully scrutinises his charge and finally takes

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Ground and Underground Nests

it over. Seven weeks is the time required to hatch these
eggs. " One bird could not sit on the same egg for seven
weeks. Incubation is carried out not by one pair but by
twelve or more, which stand about waiting for a chance
to seize either a chicken or an egg, as the post of incubator
becomes vacant. Every adult male and female has the
desire to sit on something, therefore there is one egg or
one chicken to ten or twelve adults. Probably this allows
each bird to obtain sufficient food through so long a period
of incubation.

" Not only do barren females take their turn, but males
also help. Every bird has the same bare patch of skin
in the middle line of the lower part of the abdomen,
against which the egg is closely held for warmth. Again
and again the birds, weighing anything up to 90 lb., make
wild dashes to take charge of any chicken that happens
to find itself deserted. The first bird to seize the chicken
is hustled and worried on all sides by the others while
it rapidly tries to push the infant in between its legs with
the help of its pointed beak, shrugging up the loose skin
of the abdomen the while to cover it. No great care is
taken to save the chick from injury. The chickens are
fully alive to the inconvenience of being fought for by
so many clumsy nurses, and they make the best use they
can of their legs to avoid these attentions, preferring to
freeze and starve rather than to be nursed. Half of
these unfortunates are killed by kindness." So wrote
Dr E. A. Wilson in his Voyage of the Discovery in the
A ntarctic.

The nightjar is another bird which disdains a nest. It
may make use of some natural depression in the ground,
but as for scratching one for itself, the nightjar would
never do such a thing. The bare ground at the foot of
a fir-tree or under some furze bush is the favoured haunt
of this bird.

The noddy, a species of tern, is a fool of a bird, yet it
goes a step further in the nest-building scale. Like the

Ground and Underground Nests

guillemot, the noddy favours some rocky ledge, but it
places seaweed thereon, though it must be confessed that
it displays no skill whatever in the doing of it. Year after
year this bird returns to the same nesting-place and each
season adds more seaweed to its nest ; in consequence,
after a few seasons it may have accumulated vegetable
matter to the thickness of a couple of feet.

Rather more ingenuity is displayed by the ostrich and
its kind. The nest in this case is merely a hollow
scratched in the sand and as such slightly more advanced
architecturally than the nests we have already mentioned.
When, however, the ostrich leaves its rude nest for any
reason, it takes the precaution of covering its eggs with
sand, to conceal them from marauding animals on the
look-out for an inviting meal.

There is one very curious habit of these birds that is
worth mentioning — namely, the habit of scattering a few
odd eggs about the nest. What exactly is the object of
this peculiar trait is not very obvious. Some naturalists
assert that these eggs are intended as food for the young
birds when they first hatch. Be that as it may, the habit
is common not only with the ostriches, but amongst the
closely related emus, cassowaries and rheas. Another
step up the scale of skilful nest-building brings us to the
nests of certain game birds, such as grouse and partridges.
These, again, are but hollows in the ground. However,
they are lined with vegetation, and a certain amount of
skill is displayed in their construction.

Let us not run away with the idea that the ground-
nesting birds are all tyros in the art of building. Many
remarkable nests are built on the ground. That great
winged sea-bird, the albatross, whose home is on the ocean, to
whom a visit to land is a means to an end — the upbringing
of its young — builds a remarkable mud-encircled nest.
Usually, birds, being far-seeing and intelligent creatures,
build their nests first and lay their eggs afterwards. The
albatross, reversing this procedure, lays its single egg on

Ground and Underground Nests

some bare rock and afterwards surrounds it with a rampart
of mud and seaweed. Nesting on the islands of the
Southern Seas and displaying an absolute fearlessness of
man during the nesting season, this wonderful bird is in
a fair way to suffering extinction, for, needless to add, it
is slaughtered indiscriminately.

The noddy is not the only bird that adds to its nest
year by year, without taking the trouble to remove the
debris of the previous season. The flamingo also has this
curious and slovenly habit. The newer nests of these
birds are only a few inches in height, the older ones a foot
or more. The flamingo usually builds on marshy ground
and the birds breed not in pairs but in great flocks. The
nest is constructed almost wholly of mud, which is scraped
together by the birds' beaks and patted into shape with
their feet. The newer nests resemble soup-plates, being
circular in outline, with a hollow in the centre for the
reception of the eggs ; the older nests are conical mounds
of mud, scooped out at the top. A few feathers as a lining
complete the structure.

For years an erroneous account of the sitting birds held
sway. It was stated that the hens straddled their nests
when sitting, and many illustrations of flamingos incubating
their nests in this manner have appeared in natural history
books. More recent and more reliable observations have
shown that the flamingo sits on its eggs in the ordinary
way, with its legs bent beneath it. It is sad that these
pretty stories should be refuted ; still, there are plenty of
well-authenticated facts in nature which are more remark-
able than the inventions of some imaginative man.

The mound-birds and brush-turkeys are members of
a family with peculiar nesting habits. They lay their
eggs either in sand or in large mounds composed of
decaying vegetable matter and consign the duties of
incubation to the rays of the sun or to the heat given off
by the putrifying herbage. The edifices constructed by
these birds are remarkable for their size, though the birds

112

PROTECTIVE MIMICRY

The picture at the top shows birds pursuing butterflies, while in the one below the same birds
have lost their prey, as the butterflies have alighted and show only the underside of their
wings, which are practically indistinguishable from the neighbouring leaves.

Ground and Underground Nests

themselves are by no means large. Cartloads of material
are used in building, and the mounds may measure more
than one hundred feet in circumference.

Wallace, in The Malay Archipelago, thus describes the
habits of these birds : " Of this rubbish the mound-birds
form immense mounds, often six or eight feet high and
twenty or thirty feet in diameter, which they are enabled
to do with comparative ease by means of their large feet,
with which they can grasp and throw backwards a
quantity of material. In the centre of this mound, at a
depth of two or three feet, the eggs are deposited, and
are hatched by the gentle heat produced by the fermenta-
tion of the vegetable matter of the mound. When I first
saw these mounds, in the island of Lombok, I could
hardly believe that they were made by such small birds,
but I afterwards met with them frequently, and have once
or twice come upon the birds engaged in making them.
They run a few steps backwards, grasping a quantity of
loose material in one foot, and throw it a long way
behind them. When once properly buried, the eggs
seem to be no more cared for, the young birds working
their way up through the heap of rubbish and running
off into the forest." This habit of leaving the chicks to
their own devices is foreign to most birds, in which, as a
class, the maternal instinct is very highly developed.

The Australian brush-turkey builds a somewhat similar
nest. Like the mound-birds, the brush-turkeys make use
of their feet for building operations. Their first care is
to trace a circle of large radius, and round this they walk,
picking up leaves, twigs and grass as they go, and
throwing them to the centre of the circle they are de-
scribing. Narrowing their circle by degrees, they finally
build up a good-sized conical mound. Having constructed
a framework, so to speak, they proceed to hollow out the
centre, and this they do to a depth of a couple of feet or
more. In this hollow the eggs are deposited in. a circle,
with their pointed ends downwards. The eggs are then
H 113

Ground and Underground Nests

covered with vegetation, whose decay, aided by the sun's
rays, completes the process of incubation.

Although the brush-turkey eschews sitting upon its
eggs, the male bird is loath to leave them to Fortune. He
displays considerable solicitude for his future chicks. By
some wonderful instinct, he knows just when the tempera-
ture within the nest is becoming too high or too low. In
the former case, he scrapes off the covering from above
the eggs and so allows them to cool ; when the tempera-
ture falls he adds a covering of leaves. Many times a
day he tends his eggs in this manner. Another Australian
mound-builder is well provided for by nature. Termites,
to their undoing, crowd round the eggs within the mound,
without, however, doing them any harm. Why they should
do so has not been satisfactorily explained, but their
presence is welcomed by the chicks when they hatch, for
they serve as the first food of the hungry youngsters.

The coot, the moorhen and the dabchick all build
nests which, to all intents, float upon water, though the
moorhen occasionally selects some spot near to, but not
upon, the water. Take a stroll along the bank of any tree-
bordered stream and notice that where the branches of
the overhanging trees touch the water there are, here and
there, clumps of vegetation, brought down by the stream
and caught in the branches. Most of these masses are
merely drift-weed ; some may be the nest of a moorhen.
A rudely built structure of grass and other water-side
plants, the nest of this bird is frequently anchored to
some tree branch, where it dips into the water. Six to
eight eggs are laid at a time, yet one may pass nests
again and again without seeing a sign of them, for the
careful birds always cover them with loose herbage when
they leave their nests, unless they are disturbed and com-
pelled to leave in a hurry.

This habit of covering the eggs is common among
water-side birds. By some the object is thought to be to
retain the warmth during the absence of the mother, but

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Ground and Underground Nests

the more probable explanation is the protection of the
eggs. The moorhen chicks, beautiful little balls of black
down, take to the water immediately they are hatched,
for they are able to swim as well as their mother, whom
they always accompany during their early days.

A very pretty sight is often afforded by young dab-
chicks and their mother. The dabchick is a little bird,
her chicks are minute ; there is no other word to describe
them. They swim merrily by the side of or near their
mother when no danger threatens, but, should they be
alarmed, they scuttle to her side with all haste and nestle
'neath her outstretched wings. Then she, for greater
safety closing her wings, dives below the surface of the
water, taking her family with her.

To anyone who has not studied bird life it must seem
strange that birds, essentially creatures of the air, should
nest below ground. Curious as it may seem, the fact
remains that a goodly number of species are burrowers or
borrowers, for some construct their underground homes,
others appropriate the burrows of other animals.

The early stages of the burrowing habit may be seen
in the nests of the black-backed courser, a Nile-frequenting
bird, which buries its eggs in the sand on the banks of
that river and leaves them to be hatched by the sun's
rays. When eggs are hatched in an incubator it is
necessary to sprinkle them with water from time to time ;
the courser also keeps its eggs moist by wetting its breast
in the river and then squatting on the sand over the spot
where its eggs are buried.

A slight advance on this crude nest is shown by one
of the mound-builders, a bird which belies its name, for,
instead of building a mound, it burrows obliquely into
the sand, for three feet or more, and there deposits its
eggs. Having done so, it comes to the surface, covers the
entrance to the burrow, and leaves the rest to chance and
the sun.

The kiwi, a New Zealand bird, and one of Nature's

Ground and Underground Nests

riddles, is a burrower. This creature, with its hair-like
feathers, its nostrils at the end of its long, curved beak,
instead of at the base as with other birds, and its
apparently wingless, tailless body, though not uncommon,
is rarely seen, for it is shy and a night bird. By day it
hides in its burrow, a short tunnel ending in a chamber
lined with fern leaves. In this chamber the hen deposits
her egg, which is remarkable for its size, being one quarter
the weight of the bird that laid it. No bird living lays a
larger egg for its size. The kiwi is probably possessed
of a keen sense of smell, for it has a habit of probing moist
ground with its long bill and sniffing out luscious worms
on which to make a meal.

There are many burrowing birds in Britain. The sand-
martin is one of the best known and is, moreover, one of
the most expert burrowers the world over. In the
selection of a site for its nest the bird displays excellent
judgment. Soil that is easily worked is preferred to that
of a harder nature ; but there is one essential, the ground
in which the tunnels are made must be of a nature that
there is no fear of the walls of the excavation falling in.
Should suitable soft soil not be available, this little bird,
with the fragile beak, will not eschew sandstone.

A convenient sandy cliff is the site usually chosen, and,
clinging thereto, the martin sounds the surface, by tapping
with its beak, till it finds the ideal spot for its purpose.
The little bird is a clever engineer. Clinging to the face
of the cliff with its feet, it works in a circle, chipping
pieces of soil or rock away with its beak. The actual
burrow is inclined slightly upwards, and in working thus
the bird displays its wisdom, for thereby rain is prevented
from reaching the nest within. For a couple of feet or
more the work of excavation is continued ; soil is broken
by the bird's beak and thrown out of the tunnel by its
feet. Unless the luckless little engineer should encounter
a rock or tree root during its labours, the work is rapidly
completed. Should an obstruction be encountered, either

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Ground and Underground Nests

the work is abandoned, or the bird deviates from its usual
straight course in order to avoid the obstacle. The
burrow completed, a chamber is made at the terminus, and
in the chamber a nest of dried grass and feathers is built.
As the sand-martins always live in colonies, a favoured
cliff is very soon riddled by their nest-holes. They seem
to live happy, care-free lives, for, by the nature of their
nesting habits, they are well protected from all enemies,
except the marauding schoolboy.

An occasional visitor to our shores, with nesting habits
similar to those of the sand-martin and gorgeous plumage
which compares favourably with that of any tropical bird,
is the bee-eater. About the size of a thrush and not so
heavily built, the bee-eater is a veritable living rainbow.
Green, blue, yellow, orange, brown, white and metallic
black are the colours which, harmoniously arranged and
displayed to advantage during the bird's elegant flight,
render it "almost top beautiful to belong to this world."
The colours of its exquisite plumage vary as the light
strikes them at different angles. So gorgeously arrayed is
the bee-eater that it is hardly necessary to add that it
is in great request as a trimming for ladies' hats.

Like the sand-martin, this bird lives in colonies, and its
burrows are always excavated in the side of a cliff.
Fragile as is its beak, it is yet strong enough to tunnel
into soft soil. As an engineer it compares unfavourably
with the sand-martin. Its burrow rarely exceeds a foot
in length, so that the sitting bird is plainly visible from
the outside. Moss is the material of which the nest is
composed, if the structure deserves the name of nest, for
it is little more than a clump of moss on which the pearly
white eggs are laid.

Our most richly apparelled native bird is undoubtedly
the kingfisher. Though quite common in all parts of the
country, he is not so frequently seen as might be expected.
Despite his gorgeous coat, he harmonises so well with his
surroundings that, when at rest, only the experienced eye

117

Ground and Underground Nests

can detect his presence. As he flies down-stream, a streak
of exquisite azure, he is remarkably conspicuous. It is sad
to relate that this beautiful bird and its nest are possessed
of an odour which is wellnigh overpowering, as we shall
relate in a moment.

Selecting some spot on the bank of a stream where fish
are plentiful, the kingfisher excavates a hole in leisurely
manner : a month is often expended in this engineering
feat. The entrance to the tunnel is always kept small, so
small, indeed, that one marvels how the bird can enter.
The tunnel itself is often of a tortuous nature, to avoid
tree roots and other obstacles, but it always inclines
gently upwards, so that a rise of a few inches in the level
of the stream will not flood the nest. At the end of the
tunnel, usually about two feet from the entrance, a low,
broad chamber is made, and here the nest is constructed.
And curious indeed is this nest, being constructed of dry
fish bones, those of minnows for the most part.

Certain birds, whose food consists of boned animals, are
in the habit of disgorging the bones of their prey after
they have digested the softer parts. The kingfisher is one
of these birds, and it is from the bones of these ejected
food pellets that the nest is built.

As may be supposed, the nest is of the most fragile
description, and it was years after the nesting habits of
this bird were fully understood before a complete nest
was brought to light. Sometimes the remains of dragon-
flies' wings may be found amongst the bones comprising
the nest, a sign that the eggs have been hatched, for it is
upon these insects that the young kingfishers are fed.
Little wonder that the haunt of the kingfisher may be
easily detected by its smell. The decaying flesh on the fish
bones and the excrement of the fish-eating birds combine
to produce an odour which is beyond human endurance.
The nest, the tunnel, the bird itself, reek of putrid fish.

Many birds nest in burrows but are not true burrowers,
for the reason that they take advantage of some other

118

Ground and Underground Nests

animal's industry and appropriate its home. Midway
between the burrow-makers and the burrow-stealers there
are a few birds which will do their own excavation if they
are unable to make use of a ready-made home.

Of these birds on the border line, the puffin is perhaps
the best known. This almost parrot-like sea-bird, with
its powerful, many-hued beak, is an ardent tunneller when
once it makes a start. The male undertakes most of the
work, and so intent does he become upon his labours that
it is possible to capture him without difficulty while he is
plying his beak to good effect in the soft soil. For some
reasonthe puffin's burrowis curved; moreover, it isextensive,
usually being three feet or more in length, and it is pro-
vided with a second exit, in case the arrival of some enemy
should make a hasty retreat imperative. Industrious as
a burrower, the puffin is no nest-builder, for the single
white egg is simply deposited on the soil at the termina-
tion of the burrow.

We must not dwell too long with these ground-
burrowers ; there are so many that space precludes the
mention of them all. The stormy petrel nests in burrows ;
the sheldrake and stockdove do so too ; even the jackdaw,
failing a better nesting site, will take possession of a
deserted rabbit-hole.

Let us give a little attention now to those birds which
nest in holes but not in the ground, the tunnellers as
distinguished from the burrowers of the bird world. In
Britain we have excellent examples of such birds in the
shape of the woodpeckers. Of wood-working birds, the
world over, there are none to compare in neatness of crafts-
manship with the woodpeckers. The entrances to their
nests are always so truly and well constructed that they
might have been made by a carpenter with a large brace
and bit.

The woodpeckers are admirably built for the work they
undertake. Their beaks are straight and strong ; their
feet, with two toes pointing forwards and two backwards,

119

Ground and Underground Nests

enable them to cling tenaciously to tr*e bark of any tree,
and the stiff quills of the tail feathersf/when pressed against
the tree, lend the bird additional support. When on nest-
building bent, the first care of the woodpecker is to find
wood in suitable condition to be bored. Tapping the tree
here and there with their beaks, their search is rewarded
ere long by the discovery of what they look for.

Preferably a spot is chosen where some fungus has done
its deadly work of killing the tissues of the tree or, maybe,
the end of a broken branch where the wood is already well
rotted by the rain. In any event, it is the object of the
birds to find a patch of decayed or partially decayed
wood. Having done so, the actual engineering work begins.
Taking firm hold of the bark with its feet, supporting itself
by its stiff tail feathers, the bird plies its sharp beak in
pickaxe fashion against the already softened wood. In
an incredibly short time a perfectly circular hole is made,
also a horizontal tunnel of a few inches in length. At the
end of this short tunnel the bird works directly downwards
and hollows out a flask-shaped cavity in the tree. At the
bottom of the cavity there is a collection of wood chips
and shavings, and on these the snow-white eggs are laid.
Powerful a bird as the woodpecker is, often and often it
completes its labours only to find that its place is usurped
by the diminutive wren, who simply turns out the rightful
owner and takes possession of the nest.

Far more interesting are the hornbills, though, as
craftsmen, they cannot approach the woodpeckers. They
are natives of the tropics of the Old World. They are
called hornbills because of their enormously developed
beaks, which are of various weird shapes, according to the
species. So dreadfully out of proportion do those beaks
appear in some species that it seems that their owners
must be sadly hampered by so heavy a load ; but, as a
fact, though of so unwieldy proportions, and enormously
strong, their beaks are fairly light.

The hornbills have curious and wonderful nesting habits.

120

A WILLING PRISONER

A .hornbill constructing a mud wall to protect his partner while she is sitting. When the
wall is finished, the entrance to the nest is only just large enough for the hen bi
out her bill and receive the food which is brought by her attentive mate.

Ground and Underground Nests

The duties of incubation are carried out by the hen bird,
who places herself in voluntary confinement, whilst the
male feeds her and her chick during the whole period.
Possession is taken of a roomy hole in a tree, high from
the ground ; in this cavity the single egg is laid. As soon
as the hen commences sitting, her mate assiduously walls
her in, leaving only a very small hole through which he
may pass food.

Exactly the nature of the building material used by the
hornbills seems open to doubt. Some say clay is used ;
others a secretion of the saliva mixed with fragments of
fruit ; others, again, have found the skeletons of centipedes
in large numbers in the material. The broad, flat beaks of
the birds are used after the manner of a mason's trowel,
and it is said that the hen lends a hand, or rather a beak,
in walling herself up. The heat of the tropical sun
soon dries the material used in the masonry and it sets
almost as hard as granite, so that escape for the hen is
impossible.

From this time onwards the male hornbill acts as a dutiful
husband should. He is unremitting in his attentions on his
wife, searching the district far and wide for the daintiest
morsels on which to feed her. Without his aid she would
certainly starve. But though the male is in possession of
his freedom, he is the one to starve as a rule, for he is so
solicitous of his mate that he appears to forget that food
is necessary for himself. The food is passed to the hen in
the form of a bolus enclosed in a coat derived from his
own gizzard, so it is said. Other observers state that the
hen's fare is divided into courses consisting of fruit and
other vegetable food, insects, mice and reptiles.

By the time incubation is complete the enforced captivity
and lack of exercise, combined with excellent and abundant
fare, makes the hen decidedly fat. The poor male bird, on
the other hand, is often reduced to a mere skeleton ; in fact
he frequently dies of starvation. The precise meaning of
the incarceration of the hen is open to some doubt, but

121

Ground and Underground Nests

probably it is merely as a protection against marauding
monkeys and reptiles.

Another theory is that it affords protection to the hen
during her moult, for she moults while sitting ; but, as a
well-known naturalist says, this explanation seems " neither
logical nor plausible." There are certain tunnellers which,
like the burrowers, take possession of ready-made holes.
The starling, robin, wryneck and certain titmice are cases
in point.

122

CHAPTER X

NESTS IN TREES

THERE is far greater variety amongst the nests built in
trees than amongst those built on or under the ground.
There are great differences of position, in material and,
most important from our point of view, in craftsmanship.
In size, too, nests vary remarkably, from the nest of the
tiny humming-bird, no larger than a thimble, to the six-
foot-diameter nest of the hammer-head. In point of size
the nests of the humming-birds are the smallest of all by
far. Usually they are composed of vegetable down and
the finest of fibres, and they are ornamented on the outside
with lichen, to render them as inconspicuous as possible.

The situation in which these nests are placed are as
varied as their shapes. A favourite position is the extreme
tip of some leaf. Whatever the situation, however, one
substance appears to be used by all humming-birds to
attach their nests to their supports, and the substance is
the web of a spider. Spiders' sheet webs are mingled
with moss and other vegetation to form a compact, close-
knit felt for the body of the nest, and spiders' orb webs
are used to bind the nests to leaves, branches, the faces of
rocks, etc., as the case may be.

One species of these little birds evidently takes a
delight in its architectural work ; perhaps they all do so,
but they are not given to building more than they can
help, as a rule. Well, the humming-bird we were about
to mention lays eggs about the size of an ordinary boot-
button, yet it builds a nest nearly the size of a football,
with a tiny cavity at the top for the eggs. These large
though frail nests, suspended from the stem of some
climbing plant, are sometimes found to be ill balanced

123

Nests in Trees

when they are completed. Such a state of affairs would
be fatal to the safety of the eggs, but the little architect
is fully equal to the occasion. No, it does not build its
nest anew, but daubs mud or even weaves small pebbles
into the nest fabric in sufficient quantity to restore
equilibrium.

The nest of one of our British birds, the chaffinch, is
strongly reminiscent of the architecture of the humming-
birds. A clumsy structure maybe compared to a humming-
bird's nest is that of the chaffinch, yet for deftness of
working and in neatness there is no bird anywhere to
beat the " storm-bird," as the chaffinch is called in some
parts of the country. The bird always selects a spot
which offers a firm foundation for its nest, such as the
point where several branches issue close together from a
tree trunk. Wool is the chief component of the structure,
but the wool is so deftly woven with moss, thistle-down,
and spiders' webs that the whole forms a felt of remark-
able firmness and elasticity. In fact the chaffinch's nest
may often be pressed almost perfectly flat, yet it will
regain its normal shape when the pressure is removed.

The outside of the nest is always decked with some
substance which harmonises with its surroundings and
renders it very inconspicuous ; so well, in fact, does the
little bird accomplish its object that its nest is never easy
to find. The variability of external building material is
the most remarkable fact about the chaffinch's nest. " A
nest built in a dead gorse bush had the outside garnished
with little pieces of decayed wood to imitate the brown
foliage and withered blooms of the bush ; a nest on the
lichen-covered branch of a birch-tree was studded so
thickly with bits of lichens, attached by spiders' webs,
as to resemble a knotted prominence of the birch itself;
lastly, a nest composed externally of the greenest of
mosses, bespangled with small bits of white paper, was
built in a whitethorn in full flower, and it resembled most
closely an exceptionally handsome bunch of bloom."

124

Nests in Trees

The lining of the nest is in itself a work of art : hair —
cow's hair for choice — is arranged round the bowl of the
nest with almost mathematical precision. Perhaps one
or two birds can rival the chaffinch as architects — its near
relative, the goldfinch, runs it close — but none can surpass
it. The nest of the goldfinch is not unlike that of the
chaffinch, but it is usually placed near the end of a branch
and, in this position, is subjected to considerable shocks
during a wind. The goldfinch provides for such a con-
tingency by curling the edges of its nest inwards, so that
the eggs are in no danger of falling out.

The long-tailed tit runs the chaffinch very close as a
nest-builder. Both birds use practically the same materials
and both are equally adept in the arts of concealment.
But whereas the chaffinch builds a cup-shaped nest, that
of the long-tailed tit is domed ; in fact, in size and shape
it resembles nothing so much as a large-sized cricket ball,
with a hole at one side for entrance and exit. Often the
nest is more oval than round, and sometimes even it is
flask-shaped. Again, nests have been found with two
holes, and one is recorded with a little flap over the
entrance to act as a door, which the birds must needs
open and shut each time they visit the nest. The interior
of this ingenious structure is always luxuriously upholstered
with downy feathers in such quantity that the eggs
literally lie in rather than on them.

The golden oriole, which is unfortunate in being per-
secuted for its brilliant plumage and for its tasty flesh,
which is considered a delicacy, has somewhat peculiar,
though by no means unique, nesting habits. The first-
made nest of this bird is a shallow structure of grasses
interwoven with wool, and is usually placed near the end
of a branch. Should good weather favour the birds
during the nesting season, the nest will be left in its
original shallow state ; but in stormy weather the eggs,
having no inverted nest edge to save them as in the
goldfinch's building, must be protected from risk of falling

125

Nests in Trees

out. The wise oriole simply deepens its nest, with the
result that the eggs are placed once more in safety. One
of the golden oriole's discarded nests at the end of the
season affords a sure indication of the state of the weather
during the previous weeks.

We have lauded the work of the chaffinch as a model
of delicate craftsmanship. At the other extreme we may
safely place the work of the branch-building pigeons, the
ring-dove and the turtle-dove, for their efforts hardly
deserve the name of nest. The ring-dove usually selects
a fir-tree for her nest. On a suitable spray of leaves she
places a few long twigs in irregular fashion, followed by a
few shorter twigs laid anyhow, the whole forming a mere
flimsy, flat platform. The eggs deposited on this plat-
form may easily be seen from the ground below. One
might wonder how in the world the young ones are
prevented from falling to earth, and it happens in this
manner. With most birds the chief care, or one of them,
is to keep their nests clean. With the ring-dove the case is
different, and the droppings of the young quickly form a
cement which binds the twigs together into a solid mass
through which there is no fear of anything falling.

The magpie builds a domed nest, though one quite
distinct from the natty little abode of the long-tailed tit ;
it is as large as the tit's is small, as rough as the other is
dainty. Despite its unkempt appearance, it serves its
purpose admirably, and is by no means easy to detect,
being always placed in the upper branches of some high
tree, where it bears a striking resemblance to the natural
outgrowth of the tree. A strong foundation is the first
care of the magpie architect. This is always composed of
sticks cemented together with mud ; not only so, but a
thick layer of mud is placed atop of this. Above this
substantial groundwork a number of sticks, usually those
with formidable thorns, are arranged to form a dome.
The nest is completed by a lining of root fibres on the
floor to receive the eggs. Exactly why the magpie

126

Nests in Trees

should be so partial to thorns for the construction of its
nest is hard to say. Perhaps they are placed there to
chastise likely egg-stealers, including schoolboys.

A nest which deserves a place in any discussion of bird
architecture is that of the social weaver-birds or gros-
beaks. As their name indicates, these birds live to-
gether in flocks and have developed the social habit to
a degree that is rare among birds, to such a point, in fact,
that many individuals construct a common nest, or, to
be more exact, they live in separate compartments under
one roof. The entire edifice resembles nothing so much
as an enormous umbrella. Sometimes it contains more
than a cartload of grass, and over three hundred and
twenty nests have been counted under a single shelter,
each one containing a pair of birds bringing up four or
five youngsters. The nests are built of a plant known as
bushman grass, and they are always constructed in the
branches of the camel-thorn acacia.

In the beginning, a single pair of birds build their nest,
by hanging the leaves of the bushman grass on a suitable
branch, and weaving and plaiting it till it forms a roof.
Beneath this roof the actual nest is built. Other sociable
weaver-birds join in the enterprise, and the edifice grows
by degrees till it looks like " a mass of grass pierced by
numerous holes," each hole being the entrance to a nest.
At the end of the season, of course, the old nests are
abandoned. When Nature again calls the birds to the
duties of nest-building, they do not seek another site, but
enlarge the last year's roof and build another layer or
layers of nests round the old ones, after the manner of
the new cells in a wasp's nest. Year by year the same
edifice is used. Small wonder, then, that these nests fre-
quently attain enormous proportions.

The weaver-birds and hang-nests are the eccentrics of
the bird world, so far as their nests are concerned. Using
wiry grasses and fibres, for the most part, they weave
them so skilfully that they appear to be the result of the

127

Nests in Trees

efforts of some higher intelligence than is to be found
amongst birds. One and all are bizarre in shape. Bottle,
pear and retort shapes are common, and some of the
nests resemble hammocks. Some are more than mere
nests, and form permanent abodes ; many are double-
chambered, one for the sitting hen, the other a resting-
place for her mate, or a nursery for her chicks.

One of the most remarkable of these nests is constructed
by the Baltimore oriole, a common American bird. It
bears considerable resemblance to the housewife's string
bag, being suspended by its rim from some favoured
branch. The bird weaves vegetable fibres so skilfully in
its construction that the substance of the nest resembles
that of a straw hat in an unfinished state. Frequently
wool and hair are woven into the nest to give it added
strength. As the Baltimore oriole is not troubled with
shyness, its building operations have been frequently
observed. In the first place, it selects the strongest fibres
it can find, and weaves them round the branches it has
selected, to form the supports for its pendent nest.

On this foundation it builds up the rest of the structure
and lines the whole with a layer of horsehair. " So
solicitous is the Baltimore oriole to procure proper
materials for his nest that in the season of building the
women in the country are under the necessity of narrowly
watching their threads that may chance to be out
bleaching, and the farmer to secure his young grafts, as
the Baltimore oriole, finding the former and the strings
which tie the latter so well adapted for his purpose,
frequently carries off both. Or, should the one be over-
heavy, and the other too firmly tied, he will try at them
for a considerable time before he gives up the attempt.
Skeins of silk and hanks of thread have often been found,
after the leaves have fallen, hanging round the Baltimore
oriole's nest, but so woven up and entangled as to
be entirely irrecoverable. Before the introduction of
Europeans, no such materials could have been found

128

A BIRD-CATCHING SPIDER'S WEB.

This enormous Madagascar spider spins webs so strong that birds are caught and held in them.
In one of the large meshes will be seen a small parasitic spider's web for catching flies and
other insects. The smaller spider is not only permitted to do this, but is protected by its
host from the attacks of the smaller birds.

Nests in Trees

here ; but, with the sagacity of a good architect, he has
improved this circumstance to his advantage, and the
strongest and best materials are always found in those
parts by which the whole is supported."

We must leave the work of the weaver-birds and hang-
nests with this scanty review and pass to nests in which
mud plays its part in binding the nesting materials
together. A common yet withal a good example of
such a nest is constructed by the song-thrush. The
greater part of the thrush's nest is composed of small
stalks and grass, and in this it is in no way peculiar, but
the interior of the nest is worthy of close study. The
beautifully moulded cup of cow dung, despite its un-
pleasant associations, cannot fail to excite our admiration.
As thin as the proverbial wafer, and of exceeding tough-
ness, it is moulded and plastered with marvellous skill.
By the heat of her own body the mother bird dries the
lining, then, as though to protect her chicks from con-
tamination, she adds a further thin lining of fine wood
chips mixed with saliva, an actual lining of bird-made
linoleum.

One might imagine that such a structure would be
hard for the eggs and cold for the chicks ; as a fact, it
forms a first-rate incubator. The hen bird, when sitting,
opens her wings slightly, covering the whole of the
cup-shaped nest, which retains her body heat to a remark-
able degree, thus making for the efficient hatching of the
eggs. The blackbird builds a very similar nest, but covers
its mud lining with a thin layer of grass.

The pied grallina, instead of lining its nest with mud,
mixes this material with sticks, grasses and feathers, to
form a very rigid plaster. Still more curious is the nest
of the oven-bird. Like the pied grallina, it uses mud
mingled with grass and various vegetable fibres, which is
hardened by the sun's rays to the consistency of brick.
The rounded, dome-shaped nest has a slit-like opening
at the side, and although its thick walls are immensely
i 129

Nests in Trees

strong, it is still further strengthened by a partition, also
made of mud and grass. The inner chamber of the two-
chambered nest is lined with feathers, and is used by the
female for incubation purposes. The outer chamber
appears to be a retiring-room for the male bird.

The common swallow and the house-martin are also
mud-builders, familiar to us all. The latter bird builds
a nest shaped like a half basin and usually attaches it to
the wall of a building. Pellet by pellet it brings the
mud to build its home. Beginning at the bottom, it, so
to speak, constructs the base of its nest and, working
upwards, it adds the rest piece by piece, allowing each
addition to dry before applying another. Often straw
and other vegetable matter is added to the mud for
strengthening purposes, and the completed nest is lined
with feathers and dry grass.

Curious indeed are the nests built by the edible swifts,
for the sole material used consists of the bird's saliva.
These nests are considered a great delicacy in certain
parts of the world and a large trade has been built up in
them — they are used for soup-making.

Mr Charles Dixon, the well-known ornithologist, gives
a very good account of the collection of these nests :
" The swifts arrive at the Andamans towards the end of
November. Before the birds arrive a party of convicts
and natives is sent round to all the caves which the birds \
frequent to clear away all the old nests and generally to
clean the resorts. The birds appear to be in no hurry to
commence nest-building, and the first crop of nests is
generally a poor one, being soiled by the damp and the
drippings from the roof of the caves.

" About the end of January the collectors visit the different
caves — a journey which occupies about three weeks — in an
open boat, and bring in all the nests that have been built.
The best quality of these resembles pure isinglass, are
worth their weight in silver and are found in the caves in
limestone and volcanic rocks, those from sandstone being

130

Nests in Trees

considered inferior. The birds now build much faster and
at the end of February a second gathering takes place,
which is usually the best of the season. The third
collection is made in April, when the nests, though of
good quality, are thin and dry. After this the poor birds
are left in peace to build again and rear their young.
The nests are very carefully removed from the rock with
an iron trident, and are kept in clean linen bags, it
being most important that they should not become soiled
or wetted by sea-water. When brought into port, they
are cleaned of all feathers and impurities, and then packed
in bundles weighing about 4 Ibs. each and graded
according to their quality. The nests are divided into
three classes, the first and best being pure white, the
second clean but of a yellow colour, the third dis-
coloured and mixed with feathers and other substances.
These wonderful nests are formed from a gelatinous
secretion from the salivary glands of the birds. Many of
the caves, which are scattered about the islands and some-
times far inland or amongst mangrove swamps, are quite
dark, torches and ladders being necessary to collect the
spoil."

The dipper builds its neat, domed nest close to some
stream, or sometimes, indeed, behind a waterfall, through
which it must needs fly on its journey to and from the
nest. The greatest care is taken in the building of this
little home ; it is neatly constructed of fresh moss which
is kept in green condition by the spray from the nearby
water.

Often the material of which a nest is made is of greater
interest than is the nest itself; sometimes the form and
material are both peculiar, and such is the nest of the fiery
topaz. In shape it resembles a miniature cow's horn, with
the point affixed to some slender branch. In material it
appears to be made of leather and its nature for long
remained a mystery. Seeing that it closely resembles
the branch on which it is built, the first surmise was that

Nests in Trees

the nest was some natural outgrowth of the tree, of which
the bird had taken possession. But all these early
guesses were wrong, as naturalists discovered when they
watched the bird more closely. It was seen to search
diligently over every tree near its home till it met with
a fungus of the genus Boletus. Now this fungus, though
soft, is tough and leathery, but the fiery topaz deftly
moulds the uninviting substance into a comfortable,
serviceable nest of marvellous craftsmanship.

A very remarkable nest, and one which forces itself
upon our attention, is that of the great grey shrike. The
bird seems anxious that we should all admire its handi-
work, for it always builds in the most conspicuous places.
Of the nest itself there is but little to say. It is large and
rough and loosely built of moss, wool and grass, and its
lining is of hair.

Of far greater interest than the nest is the larder with
which it is always surrounded. Now the shrikes are
peculiar amongst birds of prey, in that they always
impale their victims on some nearby thorns. Accordingly
the nests are invariably built in thorn-bearing shrubs, such
as the blackthorn. Bees, beetles, even nestlings are the
common stock of this avian larder. Why, exactly, these
birds should have such curious habits is a moot point.
Some say that they cannot eat any flesh till it has been
well hung, but, as a fact, shrikes often kill and eat insects
without impaling them.

A peculiar and erroneous story has been woven around
the red-backed shrike, another familiar bird, to the effect
that there are always nine impaled creatures round its
nest, and that after eating one it always catches and
impales another before venturing on a second meal. So
deep rooted has this fable become that the bird is called
the nine-killer in some parts of the country, in fact its
scientific name signifies as much.

Formerly the great grey shrike was used in falconry,
though it was held in little esteem. In an old sporting

132

THE BUTCHER-BIRD'S LARDER

The Butcher-bird impales its prey on thorns, and the remains of many victims may
often be seen on a favourite thorn-bush. The "larder" represented in the picture
contains a beetle, a lizard, a young Blackbird, a Blue litmouse, and a Hedge-
Sparrow.

Nests in Trees

book the following amusing account is given of the
method by which the bird captures its prey : — " Sometimes
upon certain birds she doth use to prey, whome she doth
entrappe and deceive by flight, for this is her desire. She
will stand at perch upon some tree or poste, and there
make an exceeding lamentable crye and exclamation,
such as birds are wonte to do, being wronged or in
hazard of mischiefe, and all to make other fowles believe
and thinke that she is very much distressed and stands in
need of ayde ; whereupon the credulous sellie birds do
flocke together presently at her call and voice, at what
time if any happen to approach neare her she out of hand
ceazeth on them, and devoureth them (ungrateful subtile
fowle !) in requital for their simplicity and pains.

" Heare I ende of this hawke, because I neither
accompte her worthy the name of a hawke, in whom there
resteth no valour or hardiness, nor yet deserving to have
any more written upon her propertie and nature. For truly
it is not the property of any other hawke, by such devise
and cowardly will to come by their prey, but they love to
winne it by main force of wings at random, as the round-
winged hawkes doe, or by free stooping, as the hawkes of
the tower doe most commonly use as the falcon, gerfalcon,
sacre, merlyn and such-like."

One of our summer visitors, the reed-warbler, is a
beautiful and ingenious little nest-builder. Arriving in
this country after the reeds are well grown and departing
before they are cut, it lives, as a rule, a happy, care-free
life. Still water and abundance of reeds provide this
delightful little bird with all the necessities for an enjoy-
able life ; for amongst the reeds it can find abundance of
food and material for its nest, together with a suitable
situation for its erection. The parent birds hunt the
reed-beds till they find three or four reeds growing fairly
close together. Having made this discovery, the work of
nest-building commences. First of all the leaves of dried
reeds are skilfully twined round the chosen reeds till they

133

Nests in Trees

are firmly bound together. Then, working from below
upwards, further additions of reed and tough grasses are
cleverly interwoven with the supporting reeds, which act as
scaffold poles. Eventually the little nest is completed, and
a marvellous structure it is.

Anyone who has watched reeds blown and bent now here
now there even in a slight wind must wonder that any
bird should select so frail a support for its nest. The reed-
warbler, however, builds a nest that is proof against all
but the most violent storms, for it is remarkably deep for
its size and, as it sways in the wind till it lies almost
horizontally, the eggs ride securely in its depths and are
in no danger of falling out.

Before we pass to the consideration of birds' eggs and
their peculiarities we must, perforce, mention one skilled
architect if only for the fact that its activities are so ex-
traordinary and so different from those of all other birds.
We refer to the tailor-bird of India. This little bird
tailored its leaves long years before man wore clothes. We
wonder if man learned the art from this humble bird as he
admittedly has done in other cases from other animals
lower in the scale than himself.

The tailor-bird builds its white, cottony nest either in the
folds of a single leaf or between two or more. Whether
one or more leaves are used, it is necessary for the bird to
make a funnel to hold its nest. To accomplish this, either
the two edges of a large leaf must be fastened together or
the edges of more than one leaf must be joined, and the
bird accomplishes this by sewing the leaves. Using its
beak as a needle, it bores a number of holes along either
edge of the chosen leaf; then, having provided itself with
thread, in the shape of plant fibres, with beak and feet it
brings the two edges together and sews them up. Some
of these birds take the greatest care in sewing their leaves
from tip to base, others insert a few threads here and
there, but in any event the result is the same : the original
flat leaf is fashioned into a cone. Should the bird not

134

Nests in Trees

be able to find a leaf of sufficient size to hold its nest, or
two leaves so near to one another that they can be sewn,
it will pluck a leaf from a neighbouring tree and sew it to
the leaf it has selected. Most remarkable of all is that
the bird, like an efficient sempstress, knots the end of the
fibre to prevent its pulling through the holes in the leaf or
leaves.

CHAPTER XI
BIRDS' EGGS

WHEREVER and whenever birds and their nests are dis-
cussed it is fitting that something should be said about
their eggs, and for this reason : looked at in the proper
light, they teach us a great deal about the birds themselves.
All healthy-minded schoolboys, and many grown-up
boys, have collected birds' eggs, some from the mere
pleasure of plundering a creature weaker than themselves,
many because of a genuine love of nature and all that it
implies, and a few, thanks no doubt to the encouragement
of a school or local natural history society, with the object
of gaining a real knowledge of bird life. Of all these
collectors, how many, we wonder, look upon their prizes in
the light of bric-a-brac, or foreign stamps or cigar bands
or cigarette pictures or any of the other hundred and one
things that lend themselves to collection, and how many
try to learn something of the habits and nature of the
birds that laid their treasures.

The association of the egg and its producer is more
intimate than might be expected. We all know a duck
when we see it, despite the fact that it may belong to a
species we have never seen before. Birds of prey, too,
cannot be mistaken for any other birds ; their hooked beaks
and well-developed talons give away their profession. The
snipe and its family also bear a striking resemblance to
one another, and the list might be extended ad nauseam.

Justas thesebirds possess certain peculiarities of structure
which mark them out from all other birds, so do their
eggs, and the eggs of many other birds. A very slight
acquaintance with them will enable the student to say at
once that any particular egg was laid by a duck, a grebe,

136

NESTS OF THE BAYA WEAVER-BIRD

In India these birds usually suspend their nests from branches of palrns or other trees which over-
hang a stream, and weight them with lumps of clay which prevent them swaying about at the mercy of
the wind. The nati/es state that fireflies are fastened into the clay for the purpose of frightening away
rats and snakes. The curious compound nest in the foreground is drawn from a specimen in the
Natural History Museum at South Kensington.

Birds' Eggs

a hawk, an owl, a plover, as the case may be ; and, what is
more, the experienced man can say something of the nest
in which a particular egg was laid. We hope to show
how this may be accomplished and also that there is more
in an egg than meets the eye — sometimes there is a good
deal more, but that is another story.

The sizes of eggs, needless to say, vary enormously —
from those of the extinct sepyornis, the contents of whose
egg measured at least three gallons, to the tiny egg of the
humming-bird, a striking contrast indeed. Confining
ourselves to present-day eggs, the contrast between the
largest, laid by the ostrich, and the smallest, that of the
humming-bird, there is an enormous difference. The size
of an egg does not, of necessity, bear any strict relation-
ship to the size of the mother bird — that is to say, if we
had twelve eggs of various sizes and arranged them in the
order of their sizes, we could not say of a certainty that
the birds if arranged according to size would come in the
same order as the eggs. The kiwi, for instance, lays an
enormous egg for its size, one quarter as large as itself, in
fact. The snipe and the blackbird are about the same
size, yet the egg of the former is very much larger than
that of the latter. For this reason it is unsafe to predict
the size of a bird from the dimensions of its egg, as has
been done in the case of certain fossil eggs of extinct birds.
Some of these eggs are of gigantic proportions, as we have
mentioned earlier, and surmising that the mother must
be as large in comparison, geologists have described
imaginary birds too large to be credible.

The numbers of eggs laid by any one bird vary as much
as their sizes. Certain birds lay but a single egg, the
puffin and the hornbill for example. Many birds, like the
nightjar and the pigeons, confine themselves to a couple.
At the other extreme are such birds as the kingfisher and
the wryneck, the former of which will lay its own weight
in eggs should occasion arise, whilst the latter has been
known to lay as many as forty-three eggs. But these are

137

Birds' Eggs

exceptional cases, and such prodigious fecundity only
occurs when mishaps overtake the first-laid eggs. In
the ordinary case, the partridge, with a complement of
about sixteen eggs, will suffice as our example of .a
good layer.

The domestic hen, of course, surpasses even the wryneck,
but then it does not live under natural conditions, so must
be left out of our reckoning. Here we may fitly add a
remark anent one of Nature's laws to which there are few
if any exceptions. The number of eggs laid by any bird
in a single season is roughly proportional to the chance
those eggs have of developing into adult birds. The
puffin, as we have said, lays a single egg. This is hidden
away in a burrow constructed by the parents, who are well
able to take care of themselves and their young.

The wryneck, though so remarkably prolific, is a rare
bird with us; we may conclude, therefore, that the mortality
amongst wrynecks is heavy. " Its struggle for life is un-
doubtedly a severe one, and its great fecundity most prob-
ably saves it from complete extinction." The domestic
hen, finding its eggs were removed as soon as they were laid,
made persistent efforts to raise some offspring. This
happened so frequently in the early days of its domestica-
tion that it became a habit, at least man intended it so,
but poultry-keepers know, only too well, that the hen is
fickle and frequently does not reward its owner in the way
it should.

The surface texture of eggs is the next point to be
noticed, and in this again they vary considerably. The
majority are matt, shall we say midway between rough
and smooth. There are all sorts of variations of surface,
from the exceedingly rough shell of the egg of the emu
to the very highly glazed product of the tinamou.
Between these extremes we have the pitted eggs of the
ostrich ; but these eggs are variable amongst themselves ;
some are almost smooth, some deeply pitted, and
naturalists say that the birds laying smooth eggs do

138

Birds' Eggs

not belong to the same species as those laying pitted
eggs- Certain birds' eggs are covered with a chalky
deposit.

We are now confronted with the two most important
points about birds' eggs, their shapes and their colour.
Let us speak first of their shapes. The contour of an
egg is almost invariably a certain guide to the group to
which the bird who laid it belongs. Thus all the owls lay
round eggs, and so do kingfishers ; penguins and nightjars
lay oval eggs ; those of plovers and sandpipers are
sharply pointed at one end, whilst grebes' eggs are pointed
at either end. Why should there be all these different
shapes ? Well, we can only give a few instances to show
that the shape of an egg is not a mere coincidence, but is
carefully designed for a special object.

Take a hen's egg and try to roll it along a smooth
surface. It will roll certainly, but it tends to describe a
circle. The hen's egg is slightly more pointed at one end
than the other, a fact which accounts for its not rolling
straight. The plover's egg is much more pointed than
the hen's, and it will not roll in any other manner but in
a circle, a fact which serves the parent bird's purpose
admirably, for, being laid in a flat, shallow nest on the
ground, it is most important that the eggs should not roll
away when the sitting bird is suddenly disturbed from
her nest. Owls and kingfishers, on the other hand, lay
round eggs which will roll easily, but as these birds nest
in holes there is no need for any provision to be made
against their doing so.

The most important and most striking characteristic of
birds' eggs is their colour. Now these colours are not
lavished by Nature for the mere purpose of decoration.
Most of Nature's workings, perhaps all of them, serve an
end, though it is sometimes difficult to read the book of
nature. The colours and markings of eggs, as is the
case with birds' plumage, is largely subordinated to the
consideration of protection. For our purpose we may

139

Birds' Eggs

divide all eggs into two great groups, the spotless and
the spotted. Probably in the long ago all eggs were
white. As the need for protection became more acute,
various shades and tints came into being, and then, for
the purpose of further protection, arose the speckled,
spotted, blotched and veined eggs which abound every-
where at the present day.

Let us consider the first of our great groups, the spotless
eggs. We have mentioned that colour in eggs is a means
of protection ; what more natural, then, than to find that
white eggs are almost invariably laid by birds which nest
in holes or make domed nests. Most owls, and all wood-
peckers, tree-creepers, wrynecks, kingfishers, sand-martins
and pufrms nest in holes, and all lay white eggs. The
dipper, too, lays white eggs in its domed nest, and the
grebes, on the other hand, despite the fact that their nests
are flat, open structures, also lay similar coloured eggs,
and may appear at first sight to be exceptions. To a
certain point they are exceptional, but, as though to hide
their guilt, these birds always cover their eggs with
vegetation when they leave their nests. Wrens and tits,
although they construct covered nests, do not lay pure
white eggs, but slightly spotted ones, for the reason that
their eggs are not so perfectly hidden from view, as a
rule, as are those of the true hole-builders. In this
connection, an interesting comparison may be made
between the eggs of the closely related swift, house-martin
and swallow.

The swift and house-martin build covered nests with
minute entrances thereto and, as might be expected,
their eggs are white ; the swallow, on the other hand,
makes a more open nest and, as is fitting, its eggs are
spotted. This brings us to another interesting point.
Birds of brilliant plumage rarely lay brightly coloured
eggs, nor are such birds as a rule gifted with great vocal
powers. The sweet-voiced nightingale could hardly be
arrayed in more sombre plumage, whilst the gorgeously

140

Birds' Eggs

arrayed parrots can hardly utter a note which could be
called musical, except through their extraordinary powers
of mimicry. It is also noticeable that brilliantly coloured
birds usually nest in concealed positions, for their own
better protection during the days of incubation. King-
fishers, parrots and woodpeckers bear out our statement.

It is rare to meet with a rule without exceptions, and
there are exceptions to the rule that white eggs are laid
in covered nests. Most ducks lay nearly white eggs in
open nests ; partridges and pheasants lay eggs of such
a colour that they are easily distinguished from their
surroundings, and their nests are exposed to the prying
eyes of beast and man. Herons, cormorants and storks
all lay light-coloured eggs in open nests also, and the
short-eared owl deposits her white eggs upon the ground.

Why should there be these exceptions, and how is it
that the conspicuous eggs do not all come to an unfortun-
ate end ? The short-eared owl, for instance, is remarkably
well protected by reason of the close resemblance of its
plumage to the vegetation of the places in which it nests ;
moreover, the bird is an exceedingly close sitter, so that
the mother herself protects her conspicuous eggs, and
danger is thus avoided time and again. Herons, cormor-
ants and the like are gregarious and nest in company, a
fact which renders their eggs less likely to come to harm.
Ducks, pheasants and partridges, like the grebes we have
already mentioned, laying conspicuous eggs in fully
exposed nests, all take the precaution of covering their
eggs with vegetation harmonising with their surroundings
before they leave their nests. It has been said that they
do so in order to keep their eggs warm, but a study of
the habits of the birds will show that they cover them
before they have started sitting, before, therefore, the
necessity for warmth has commenced.

Of the spotted eggs, we find that those with a greenish
ground colour are usually laid by birds which nest in the
early spring, amid green trees and shrubs. Thrushes, black-

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Birds' Eggs

birds and crows are of these. Just as we found white
eggs in open nests, so we find spotted eggs in concealed
nests. Nature would not be half so interesting if she did not
treat us to these apparent anomalies. The magpie, despite
its elaborate domed nest, lays spotted eggs ; the jackdaw,
which builds in holes, has very similar eggs. In both
these cases the eggs are much paler than those of closely
related birds which build in open nests, so it is reasonable
to suppose that with the passage of time there will arise
magpies and jackdaws capable of laying spotless eggs.

A few words concerning the protective colouring of
eggs may not be out of place. Let us begin with those
of ground birds such as the nightjar, skylark and meadow-
pipit, all of which harmonise marvellously with their
surroundings, and those of the nightjar may serve as our
example. This bird has brought concealment to a fine
art ; even its manner of perching on a tree branch is
designed to render it as inconspicuous as possible. Other
birds perch across the branch. Not so the nightjar.
Selecting a broad branch, he perches along it, and, what
is more, crouches low upon it. In this position detection
is wellnigh impossible, he harmonises so well with his
surroundings.

The female nightjar, often called the fern-owl from her
supposed resemblance to an owl and her habit of fre-
quenting bracken, lays two eggs upon the ground, usually
at the base of a fir-tree or under a furze bush, and sits
them closely. But even when the mother bird is disturbed,
her eggs so nearly resemble their surroundings that they
are adequately protected. Pure white, mottled and veined
with red-brown and grey, they are amongst the most
beautiful eggs of any British bird, and also some of the
most variable, no two being quite alike. Curiously, should
mishap overtake the first-laid eggs, the nightjar makes
another attempt at housekeeping, but this time she
lays only a single egg.

Here, in imagination, we have two eggs before us.

142

Birds' Eggs

With their sizes and shapes we are not concerned ; it is
their colours alone that interest us for the moment. The
one, a neat little egg, is dark cream in colour, spotted
with grey and brown ; the other is not altogether dis-
similar, but the fine spots are wanting and in their place
we observe large, bold blotches. We have been told, and
rightly so, that both these birds nest upon the seashore.
How, we may well ask, can eggs so diverse in general
markings both be protected by their colour ?

Let us place the first egg, the one with the fine dots, on
the fine sand and observe that it is most difficult to isolate
it from its surroundings. The ringed plover, which laid
the egg, always selects fine sand for its nest. Now let us
take the other egg, the boldly marked one, higher up on
the shore, almost to the line where sand and shingle meet,
where a miscellaneous collection of the leavings of the sea
lie scattered here and there. Let us place our egg on this
ground and notice that it is even more difficult to find
than the other. The second egg belongs to the lesser
tern, which nests where sand and shingle meet.

In almost every species of bird there is a reason for the
colour or shape of its eggs. We could quote example after
example of eggs designed to harmonise with their usual
surroundings. Hawks' eggs usually resemble the lining
of the nest, and the eggs of the common house-sparrow
harmonise so well with the feathers with which it upholsters
its nest that they are by no means easy to detect.
Occasionally, however, some foolish bird will build its
nest in such a position that its eggs by their very colour
and markings are rendered conspicuous. What is the
result of such daring ? Calamity befalls the home in the
majority of cases and the law of the survival of the fittest
holds sway. Foolish birds are not encouraged by Nature
to beget other foolish birds.

It is often difficult to account for the colouring of eggs ;
we have mentioned a few of these puzzling cases already.
The common guillemot lays but a single egg each year,

143

Birds' Eggs

or, to be more correct, rears but one chick, for, with a per-
sistence that is worthy of emulation, the female guillemot
will lay egg after egg as each one meets with mishap, till
in the end she accomplishes her object of bringing another
guillemot into the world. The eggs are remarkably vari-
able ; white, cream, sea-green, pale blue, red-brown, dark
blue and yellowish-green ground colours predominate, and
they are marked with dots, blotches, streaks and zones
of colour, which may be black, brown, green, yellow or
pink. In short, there is, between limits, hardly any
colouring or pattern that may not be found in the
guillemot's egg. The birds that lay dark green eggs in
their first season will always lay dark green eggs all their
lives ; other birds will always lay blue eggs, and so on.

Surely these brightly coloured, bizarre eggs must be
very conspicuous, someone will say. They are conspicuous,
but that does not matter very much, for the guillemot lays
its eggs on narrow ledges of rock jutting from wellnigh
inaccessible cliffs. Were the bird to nest upon the
ground its striking eggs would bring about its extermina-
tion in a very short time, for it has not the advantages of
the woodcock, which lays conspicuous eggs.

Now the woodcock is a bird whose plumage matches its
habitual surroundings about as closely as it is possible for
two dissimilar objects to match, yet the bird lays an egg*
that could hardly be overlooked. Apparently the bird is
conscious of its failing, for few sit more closely, in fact it is
almost possible to step on a sitting woodcock before she
leaves her nest. And the reason for her close-sitting
habit is that her drab plumage may conceal her all too
conspicuous eggs.

144

BIRD PIRATES

Black-headed gulls teasing a brown pelican, and alighting on its head to rob it of
the fish with which it has filled its pouch.

CHAPTER XII

PLUMAGE AND ITS MEANING

ALTHOUGH it may be comforting to think that the
brightly hued birds of the earth have been placed thereon,
by some all-seeing Providence, for man's especial delight
or woman's adornment, a little thought will show that this
is by no means the case. In general, the colours of birds
are either designed as a means of protection against their
enemies or of recognition by their own kind. Let us look
at the matter impartially under these two headings, but
before doing so we will say a few words anent the colours
of nestlings.

Now it is a peculiar fact that chicks when first hatched
usually have a spotted or striped livery, and various
theories have been propounded to account for this fact.
An ingenious though much debated theory is to the effect
that the longitudinal markings serve to render nestlings
less conspicuous amongst herbage with long, narrow
leaves — grasses and the like. Spotted nestlings, on the
other hand, are presumed to harmonise better with nests
liable to circular shadows from more rounded leaves. And
the propounder of this theory supports his case with the
statement that " strongly spotted forms mostly occur in
places with spotted shadows, the longitudinally striped
in more grassy regions. Cross marking is perhaps to be
connected with the shadows, for example, of the branches
of woody plants — thus the marking of the wild cat escapes
notice among the branches of trees."

The great naturalist Wallace, who gave much of his
time to the study of this subject, said that " Protective
coloration, in some of its varied forms, has not improbably
modified the appearance of one half of the animals living

K 145

Plumage and its Meaning

on the globe." In studying protective colouring we must
always keep one point in mind above all others. A bird,
or a quadruped or a reptile, divorced from its usual haunts,
may be so brilliantly coloured as to attract the eye
inordinately, whereas the same creature in a state of
nature may by the very brilliancy of its hues be rendered
inconspicuous.

The kingfisher, as he sits motionless on his bough above
the water watching intently for his finny prey, is wellnigh
invisible ; only when he takes to flight does he become
conspicuous. The brilliantly coloured sun-birds are almost
dazzling in their brilliancy when viewed as captives in
a cage, but flitting from one bright flower to another in
their native haunts they defy the detection of even the
keen-eyed hawk.

When next we visit the Zoo or anywhere where there
is a large collection of birds let us note that green is the
prevailing colour, and, to carry our investigations a little
further, we may observe that nearly all these birds are
natives of tropical countries where the vegetation is always
green. Parrots, barbets, woodpeckers and some pigeons
are examples that come readily to mind. As we pass to
birds dwelling in more northern latitudes, we notice a
considerable sobering down of colour, greys and browns
predominating. Shore birds, moor birds, desert and marsh
birds are all coloured in such a manner as to harmonise
marvellously with their surroundings, and it does not require
any deep study to realise the truth of this assertion.

In the game dealer's window the cock pheasant makes
a brave show — he is one of the most gaily attired of our
native birds ; in his woodland haunts his bright hues
merge astonishingly into the general colour scheme of
the grass and russet leaves of the vegetation amongst
which he struts. The woodcock, as we have remarked
elsewhere, is wellnigh indistinguishable amongst the
bracken. The thrush, hopping over the tennis lawn,
pausing from time to time listening intently for the sound

Plumage and its Meaning

of a worm coming to the surface, is quite conspicuous ; as
he perches in the shadow of some nearby shrub, even the
vigilant cat may pass him by unnoticed.

Desert birds are, with, we believe, a single exception, all
sand-coloured. Some of them so closely resemble their
surroundings that they rarely seek safety in flight, but
crouch on the sand and rely on their resemblance to the
desert soil for safety. Often very interesting modifications
of plumage to suit the surroundings may be observed in
the same species of bird. On this subject, a well-known
naturalist, writing of the crested larks which he observed
during a journey from the Algerian coast to the desert,
remarks : " They gradually became browner and browner
in plumage as we left the cultivated districts behind and
entered the Sahara, until on the actual desert itself the
individuals of this species presented a rich sandy brown,
hue, so utterly different from the colour characteristic of
the cultivated coastlands that naturalists have separated
them into several well-recognised races."

Shore birds are equally well protected as regards colour.
The little ringed plover, who so cunningly conceals its
eggs, is a good example. Conspicuous as this natty bird
appears when divorced from its haunts, it is difficult to
detect as it runs hither and thither on the shingle by the
seashore. We have often observed these conspicuously
marked birds alight on an expanse of shingle and have
searched for them through powerful field-glasses without
being able to detect their whereabouts, yet one would
think that their black and white markings would show
up well. Even the brightly hued oyster-catcher is well
camouflaged as he goes about his business on the shore.
Many of these shore birds nest inland and at that season
assume plumage which would render them plainly visible
on the sand and shingle. The knot and dunlin have this
habit, but after the nesting season they always don their
sombre garb so that they may fish unmolested by the sea
during the summer and autumn months.

147

Plumage and its Meaning

Marsh birds, such as snipe, bitterns and corn-crakes, are
amongst the most remarkably protected of all birds, as far
as plumage is concerned. Flecked and striped as they
are with alternate dark and light shades of colour, they
harmonise in a wonderful manner with the green and
russet-brown grasses and sedges which they haunt. The
common bittern — we call him common to distinguish him
from other bitterns, though, as a matter of fact, he is nearly
extinct in Britain — presents, probably, the most remark-
able example of protective colouring in all birdland. His
plumage, as befits his habits, is exceptional amongst the
herons. Sulking in reed-beds, he is well clothed for the
life he has chosen. His breast is a pale fawn striped with
brown. When he wishes to escape detection, he raises
his head aloft and points his beak to the sky, so that
his striped breast is well exposed. In this position he
remains motionless, and it would be a keen eye indeed
that could say certainly which was the breast of the
bittern, which the russet-brown herbage.

On the moors the same tale is repeated. The red
grouse, a bird which never ranges beyond the confines
of Great Britain, with his mottled red-brown coat,
harmonises exactly with the ling' and heather of his
native moors ; and well he knows it, for when surprised
by the roadside or on grassland, where he often goes to
sun himself, his first impulse is to reach the heather, which
matches his plumage so well that the risk of detection is
much lessened.

Marvellous are the changes of raiment which the
ptarmigan assumes to suit the ever-changing seasons. As
one writer has stated, the bird seems to be in a chronic
state of moulting. " In the spring the ptarmigan is
clothed in a dress of dark brown mottled with yellowish-
brown tints in beautiful harmony with the mosses and
lichens. In autumn the bird changes this dress for one of
pale grey vermiculated with black ; or rather it is slowly
changing colour all the summer through with the changing

Plumage and its Meaning

aspect of its haunts, the latter tints being emphasised at
a time when the scanty vegetation is scorched up and
beginning to fade. Then comes the period of the winter
snows, when the mountain-tops are draped in a white
pall which hangs over them until the following spring.
But the ptarmigan again changes its dress and the browns
and greys are discarded and a plumage of dazzling
whiteness assumed in their place. White ground and
white birds harmonise together, and the ptarmigan lies
safe in its disguise until, with the melting of the snow,
his browns and yellows are resumed with the changing
year and the cycle of plumal change is complete."

In the Arctic regions many birds assume this summer
plumage. The willow grouse is dressed in brown during
the summer and assumes white raiment for the winter.
The snowy owl and Arctic falcon have permanently white
apparel. The snow bunting, who frequents the droppings
of animals, is black and white, an admixture which owing
to his peculiar habits renders him less conspicuous than
would be the case were he pure white. A curious case is
that of the jet-black raven, who retains his funeral garb
even in the Arctic circles, and so becomes a conspicuous
object. But the raven is well able to take care of himself
and requires no plumal aids to help him through the
world.

Having briefly reviewed various avian liveries which are
obviously designed for the protection of the wearers, let
us pass to certain bright markings which render their
owners conspicuous and for a purpose. What is the
object of these showy markings? Their possessors are
birds which live in flocks for the most part, and the con-
spicuous markings of the individuals serve a useful purpose
as identification marks for those birds which may stray
from the flock. In addition to their garb, these gregarious
birds usually give vent to certain call notes, with the
further object of enabling the members of the flock to
keep in touch with one another. A party of long-tailed

149

Plumage and its Meaning

tits, for instance, on hunting bent, keep up an incessant
twittering all the while. Should one, more fortunate than
his fellows, come upon a plentiful supply of food, he raises
his voice as a signal to the others to share in his good
fortune.

Some of our commonest finches, moderately brightly
marked, when viewed at close quarters, are decidedly
inconspicuous as they hop from branch to branch of some
favoured tree, so much so that even the experienced bird-
man may have some difficulty in distinguishing them from
others of a different species. One glimpse of these same
birds on the wing and their identity is unmistakably
revealed : the green-finch by his golden wing bands, the
chaf-finch by his black and white markings, the bull-finch
by his white rump. It is certain that these identification
marks serve the birds themselves in good stead when they
desire to keep in close company. The common sight of
a couple of bull-finches hunting in company, the one
following the other from tree to tree, tells us as much if
we can read nature aright. Jays, again, are barely dis-
tinguishable from their surroundings when not in flight,
but once their wings are spread, the conspicuous blue
marks thereon proclaim their identity far and wide.
Ring-doves also give themselves away in flight by the
white markings on their wings.

Of conspicuous tail markings there are plenty. We\
have already cited the white rump of the bull-finch. The
common and the black redstart have similar tail markings.
When their tails are folded, only sombre colours are
visible ; in flight, however, with tails spread, a bright
chestnut recognition patch is displayed.

The white, upturned tail of the rabbit serves a useful
purpose, though it also provides a good mark for the
sportsman armed with a gun to the rabbit's undoing. As
the rabbit makes for its burrow when alarmed, the tails of
the foremost animals serve as guides for those behind,
enabling them to seek shelter with the least possible

Plumage and its Meaning

delay. Amongst birds an almost parallel case is afforded
by the water-hen : the under side of this bird's erect tail is
white. The peculiar and constant flicks which the water-
hen is in the habit of giving to its tail seem to render it
unduly conspicuous. It is a shy bird, only venturing
from its reedy haunts to the open water when it feels
certain that there is no risk of danger and when the calls
of hunger compel it to do so. On the least alarm it darts
for cover and is soon lost to view. Birds of its kind on
a hunting cruise, seeing the white tail making for shelter,
take the hint and beat a hasty retreat, without loss of
time. Seeing that the water-hen usually ventures in the
open towards evening, its white tail serves as a better
guide, in the failing light, than would any other colour.

There are recognition or identification marks innumer-
able in the bird world : it is easy to pick them out and
forms a fascinating study. A striking point, yet a natural
one, is that in almost every instance they can best be
seen when the bird is viewed from behind. Birds flying
towards one another do not need these marks ; it is the
bird that is left in the rear which requires assistance in
catching up its fellows. " This recognition is of the most
vital importance when upon it depends the keeping
together of a bird or flock, the following of the parent by
the young or the close association of the sexes, either for
reproduction, mutual protection or search for sustenance
or lastly the quick following of some conspicuous leader
to a safe refuge when threatened by danger."

Of the brilliant and often bizarre plumage assumed by
birds in the mating season we have something to say in
our chapter on Courtship. The feathers which make up
a bird's plumage are not all of the same kind, and the
down of nestlings is obviously vastly different to the
quill feathers of the adult bird, but we are not concerned
with questions of structure.

There is, however, one kind of feather, which only
occurs on certain birds, of so peculiar a nature that we

Plumage and its Meaning

must give a few words to it. These feathers, known as
powder-down, are so constructed that at the slightest
touch they break up into a fine white powder. This
powder-down is to be found on parrots, herons and hawks,
and its use is not fully understood. " There is a tradition
— quite unfounded — to the effect that in the heron tribe
this powder-down is luminous, and that the birds take
advantage of luminosity by raising the contour feathers
so as to shed this light on the water wherein they may be
fishing, and thereby lure their prey to within striking
distance. As these birds do not fish by night, and the
glow would be invisible by day, this theory may be
regarded as exploded."

152

CHAPTER XIII
COURTSHIP

COURTSHIP and animal ingenuity, how can they be recon-
ciled ? A little time spent in the consideration of a few
examples of courtship amongst birds and some beasts
will supply the best answer to our question. The court-
ing swain, about to visit his sweetheart, doffs his working
clothes if he be a wise man and dons his Sunday best,
which, though probably of more striking appearance,
frequently do not befit him so well as his workaday garb.
She on her part is lavish with her finery, according to her
means and taste; her favourite perfume, too, is not forgotten.
The young couple — sometimes they are old and then they
are more foolish — bedeck themselves thus that they may
appear more attractive in the eyes of their respective
lovers. Savages suffer from the same complaint in more
or less acute form and the habit has its counterpart in the
animal world.

Finery, sometimes grotesque in its extravagance, scent,
weird antics, all- play their parts in the attempt to attract
the opposite sex. The weaver-birds, builders of curious
flask-shaped nests, in winter-time are no more brightly
attired than sparrows ; but when the male is about to
take a mate he assumes gorgeous raiment which renders
him an Adonis among birds in the eyes of the hen. The
cock wydah birds at this season develop tails of such un-
wieldy proportions that flight is rendered difficult, and for
the same reason.

Song also plays its part in the amorous competition.
True, the lovers' notes are not always pleasing to human
ears, but they are evidently enchanting to the hen birds.
The cuckoo is a case in point. When he seeks a mate his

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Courtship

well-known call note may be heard in the land by all who
deign to lend an ear. His purpose accomplished, his
voice becomes harsh, a mere croak in fact, and at times he
literally stammers. It is utterly impossible to give voice
to his cry in his pre-mating manner.

Weird dances, a swaggering gait, even extraordinary
contortions are all part and parcel of the allurements
spread to catch a mate. Man has seized upon this
peculiarity and developed it to his own ends. The
common pigeon, on love-making intent, puffs out his crop,
the better to exhibit the fine feathers of his neck and
breast to the admiring gaze of his lady-love. By careful
selection a race of pigeons, known as pouters, has been
evolved. These pigeons are able to make their crops swell
to enormous proportions; they are simply deformities;
though, of course, pigeon fanciers will not be with us on
this point. The males of other birds are often particularly
attractive in their colouring ; the peacock is one of these,
and they are many. Most interesting of all, perhaps, are
those birds which build houses and bring presents for
their future wives, and this, indeed, is the fashion amongst
the bower-birds.

Having viewed the matter thus far, can we deny that,
consciously or unconsciously, male birds exhibit a high
degree of ingenuity in their attempts to attract the
opposite sex? With the females the case is often different,
for many of them are coy and blase in turns when in the
presence of their mates, whose annoyance at their seeming
indifference is frequently ill concealed.

Courtship among birds is interesting to the outsider,
who is said to see most of the game ; moreover, it has
been more closely studied and is therefore better known
than is the same phase in the lives of any other members
of the animal kingdom. Certain fishes also assume
brilliant hues at courting time. A few insects, some
spiders, scorpions and crabs are eccentric in their love-
making, but it is to the birds that we must turn for gorgeous

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Courtship

display, weird dances and extraordinary vocal efforts.
The higher animals, curiously enough, are often brutal in
their love-making.

Of all birds, the most extravagantly arrayed are the
birds of paradise ; sometimes, indeed, they are bizarre in
their adornment. For dazzling beauty, few can compare
with the king bird of paradise. Sad to relate, his beauty
has cost him dear, for he is no stranger to the wardrobe
of, shall we say thoughtless, ladies, who never give one
moment's thought to the fact that to satisfy their vanity
there must be one of Nature's living gems the less in the
world.

The king bird of paradise is not a big bird, hardly as
large as a wood pigeon in fact. Of a rich vermilion
colour, with an orange head and a white breast barred
with shimmering green, light blue legs and a pair of
wire-like tail feathers nearly a foot in length and each
terminated by a special coil of vivid green, he cuts a
striking figure.

For an account of the curious courtship displayed by
this jewel of a bird we make no excuse for quoting Sir
William Ingram, for he has kept the king bird of paradise
in captivity and frequently observed his behaviour. Sir
William says : " He always commences his display by giving
forth several short notes and squeaks, sometimes resembling
the call of a quail, sometimes the whine of a pet dog.
Next he spreads out his wings, occasionally quite hiding
his head, at times, stretched upright he flaps them, as if
he intended to take to flight, and then, with a sudden
movement, gives himself a half turn, so that he faces the
spectators, puffing out his silky white lower feathers ;
now he bursts into his beautiful, melodious, warbling song,
so enchanting to hear but so difficult to describe.

" Some weeks ago I was crossing a meadow and heard
the song of a skylark high up in the heavens and I
exclaimed at once, ' That is the love chant of my king
bird.' He sings a low babbling note, displaying all the

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Courtship

while his beautiful fan-like side plumes, which he opens
and closes in time with the variations of his song. These
fan plumes can only be expanded when his wings are
closed, and during this part of the display he closes his
wings and spreads out his short tail, pressing it close over
his back, so as to throw the long tail wires over his head
while he gently swings his body from side to side. The
spiral tips of the wires look like small balls of burnished
green metal, and the swaying movement gives them the
effect of being slowly tossed from one side to the other,
so that I have named this part of the display the juggling.
The swaying of the body seems to keep time with the
song, and at intervals, with a swallowing movement of his
throat, the bird raises and lowers his head. Then comes
the finale, which lasts only a few seconds. He suddenly
turns right round and shows his back, the white fluffy
feathers under the tail bristling in his excitement ; he
bends down on the perch in the attitude of a fighting cock,
his widely opened bill showing distinctly the extraordinary
light apple-green colour of the inside of his mouth, and
sings the same gurgling notes without once closing his
bill, and with a slow dying-away movement of his tail
and body. A single drawn-out note is then uttered, the
tail and wires are lowered, and the dance and song are over.
" The king bird has another form of display which he
very rarely exhibits, and only on three or four occasions
have I seen him go through this performance. Dropping
under the perch, the bird walks backwards and forwards
in an inverted position with his wings expanded. Sud-
denly he closes his wings and lets his body fall straight
downwards, looking exactly like a crimson pear, his blue
legs being stretched out to the full length and his feet
clinging to the perch. The effect is very curious and
weird, and the performance is so like that of an acrobat
suddenly dropping on to his toes on the cross-bar of a
trapeze that I have named this the acrobatic display. It
has been witnessed on different days to his juggling

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Courtship

display. While giving his acrobatic display he sings the
whole time, but never shows his side plumes, and when he
is in the pendulous position his body sways gently as if it
were influenced by a fitful breeze. The whole of this per-
formance takes but a very few seconds."

From the bejewelled king bird of paradise to the rela-
tively sombre great crested grebe is a far cry as far as
appearance is concerned. The male king bird performs
his strange rites to attract his mate ; both male and
female grebe take part in the eccentricities of love-making.
Many years ago we remember witnessing this avian
pantomime of the grebes, on a Midland mere. At that
time we did not fully understand the purport of the birds'
behaviour. The male and female grebe are as similar in
appearance as the proverbial two peas. Their necks are
ornamented with a light brown ruff and their heads with
darker brown feathers of such a nature as to give them
the appearance of being eared ; their breasts are snowy
white.

At the time of courting, when the grebes, maybe, are
quietly feeding on some secluded waterway, a pair will
suddenly face one another and begin wagging their heads
from side to side. After a moment or two of this pantomime
the male bird dives, but his mate still wags her head.
Her companion then rises slowly and gently from the
water in front of her. At first only his head appears
above the water level, but by degrees his back, his body,
all of him in fact, is displayed to the admiring gaze of his
spouse; a few more head-waggings and courtship gives
place to the more material business of seeking food. At
times this strange procedure is varied by antics more
extraordinary. As usual, the head-wagging preliminaries
are indulged in, then both birds dive and remain below
water for a short time, eventually coming to the surface
some distance apart, when they contrive to lie almost
prone upon the water. Next they travel rapidly towards
one another, and when they have almost collided both

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Courtship

rise into an erect position with beaks, in which a piece of
water weed is held, nearly touching. Tiring of their per-
formance, they cast away their burdens, resume their head-
wagging for a time and eventually return to their feeding.
The comical antics of these whimsical birds may be
aptly described as one of Nature's pantomimes.

Another curious performance is enacted by the ruffs.
By a strange coincidence the ruff, like the great crested
grebe, has feathery "ears" and a voluminous ruff — from
which he takes his name — just behind his head. Perhaps
these " eared " birds, by reason of the unusual arrangement
of their feathers, appear more eccentric than they would do
were they more normally clad. The ruff is a long-legged,
long-beaked bird, closely related to the snipe, and is
peculiar in the fact that no two individuals are ever exactly
alike, in colour or in markings.

The courtship in these birds begins with a tournament
on the part of the males for the possession of the females
— each ruff may have several wives. Very early in the
morning, just about sunrise, in fact, these tourneys begin.
A couple of ruffs will puff out their neck feathers, face one
another and stand perfectly motionless, with the tips of
their long beaks resting on the ground. After a period
which appears unduly prolonged they attack one another,
but not very fiercely, their object, apparently, being not to
cause bloodshed, but simply that one of the suitors should
be driven from the field. The more courageous ruffs,
having got rid of their rivals, compete for the favours of
the hens. The ruff is a persistent suitor, and he need be,
for a more blase mate than the hen bird, or reeve as she is
called, it would be hard to find.

Time and again the male will force his attentions on his
mate, only to be as frequently rebuffed. He displays his
" ears " and ruff to the best of his ability before the lady
bird and rests his beak upon the ground the while he
appears lost in thought ; she, on her part, will as likely
as not run or fly away before her mate has completed

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Courtship

his day-dreams. Then the hunt begins again, and the
performance is repeated many times, till, eventually,
doggedness has its reward and the ruff wins his lady-
love.

The ruffs are not the only birds that select the chill
hour of sunrise for their amatory displays ; prairie hens
hold meetings at the same hour. The cocks and hens
collect together at some spot which is evidently pre-
arranged and the performance commences with a display
of finery by the males, who are adept at exhibiting them-
selves to the best advantage. Shall we call them the
mannequins of the bird world ? Up and down they strut
for the admiration of the hens. But this dilatory parade
soon becomes wearisome to the excited males ; so, to
enliven the proceedings, they rush pell-mell amongst their
admirers, uttering loud cries the while. As the sun
arises well above the horizon, the party breaks up, but
the performance is repeated morning after morning
for, maybe, a fortnight. Towards the end of this time
the friendly rivalry of the males gives place to fierce
competition for the favours of the hens and eventually to
fighting.

The peacock displaying his tail coverts in the presence
of his mate is merely showing her what a fine fellow he
is, and it must be admitted that he makes out a very good
case for himself. With his body inclined forwards, and
his brilliant tail coverts thrown over his wings so that
only they and his head and neck appear from the front,
he makes a brave show, which his spouse does not always
fully appreciate, in fact we have seen her making up to
another male at the time, totally disregarding the ex-
hibition prepared for her benefit. While he is actually
courting his wife, he is rude enough to walk backwards
towards her, and not without reason. His back view is
sombre in tjie extreme compared with the other side of
the picture. When close to his mate, he wheels round
with astonishing rapidity and faces her, and, as though

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Courtship

to draw attention to his dazzling brilliancy, thus
suddenly displayed, he literally rattles his long tail
coverts and lowers his head in respectful homage. The
ill-mannered hen usually ignores his efforts to win her
affections.

The bower-birds, which are related to our common
starlings, are among the most curious of birds, as far as
their behaviour is concerned. The males build wonderful
shelters of sticks and other material and ornament them
for the benefit of the hens they hope to win. By some
naturalists it is thought that the hens select as mates the
birds which build the best bowers and shelters ; for note
that the males alone are concerned in the building of
these remarkable structures. The bowers vary archi-
tecturally according to the species, but, in general, they
take the form of short tunnels. At the entrance the males
place all the bright-coloured objects they can collect,
bits of ribbon, shells, old bleached bones, etc.

When the male is courting, he takes some gaudy flower
in his beak, or a shell maybe, and chases the object of
his affections through and around the bower, the while he
gives vent to a strange whistling note and droops his
wings alternately. One species of bower-bird decorates
the entrance to his shelter in lavish manner. First of
all he lays down a carpet of the greenest moss he
can find, and on this carpet, which he keeps scrupu-
lously clear of rubbish, he arranges flowers, fruits and
brightly coloured fungi. As these transient decorations
wither, they are thrown away and replaced by fresh
material.

Yet another species has other architectural ideas and,
instead of the usual tunnel, he constructs a giant pyramid,
often six feet high, and decorates its walls with flowers.
On the other hand, there are bower-birds which build no
bowers, merely clearing a patch of ground on which the
better to display their good looks before the females. In
any event, the bowers are nothing to do with the nests,

160

PLAY-HOUSE OF A GARDENER BOWER-BIRD

These birds (AmMverm's subalaris) construct a beautiful domed hut around a small
tree or shrub, which they interlace with twigs. At the foot of the tree, inside the hut,
they build up a bank of moss and decorate it with flowers. In this pretty pavilion they
spend many hours at play.

Courtship

they are simply built by the males for the delectation of
the opposite sex.

Every male bird by his colouring, his antics, his vocal
powers or his fighting capacity does his utmost to appear
in favourable light before the females. From the drab
sparrow to the gorgeous bird of paradise, there is no
exception. Having won the affections of the trustful hen,
a consummation which is not always easily brought
about, he frequently lapses from the path of virtue and
sometimes becomes a veritable tyrant.

Courtship amongst insects is rare. Lord Avebury
gives an amusing account of the efforts of a springtail to
win a bride. He says : " It is very amusing to see these
little creatures coquetting together. The male, which is
much smaller than the female, runs round her and they
butt one another, standing face to face and moving back-
wards and forwards like two playful lambs. Then the
female pretends to run away and the male runs after her.
With a queer appearance of anger, he gets in front and
stands facing her again ; then she turns coyly round, but
he, quicker and more active, scuttles round too, and seems
to whip her with his antennae ; then for a bit they stand
face to face, play with their antennae and seem to be all
in all to one another."

Several species of spiders are adepts at courtship. Mr
and Mrs Peckham have described their antics from actual
observation in the following words (a male and female
were placed together in a box) : — " He saw her as she
stood perfectly still, twelve inches away ; the glance
seemed to excite him and he moved towards her ; when
some four inches from her he stood still, and then began
the most remarkable performance that an amorous male
could offer to an admiring female. She eyed him eagerly,
changing her position from time to time so that he might
be always in view. He, raising his whole body on one
side by straightening out the legs, and lowering it on the
other by folding the first two pairs of legs up and under,
L 161

Courtship

leans so far over as to be in danger of losing his balance,
which he only maintains by sidling rapidly towards the
lowered one. The palpus, too, on this side was turned
back to correspond to the direction of the legs nearest to
it. He moved in a semicircle for about two inches, and
then instantly reversed the position of the legs and circled
in the opposite direction, gradually approaching nearer
and nearer to the female. Now she dashes towards him,
while he, raising his first pair of legs, extends them
upwards and forwards as if to hold her off, but withal
slowly retreats. Again and again he circles from side to
side, she gazing towards him in a softer mood, evidently
admiring the grace of his antics. This is repeated until
we have counted one hundred and eleven circles made by
the ardent little male. Now he approaches nearer and
nearer, and when almost within reach whirls madly
around and around her, she joining and whirling with
him in a giddy maze."

Of another species these observers write : " A dozen
or more males, and about half as many females, were
assembled together within the length of one of the rails.
The males were rushing hither and thither, dancing
opposite now one female, now another ; often two males
met each other, when a short passage of arms followed.
They waved their first legs, sidled back and forth, and
then rushed together and clinched, but quickly separated^,
neither being hurt, only to run off in search of fairer
foes."

Fabre, than whom no keener student of nature ever
existed, described the courtship of scorpions, and
Warburton, inspired by him, writes the following quaint
words : " After some very curious antics, in which the
animals stood face to face with raised tails, which they
intertwined . . . they always indulged in what Fabre
calls a promenade a deux hand in hand, so to speak, the
male seizing the pincers of the female with his own and
walking backwards, while the female followed, usually

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Courtship

without any reluctance. This promenade occupied an
hour or more, during which the animals turned several
times. At length, if in the neighbourhood of a suitable
stone, the male would dig a hole, without for a moment
entirely quitting his hold of the female, and presently
both would disappear into the newly formed retreat."

Crabs are not exactly the creatures that one would
expect to show any amorous proclivities, yet some of them
certainly do so. Colonel Alcock relates the story of the
amorous fiddler-crabin the followingpicturesque manner: —
" Landing one afternoon in March upon a cheerful mud-
flat of the Godavari sea-face, I was bewildered by the
sight of a multitude of small pink objects twinkling in
the sun, and always, like will-o'-the-wisps, disappearing
as I came near to them, but flashing brightly on ahead as
far as the eye could reach.

" It was not until I stayed perfectly quiet that I discovered
that these twinkling gems were the brandished nippers of
a host of male fiddler-crabs. By long watching I found
out that the little creatures were waving their nippers
with a purpose — the purpose apparently being to attract
the attention of an occasional infrequent female, who,
uncertain, coy, and hard to please, might be seen uncon-
cernedly sifting the sand at the mouth of her burrow. If
this demure little flirt happened to creep near the burrow
of one of the males, then that favoured individual became
frantic with excitement, dancing round his domain on tip-
toe and waving his great cheery hand as if demented.
Then, if another male, burning with jealousy, showed a
desire to interfere, the two puny little suitors would make
savage back-handed swipes at one another, wielding their
cumbrous hands as if they had no weight at all.

" Unfortunately, though I spent many a precious hour on
the watch from time to time, I could never see that these
combats came to anything ; the males seemed always to
be in a state of passionate excitement and the females
to be always indifferent and unconcerned ; and though

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Courtship

the dismembered chelipeds of vanquished males could
often be seen lying on the battle-field, I have never had
the satisfaction of beholding a good stand-up fight, fought
out to the sweet end, or a female rewarding a successful
champion with her heartless person."

CHAPTER XIV

QUEER FRIENDSHIPS

IN the animal world there are very many examples of
the most extraordinary friendships ; animals of the most
diverse kinds live together, wholly or partially, and
usually to their mutual benefit. This friendship or
commensalism, as it is called by naturalists, reaches its
highest development among the ants. These social
insects are surrounded, either designedly or accidentally,
by more friends and cadgers than any other insects ;
moreover, they have domesticated some of these outsiders.
Green-fly, scale insects, tree-hoppers, lantern-flies, jumping
plant lice and caterpillars of the well-known " blues " are
all kept by ants as man keeps his cattle.

Let us study an ant farm wherein green-fly or aphides
are the cattle. These insects make ideal cattle for ants
by reason of the fact that they live huddled together at
close quarters and are not very active, especially in their
wingless stages. The aphides attack practically all plants
except ferns ; some live on leaves, some on stems, others
on roots. Most of them live on the surfaces of plants,
but a few inhabit galls of their own making and therefore
are out of reach of the would-be farmers. The habits
which render these insects so accessible to ants also
expose them to a host of enemies, but of these more anon.
Green-flies are one and all armed with sharp pointed beaks
or rostrums with which they pierce plant tissues and suck
up the juices. These watery juices contain sugar, of which
a very small portion is retained by the green-fly and a
large portion is voided as excrement.

The dried excrement is known as " honey dew " and,
being sweet, is much sought after by the ant, or even by

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Queer Friendships

man — the manna of the Bible is " honey dew " of an
aphis which feeds on the tamarisk. The amount of
"honey dew" excreted by a healthy aphis is astonishing ;
the maple aphis has been observed to void forty-eight
drops in an hour. " A source of nutriment at once so
rich and so inexhaustible could hardly remain unnoticed
and unexploited by the ants in their interminable search
for liquid food."

The behaviour of ants when they fall in with a colony
of green-fly is remarkable. Before the ants arrive on the
scene the aphides may be observed to discharge their
" honey dew" to a considerable distance. In the presence
of the ants, the droplets are simply allowed to escape and
not forcibly expelled. The ants wander about among
the aphides, pausing here and there, and frequently
caressing their friends on either side of their bodies with
their antennae. This gentle stroking causes the aphides
to void "honey dew," which is at once imbibed by the
ants. The operation is repeated again and again, usually
with success, but sometimes unsuccessfully. In the latter
event, the ant wastes no time with the aphid, but passes
to the next "cow" in the hope that it will prove more
fruitful.

Sometimes the ants are so numerous and so persistent
in their attentions that the aphides literally become dried
up, then the only available course open to the ants is to
wait till their " cattle " have pumped up a fresh supply,
or to go on to a new colony. One thing is certain, an
aphid which contains " honey dew " never fails to give
it up to a soliciting ant, in fact the long-suffering insects
will often yield drop after drop in succession to one ant
after another.

In connection with the well-authenticated friendship of
ants for aphides, a very ingenious though absolutely in-
accurate story has gone the rounds. On the backs of
many, though not of all, aphides there are two little
projections or tubercles. From these, it has been stated,

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Queer Friendships

the ants draw the sugary liquid of which they are so
fond. Pictures have been painted of the ants imbibing
droplets from the tips of the tubercles. The fact remains,
however, that the tubercles are organs of defence, as the
following little experiment will show. If the grubs of
the lacewing fly are introduced to a colony of aphides
and carefully watched, it will be observed that the active
grubs at once proceed to attack their fellow-insects, which,
in fact, form their natural food. Aphis after aphis will
be seized in the grub's powerful jaws and sucked dry.

Occasionally, if we watch carefully, we shall observe
that there is a hitch in the usual proceedings ; the aphis,
so to speak, gets in the first blow and discharges a sticky,
wax-like substance from its tubercles into the face of its
enemy. This substance hardens at once and forms a
veritable mask over the face of the aggressive grub, to
such an extent that it is forced to abandon its hunt till
it has cleaned itself, an operation which takes some con-
siderable time and permits of the aphis making good
its escape. Here we may notice a very interesting and
striking fact — the aphides which habitually live in com-
pany with ants have either no tubercles or feebly developed
ones ; those which are not visited by ants have these
organs well developed. Why ? The ants afford protection
to the green-fly from their enemies so that it is unnecessary
for them to be provided with organs of defence.

So far we have only mentioned the visits of ants to
stray colonies of aphides, but the relationship of these two
kinds of insects is often far more intimate. Some ants
actually farm certain aphides. The common aphis of the
Indian corn is a good example, so we will relate some of
the observed facts concerning this insect. The green-fly
eggs are laid in the autumn and are carried by the ants
into their underground nests ; here they are tended
throughout the winter ; they are moved about with great
care in order that they may be kept in suitable climatic
conditions.

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Queer Friendships

In the spring, when the young aphides hatch, they are
transferred by the ants to the roots of various wild grasses.
In fine weather the "cattle" are taken from their roots
and placed to browse on the grasses above ground, but in
cold weather and at nights they are taken back to the
ants' nests. No mother could care for her young more
tenderly than the ants tend their adopted offspring. As
the season advances and the Indian corn begins to grow,
the ants transfer their charges from the wild grasses to
the roots of the cereal.

Now the first-born aphides are all females and they
soon begin to lay eggs ; these, in turn, are assiduously
tended by the ants, till at length a large colony arises
and the ants are kept busy transferring their charges to
the most favourable feeding-grounds, always on the corn
roots. All the while the Indian corn plants survive and
afford nourishment for the aphides the latter are entirely
wingless. When, however, the roots become tough and
woody or shrivel up, a generation of winged and wingless
forms arises.

These winged forms are females whose one desire is
to escape to more favourable feeding-grounds. The ants,
however, not to be balked of their "cattle," clip off the
wings of these individuals, so that escape is impossible, and
their progeny are, therefore, saved to the ant community.
The aphis is thus wholly dependent upon the ant for its
existence and, in return, yields a copious supply of
" honey dew " to its insect masters. That the aphides bear
no malice to their masters is shown in many ways ; except
for the winged forms, they never attempt to escape from
captivity nor do they ever use their tubercles against the
ants ; moreover, they give off honey dew more gently and
more freely when attended by ants than when living
alone. Ants, on the other hand, never kill or injure their
charges as they frequently do other defenceless insects ; in
fact, they protect them. They place them in the most
favourable feeding-places, build chambers round them,

168

AN INSECT FREE-BOOTER, AND AN INSECT BEGGAR.

The extraordinary looking insect shown towards the top is the lepismid, or fleet-foot, who
lives by stealing food from ants when they are in the act of passing it from one to the
other. The atemeles beetle shown below is begging food, which will not be refused, from
the ant in front of him.

Queer Friendships

scrape earth from the roots so that they may obtain their
food more easily and attend assiduously to their eggs and
young.

A very similar relationship also exists between certain
ants and some scale insects which also give off "honey
dew." Frequently the ants will transfer their insect
" cattle " to favourable feeding-grounds on well-liked trees
or shrubs and build around them a shed of woody debris
as a protection against enemies and inclement weather.
Adult "blue" butterflies of the species whose caterpillars
are farmed by ants appear to understand the situation to
a nicety, for they are very particular as to where they lay
their eggs. " If the right plant has no ants, or the ants on
that plant are not the right species, the butterfly will lay
no eggs on that plant." Some caterpillars will certainly
not live without the ants and many are extremely un-
comfortable when brought up away from their masters.

One of these peculiar butterflies, a native of India and
Australia, spends its whole life in ants' nests and is
very peculiarly built to suit it for the life. The caterpillar
from which the ants derive their " honey dew " has a horny
skin instead of the soft coat which clothes most cater-
pillars. The skin also forms the covering of the chrysalis,
as in flies, a most peculiar happening amongst butterflies
but useful as a protection in the absolutely defenceless
chrysalis stage. But most strange of all is the butterfly
itself, which would probably be attacked by the ants were
it an ordinary butterfly, for they are no respecters of
persons. It is cunningly contrived with a multitude of
loose scales. When the ants, which do not seem to
connect the butterfly with the caterpillars from which they
have obtained their " honey dew," make an attack on the
insect, their legs and antennae become so hopelessly
encumbered by the loose scales that they are powerless to
do further mischief. An assault on the butterfly results in
a tarring and feathering for the aggressors. In short, all
ant farms are mutually beneficial to insect farmers and

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Queer Friendships

farmed : the former obtain excellent fare in return for the
protection they afford to their herds.

There are many other ant friendships not of the ants'
seeking, and this is hardly surprising. The warmth of
ants' nests, the protection they afford, the odd scraps of
food they provide, coupled with the very curious habit
possessed by all ants of nursing the young of insects other
than their own, all tend to render the ant dwelling
decidedly attractive.

One of the most peculiar of these little friends is a
small, brownish American beetle, which runs about the
nests of its ant acquaintances with surprising agility.
From time to time it pauses on its way, raises the front
part of its body in the air and awaits the coming of an
ant. When a- passing ant happens to touch it, the beetle
waves his fore-legs in the air to attract attention. The ant
is not slow to observe the signal ; it stops and licks the
beetle's head effusively, till at length it regurgitates a drop
of liquid food which the beetle eagerly devours. This pn>
ceeding may be repeated again and again, but after each
feed the ant carefully licks the beetle's face clean ; in fact,
she seems so fascinated with her pet that she cannot feed
and fondle it enough. Sometimes the beetle is not so
fortunate, for when sitting up and begging for food he
may be inadvertently knocked over in the general hurry
and scramble of the ants' nest. At such times, after
lying for a little while on his back with legs sprawling in
the air, he will suddenly right himself and scamper off or
remain and strike his favourite attitude once more.

Another little insect frequenting ants' nests and a close
relative of the common "silver fish" of this country is not
quite so honest as the beetle which has learned to beg ; in
fact, he is a barefaced robber and a nuisance to the ants,
for they often try to catch him while he is thieving, but he
is usually too alert to be caught. Now it is a common
ant habit to pass liquid food from mouth to mouth and
this is especially the case when the workers have returned

170

Queer Friendships

from a foraging expedition. The insect robber watches
his opportunity and when he sees two ants mouth to
mouth and about to pass the luscious liquid, he springs
up and gulps it up in mid-air and there remains a dis-
appointed ant and a satisfied ant guest.

The friendship of a little fly for a favourite ant is so
near to parasitism that we are not sure if it should find a
place in this chapter ; at any rate, the fly is so considerate
of its host that it does little harm, so we will not class it
among the evil-working parasites. The fly lays its eggs
in the ants' nest and its grubs on hatching immediately
affix themselves to an ant grub by means of a sucker-like
tail. Now the worker ants, as is their wont, pay great
attention to their grubs and feed them constantly with
pieces of insects.

A meal for the ant grub means a meal for the fly larva,
for the latter always partakes of a portion of the fare
provided. When the ant grub spins its cocoon, the little
visitor goes with it into hiding, but it takes the precaution
of moving to the tail end of its temporary shelter, lest, later
on, when the ant is eating its way out to freedom, it should
receive a bite by mistake. The ant comes from the
cocoon first and the empty case, or so the ants think, is
removed to a refuse heap outside the nest and the fly
emerges at a later date. Who can fail to admire the
wonderful workings of Nature in this and in hosts of similar
cases ? The little fly grub is really a parasite, there is no
use in denying the fact, but it does no harm to its hosts ;
they clean it as carefully as they clean their own larvae and,
happy to relate, the ants which come from the cocoons
which they have shared with their guests are as healthy
and vigorous as their fellows which have not been so
encumbered.

The period in the hermit crab's life when he has grown
too big for his purloined home and must needs seek a
larger shell is always fraught with anxiety. To watch the
crab changing from his old home to the new one is most

171

Queer Friendships

entertaining. He takes every precaution that his new
dwelling is fit for habitation and, having satisfied himself
on that score, he transfers his ungainly body from one
shell to another with a celerity which is astonishing.
When the new home proves unsuitable, back he dashes to
his late abode, which, by the way, never leaves his grasp
till he is satisfied that he will want it no longer.

Some hermit crabs, however, more fortunate than their
fellows, are saved all worries of house moving and that by
the good offices of a friendly sponge. The young sponge
takes up its abode on the whelk or other shell which is
serving as a shelter for a hermit crab. Rapid growth
takes place and it is not long before the shell, with the
exception of the mouth, is completely enveloped by the
sponge.

Now it is a remarkable fact that, whatever the size
attained by the sponge, and it is often considerable, the
opening of the shell is never closed, but a tubular passage is
always in front of it. It frequently happens that sponges
and their kind, when they settle on a shell in this manner,
eat away its substance, or at least cause it to become so
rotten that the water soon completes the work of destruc-
tion ; the sponge we are describing never damages the
hermit crab's shell.

As may be imagined, there comes a day when the crab
is too large for his home, so he simply walks a little way \
down the tube of sponge which has been built up
before his door and, by so doing, avoids the trials and
dangers of changing his shell ; for, being a soft-bodied
creature, the danger when uncovered by a shell, as he is
for a moment or two when he is engaged in moving, is
very great. Enemies await this change and catch him
moving if they are able. The sponge then, apparently a
hindrance to the movements of the crab, in reality pro-
vides him with a house which grows continuously ; a house,
moreover, which affords him ample protection. The con-
tinual transport from place to place which the sponge

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Queer Friendships

enjoys by reason of its association with the hermit crab is
beneficial and may account for its rapid growth.

In tropical Australia there are two kinds of very large
sea-anemones which are on friendly terms, the one with
a brilliantly coloured fish, the other with a prawn. To
make our story intelligible, let us explain that the sea-
anemone resembles an empty sack standing with its open
end uppermost. This open end forms the mouth and is
fringed with tentacles. The tentacles are waved about in
the water in which the anemone dwells and when they come
in contact with any creature suitable for food it is stung
and passed into the interior of the sack, which is the
anemone's stomach ; then the prey is digested and the
indigestible parts are thrown out later by the same way as
they entered. Well, curiously enough, the friendly fish and
prawn swim about amongst the tentacles of their respective
sea-anemones, who, on their part, never attempt to sting
their friends. When danger threatens, the fish or the
prawn, as the case may be, seeks safety in the anemone's
stomach, once more without suffering any harm. Now
these cases of friendship in nature are never one-sided,
but the case we are describing gave naturalists a difficult
puzzle to solve.

The association seems so odd, so unnatural, nevertheless
a theory has been propounded to account for it and at least
it possesses the merit of being plausible. Both fish and
prawn are brilliantly coloured, as we have remarked ;
being so, they are likely to attract fishes of larger size on
the hunt for prey. When they are attacked, escape for
them is easy within the body of the anemone, as their
would-be attackers are at once paralysed by the anemone's
stings and passed into its stomach to form a tasty meal.

The association of a certain fish with an American jelly-
fish is not quite so happy. The fish shelters beneath the
umbrella-like body of the jelly-fish and probably brings
much provender to its protector, just as in the case we
have mentioned above. Sometimes, however, whether for

Queer Friendships

amusement or necessity we cannot say, the fish bites a
piece from the tentacles or body of the jelly-fish
and, as is only fitting, the jelly-fish occasionally captures
and devours the fish it has protected. Why such a pre-
carious companionship should exist it is by no means
easy to guess.

Friendship between a crab and a pond mussel seems
to savour of the improbable, yet such a case is quite
common. Now a crab is usually a hard-shelled creature,
armed with many sharp angles and often spines which,
it would appear, must certainly endamage the flesh of
the mussel, seeing that it is as soft as that of the familiar
oyster. This particular crab, however, is especially well
adapted for the life he has chosen ; all his sharp angles
have been dispensed with and he is as smooth and round
as a pea, in fact he is called the pea-crab.

The active little creature spends all his time within
easy reach of his protector the mussel ; at the slightest
sign of danger he dashes back into the mussel shell and
hides himself among the sheltering fold of the shell-fish,
at the same time the valves are closed. In this case the
partnership is mutually beneficial : the crab warns the
mussel of impending danger and, in return, is protected
by the shell of the bivalve.

Partnerships of a similar nature, where one partner
receives certain benefits in return for giving warning of
danger, are quite common. The oxpecker or rhinoceros
bird is never so happy as when perched on the back of
some friendly rhinoceros or other big game, picking, here
and there, a dainty morsel in the shape of some tasty
tick. At the slightest hint of danger the bird flies away
and the rhino prepares to beat a hasty retreat or to
attack, as the case may be. Those much-persecuted birds,
the egrets, perform similar offices for elephants. The
" beef-eater " birds, which find their sustenance in warbles
on the backs of buffalo, and the Egyptian split-winged
and black-headed plovers, friends of the crocodile, from

174

Queer Friendships

whose teeth and gums they remove leeches, both give
warning in return for food. The friendship of bird for
bird is uncommon, but a striking case is that of the rosy
bee-eater and the crested bustard, described by Mr
Arthur Neumann in the following words : — " The bee-
eater habitually rides about on the back of the large
crested bustard or 'pauw' which is common about the
north-east extremity of Bassu. It sits far back on the
rump of its mount, as a boy rides a donkey. The ' pauw '
does not seem to resent this liberty, but stalks majestically
along, while its brilliantly clad little jockey keeps a look-
out, sitting sideways, and now and again flies up after an
insect it has espied, returning again after the chase to
' its camel,' as Juma (a native servant) not inaptly called
it. I have also noticed this pretty little bird sitting on
the backs of goats, sheep and antelopes, but the * pauw '
seems its favourite steed. I imagine it gets more flights
in this way at game put up by its bearer, which also
affords it a point of vantage whence to sight and pursue
its prey in a country where suitable sticks to perch on
are few."

Of strange bedfellows in the bird world there are
many. Small and defenceless birds will often nest on
the outer portions of the enormous nests of the osprey.
The burrowing owl shares a burrow with the prairie dog ;
certain New Zealand petrels dwell and nest in the same
burrows as the formidable teratera lizard. But let us pass
to other examples in the animal world.

That any creature should make a friend of the cruel
and voracious shark is almost unbelievable, yet the pilot-
fish does so. Few creatures will, of their own free will,
approach a shark, so the pilot-fish lives its life free from
danger, and in return it removes certain parasites from
the shark's skin.

Our last example can hardly be termed a friendship, we
fear. It concerns a night-flying moth and a plant. That
the insect might have friendly feelings towards the plant

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Queer Friendships

might be feasible were it allowed that insects are endowed
with feelings ; but, on the other hand, the plant certainly
cannot feel any emotion whatever. The case of the moth
and the yucca plant, often called Adam's needle, is so
extraordinary, and plant and moth are so perfectly
dependent on one another, that we make no excuse for
introducing them here. So interdependent are they
that without the moth the plant would never form seeds,
whilst the larvae of the moth can only exist upon the
seeds of this one kind of plant ; both moth and plant are
constructed for their mutual aid.

On the head of the moth there is a unique structure,
shaped like a sickle and used for the express purpose
of scraping up pollen from the yucca flower. Having
gathered a ball of pollen from the first yucca she visits,
the female moth flies to another flower of the same kind
and deposits her eggs amongst the unfertilised seeds.
Having done so, she deposits the pollen ball on the
stigma of the same flower, thereby ensuring that the
seeds will mature, and a very necessary operation this
is for both parties.

Unless the seeds are fertilised the yucca cannot repro-
duce its kind — there is nothing very wonderful in that,
half the plants the world over depend on insects for their
fertilisation, though, to be sure, the pollen is not usually
placed upon the stigma deliberately as in this case. The
fertilisation of the seed is equally important to the moth,
for upon the fertilised seeds the young larvae feed.
Fortunately each flower forms about two hundred seeds,
and luckily, too, the larvae develop quickly, only eating
about twenty seeds before turning into chrysalids, so that
both plant and insect are able to survive.

" The whole proceeding is of great interest, showing
as it does the blind and instinctive nature of the organisms'
actions, and giving us an example of two species absolutely
dependent on each other for their continued existence.
If the moth had not the structure to form the pollen ball,

I H

EE--S

Queer Friendships

and the instinct to put it on the stigma, the ovules would
not be fertilised, and her offspring would have no food ;
and if the plant were not prepared to sacrifice some
ten per cent, of its brood, the rest would never develop
at all."

177

CHAPTER XV
MIGRATION

AT times, mainly at certain seasons of the year, a strange
restlessness overcomes animals and they change their
quarters for some more congenial spot. This wandering
from one part of the earth to another is termed migration.
Insects, birds, mammals and even fishes are all victims of
this craving for new fields, but the habit reaches its zenith
amongst the birds. It is hard to define exactly when
migration begins and when it ends. The chicken which
leaves its home farm and joins its neighbours of the next
poultry yard, migrates ; the fox which, maybe through too
persistent attention on the part of the local hunt, seeks
another earth, migrates ; but for our purpose migration
implies a regular organised movement from one country to
another, or at least from one end of a country to another.
Amongst insects, migration does not appear to be
a fixed habit, except in a few cases. The wholesale
wanderings of the processionary moth larvae cannot,
strictly speaking, be termed migration. In South Europe
we have seen hordes of cockchafers descend upon a
district, destroying the vegetation far and wide, and there
are well-authenticated cases of migration amongst certain
species of butterflies. But all these are not regular
periodical movements ; they are merely occasional wander-
ings and, as such, do not come under our definition of
migration. Of all insects there are none with migratory
habits so highly developed as the locusts ; one species, in
fact, is called the migratory locust. These migrations
have a great influence on the inhabitants.

The locusts appear in vast swarms, and eat up every scrap
of vegetation, till nothing green remains in the land for

Migr

ation

man and his herds. So great are these swarms that it is
difficult to imagine their vastness unless they have been
seen. Millions upon millions of these six-legged robbers
darken the sky as they move from place to place. In the
autumn of 1889 an enormous flight took place over the
Red Sea ; it extended for 2000 miles and it was estimated
to weigh no less than 42,850 millions of tons. On the
following day another and still larger swarm passed in the
same direction. In Cyprus alone, during the year 1881,
1,600,000,000 locust egg-cases were collected and de-
stroyed. Seeing that each case contained several eggs, it
is clear that this destruction saved the island from a vast
horde of locusts. By the end of the season more than
1300 tons of egg-cases had been destroyed, but all this
energy on the part of the authorities did not prevent
5,076,000,000 egg -cases from being deposited on the
island in 1883.

A natural concomitant of locust swarms is disease,
fostered, no doubt, by the decay of millions of the dead
bodies of the locusts. These locust migrations take place
periodically and at considerable intervals. The instinct
to migrate seems to become acute when the swarm has
increased to unwieldy proportions and the ranks are
thinned considerably by hosts of parasites and also by
inclement weather. Should there be a very unfavourable
season, the eggs do not hatch from the egg-cases, they
simply stay below ground till better times come.

In locust migration wind is a very important factor and
many trial flights are made to test its direction before the
main swarm sets out to migrate. As a rule, the insects
travel with the wind behind them, and are carried by
it without any exertion ; should its direction change, they
simply alight, wherever they may be, and await a more
favourable opportunity for flight. The immature locusts
also migrate, and they do so not by flight but by a series
of short hops. The incentive to migration in their case is
lack of food and a desire for change.

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Migration

To the birds we must turn if we would study migration
in its highest form. " The migratory movements of birds
are interesting in the extreme. Their arrival is the
harbinger of spring ; their departure the unfailing sign of
winter's advent. But of higher interest still are all the
causes and influences which prompt and govern these various
migratory movements. We see the woods all radiant
with opening leaf and fragrant bloom suddenly become
tenanted with these little wanderers from sunny southern
lands — delicate little creatures many of them, whose
bodies would scarcely fill a good-sized thimble, yet we
know these frail little feathered travellers have covered
the land and sea for many thousands of miles — they are
fresh from the palm-trees and glorious wealth of tropical
verdure far away in the soft, lovely south. The terrors
and perils of the long journey are soon forgotten — like
dreams they pass away, and songs of sweetest cadence
pour joyously from their little throats. In autumn's
balmy days we see these migrants preparing for their long
journey. All is eager excitement to be gone. The brown-
ing leaves and mournful winds of autumn, the first white
frost aud cool nights, sternly bid these little travellers
depart. As we watch them flitting restlessly about from
twig to twig, or congregating in merry flocks on buildings
and telegraph wires, we think of their early departure with
regret and from the bottom of our hearts we wish them a
speedy and a safe return."

The seasonal wanderings of birds have occupied the
attention of many eminent naturalists, yet it is strange
how little we really know of the subject, astonishing how
much there is still to learn. Migration in birds is chiefly
concerned with the necessity of finding suitable breeding-
places and suitable breeding-places only exist where the
food supply is abundant, so that the food question is really
at the bottom of migration. Needless to say, the extent
of migration varies enormously in different species.

The grouse nests on the moors but seeks the valleys

180

Mig

ration

during winter and, in the case of this typically British
bird, a change of habitat from one " fell " to another marks
the limit of its wanderings. At the other extreme, or near
it, is the knot, which breeds in Greenland and migrates
in the summer to Demerara-land ; or the Arctic tern, which
breeds as far north as any bird, but in summer travels
22,000 miles to the far south. It has been said that the
farther north a bird goes in summer the farther south
it travels in winter. We are prone to imagine that
" migrants are merely those birds which come to us, like
the swallow and cuckoo, in the spring, and those, like the
field-fare and brambling, which visit us in winter but are
not with us in summer."

Migration is far more complex than this ; in fact, con-
sidered from the point of view of their journeys or their
wanderings, birds have been divided into six groups.
(i) Permanent residents in the country, such as the grouse,
dipper, tits, robins, etc., but even these migrate to a small
extent. (2) Summer residents which nest in this country,
cuckoos, swallows, swifts, etc. (3) Winter residents which
nest north or east of Britain and arrive in autumn, as field-
fares, jacksnipe, bramblings, etc. (4) Spring and autumn
migrants, which merely rest here on their journeys north
and south, dunlins and curlews. (5) Irregular migrants,
such as the sand-grouse. (6) Wanderers whose appearance
is purely accidental.

As far as birds of the Northern Hemisphere are con-
cerned, they usually breed in the most northerly limits of
their migration and winter in the most southerly, but of
course the cold districts are always visited at their warm-
est period of the year. It has been said that birds never
seek fresh nesting-places and thus extend their range, but
" within the last few years, for instance, the turtle-dove
and the tufted duck have begun to nest regularly in many
parts of England of which they were entirely unknown
twenty or thirty years ago. The starling also has spread
and in some parts is spreading still."

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Migration

A little thought will show that birds, in the main,
travel north in their search for nesting-places and south in
their search for food, but it is interesting to note too that
migration usually begins some time before the food supply
fails. Swifts leave us in July and August, when insect life
is at its height. It is probably not cold, as some assert, but
the intuition that their food supply will soon fail that drives
our migrants south in winter. During the breeding season,
family cares compel migrants to limit themselves to a
definite district ; but in their winter haunts, free from all
cares, many of these migrants are nomadic, as witness the
wanderings of flocks of redwings and field-fares over this
country in winter. Then, again, certain birds, the snow
bunting and shore lark to wit, have been termed gipsy
migrants, for the reason that they wander southward only
so far as frost and snow compel them — they are always
trying to go north.

Observation, too, has shown that many migrants have
certain favoured spots in this country which they visit
from year to year during their pilgrimage ; thus certain
migratory sandpipers regularly visit the lower reaches of
the Mersey every autumn. This " regularity of appearance
suggests habit and memory" rather than a haphazard
discovery of a favourable food supply.

It has been asserted that family instincts are at the root
of bird migration. That this may have been so originally is
possible, but incapable of proof, and there are other theories
which we shall mention later. Were family affairs the crux
of the matter, there would not be such a large proportion
of immature migrants. Moreover, these inexperienced
birds are often the first to make the long journey from
their southern feeding-grounds. With such vast hordes of
birds arriving at and departing from our shores, and even
passing over our land without a halt, how is it that the
ordinary man sees so little of the game ?

True, we have all beheld the swallows collecting on
roofs and telegraph wires, preparatory to their autumn

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tion

flight, but of migration in general we see very little, for the
reason that the birds as a rule fly at high altitudes, ranging
from 1 200 to 5000 feet. In autumn the migration is most
marked, for in spring the birds arrive in little parties, but
in autumn they travel in enormous flocks. Some fly in
pairs, some in sexes, the males arriving first and leaving
last. Sometimes the young birds migrate first. Some
travel only by day ; others, again, are night flyers. How-
ever they go, they always arrive and depart well to time.

The direction of the wind appears to have little effect
on migration, but its force may render migration
impossible. They travel, for the most part, in the upper
layers of the air, for " birds are warmer blooded than our-
selves or other mammalia, and are capable of sustaining
life in rarefied atmospheres when these could not. By
a simple mechanical ascent, they can reach, within
a league or two, regions and conditions quite beyond
human knowledge ; where, selecting favouring air-strata,
they may be able to rest without exertion ; or find
meteorological or atmospheric forces that mitigate or
abolish the labours of ordinary flight, or possibly assist
their progress."

The perils which envelop birds during migration are
enormous : the weaklings perish of fatigue and hunger ;
adverse winds drive them from land to sea. Predatory
birds, hawks and the like, accompany them, taking toll
en route, and predatory man awaits the tired wanderers
with gun and net. On foggy nights countless numbers
perish at the lighthouses, as the remarks of an observer at
the Skerryvore show, for he likens the birds around the
lighthouse to a heavy fall of snow. " Thousands were
flitting about ; hundreds were striking against the dome
and windows ; hundreds were sitting dazed and stupid on
the trimming paths ; and scores falling to the rocks below,
some instantaneously killed, others seriously injured,
falling helplessly into the sea. . . . Sometimes we use the
terms hundreds and thousands without thinking seriously

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Migration

what these figures mean, but on this occasion when I
say thousands were killed I do not exaggerate in the
slightest."

Some of the early theories concerning bird migration are
vastly humorous, in the light of our present-day know-
ledge, scanty though it be. That birds did migrate was
known in Biblical times ; that they migrated to the moon
was a surmise of a later date. A theory that was widespread,
still later, assumed that birds must be classed among the
hibernating animals. Swallows had been seen in reed-beds,
preparatory to their autumn flight ; the day arrived when
the swallows had disappeared — they must have hiberr.ated
in the water ! Often a sudden fall of temperature at this
season would result in the death or stupor of a number of
birds and their discovery in this state was looked upon as
confirmation of the hibernation theory. That the stronger
birds carried the weaker on their backs during migration
was another common fallacy.

Migration is merely a habit and one that has been
slowly acquired with the expenditure of much labour and
many failures. For thousands of years these journeys
have been undertaken, till now, as we have said, it is a
deeply rooted habit. This habit probably originated
owing to changes on the face of the earth. Once the
polar regions were fertile lands with a large resident bird
population. Then when the earth changed her position
and an ice-cap was formed, lack of food drove the birds
southward. This all occurred during a very long period,
sufficiently long to implant the migratory habit in birds.
When the glacial epoch passed and the snows began to melt
and the ice to drift back, the birds returned farther and
farther north. Age after age the journey became longer,
till it attained the dimensions of the present day. Water
birds travel farther than land birds, for the latter are
practically confined to the limits of forest growth. It
is of interest to note that many migrants follow the
direction of ancient coast-lines, which are now buried

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Migration

beneath the sea ; this may account for the many birds
which cross the North Sea to this country and then pass
due south across the Channel.

Migration amongst fishes is of quite common occur-
rence, though the subject, in general, is of too abstruse a
character to deal with in these pages. A certain South
American fish, equally at home on land or in water,
travels rapidly overland by violently lashing its tail,
supporting itself the while on its breast fins. In this
manner it passes from one waterway to another. Occasion-
ally whole nights are occupied in the journey. Usually
these fishes travel singly or a few at a time ; sometimes,
however, they migrate in large bands.

Well-authenticated cases of migration occur amongst
salmon and eels, therefore we will confine our remarks
to the wanderings of these two common fishes. The life
history of the salmon is interesting in the extreme ; part
of its existence is spent in fresh water, part in the sea.
During the summer and autumn there is a regular migra-
tion from the sea to the rivers. Spawning takes place in
fresh water. There the young grow into parr and smolt
before travelling back to the sea, where they become grilse
and salmon before returning to fresh water. After the
salmon have travelled up-stream to spawn, a journey
fraught with dangers and difficulties, which the fish use
every effort to surmount, they pair off and seek some
gravel-bed in a shallow part of the stream ; then by
violent lashing of their tails they form a hollow, in which
the eggs are laid and fertilised, and, by further tail-
lashings, are covered with gravel. The usual time for this
family event to take place is November and December,
but spawning may go on from September to January.
In addition to this so-called spawning migration, a
general seasonal migration of salmon takes place every
year. By marking the fish in their young stages some
interesting experiments have been carried out, which have
proved that the spawning salmon usually return to the

185

Migration

same river in which they were brought up, despite the
fact that they wander for considerable distances from the
mouth of their home river during their life at sea.

Interesting as is the migration of salmon, that of the
common eel is far more so, and it is only in comparatively
recent years that it has been fully understood. In fact,
not so very long ago young eels were considered as quite
a distinct and peculiar kind of fish and were not associated
with eels at all. There has always been something akin
to mystery surrounding the life history of the eel.
Aristotle gave it as his opinion that eels were formed
from mud. A belief which still holds sway in some parts
of the country was once widespread — namely, that horse-
hair falling into the water would grow into eels.

For many years all that was known of this very common
fish was that young eels or elvers migrated from the sea
to the rivers in spring, and that silver eels, as the mature
fish are called, migrated seawards in autumn. It has now
been firmly established that eels spawn in mid-ocean ;
from their eggs arise curious leaf-like little fish, so frail
and transparent that only their eyes are visible as they
swim in the water and so unlike their parents that they
were called Leptocephali. These tiny creatures are quite
unable to battle with the waves, so they simply drift
upon the Gulf Stream till they are carried towards the
coasts of the Atlantic. When they drift to shallower
water they change from Leptocephali to elvers.

At the mouths of the rivers they dwell for a time and
collect in vast crowds ; when their numbers are sufficient
the vast army migrates from the sea to the upper reaches
of the rivers, travelling mostly at night, unless there be a
full moon, when the migration is hindered, for light seems
distasteful to the little voyagers. In fact, the eel is of
somewhat nocturnal habits ; even the adults feed, for the
most part, by night. Several years are spent in the
rivers before the eels are ready to migrate to the sea for
spawning. When that time arrives they change in

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Migration

appearance considerably : their backs become darker, their
under sides lighter and their eyes larger. The silver eels,
as they are now called, like the elvers, migrate only by
night, and on moonless nights at that ; occasionally they
travel massed together in balls. After spawning the eels
die, so that, unlike the salmon, they migrate only once
during their adult lives. Frequently eels have been
observed travelling overland from place to place, wriggling
through the herbage, after the manner of a snake. These
land journeys can hardly be termed migration.

Amongst quadrupeds migration is by no means common.
The reindeer is a migrant. In Spitzbergen, where there
are large herds of these animals, the reindeer seek the
valleys during the short Arctic summer, but in autumn
they turn their steps back to the sea coast, where they
feed mainly upon seaweed. It is said that a female
always leads the migratory herds. In Arctic America,
where the reindeer is known as the caribou, there is a
regular southward migration in winter, but in summer the
herds return to their northern uplands.

The South African springbok is also an occasional
migrant. When the absence of rain causes its almost
desert home to become absolutely barren, it migrates
eastwards to more fertile regions. Travellers have
described enormous herds of these migratory antelopes
moving in a solid mass of over half-a-mile in width and
taking over two hours to pass a given point. They have
even related that the herds were of such enormous size
that a lion, attempting to prey upon one of their number,
became so surrounded by the migrants that escape was
impossible and he was forced to march along with them.

Thirst is the compelling force in the case of the spring-
boks, and not long ago thousands upon thousands
migrated to the sea, drank of the salt water and died in
countless numbers ; for miles upon miles the shores of
the Indian Ocean were strewn with their dead and
decaying bodies.

Migration

Of all quadrupeds, the most notorious migrant is the
lemming, a small rat-like creature, inhabiting the
mountainous regions of Northern Europe. At long
intervals these destructive little creatures migrate from
their mountain fastnesses literally in millions. Lack of
food or the foreboding of severe weather may account
for their wanderings ; but, whatever the cause, they lay
waste the land far and wide as they go. Travelling
chiefly by night or in early morning, they brook no
obstacles. They swim rivers and lakes. They are accom-
panied by a crowd of camp-followers in the shape of
predaceous animals and birds, but on and on the horde
advances, till finally the sea and the sea alone forces
a halt.

188

CHAPTER XVI

HUNTERS AND HUNTED

IN the world of nature there is a constant struggle for
existence every minute of the day ; every day in the year
hunters and hunted are in conflict with one another, the
one seeking the wherewithal to live, the other striving to
avoid destruction. Nature has been described as cruel ; be
that is it may, the weapons with which certain animals are
provided, their ingenuity in using them and their almost
saturnine cunning, render the lives of their adversaries
one long period of watchfulness. The domestic cat and
dog may well be taken as our examples of typical
predaceous animals — that is to say, animals which prey
upon others. Their habits and their beautiful adaptations
for a hunting existence are easily observed.

In the cat the sense of hearing is marvellously developed ;
its ears are in constant motion, that it may detect the
slightest sound, and noises which are quite inaudible to us
are plainly heard by the cat. Combined with its sharp
hearing, its sight is excellent ; moreover, its eyes are
readily adapted to changes in the intensity of the light —
in sunlight the pupils are mere slips, by night they are
large and round. Despite their keen sight, cats cannot see
at night, as is popularly supposed ; after dark they rely on
their sense of touch, another highly developed faculty.
Every hair on the cat's body is exceedingly sensitive to
touch, that is why this animal has such a deep-rooted
dislike of having its fur rubbed the wrong way. It is,
however, in the whiskers and eyelashes that this sense is
most highly developed. Its well-padded feet, covered with
short hair, enable it to approach its prey without noise ;
its lissom body renders possible the use of its needle-

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Hunters and Hunted

pointed claws in capturing and killing the most agile
victim ; though the cat, in common with others of its
kind, only slaughters its unfortunate victim after playing
with it for some time.

Dogs have been domesticated by man for such varied
purposes and for so long a time that it is by no means easy
to find an example which conforms to the scientist's idea
of the typical dog. In some cases fleetness of foot has
been developed at the expense of other qualities ; in
others the sense of smell is the most important, from man's
point of view. However, what we may term the typical dog
possesses a keen sense of smell, which serves it in good
stead in hunting its prey, though the greyhound, be it
noted, relies upon its keen sight rather than upon its nose
when pursuing its prey. The nostrils, in health, are
always moist — an additional aid in scenting a victim, for
a dry nose means a lessened sense of smell.

Though inferior to the cat in hearing, still its powers in
this respect are far more highly developed than in human
beings. Fleet of foot, it possesses claws certainly, but
they are not sharply pointed and never used in capturing
prey. A noteworthy fact concerning the dog is that,
however heated it may become in the chase, it never
perspires in the ordinary way ; it breathes, however, some
three hundred times per minute in place of the usual
thirty, and in so doing removes surplus moisture from
the lungs. A panting dog, therefore, is not necessarily
exhausted, but simply one that is removing waste pro-
ducts from his system in his own especial way, instead of
by perspiration, as with most other animals.

Hearing, sight and touch, then, are the main adjuncts
to successful forays on the part of the cat, and hearing,
sight and scent on the part of the dog. Having thus
disposed of the peculiarities of two of our commonest
animals, we are free to examine the methods by which
some of the others with which we may not be so well
acquainted obtain their food. It is only right to mention

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Hunters and Hunted

that teeth are every whit as important as claws and scent
and hearing, but a discussion on the dental armament of
beasts in general would lead us beyond the depths to
which it is expedient to go in our pages.

All the wild members of the cat family rely on the
same faculties as their domestic relative in their hunt for
prey, and they are aided in their work by their wonderful
colouring, which renders them wellnigh impossible to
detect in their native haunts. The tawny coat of the
lion harmonises beautifully with the desert sand he loves
so well ; the very brilliantly attired tiger is practically
invisible as he lurks amid the vegetation of the jungle ;
the leopard and jaguar are unconscious mimics of the
sun-flecked ground which carpets the tropical forests
which they haunt ; the lynx in hue matches the boles of
the forest trees amongst which he makes his home.

Twixt the cats and dogs we must pause a moment to
give some thought to those ill-formed beasts, the hyaenas.
Their greyish hides dappled with black form the best
possible protection for such night prowlers as they are.
Their long fore and short hind legs, their clumsy gait
betoken a life spent neither in hunting like the dog nor
in springing on their prey like the cat. No, the hyaena
devours either carrion or attacks some animal already at
the point of death and therefore quite unable to defend
itself. Pluck is not one of the attributes of the hyaenas.
Their enormously powerful jaws serve them well in
devouring their prey and cracking their bones to splinters,
and their extraordinarily keen sense of smell enables
them to detect carrion at enormous distances.

Some dogs, of which wolves and jackals may be taken
as typical examples, hunt their prey in packs ; their sense
of smell is acute and their sight hardly less so. But it is
not dogs only which hunt in packs. All animals become
bolder in the company of their fellows. We can see it in
our own country-side : sparrows will often band together
in the face of some common enemy, in the shape of an

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Hunters and Hunted

owl or a hawk, and harry the unfortunate individual
unmercifully.

The South American peccary, a fierce little wild pig,
has learned that unity is strength. Singly, the peccary
would be no match for some of the larger cats of the
South American forests. Hunting in packs, these pigs
can even bring fear to the heart of the powerful jaguar.
Travellers have related how the peccaries will drive a
jaguar to seek safety in some tree. Unable to reach the
cat in his temporary sanctuary, the pigs wait below.
Hunger and fatigue inevitably compel the jaguar to
descend, sooner or later, when he falls a victim to the
patient watchers below.

The fox, really a wild dog, is imbued with certain habits
which seem almost cat-like. This animal never hunts in
company with companions, but sallies forth in the evening
to carry out its depredations alone. It yields to few
animals in sense of smell and its sight is far keener x than
is that of its near relatives the dog, wolf and jackal ; also,
being a night prowler, its pupils are oval like those of the
cat. Again, the fox is possessed of short legs, so that it
relies rather upon taking its prey unawares than upon
running it down. Nevertheless, when circumstances
render it necessary, the fox is no mean runner, as many
a huntsman can testify.

Animals of the ferret family are all born hunters : stoats,
polecats, weasels and martens are one and all blood-
thirsty in the extreme. Their senses of sight, hearing
and touch are marvellously developed. The pine-marten
has been described as the " nimblest and cleverest of all
predatory animals which lead an arboreal life. It is a
thorough athlete, a true arboreal creature and an accom-
plished robber, scarcely inferior to the cat. It spends the
day calmly reposing in a safe hiding-place, such as
the deserted nest of a rook, dove or squirrel. At the
approach of night it wakes up for its murderous occupa-
tion. With lightning speed it runs up the trunks of the

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THREE

ONE

A swordfish and two killers attacked the mighty cachalot in vain. He first bit the sword-
fish in two, then stretched one killer dead upon the sea with a blow from his tail, and the
other fled for his life.

Hunters and Hunted

trees to their swaying tops, and climbs up and down
among the branches ; now, again, it may be seen creeping
like a cat through the thick grass, inspecting every nook
and cranny, sniffing at the holes in the tree trunks, listen-
ing, peering now here, now there, in search of some sort of
prey or other, be it a sleeping bird, a young hare, a mouse
or the like. Now it has caught sight of a squirrel. Un-
observed it rapidly ascends the trunk of the tree on the
other side of the creature and mounts the branch on
which it is sitting. Brushing the branch with its belly, it
stealthily creeps up, cautiously placing one foot in front
of the other ; suddenly the squirrel catches sight of its
pursuer and now a mad chase begins. From branch to
branch leaps the frightened creature, hotly pursued by
the murderer. With one mighty leap it lands upon a
neighbouring tree ; the pursuer follows ; up and down the
trunk the race continues. It is only by taking a leap
downward, which its pursuer cannot imitate, and rapidly
gaining another tree, that the squirrel can hope to escape
with its life. Otherwise it is doomed to succumb
exhausted and yield up its life under the teeth of the
marauder."

The closely related badger and otter are in their
respective ways admirably adapted for the capture of
the prey so necessary to their existence. The former is
a thick-set, clumsy fellow, who can neither climb like the
cats, nor, like them, stealthily stalk his prey ; nor can he
hunt after the manner of the dogs. His formidable claws,
his almost pig-like snout and powerful neck all point to
the fact that he is a digger. His prey, for the most part,
is captured without the display of any agility. The larvae
of various beetles, earthworms, mice, frogs and lizards
make up his principal fare, varied now and again with
a nestling or a young rabbit or hare. Many of these
creatures live below ground and the badger is not long in
unearthing them.

The otter, on the other hand, though an expert
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Hunters and Hunted

swimmer, is, on land, nearly as clumsy as his cousin the
badger. His prey comprises fish, of which he is said to
consume five pounds per day, frogs, water rats and water
birds. In their capture he displays his admirable gifts as
swimmer, to which may be added his keen sight even
under water and a highly developed sense of touch in his
long whiskers. The otter is beautifully adapted for an
aquatic life. His flexible body, broad, flat head, his
webbed feet and flattened tail, which acts as a rudder, all
assist his rapid passage through the water. His skin is
oily and his coat so thick that the water does not really
wet it ; his mouth, nostrils and ears can all be closed
tightly against the access of water. He is, in short, a
living submarine.

Even more perfectly adapted to an aquatic life is the
common seal, and this is very natural, for it spends the
greater part of its time in water, whereas the otter lives in
his burrow for a considerable part of the day at any rate.
With his cylindrical, spindle-shaped body the seal is well
adapted for rapid passage through the element in which
he is so thoroughly at home. Its backwardly directed,
short yet powerful fore and hind limbs form excellent
oars and rudder. With exceedingly light bones and a
thick layer of fat beneath his skin which at once renders
the seal lighter than it would otherwise be and protects
its vital organs from the cold water, small wonder that thes
creature is an adept in watermanship ; even its ears do
not possess the flaps so usual in animals, for these would
hinder its progress through the water. Like the cat, the
seal hunts by night, therefore it is not surprising to find
that he is provided with long whiskers — his usual organs
of touch ; his sight too is extraordinarily keen. Its sense
of smell serves the seal well by giving it information of
the approach of enemies.

The bats are of interest in that they apparently possess
a sense of which we humans have no experience. All
bats are bloodthirsty little creatures ; flying by night, they

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Hunters and Hunted

spend practically all their waking hours in the pursuit of
prey. As the victims are solely members of the insect
world, most of them guilty of harming mankind or his
crops, the bats can only be considered as useful beasts.
As with all animals which capture their prey upon the
wing, bats have exceedingly large mouths. Swifts,
swallows and nightjars are similarly armed. Their sense
of hearing is acute, and in most of them the ear-flaps are
enormously developed to form sound-boxes which, so it
is said, enable their owners to hear moths and other
insects flying abroad. Their sight is poor ; in fact they
place no reliance upon this sense when in pursuit of their
prey.

On the other hand, the bat's sense of touch is developed
to such a pitch that it is almost beyond our powers of
comprehension. An experiment has been performed in
which a bat's eyes were covered with sticking plaster,
after which the animal was liberated in a room from the
ceiling of which a large number of threads were suspended.
This bat flew round and round the room without even so
much as touching one of the threads. Prey can also be
caught without the use of the eyes, the highly developed
sense of touch alone sufficing for the detection of the
feeble air vibrations of a flying insect.

Glutton though the bat may be, he is no match for the
mole, who daily consumes food equal to the weight of his
own body, and should that food not be exactly to his
requirements he has been known to eat four times the
weight of his own body to compensate for its unsuita-
bility. The prey of this little creature consists of earth-
worms, cockchafer grubs and the like ; all his victims
dwell underground, therefore keen sight is useless to the
little hunter. His sense of smell, touch — by means of his
snout — and hearing are remarkably acute. In autumn
the mole lays up a large store of food for the winter in
the shape of earthworms — as much as six pounds' weight
of these luckless creatures has been found in a mole

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Hunters and Hunted

fortress. Now the mole cannot paralyse its prey as can
the sand-wasp, yet dead earthworms will soon decay,
even in frosty weather. The mole surmounts the difficulty
in an ingenious way ; he simply bites off a small portion
of the head end of each of his victims and, being very
tenacious of life, they continue to exist, though their
burrowing powers are ended for ever.

Having briefly reviewed some of the notorious hunters
of the animal world, we will devote a little space to the
consideration of the beasts that are hunted, that we may
see how they contrive to avoid the attentions of their
enemies, either by flight, by protective or warning
colouring, by evil odours or by other means.

The giraffe, so conspicuous a beast in his enclosure at
the Zoo, by reason of his size and his yellow, brown -
dappled hide, is in his native retreats, beneath some
shady tree, preferably an acacia, wellnigh indistinguish-
able from his surroundings. Now the defences of the
giraffe against the attacks of wild beasts consist in rapid
flight and powerful kicks. But better than these is the
power conferred upon the giraffe, by reason of its long
neck, to see its enemies afar. To a lesser extent, the
camel is thus protected ; added to his excellent sight, he
possesses a scent so keen that he is reported to be able
to smell water at a considerable distance.

The elephant one would imagine to be sufficiently
powerful to pay little heed to possible foes, but even this
gigantic beast is alert at all times, and eager to avoid an
encounter with one of the larger cats. Its sight, as might
be guessed from the small size of its eyes, is poor. Its
scent is extraordinarily keen, but, above all, its hearing is
very highly developed. Its gigantic ears, acting as giant
ear-trumpets, are ever on the alert to catch the slightest
sound.

Does it not seem somewhat peculiar that two totally
dissimilar water-loving animals, the hippopotamus and
the crocodile, have eyes of very similar design ? In both

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Hunters and Hunted

cases they may aptly be described as bulging, and the
reason for this is that the animals may lie in hiding quite
below the surface of the water, with the exception of
their bulging eyes and nostrils ; thus they are exceedingly
difficult to detect, but, at the same time, can see all that
goes on around them.

A very cursory survey of the animal kingdom will
suffice to show that nearly every animal, whatever its
colour, is lighter below than on its back. The reason for
this is easy of explanation. A shadow is cast by the
animal's body ; so that, being lighter underneath, this
shadow, which would render the animal conspicuous, is
neutralised. No words could explain this colouring so
well as it is demonstrated by two models side by side in
the Natural History Museum of London. The models
consist of a pair of birds in a glass case with base, back
and sides of pale grey. The birds themselves are made
of the same material as the lining of the case and the
same colour. One bird is self-coloured, the other is white
underneath. Viewed from a distance and illuminated by
the light which enters the top of the case, the self-coloured
bird, by reason of the shadow underneath it, can easily
be distinguished from the background ; the other bird,
the one which is lighter beneath, can only be distinguished
from the background with the greatest difficulty.

Some animals are practically self-coloured ; the lion is
one ; but the lion follows up his prey by crawling along
close to the ground, so that his under parts are hidden
from view. Other animals, and they are not many, are
lighter above than below. The queer little water boatman
has a light-coloured back and a dark-coloured abdomen,
yet he conforms to the general rule of colouring, for he
swims on his back and so his lighter parts are underneath.

Recognition or identification marks are nearly as
common amongst the quadrupeds as amongst the birds.
Several deer, the wapati is one, have white patches on the
rump ; the rabbit is an example which everyone may see.

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Hunters and Hunted

The colouring of certain bats is peculiar. In general
they do not agree with the common colour scheme in
being lighter coloured below. Such colouring would be
of little advantage to them, for against the twilight sky
they could easily be seen from the ground in any case.
Being dark above, however, renders them more incon-
spicuous when viewed from above, with the earth as a
background, and this helps them in some degree to avoid
the attentions of night-flying owls.

Usually bats have little to fear from enemies while they
are on the wing, so they do not need to assume protective
colouring. By day most of them lurk in dark caves and
other places which are badly illuminated, and their sombre
colours again come to their aid. Certain bats, however,
are peculiar in their resting-places ; instead of shunning
the light, they rest in exposed situations, so that some
sort of protective colouring is an essential.

The plantain bat of India and Ceylon is such a creature ;
all the fur on the upper part of its head and body is light
orange, below its body is still lighter coloured, and its
wings are orange and black. On the wing it strangely
resembles a huge moth. By day this bat conceals itself
in the folded leaf of a plantain, and the bat so closely
resembles the ripe fruit of this plant that detection is
difficult. We should explain that in the countries which
the little animal inhabits the plantain fruits all the year
round, furthermore, the bat closely resembles the decaying
leaves of the plant.

Another animal from the same countries, by name
Hodgson's bat, is also orange and black. This creature
frequents the evergreen longan-tree, whose decaying
leaves and fruit harmonise admirably with the animal
which hides among them. A West African bat has a
curious, and at present unexplained, colouring. Its wings
are white, but they only show during flight. At rest,
with folded wings, there is nothing peculiar about the
colouring of this animal.

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Hunters and Hunted

A Central and South American bat is silvery grey in
colour, but its unusual hue is easily accounted for by the
fact that, when at rest, it clings to the under sides of the
coco-nut palm leaves, with which it harmonises to a
remarkable degree.

Most curious bat of all is a bat hailing from Africa. It
is curious in habit, unusual in colouring and remarkable
in the manner of its colouring. It possesses the very
unbatlike habit of hunting its prey, which consists of
grasshoppers, etc., by day. Its fur is dark, but, in order
that it may not be so conspicuous, and may be rendered
more like a butterfly than otherwise would be the case, it
dyes its fur, just before it makes a flight, in the following
curious manner. On its rump there is a gland from
which it can and does eject an orange-coloured powder ;
this powder is sticky and adheres to its fur so thoroughly
that the creature is, in this extraordinary manner, changed
from a dark-coloured to an orange-coloured bat.

One would think that the sloth would fall an easy prey
to animals searching for a tasty meal. Of this animal it
has been said : " One cannot look at the creature without
thinking that Nature has but poorly equipped it to live
in this murderous world. Its countenance is a picture of
complete and far-reaching stupidity, its bodily form the
acme of four-footed helplessness. It can neither fight,
hide, nor run away. It has no defensive armour, not even
spines. It is too large to live in a hole in a tree, and too
weak to dig or burrow in the earth. It is too tired to
walk on its feet, as the monkeys do, so throughout its
queer life it hangs underneath the branches of the trees
in which it finds its food."

The great naturalist BufYon was even more downright
in his description of these animals, of which he said : " One
more defect and they could not have existed." How,
then, does so inert an animal manage to evade its
enemies? By growing green algae on its fur and thus
closely resembling the trees in which it dwells, even to a

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Hunters and Hunted

dark oval mark in the centre of its back, which resembles
the end of a broken branch. Of the animals which defend
themselves against their enemies by giving off foul-
smelling liquids, the most notorious is the conspicuously
marked American skunk.

One might reasonably imagine that such a huge beast
as the cachalot whale, commonly seventy feet in length,
would be free from the awkward attentions of the creatures
which share its watery home. Yet even the whale has
its enemies, which are usually wise enough not to attack
him singly. A combat between a sword-fish and two
killers is recorded in The .Romance of the Animal World
by the late Mr Edmund Selous. The sword-fish first
attacked the whale, aiming for his heart ; the whale
avoided the blow and, with a deftness remarkable in so
large a beast, caught his adversary in his mouth and bit
him completely in half. The two killers then joined in
the attack, but the cachalot, with a mighty blow of its
tail, stretched one of them dead on the surface of the sea ;
the other killer sought safety in flight, pursued by his
mighty adversary.

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BEAVERS TREE FELLING

When the tree is about to fall the beavers make a dash for the water to escape the un-
welcome attentions of their foes, which will be attracted to the spot by the crash of the
falling tree.

CHAPTER XVII

ENGINEERS

THERE are certain animals which have justly earned the
title of engineers. The most noted of these ingenious
beasts is undoubtedly the beaver, once common in this
country, but now, alas ! not only a stranger to our land
but rapidly becoming extinct in its last remaining strong-
holds. In Yorkshire the beaver once held sway, and the
city of Beverley is so named on account of its association
with these animals. Other towns bear witness in the
same manner to the fact that beavers were once common
in their neighbourhoods.

Of the two species of beaver, the European is rapidly
becoming extinct, and the North American will assuredly
enter the list of the beasts that have been, before the world
is many years older. There are no quadrupeds more
social than these ; others, it is true, live together in large
communities, the prairie dogs, rabbits, wolves, peccaries,
but none work for the benefit of the whole community as
do the beavers.

That we may better understand the reason for the
beaver's activities, let us examine the creature himself for
a moment. His compact fur, his webbed feet and paddle
tail are all adaptations for a life in the water, and, as
we shall see, all the beaver's energies are devoted to an
attempt to provide himself with water, the element he
loves so well. It is customary for the beaver to dwelPin
a village, a village of huts built by himself and his relatives.
Sometimes beavers are found dwelling alone ; they are
lazy individuals who have been driven out of some village
by their more industrious fellows. In each hut there are
usually about six individuals, father, mother and children.

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Engineers

When the latter are three years old they forsake their family
home and set up housekeeping on their own account.
Sometimes, however, the village becomes overcrowded ;
then the older members of the community migrate to
another spot, leaving the youngsters in sole possession of
the abandoned huts.

The engineering proclivities of the beavers are directed
to the building of huts, or lodges, as they are termed, and
to the construction of dams. The lodges are of three
kinds, according to their situation, but, in general, they
may be considered as dome-shaped coverings to one end
of their burrows. The dams hold back the water of the
streams in whose vicinity the lodges are built, and there
is good reason for their construction, as we shall show
later, quite apart from the fact that the beaver always
prefers swimming in water to walking on land, so much
so that water is an absolute necessity for him.

The building of the beaver's dam is one of the most in-
genious performances in the whole of the animal kingdom.
In the first place, trees must be felled, and the beaver is no
mean woodman. Provided with chisel-like teeth^ he has
no difficulty in gnawing the hardest wood, and this he
proceeds to do by sitting on his haunches and cutting a
deep groove right round the tree. As he gnaws the groove
deeper and deeper, so he widens it, till, eventually, the tree
is given a waist. This stage of the operations is an
anxious one for the beaver and the subject of considerable
thought. He has no wish to be injured by the falling tree.
With wonderful instinct he divines on which side the tree
is likely to fall, so, from the safe side, he gives a few deep
bites and the tree is felled.

When once this part of the work is completed the
beaver loses no time in cutting the timber into logs about
a yard in length, gnawing the wood just as he did when
felling the tree, with the result that the logs, when cut,
have rounded or almost pointed ends. All these logs are
used in the construction of the dam, and the design of this

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Engineers

structure varies according to the force of the current in
the stream to be dammed. When the stream is slow-
running the dam is built straight across from bank to
bank ; in faster-running streams the dam is somewhat
V-shaped against the stream to break the force of the
water.

The dams vary in size from quite insignificant little
structures to solid masonry, two to three hundred yards
in length and ten or a dozen feet thick. The first care of
the little engineers is to remove all the bark from the
felled logs ; this is hidden away in safe keeping and serves
as food when other provender is scarce. The bare logs
are carried by the beavers to the bed of the stream and
there they are covered with mud and stones. Hundreds
of logs are used, all of them being laid horizontally
beneath the water, and rendered more secure by having
slender branches from the felled trees twined round them.
Mud, logs and branches form a barrier which effectually
stems the current and maintains the water at a constant
level. In addition, much floating material, carried down
by the stream, is arrested by the dam and adds to its
stability.

The reason of all this activity is not far to seek when
we examine a beaver lodge. Now the lodge, as we have
said, covers one entrance to the beaver's burrow ; the other
end opens into the water some distance below its surface.
We can easily realise the importance to the beaver of
always having the water at constant level. Should the
height of the water vary, it is likely that, in dry weather,
the normally sub-aquatic entrance to the burrow would
become exposed and thus form an open invitation to all
and sundry to enter the lodge.

Again, the country inhabited by beavers is cold in the
extreme at certain periods of the year. The streams
freeze, so that, if its inmates are to have free access to
their lodges, it is highly essential that the entrances
should not be frozen, and this is brought about by their

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Engineers

being well below the water-level — usually about four feet
below.

The lodges are roughly constructed of twigs, branches
and logs piled higgledy-piggledy and plastered freely
with mud. In outline these structures are nearly circular
and in elevation dome-shaped, the diameter being twice
the height as a rule. The inside of this dome-shaped
home measures about six feet in diameter and three feet
in height ; a generous store of grass forms the comfortable
lining. From time to time the lodges are enlarged ; the
wood of which they are constructed decays with the
passage of time and is removed from the inside by
the beavers and additions to compensate for its loss are
made on the outside. These lodges are mainly used as
winter homes ; in the summer most of the colony spend
their time swimming about in the neighbouring streams.

The musquash or musk-rat, another North American
animal, is not unlike its relative the beaver in habits,
though as an engineer it is not nearly so ingenious. A
dweller by streams and ponds, the musquash, like the
beaver, is by instinct a burrower, and his burrows are much
more complicated than those of his cousin. In the bank
of some stream the musquash tunnels freely ; the mouth
of each tunnel opens below water ; many of them are very
long, often as much as sixty feet, and all of them slope
gently upwards to open into a common chamber, which v
forms the musk-rat's dwelling-room.

The huts which these animals build are merely huge
piles of grass and other vegetation, from three to four feet
in height, to which the owners have access by burrowing
an opening into them. The outsides of these heaps of
vegetation are freely plastered with mud ; inside, the
musquash spends the colder months of the year, eating
away the walls of his residence meanwhile. A musquash
hut, then, is merely a storehouse of food, within which its
owner dwells so long as the food supply lasts.

A third engineer is also, curiously enough, a native of

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Engi

ineers

North America. We refer to the moose or elk. Although
this animal is the largest of the deer, it is not without its
enemies. During the summer and in the depth of winter
the moose is well able to take care of itself. It is powerfully
built, with massive .horns and a gait which carries it over
the ground at no mean pace.

At the end of the winter, when the thaw sets in, this
enormous deer must make provision against its enemies ;
its very size and weight are disadvantageous, for at every
step it sinks knee-deep into the soft snow. The time has
arrived for the moose to build a "yard," which consists
of a rampart of snow, sometimes four or five miles in
diameter, within which the snow is trodden down in a
series of paths which form a veritable network running
in all directions. Inside the "yard" the herd of moose
dwell in perfect safety till the winter snows have passed
and -warmer weather sets the animals free from their
enforced confinement.

205

CHAPTER XVIII

SAPPERS AND MINERS

VAST numbers of the world's quadrupeds are, by pro-
fession, sappers and miners. Examples of four-footed
beasts which go to earth are to be found everywhere.
One cannot take a stroll into the country in any part of
Britain without encountering the work of some energetic
burrower.

Of all the dwellers in darkness none is more adept in
his work than the mole, none better adapted for the
life he leads. Practically devoid of sight, with fore-feet
like shovels and highly developed muscles in his fore-
arms, a sharply pointed, hard nose, and a fur to which
the soil will not adhere, and of such a nature that it
cannot be rubbed the wrong way, for the reason that
there is no wrong way with the mole's fur, this little
miner is made for his job.

Let us state at once that the familiar mole-hills, so
injurious and disfiguring on farm land, are not the sites
of the mole's underground dwelling. The animal works
near the surface of the soil as a rule, so near that his
movements can be followed by watching the tremors of
the earth above him, just as one may trace the course
of a water animal, without actually seeing it, by the line
of ripples on the water. The mole-hills are simply heaps
of excavated earth which the little animal throws up to
the surface of the ground from time to time.

The mole fortress is a structure of ample dimensions,
far larger than a mole-hill at any rate, and often attaining
a diameter of three feet or so. As a rule the animal is
at little pains to conceal its habitation, an oversight that
often recoils on its own head, for the watchful farmer is

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Sappers and Miners

ever on the alert to destroy this our foremost sapper.
The mole appears to have no choice as to the kind of
soil in which he burrows, and he first digs a round cavity
a very little way below the surface, pushing the earth to
the surface as he works, through an oblique tunnel.
" When this superincumbent earth has reached an in-
convenient height another tunnel is made, sometimes
from another part of the next cavity, but more often
sideways, from the first upward tunnel. All this takes
time, and the mole meanwhile makes fresh runs from the
fortress, the seat of its labour, in various directions in
search of food. Much of the earth displaced in making
these fresh runs falls into the nest cavity, and has to be
disposed of in the same way as before. Now the tunnel
(or tunnels) leading upwards from the nest cavity becomes
longer and longer, winding round under the surface of
the growing fortress.

" The tunnels in the fortress are for two distinct purposes :
(a) Tunnels to eject earth from the nest cavity and bolt
run. These are generally in the shape of a corkscrew
ascending from the nest, and often diverging into blind
terminals, (b) Tunnels not connected directly with the
nest cavity, but traversing the fortress from runs outside
it. Through these tunnels the mole has brought the
earth to heap over the nest, and they seldom occur except
in boggy land, where the nest is of necessity near the
surface of the ground, or even in the centre of the piled-
up mound.

"The nest cavity is roughly spherical, about the size
of a large cottage loaf, and quite smooth from constant
friction and use. The nest, which completely fills the
nest cavity, is a ball of grass or leaves, or a mixture of
both. I have found a nest made entirely of dead beech
leaves, others entirely of dead oak leaves, and when it is
remembered that the material must all be brought in by
the mouth the amount of labour required can be appreci-
ated. When the nest is taken out bodily, it has to be

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Sappers and Miners

unwound (if made of grass) to find the centre. There is
never a hole apparent, and not only is the nest always
found closed when the young are within, but in all cases,
even when old and long deserted. When dry grass is
not obtainable fresh green grass is used, which soon
withers and gets dry with the heat of the mole's body.
When a nest containing young is found it is invariably
infested with fleas and mites.

" Nearly every fortress has a bolt run, by which the mole
can escape when surprised in the nest. This run leads
downwards from the bottom of the nest, and then turns
upward and out of the fortress by a tunnel of its own,
and is very rarely connected with any of the other
numerous exits of the fortress. The only fortresses that
I have seen without the bolt run have been on marshy
land, where such a tunnel would have led to water."

The mole is an energetic sapper, a plucky fighter and
a glutton. A popular writer on natural history once
pictured a mole magnified to the size of a lion, and he
visualised a beast more terrifying, more greedy and more
energetic than anything that has been seen upon the
earth ; he is, at all events, in his actual living form the
burrowing mammal.

Before we mention the animal which is usually con-
sidered to typify cunning, let us spare a little space
for the wolverine or glutton, the most cunning of al]
quadrupeds. So wily is he that to trap him is wellnigh
impossible ; he is even impertinent enough to feed upon
the trapped animals of the North American hunters.
The wolverine will also enter any temporarily vacated
homestead and remove all the portable articles to the
neighbouring brushwood. Exactly the object of so curious
a proceeding is not clear.

The fox, as befits so cunning a creature, often avails
himself of the rabbit's burrow. True, the rabbit is a
smaller animal than the fox, but he makes a wide tunnel
for his size and one which the fox can easily enlarge to

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POCKET-GOPHERS IN THEIR HOME

These peculiar creatures spend their lives underground, like the mole. The animal in the upper division
of the illustration is represented thrusting a mass of earth out of its burrow. In the lower division the
: interior of the " living-room" is shown ; the animal on the left is stretching the opening of a po:ket with
one paw while it thrusts in a fragment of potato with the other. The young pocket-gopher on the right
is eating in a characteristic attitude, the food being held between the paws. Just behind it, the opening
of the tunnel which connects the living-room with the animals' store-room may be distinguished.

Sappers and Miners

meet his needs. Being a much-persecuted beast, the fox
usually sees to it that there are several exits from his
earth, as his burrow is called ; he also provides himself
with more than one earth, so that when he is driven out
of one home he may seek another. When his home is
the result of his own labours it is usually nothing more
than a simple tunnel ; should he have purloined the
residence of some other sapper, he takes things as he finds
them, and never alters the dwelling to suit his needs.

His cousin the Arctic fox is a much more expert miner.
These foxes are of semi-social habits, crowding together
after the manner of rabbits, yet one family keeps its home
separate from its neighbour. Their burrows are always
driven deep into the earth, for the better protection of
their owners against the biting cold. At the termination
of the entrance tunnels, for there are always several of
these, is a large dwelling chamber ; from this chamber a
short tunnel leads into a smaller chamber, the nursery
for the young. Frequently the entrance tunnels are con-
nected with one another by cross borings, so that the
whole structure is exceedingly complex.

After the mole our greatest native sapper is undoubtedly
the badger, formerly, and still in some parts, known as
the brock, hence the names Brockenhurst, Brockley and
a few others. The badger is shy ; he rarely ventures forth
by day, though we have seen him in playful mood towards
evening in a little-frequented part of Yorkshire. As we
have noted with our other sappers, the badger's dwelling
contains several exits ; half-a-dozen or more are not
uncommon. Some of these side tunnels, it is presumed,
are built for ventilation purposes ; at any rate the badger
rarely makes use of more than two or three of the many
ways into his home. Each entrance is widely separated
from the others, each tunnel may extend as far as thirty
feet, and all the tunnels meet in a common chamber five
or six feet below ground-level. That some of the tunnels
are simply air-shafts is rendered more probable by the
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Sappers and Miners

fact that some of them lead vertically upwards to the
open air.

By far the commonest of our British burrowers is the
rabbit. His home is too well known, and he himself is
so familiar, that there is little need to describe his work
in any detail. Like the Arctic fox we have just mentioned,
and the prairie dog we are about to describe, the rabbit
is of social habits. Their warrens are formed in any spot
where the soil is suitable for digging, and where they
have a reasonable chance of being unmolested. The
home of this common animal comprises a living chamber
in which the young are reared and, approaching thereto,
is a veritable labyrinth of tunnels, the inevitable bolt hole
never being omitted.

The prairie dog, which, by the way, is not a dog, but
is so called on account of its peculiar little yelp, dwells
with its friends and relations in a village. A village, be
it said, is merely a warren, a plot of land riddled in every
direction by the tunnels of these little creatures, and
altered in appearance by the earth mounds which they
throw up at the mouths of their burrows.

The work of the prairie dog is not carried out at
haphazard, as is apparently the case with the common
fox and the rabbit, but is modelled on a definite plan.
Each burrow enters the earth at an angle of about forty-
five degrees and runs downwards for five feet or more ;
then it turns suddenly almost at a right angle and ends
in a chamber, the home of the prairie dog, which is often
shared by the burrowing owl and the rattlesnake, to the
undoing of the young prairie dogs. Usually there is a
bolt hole, but not invariably. Well-worn paths run
from the entrance of one burrow to another, for the
" dogs " are very sociable and constantly visit one another.

Their villages cover enormous areas in the arid wastes
of North America ; in fact these animals can live in
districts absolutely devoid of water. Towards autumn
all is quiet in the village, the little yelping sentinels,

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Sappers and Miners

which have perched themselves on the tops of their
mounds, ready to give the alarm signal to the rest of the
villagers, throughout the hot summer months, are gone,
and each prairie dog family has closed its front door and
retired to the inmost recesses of its burrow to enjoy a
long winter sleep.

Another expert North American miner is the natty little
chipping squirrel, so called on account of its odd little
cry. Its burrow is of the most complicated description.
For a yard or so it ascends perpendicularly and then turns
upwards, winding about in a sinuous manner. At the end
of this winding underground pathway there is a chamber
which is at once living-room and nursery, for here the
mother squirrel constructs her warm, comfortable nest of
dried leaves. From the main burrow several galleries
are run ; some to serve as means of escape from possible
enemies, others to form layers in which the little creature
may store up food for some future day. Although the
squirrel is a tiny creature, it is an ardent food hoarder, and
in one larder were discovered " two quarts of buckwheat,
some grass seeds, nearly a peck of acorns, some Indian
corn and a quart of braked nuts" (a species of beech-
mast).

The habit of building sinuous tunnels is one not easily
explained ; sometimes force of circumstances, in the shape
of a large stone or a tree root, will compel a burrowing
animal to deviate from its course. Often, however, these
animal sappers will make winding burrows when there is
nothing apparently to prevent them from going straight
ahead. Such a miner is the duckbill of Australia, most
anomalous of animals from that land of animal anomalies.

The duckbill is possessed of a bill like a duck, its name
tells us as much, and feet strangely resembling that bird's ;
moreover, it lays eggs ; yet withal it is a mammal. As
might be guessed from an inspection of its strongly webbed
feet, the duckbill is an expert swimmer and as such makes
its burrows in the bank of some favoured stream. To

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Sappers and Miners

every duckbill burrow there are two entrances, one above
and one below the water-level. The former is always situ-
ated beneath a clump of vegetation, so that detection is
wellnigh impossible. From below the water the tunnel
ascends at a fairly sharp angle, but it winds hither and
thither through the soil of the river bank and in all is
many feet in length. It terminates in a broad oval
chamber, which is well stocked with dried grasses. The
young duckbills remain in their underground nursery till
they are more than half grown, and it is lucky for them
that their parents will tend them so long, for they are
helpless little creatures.

The majority of miners mine for the express purpose of
setting up housekeeping below ground. The mole com-
bines this peaceful avocation with underground hunting
expeditions, for he will tunnel hither and thither in search
of succulent worms. The curious little North American
pocket-gopher combines domestic affairs with the search
for food, but, being a vegetarian, his methods are rather
different to those of the mole. This little miner is fond of
the roots of plants, and much of his burrowing is con-
ducted with the express object of satisfying his craving,
which he is enabled to do, as he meets with various roots
during his underground travels.

The four paws of the pocket-gopher are strong, large
and armed with formidable claws ; they are, in short, ad-
mirable digging tools. The most remarkable fact about
the structure of these little creatures is their possession
of a roomy, fur-lined pouch on either cheek. We have
said that the pocket-gopher mines below ground in search
of tree roots ; in doing so he keeps about a foot below the
surface. In his wanderings it is only natural that, sooner
or later, he will encounter the labyrinth of roots belonging
to some tree. This is just the spot he likes for his nest.

To tunnel downwards beneath this shelter for a depth
of five feet or so below the ground-level is the work of a
very short space of time for such a powerful sapper. At

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Sappers and Miners

the end of this tunnel a large chamber is built and in it
the nest of dried grass is constructed.

A second passage leads from the nursery to the larder,
which the pocket-gopher always keeps well rilled. Powerful
as are the fore-feet of this little animal, its teeth are also
brought into play when it is mining ; they are made to
serve as a pick to loosen the earth. " At the same time
the fore-feet are kept in active operation, both in digging
and in pressing the earth back under the body, and the
hind feet are also used in moving it still further back-
wards. When a sufficient quantity has accumulated
behind the animal, he, immediately turns in the burrow,
and by bringing the wrists together under the chin with
the palm of the hands held vertically, forces himself along
by the hind feet, pushing the earth out in front. When
an opening in the tunnel is re.ached, the earth is discharged
through it, forming a little hillock."

Concerning the use of the cheek pouches Dr Merriam
thus describes the behaviour of a captive pocket-gopher :
" After satisfying the immediate demands of hunger, it was
his practice to fill one or both cheek pouches. His motions
were so swift that it was exceedingly difficult to follow them
with sufficient exactness to see just how the operation
was performed. If a potato was given him, or a piece too
large to go into the pouch, he invariably grasped it between
the fore-paws, and proceeded to pry off a small piece with
the large lower incisors. He would then raise himself
slightly on his hind legs and hold the fragment between
his fore-paws while eating, for he usually ate a certain
quantity before putting any into the pouches.

" As a rule one pouch is filled at a time, though not
always, and the hand of the same side was used to push
the food in. The usual course is as follows : A piece of
potato, root, or other food is seized between the incisor
teeth, and immediately transferred to the fore-paws. The
piece is then rapidly passed across the face with a sort of
wiping motion, which forces it into the open mouth of the

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Sappers and Miners

pouch. Sometimes a single rapid stroke with one hand
is sufficient ; at other times both hands are used, particu-
larly if the piece is large. In such cases the long claws
of one hand are used to draw down the lower side of the
opening, while the food is poked in with the other.

" The most remarkable thing connected with the use of
the pouches is the way they are emptied. The fore-feet
are brought back simultaneously along the sides of the
head until they reach a point opposite the hinder end of
the pouches ; they are then pressed firmly against the
head and carried rapidly forward. In this way the contents
of the pouches are promptly deposited in front of the
animal. Sometimes several strokes are necessary. I
have never seen them emptied in any other way."

214

CHAPTER XIX

NEST-BUILDERS

QUADRUPEDS are not, generally speaking, proficient nest-
builders. Perhaps we unconsciously compare their efforts
with those of the birds, who, as architects, are beyond
compare. Frequently the four-footed nest-builders are
more interesting in the methods they employ for building
their nests than in the results they obtain. A builder of
this type is the pencilled bettong or brush-tailed rat
kangaroo, a native of Australia. About the size of a
hare, with a tail nearly a foot in length and tufted at the
end, this pretty brown kangaroo rat is an ingenious
architect.

Let us not run away with the idea that quadrupeds or
birds, when about to build, select a site at haphazard.
We have mentioned the diligent search of the reed-
warbler in its attempts to find a suitable clump of reeds
for the foundation of its nest, also we noted the anxiety of
the golden oriole that all should be well. Probably all
builders, furred and feathered, give more thought to the
matter than we might surmise ; certainly the brush-tailed
rat kangaroo hunts high and low to find a hollow in the
ground near a high tuft of vegetation, for this is the kind
of spot it loves so well. A suitable depression having
been found, the little animal proceeds to roof it over with
grass and leaves, which it is often compelled to carry from
a distance. Having wandered from her home to collect
nest-building material, the little animal gathers together
what she requires, rolls it into a bundle with her tail and,
wrapping it tightly round her burden, hops away with it
to her nesting site.

Now this crude nest may be used for a dual purpose, as

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Nest-Builders

a home for the upbringing of the young and as a resting-
place for the adults ; the former is probably the chief
object of its construction. The brush-tailed rat kangaroos
are nocturnal in their habits, and they spend the hours of
light within their nest, after having carefully closed the
entrance, by means of a tuft of grass, before retiring to
rest. Their little homes are very difficult to detect, built
as they are amongst long herbage and never, by any
chance, being situated at a higher level than the surround-
ing vegetation.

Another Australian nest-building quadruped is the
rabbit-eared bandicoot. About the size of a rabbit, with
long, broad ears and hind legs of such a length that its
gait is awkward, yet it cannot leap like the kangaroo.
The rabbit-eared bandicoot is one of the oddities of nature.
It frequents ground broken by scattered tufts of vegeta-
tion, just the districts favoured by the rat kangaroos, and
the nests of the two animals are very similar. If any-
thing, the bandicoot is the more adept at concealing its
abode.

A far more proficient architect than either the bandicoot
or the rat kangaroo is our little harvest mouse. This
diminutive creature is one of the smallest quadrupeds
known, weighing, when full grown, little more than
a sixth of an ounce. He is a familiar object of wheat-
fields with his rich red-brown coat, which gives place to
clear white below.

The nest of the harvest mouse is an elegant and com-
fortable structure ; the materials of which it is composed
may be wool, rags, hair, moss or feathers, though, usually,
the little builder looks no further for its nesting material
than the grass and leaves amongst which its nest is
suspended. These leaves it plaits and weaves with con-
summate skill, tearing the broader leaves lengthways, that
they may better be used in its scheme of nest construction.
The completed nest is a little larger than a cricket ball,
of similar shape and beautifully neat and compact ; its

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BUILDING A HOME

The brush-tailed rat-kangaroos carry the grass for building their nests by means of their
prehensile tails. Their appearance when leaping over the ground bearing a little sheaf in
this manner is exceedingly grotesque and amusing.

Nest-Builders

hollow interior is lined with vegetable down or some other
soft material.

When the nest is temporarily untenanted or contains
young ones which the mother has left, for the time being,
to their own devices, there is apparently no entrance, for
the reason that the little door of the nest is covered, by
the mother mouse, with grass or with whatever material
is used in the construction of the nest. The trim little
sphere is usually attached to stout grass stems or to wheat,
occasionally even the branches of a low shrub or the leaf
stalks of a thistle may act as a support, but always the
nest is placed at some height from the ground. The
little mice are good climbers and very active, as may be
gathered from the fact that they gain a livelihood by
capturing bumble-bees and insects of the like kind.
Though so exquisite a nest-builder, the little harvest
mouse spends its winter in a hole below ground.

Squirrels' nests, mainly by reason of their larger size,
are better known than the more finished home of the
harvest mouse. Though apparently roughly constructed,
closer inspection will show that the squirrel deftly weaves
together the twigs, leaves, grass and pieces of bark of
which its nest is composed. Moss and leaves form the
lining, and the whole structure is roughly spherical in
shape, with an opening at the side. The roof of the nest,
despite its apparent flimsiness, is absolutely rain-proof.
It is a peculiarity of squirrels that they build more than
one nest at a time, with what object it is not quite
clear. Should, however, the inhabited nest be disturbed
whilst tenanted by the young squirrels, the mother
promptly removes them one by one, in her mouth, to one
of the other nests, which may be nothing more or less
than a converted magpie's nest.

The dormouse is a very neat little nest-builder.
Selecting a site in some shady bush, the industrious little
creature gathers together a store of dried grass and leaves
for the construction of its home. The completed structure

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Nest-Builders

is oval in shape and so deftly concealed is the entrance
hole that it is impossible for the inexperienced eye to
find it. Seeing that the dormouse sleeps for the greater
part of the day — his name implies that he is a sleeper —
he probably pays very special attention to his nest, that
enemies may not fall upon him during his siesta. The
dome of the nest is constructed loosely of interlaced grass
leaves ; the lower half of the nest is made of finer grass,
and very special care is bestowed upon its weaving ; often,
indeed, these fine grasses are bound together with the
stems of climbing plants. The door which covers the
entrance to the nest is formed of grass leaves, ingeniously
arranged to exclude intruders.

The short-tailed field-mouse builds a summer nest
which is deserving of a few words. Placed on the
ground in a little hollow in the earth, and usually
hidden by a clump of grass or other herbage, it is
by no means easy to find. The building material is
grass, nibbled into small pieces and shredded, so that
it appears like flax or some similar fibre. Of door to
the nest there simply appears to be none, so skilfully
is it concealed.

The common mouse is not so particular as its relatives ;
it will build in the most unlikely places ; no situation,
no material comes amiss to him. His natural building
material consists of dried grasses. In his semi-domesticated
state he will make use of paper, string, material of all
kinds and even dress clothes, as the author can testify
to his cost. The nests are placed in drawers, bottles,
upturned flower-pots and the like ; even the homely loaf
of bread does not come amiss ; in fact there is an authentic
record of such a site being selected. A newly baked loaf
of bread was put away and, on the following day, a hole
was observed in the loaf. Further examination revealed
the fact that a mouse had built a nest of paper therein,
and deposited a number of youngsters. Incredibly quick
work for the loaf to cool, the cavity to be eaten away, the

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Nest-Builders

paper nest to be built and the young to be born — all in
the space of thirty-six hours !

The man-like apes are all crude nest-builders, but in no
case can they be considered as permanent structures ; in
fact, when the food supply of the district is running short
a move is usually made to another district and a new nest
is built. The chimpanzee builds his nest of branches,
which he bends and breaks to suit his purpose and inter-
twines them so that they form a fairly substantial platform,
usually about twenty-five feet from the ground. Report has
it that the male does not share the nest with his mate, but
that he rests on a branch below, where, at anyrate, he
finds shelter from the tropical rains.

Another kind of chimpanzee builds a more elaborate
nest, if it can be called a nest, by tying twigs and branches
to the trunk of a tree by means of the stems of creepers.
This structure merely forms a shelter from the inclement
weather and the apes themselves rest on a branch beneath
their building. Males and females have separate shelters,
and in neither case will they build in a tree which has
any branches near the ground, their choice of tree being
prompted no doubt by the probability or otherwise of
some enemy ascending. Immediately the shelter fails to
keep out the rain another is built.

The orang-outang is no better nest-builder than his
cousins. He simply makes a platform of small branches,
laid side by side, after having been bent double in the middle.
To make his nest more comfortable he gathers leaves to
upholster his couch. Not so very long ago the orang-
outang in the London Zoo escaped from his cage. He
promptly took up his abode in the nearest tree and all
attempts to dislodge him failed. While enjoying his
temporary freedom he was by no means idle, for he
tore the branches from the tree and, bending them
in characteristic manner, built for himself a nest on
which he took his ease and from which he surveyed
the world at large, till hunger forced him to come to

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Nest-Builders

the ground, when he was captured and once more made a
prisoner.

Whether the gorilla does or does not construct a nest
is a moot point. By some observers he is said to build a
nest of reeds and moss, not far from the ground or even
upon it, and to guard it whilst the female and her young
rest upon it.

220

CHAPTER XX

SEASONAL CHANGES

" A LIVING animal is almost always either acting upon its
surroundings or being acted upon by them, and life is the
relation between two variables — a changeful organism
and a changeful environment." We ought, therefore, to
consider animals in relation to their surroundings. A
very slight acquaintance with nature will show us that
there are certain changes which may be ascribed to the
cycle of the seasons. The shedding of their antlers by
deer, the courting plumage of birds, the winter coats of
the ermine and mountain hare, the hibernation of the
dormouse are one and all due to outside influence. The
seasons bring with them, in the main, changes of tempera-
ture, heat and cold alternate, and these variations in
temperature have their direct effect on animal life. In-
directly animals feel the changes of the seasons ; at
certain periods food is scarce, at others plentiful. Other
externals besides the effects of the seasons play their
parts in moulding the lives of the creatures of the earth.

Changes of temperature have very marked effects upon
most living beings. Some of these effects are obvious, as,
for instance, the assumption of white plumage by the
ptarmigan, and the paling of the fur of the variable hare
or of the stoat. Sometimes these effects are not so obvious
and can only be determined by experiment similar to that
of Maupas, who experimented with a single-celled animal,
one of the lowest in the animal kingdom.

Let us hasten to explain that these lowly creatures
increase by dividing themselves into two parts, each half
forming a new individual. Now Maupas found that the
particular organism in which he was interested divided

221

Seasonal Changes

once a day, when the temperature of the water in which
it lived was between 7°-io°C. ; with an increase of
temperature to io°-i5°C. division occurred twice a day ;
at I5°-20°C. thrice; at 2O°-24°C. four times, and at
24°-27°C. five times. At the last temperature one
individual in four days became the father of a million,
in six days of a billion, in seven days of one hundred
billions, weighing one hundred kilogrammes. In short,
cold lessens vitality ; its usual accompaniment also is a
reduced food supply.

Nowhere in the animal kingdom can the combined
influence of warmth and plentiful food, as opposed to cold
and a deficient food supply, be studied to more advantage
than in the case of the green-flies or aphides. In the
summer, when the weather is warm and food abundant,
these creatures multiply in a phenomenal manner and at
an extroardinary rate. All the individuals are females
and bring forth their young without the aid of males — the
most rapid form of animal increase. Every few hours, for
days on end, the mother aphis produces her young. So
astonishingly rapid is the increase that, accidents apart —
that is to say, if all her offspring survived — she would
be at the end of one year the mother of a family whose
combined weight would more than equal that of
500,000,000 men.

With the advent of winter, food becomes scarce and the
temperature is reduced ; as a result, males appear and the
birth-rate is reduced so rapidly that, were the aphides
but human, columns would be written in the newspapers
suggesting wild remedies and drawing attention to the
serious state of affairs. But the return of summer sets
the ball rolling again for the aphides ; in fact, certain
specimens which were kept in a greenhouse, with plenty
of warmth and abundance of food, never slackened their
family affairs for a single day during a period of four
years.

The question of food supply is a very important one

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Seasonal Changes

to all animals from the highest to the lowest. Ill-nurtured
humans are often small and stunted, and the same is the
case with the lower animals. An insect which in its larval
stage has had little or unsuitable food, will produce an
adult considerably smaller in size than another insect of
the same kind which has been fortunate enough to find
abundant food. There are special cases, however, where
fasting appears to do no harm, and other cases where it
seems necessary. All the parasitic insects which are
nourished upon blood can fast for extraordinarily long
periods without food ; fleas, ticks and the like can fast
for months, and in extreme cases for years, without a bite,
and this is a very wise provision of Nature, for the special
food of these creatures is not always easy to obtain. At
certain periods in the lives of some animals fasting is
necessary, as witness the chrysalis, which never eats, and
the tadpole, which fasts before it becomes a frog.

Winter, again, with its concomitant cold, is a season of
fasting for many animals. The hedgehog and the dor-
mouse, to quote common examples, simply curl themselves
up in some well-prepared hiding-place and enter into a
long sleep, till sunny skies call them once more to activity
and food. During hibernation, as this winter sleep is
called, many of the ordinary functions of the body are
in abeyance, and others occur at a very much lower rate
than is usual. The long rest takes place at the expense
of stored-up fat in the tissues, for most hibernating
animals are decidedly plump before their winter's sleep,
and somewhat emaciated when they make their re-
appearance.

That not only the quantity but the quality of food has
a marked effect upon animals is a well-known fact. It is
shown clearly in the case of canaries which are artificially
fed upon food containing cayenne pepper. The result
of this feeding is to produce birds with orange-coloured
instead of the usual lemon-coloured feathers. With the
seasons, again, many animals change their diet rather

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Seasonal Changes

than starve, The herring-gull leads an agricultural life
during the summer, feeding upon any cereals he can find ;
in the winter, when grain is at a premium, he returns to
his diet of fish.

The effects of light cannot altogether be dissociated
from the changes of the seasons. In winter the light is
much less intense than it is in summer, as every photog-
rapher knows. To attempt to trace the subtle changes
which take place owing to the reduced power of the
light in winter or its increase in summer would be beyond
the scope of our pages, but that light does affect animal
life we propose to show. The colouring of the common
sole or plaice or flounder is well known to everyone ; every
fish shop in the country can show samples with which we
may refresh our memories. Sand-coloured above, white
or nearly so below is a description, a rough description
certainly, which applies equally well to all three.

On the upper surface of these flat fish a certain amount
of light falls, even in the ocean depths ; their under sides
for the greater part of the day lie on the sand, and are
not exposed to light, and that is the reason they are
white. Now early in its career not one of these flat fish
is flat. The statement sounds Irish, but it is none the less
true. The plaice, for example, when young is an ordinary-
looking fish, with one eye on either side, and it swims in
the usual fish manner. As it attains maturity it becomes
flattened, the side that is to be the lower grows paler and
paler in colour and, most remarkable change of all, the
eye that has appeared in danger of becoming useless
owing to its position below the fish gradually grows
round to the upper surface.

But all this is by the way ; we are only concerned with
the effects of light. Experiments have been carried out
with flounders which, instead of being permitted to rest
upon the sand, as is their habit, have been illuminated
from below by means of mirrors, with the result that their
under sides assumed the duller hues of the upper sides.

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Seasonal Changes

Fishes kept in the dark will eventually become colourless,
if they survive the ordeal, as many of them will. Many
creatures live normally in dark caves where not a ray of
light ever reaches them ; such an animal is the proteus, a
salamander from the caves of Dalmatia. In colour it is
a very delicate pink — in reality it is white, but its blood
gives it a pink hue. Now when the proteus is brought
into the light it gradually turns black ; moreover, such
specimens produce black young.

External influences, not directly due to changes of
season, may, naturally, effect animal life. As proof of
this statement there is a familiar and easily performed
little experiment which anyone may try. The common
tadpole, as everyone knows, will, under normal conditions,
develop into a frog ; in doing so it loses its feathery gills
and abandons its purely aquatic life, becoming an air-
breathing creature and more or less terrestrial. If, how-
ever, perforated zinc or some similar material be placed
just below the surface of the water in which the tadpoles
live, in such a manner that they are prevented from coming
to the surface, they will retain their gills and continue to
grow for two or three years, growing in that time into
veritable tadpole giants.

Now there is a most extraordinary relative of the frog
which is blessed with two names ; it is sometimes called
the axolotl and sometimes the amblystoma. It came
by its two names quite by accident, and retains them
more by courtesy than by right. The axolotl resembles
a large newt, and its home is in the North American lakes.
It has lungs and also breathing gills like a tadpole ; its
tail is large and flattened sideways. Now in the same
lakes and on their shores the amblystoma dwells ; devoid
of gills, and with a lizard-like tail, it only bears a slight
resemblance to the axolotl. As may be inferred, the
young axolotls grow into old axolotls, and the young
amblystomas into old amblystomas ; on the face of it, there
is nothing remarkable in that. But imagine the surprise
p 225

Seasonal Changes

of various naturalists when some axolotls which were
kept in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, finding their
water supply was running short, turned into amblystomas.
Then and then only was it discovered that the creatures
were one and the same, that the axolotl is simply the
larval form of the amblystoma, but withal a larval form
which has so far developed that it can reproduce its kind,
an event which is impossible in the case of the tadpoles.

The seasonal changes in certain tropical butterflies are
very marked and very remarkable, as a study of this species
in any good museum will show. That tropical insects
should have summer and winter forms is as remarkable
as is the difference between these forms. One explanation,
and a plausible one, is that the changes are due to the
still surviving efforts of the glacial epoch. During this
epoch there was perhaps only one form — the winter form.
Change of climate then produced the summer form.
In this connection it is interesting to note that by keeping
the chrysalids of these butterflies which should develop
into summer forms in artificial cold, they will emerge as
winter forms.

226

CHAPTER XXI

REPTILES

FOR some unknown reason reptiles are looked upon with
a certain amount of repulsion by most people ; as a matter
of fact, they are creatures of the greatest interest, their
habits are often strange, their beauty is frequently
dazzling. Maybe they are less ingenious than the birds
or insects, the former of which are very close relatives
of the reptiles though so dissimilar in appearance. At a
casual glance the reptiles strike one as being an incon-
gruous crew — tortoises and turtles have many points in
common certainly, but the legless snakes, the lizards and
the alligators and crocodiles make up a strange band of
animals.

The turtles, of which one species is so much in demand
by gourmands the world over, are aquatic, creatures of
the sea and of rivers. They rarely leave their watery
homes, except for the purpose of egg-laying. The food
of many of these animals consists wholly of fish, and it
is remarkable how such slow-moving, almost lethargic,
creatures, whose movements below water closely resemble
the flight of a bird, can capture agile fishes. We all
know how the domestic cat, the familiar rabbit and many
other animals are in the habit of travelling along the
same route or run day by day. Many fishes also travel
along the same route each day, and the turtle is not long
in discovering this trait of his prey. Being a cunning
creature, he partially embeds himself in the mud below
the fishes' favoured way ; the unsuspecting fishes, mis-
taking the turtle for some muddy rock, swim near by and
are instantly seized in the powerful jaws of the keen-eyed
turtle.

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Reptiles

Some of the fresh-water turtles make their meals of
frogs, and experience has taught them that their prey is
in the habit of sitting by the edge of their pond, facing
the shore, that they may snap up any insects that may
be unwary enough to settle on the plants fringing the
water. The turtles approach the frogs quietly from
behind, and seize them before they have time to regain
the deeper water, in which they would be able to make
good their escape.

Towards the middle of the summer the female turtle
devotes herself to maternal affairs. At this period she
wanders far from her beloved water until she finds a
situation where the soil is soft and muddy. In the mud
she wallows and digs in leisurely fashion till almost
buried, an operation which may occupy at least a week.
Next she lays several dozen quite round, white eggs, then,
pulling herself out of the slough by means of her powerful
fore-legs, the mud slides back from her polished shell,
leaving the eggs well covered, and her maternal duties
are at an end, for she takes no more thought of her brood.

The turtle is no fool, for he knows many tricks and
dodges. In deep water he can escape from most of his
enemies by swimming ; in shallow water he is at a dis-
advantage, so what does he do when danger threatens ?
He simply makes for the muddy bottom of his retreat
and there causes such a stir that the water becomes
cloudy and he is lost to view. As the mud particles
settle down, the turtle keeps a sharp look-out for his
enemy. Should he have taken his departure all is well ;
on the other hand, if danger be still present, he stirs up
another mud cloud and in its shelter rapidly scrambles
to another hiding-place. His action is similar to that
of the cuttle-fish under similar circumstances, though his
means of escape is effected in a different manner. Sea-
weeds grow on the backs of some turtles ; in consequence
they become akin to sea-washed rocks in appearance
and are well hidden from their enemies.

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Reptiles

The feeding habits of the edible turtle are worth
passing- notice. This creature feeds on a sea plant, and
feeds on it voraciously, but the plant grows in shallow
water and shallow water spells danger to the turtle.
Having taken his fill, therefore, the ingenious turtle chops
up more of the favoured plant with his scissor-like jaws,
and mixes the chopped pieces with mud ; this mud or
vegetable mixture is then rolled into a ball about the size
of one's head and floated out to sea to form a food supply
to which the turtle may turn in time of need.

Some tortoises live in burrows after the manner of
rabbits. The American gopher-tortoise is a case in
point ; in the dry, sandy southern states it is plentiful,
living in regular warrens. Each burrow is sharply
oblique for a yard or so, and then slopes more gently ;
at the entrance there is always a little mound of sand,
thrown up by the tortoise during its tunnelling exploits.
The end of the gopher-tortoise's burrow is a roomy
chamber lined with branches of fir-trees which have been
dragged in for food and warmth. A single pair of
tortoises inhabit each burrow, and they subsist on the
resin from the fir-trees. At nesting-time a new chamber
is formed for the reception of the eggs, not at the end of
the burrow as might have been expected, but near the
entrance.

Large numbers of these tortoises are captured by
digging holes of considerable depth just outside the
entrances to their burrows. Into these holes the un-
suspecting beasts tumble when they sally forth to take
their walks abroad. There is nothing very remarkable
about the burrows of the gopher-tortoise, but we have
mentioned them because the burrowing habit is peculiar
among these creatures, at least as a permanent institution.
Many tortoises, however, hide themselves below ground,
there the better to enjoy their winter sleep. Selecting some
soft ground, towards autumn, operations are begun. The
tortoise, as may be imagined, is not prone to hurry.

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Reptiles

Even in the softest ground it only excavates about an
inch a day, and its method of working is peculiar.
Instead of using its powerful fore-feet, as might be
guessed, it simply edges its way by a series of side-to-
side movements, till the soft earth covers its back.

The European pond tortoise is an engineer with peculiar
methods. The female lays her eggs below ground, and in
the digging of a hole for their reception she displays
considerable ingenuity. She commences by moistening
the soil with water for the purpose of rendering it soft
and easily worked ; then she stiffens her pointed tail and,
using it as an awl, makes a hole in the ground. Next
she applies her hind legs to the work and, moving them
alternately, scoops up the soil till a hole is formed of
such a depth that her legs can reach no farther ; the
excavated soil she deposits at the side of the hole. Her
next proceeding is to deposit her eggs in the cavity she
has made; no jumble of eggs will meet her needs, they
are all carefully separated and distributed in a single
layer by means of her feet. The soil is replaced over the
eggs and battened down by the mother tortoise, a feat
which she accomplishes by raising her body as high as
her stumpy legs will permit and letting it fall upon the
loose earth. By this means the ground is stamped firm
and flat. Lastly, to allay suspicion, the tortoise scratches
the surface of the soil slightly and, having done so, she
departs and leaves her eggs to their fate.

The giant tortoise is anything but a romantic-looking
individual, yet even he, despite his cold blood, has a
winning way with him when he goes courting. He walks
with slow and measured gait round and round the object
of his affections, stopping frequently so as to face the side
of her shell. Then he raises himself on high and battens
the under side of his shell against the upper surface of
hers a dozen times or more, giving vent to deep trumpet-
ing calls the while. This is called courtship, but the
resounding thumps are like the blows of a heavy mallet

230

Reptiles

or sledge-hammer and look far more ludicrous than
romantic.

Looking at the inert crocodiles in their tank at the Zoo,
or even beholding them floating like animate logs in their
native rivers, no one would guess that they, or rather
some of them, are expert nest-builders. Certain female
crocodiles, it is true, simply dig a hole in the sand, deposit
their eggs therein and cover up the cavity. Their nests,
however, are much more elaborate, and Mr Dittmar thus
describes one he discovered on the banks of the Savannah
river : " The nest consisted of a mound of water-soaked
twigs, dead masses of the hanging moss that had dropped
from the trees and other debris. The mound was about
five feet in diameter and two feet high. It contained
thirty-eight hard-shelled, white eggs three and a quarter
inches long and one and three quarters of an inch in
diameter. The eggs were collected in the middle of
August and began hatching in the first week of October.
They were deposited in two neat layers at the very bottom
of the mound. As we dug down to them the rotting
vegetable mass, scooped together by the parent, was found
to be producing a considerable heat. Of the parent there
was no sign during any part of the work of digging out
the eggs and packing the material composing the mound
into a number of bags to be shipped north."

" The American alligator is one of the few crocodilians
giving voice to a loud sound — a bellow or roar. A five-
foot specimen emits a series of sounds not unlike the
' mooing ' of a cow, though shorter and more guttural.
A ten or twelve foot specimen lets out a rattling bellow
that shakes the night air of the lagoons and may be heard
for a mile. When so performing, the males emit vapoury
jets of musk from the glands on the chin. This saturates
the surrounding humid atmosphere, then, travelling on
an indolent air current, attracts company to the solitary
bellower." This habit of attracting the opposite sex by
means of perfume is by no means peculiar to the alligator.

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Reptiles

The alligator is by no means the inert creature that he
appears. As he lies, motionless, on the surface of a South
American river, some favoured fare, maybe in the form of
a peccary, will probably be rash enough to step upon his
back. In an instant the alligator is all alert. Lashing
his tail vigorously, the unfortunate peccary is shot into the
air and good luck alone will save it from being precipitated
into the cruel jaws of the hungry crocodile.

Equally stirring are the combats which sometimes take
place between the alligators and giant anacondas, snakes
which are equally at home on land or in the water. The
combatants are often well matched and the struggles
accordingly prolonged. The anaconda uses every wile to
obtain a purchase with his tail which will enable him to
put his deadly strangle-hold upon his adversary. The
alligator, on his part, struggles to avoid such a happening,
for he seems to know instinctively that the anaconda
could and would crush in his ribs.

From alligators to lizards is not a very far cry, but there
is an interesting point about many lizards that does not
occur amongst any alligators. We refer to their very
ingenious method of escaping from their enemies by shed-
ding their tails. As a rule a lizard runs away as rapidly
as possible from danger, and danger usually arises from
some creature anxious to make a meal of the lizard. Now
lizards in general have long tails, and the tail is the most
likely part to be seized by the pursuer.

We have frequently caught lizards, or tried to do so,
and secured no more tangible prize than the reptile's tail.
For directly this organ is touched the lizard can shed it
without pain or inconvenience, just as a thief pursued by
a constable and seized by his coat might discard the
garment and make good his escape. The abandoned tail
writhes and twists and squirms in uncanny fashion in one's
fingers, then a wriggle more violent than the rest will set it
free, so that it jumps about on the ground like some weird
live thing. Should the lizard's pursuer be some animal

232

AN UNEXPECTED MEAL

The peccary stood on the alligator's tail, mistaking it for a tree trunk. In a moment the
alligator stretched its tail round like a bow almost to its side ; suddenly it let go, and whilst
the peccary thus shot up was still in mid-air, it swung its terrible tail again, and knocked its
now insensible prey almost into its own 'aws.

Reptiles

seeking a meal, its attention is diverted by this quivering,
cast-off tail, thereby helping the startled lizard to make
good its escape.

The sight of a fly walking upside down on the ceiling
leaves us cold, as the Americans say, because it is a sight
to which we are well accustomed ; a lizard, however, per-
forming the same feat would occasion some surprise, yet
it is often done by the geckos, lizards with sucker-like
fingers and toes. Let us quote a naturalist's description
of an evening in the tropics : " For the uninitiated tourist
in a tropical country there is usually an unpleasant
surprise — furnished by the venturesome geckos. One
generally anticipates an awakening of insect life with the
coming of darkness, and he is not disappointed. Swarms
of winged forms are attracted to his lamp. Great, hard-
shelled beetles enter the window with a sonorous hum
like from a distressed buzz-saw, dash against the lamp
chimney, then flounder on the floor ; moths of various
sizes dart hither and thither or whirl in dizzy gyrations
about the light ; a colony of tiny, ghost-like things dance
up and down or are instantly consumed in the flame ;
there is a continuous buzz varying in its cadence and
taxing to the nerves of any but a naturalist, when, with-
out warning, a silent grey form darts obliquely across the
wall, jumps from the vertical surface to the ceiling over
which it flies, and like a streak of light continues down
the opposite wall ; perhaps for a moment it may stop,
exhibiting a body as long as that of a small rat, glittering,
cat-like eyes and a pulsating throat. To the nervous
traveller, already annoyed by the varied hordes of insects'
forms, the apparition of these heavy but stealthy forms
darting across the ceiling over his head is weird and
startling. An attempt at capture intensifies the impression,
for the strange thing darts over the walls with the ease
of a gigantic fly. Suddenly it may scurry for the window
and away, but if the light continues to burn, others of its
kind soon appear. Thus is life in the tropics associated

233

Reptiles

with visits of geckos that enter homes in their search for
insect prey."

We can vouch for the rapidity of the geckos' movements.
Time and again we have seen them basking in the sun on
walls in Morocco and have attempted to catch them, but
so well contrived are their sucker toes that no human
hand could ever capture them as they scale some
vertical wall with the alacrity of a monkey climbing a
tree.

Not far removed from the geckos in the genealogical
tree of the animal kingdom are the horned lizards which
have acquired a habit that was long considered a myth,
but one that has now been vouched for by certain trust-
worthy observers. We cannot describe the habit as in-
genious, but it is so extraordinary that we must not over-
look it. When angered, some species of horned lizard
squirt a minute stream of blood from the corners of their
eyes. Anger puffs them up to such an extent that their
eyes literally bulge in their sockets ; then, without warn-
ing, a tiny stream of blood, as fine as a hair, shoots from
their eyes and travels a distance of at least five feet.
The why and wherefore of this strange proceeding has
never been explained.

The gila (pronounced hee-la) monster is notorious as
being the only poisonous lizard. It is an evil-looking,
obese, black and orange mottled beast, capable of dis-
playing extraordinary vivacity despite its sluggish
appearance. It claims attention in our pages by reason
of its curious larder. We have heard of animals storing
food against a rainy day, both above and below ground,
in every conceivable hiding-place, but surely the gila
monster's storehouse is the most curious of all, for it is
situated in the animal's tail. During prosperous times the
lizard is a gross feeder and its tail becomes visibly larger,
till it reaches abnormal proportions. Now desert food is
hard to find at times and the gila monster with its fat tail
is well able to overcome times of distress and want. It

234

Reptiles

can exist for months without taking a morsel of food ; it
simply draws on the reserve fat in its tail.

The most bizarre of all lizards are the chameleons. They
are tree-dwellers all and hopelessly at sea on the ground,
if we may so mix our metaphors. The chameleon leads
an apparently indolent life ; grasping some branch firmly
with its four-toed feet and steadying itself with its long
prehensile tail, it is the embodiment of immobility ex-
cept for its bulging, beady, swivel eyes. Let us examine
these eyes for a moment. They are almost uncanny in
their movements : one may look forward whilst its partner
glances backward ; now both are directed straight ahead ;
again, one surveys the sky the while the other scans the
earth ; they move as independently as a horse's ears and
are well adapted to the requirements of the immobile
chameleon, for they enable it to see in all directions
without the trouble of moving its position.

The only time that the chameleon shows any signs of
activity is when an insect settles within its reach, then the
whole scene changes in a flash. It is patent that at long
last the animal is conscious of his surroundings ; maybe he
always is so, but he rarely gives any indication of it. The
swivel eyes are directed upon the prey and for some
moments the chameleon appears lost in contemplation ;
in reality he is taking the measure of his victim. The
reptile's mouth opens, and, with a rapidity that is
astounding, his long, wire-like tongue is shot out with
unerring aim and the luckless insect is conveyed to the
reptile's mouth on the sticky end of his tongue. The
lightning flash of the chameleon's tongue must be seen to
be believed, and though the reptile is known the world
over for his colour changes, changes, by the way, which are
much exaggerated, his method of capturing active insect
prey is far more remarkable than his change of hue.

Snakes, so repulsive to most people, yet so attractive to
those who know them and have learned their habits, next
claim our attention. Many of them certainly are highly

235

Reptiles

poisonous, and in countries like India, where the natives
walk barefooted, for the most part, they take a consider-
able toll of human life. The Times of iQth September
1906 stated that " a statistical paper on India issued to-
day shows that in 1904 there were killed in that country
by snakes and wild beasts 24,034 persons — 21,880 by
snake bites, 795 by tigers, 399 by leopards and the rest by
other animals. The number of cattle killed was 98,582.

" The other side of the account shows that 65,146 snakes
and 16,121 wild animals were killed, for which rewards of
£7313 were paid."

All the poisonous snakes carry their venom in sacs at
the bases of hollow fangs, and when these fangs are
plunged into any substance, preferably, on the part of the
snake, into the flesh of some animal, the sacs are emptied
of their venom, which pours into the wound through the
hollow teeth, a case of hypodermic injection, in short, and
one from which our medical men took their cue.

Though all snakes exhibit an inordinate degree of
cunning, they can hardly be described as ingenious. Some
of them, it is true, are given to burrowing in sand, but their
engineering bent is not so highly developed as it is among
the tortoises even. The burrowing snake simply sinks its
body into soft sand by means of undulatory movements.

The hog-nosed snake possesses a degree of ingenuity
sufficient to earn him a place in our pages- — he has the
unsnake-like habit of feigning death when alarmed. Now
the hog-nosed snake is perfectly harmless, a fact which
does not prevent it from pretending to be very ferocious
when in danger, in the hope, evidently, of frightening its
enemies ; should these tactics fail, the snake rolls on his
back, opening his mouth and rolling his head from side
to side, till his jaws are covered with dust or earth, then
he remains utterly limp and motionless. He will stay
thus for a quarter of an hour or more ; but, should the
danger pass, the reptile lifts his head and surveys his
surroundings, darts out his tongue — an organ, by the way,

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Reptiles

with which snakes hear, and one in no way connected
with their venom, as is popularly supposed — then he rolls
over into his normal position and makes away as rapidly
as possible. The hog-nosed snake will not bite even if
one's finger be placed in his mouth, and he seeks to
frighten his enemies by a show of ingenious yet perfectly
harmless bluff.

Mr Dittmar relates an amusing experience he had with
one of these snakes. "While collecting in the south,"
he writes, " the writer had an amusing experience with
the negroes, this involving the hog-nosed snake. The
negroes regarded the species as exceptionally poisonous.
They had never lingered by a performing specimen long
enough to discover the habit of playing possum. On the
way to the Savannas, across a cotton-field, a big blow
adder was found crawling along a sun-baked furrow.
The writer's coloured guides and assistants shouted in
terror, urging that this kind of snake be excluded from
the collecting bags and instantly killed. They were
asked to pause, to form a large circle and witness the
writer's powers in snake hypnotism.

" The writer explained he could slay the snake by a few
waves of his hand, without touching it. Walking up to
the snake, with a few motions of the hands he convinced
the creature its hostile airs were of no use, so it soon
rolled on its back, becoming apparently lifeless. A
murmur of surprise came from the staring circle. The
writer insisted that the ' dead ' snake be passed from one
to another to convince his assistants of his powers. With
many uneasy motions, nervous laughter and shouting,
the snake was handed around by the tail. Then the
circle was told to remain perfectly quiet for a minute
more, to witness a restoration to life. This provoked a
heated argument that the serpent be permitted to remain
dead, but the hypnotist was adamantine ; he wanted a
living specimen for his collection.

"Placing the snake upon the ground, he made a few

237

Reptiles

eccentric motions, then, removing his hands, kept perfectly
quiet. Thinking danger past, the reptile rolled over,
starting away. It was caught and put into a bag. The
writer's idea had been to promote respect for himself in
a wild, almost lawless region, but the effect was too pro-
nounced. His assistants at once decided his powers of
black art were suspiciously dangerous. They dropped
away, one by one, until the ludicrous necessity was
presented of changing the location of collecting in order
to leave a bad reputation behind and secure men to
carry the snake bags."

It may not be inopportune here to give a short account
of the art of snake-charming. Maybe the ingenuity in
this case is rather on the part of the charmer than of the
charmed. Be that as it may, the performance possesses
a wellnigh hypnotic fascination for the onlbokers. We
have witnessed the performance time and again in Africa,
but it is to India that we must turn for the greatest
development of the art of snake-charming ; on that
account we make no excuse for quoting the words of an
onlooker at a Hindoo performance :

" Under the trees of a public square, the idlers gather
about a solemn Hindoo, whose shrill-toned reed has
attracted their attention. Sitting cross-legged before two
round, flat baskets, he begins a refrain upon his flute.
The music is strange and crooning, suggesting something
strange to follow. With a bamboo stick he presently
removes the covers of the baskets and several strange
apparitions arise into view from a mass of tangled bodies
within. These are specimens of the deadly cobra-de-
capello, their hoods spread widely. While the reptiles'
eyes stare with glassy monotony at the Hindoo, the
spectacle markings upon their distended necks seem to
cast ghastly grimaces upon those assembled for the exhibi-
tion. Seemingly imbued with a frenzy at the appearance
of the snakes, the performer quickens the strains upon
his flute. His body sways from side to side in time to

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Reptiles

the music, when the spectators behold the dreaded snakes
are alike swaying to the refrain. The celebrated cobra
dance is on.

" With bated breath the onlookers witness this juggling
with the serpents, when there is a sudden murmur of
horror. Sinuously gliding from one of the baskets is a
snake of oriental hues and a head so flat and cruel that
a glance would instinctively suggest its deadliness. It is
a * tic-polonga,' known among the more learned as
Russell's viper, a reptile with a fearful reputation as
regards the destruction of human life. With the same
undisturbed expression of solemn dignity, the Hindoo
quickly reaches forward and grasps this object by the
neck. With the other hand he produces a fluttering
fowl. Applying the snake's mouth to the squawking
creature, he permits the reptile to do the rest.

" There is a flash of cottony-white jaws, and the fowl is
cast upon the pavement, where it batters its wings for a
moment, then lies pulsating and dying. Before the
snakes have been again enclosed in the baskets the fowl
is dead. In silence the Hindoo gesticulates to his
observers his willingness to demonstrate as well the power
of his cobras. But there is a general shaking of heads,
the jingling of a few coins and the exhibition is over.

" To most of us comes a feeling of awe and fascination
attending the performance of a snake-charmer. In this
instance we have seen a man associating intimately with
two species of snakes that have increased the death-rate
of India about twenty thousand a year. The performer,
apparently, had perfect control over the reptiles. Thus
follows the question : Is snake-charming an art, and if so,
how is it acquired ?

" The greatest requisite of the snake-charmer is nerve ;
this must be backed by a thorough knowledge of snakes.
No hypnotism figures in the business. The handling of
poisonous snakes is a reckless performance. Not in-
frequently the snakes are 'fixed'— that is, their fangs

239

Reptiles

have been extracted. This treatment does not render
them entirely harmless ; for poison flows from the wounds
left by the extraction of the venom-conducting teeth,
and the palate and teeth of the lower jaw are liable to
produce lacerations through which the virus may join the
circulation. But it must be acknowledged that the snakes
in this condition are not so liable to bite, and if they do
there is considerably less danger.

" Well does the Hindoo know that if his cobras become
accustomed to handling and teasing, they will dance with
less energy ; so he keeps a supply of fresh and undis-
turbed serpents on hand. The cobra's natural attitude
of defence is, as has been previously explained in detail,
a rearing posture with hood spread widely. From this
position it follows with swaying motions every motion of
its aggressor. The Hindoo's swaying body elicits a like
motion on the part of the snake, as it alters its position
in aiming to strike. Thus is the dance explained. The
shrill notes of the reed appeal only to the imagination of
the spectators and, were the weird intonations to cease,
the dance would continue without interruption ; for snakes
exhibit absolutely no interest in music of any kind, an
unfortunate fact for the writers of romantic stories."

240

CHAPTER XXII

FROGS AND TOADS

INGENUITY amongst the frogs and toads is mainly
directed towards the upbringing of their young. Every-
one has seen the masses of frogs' eggs, known as spawn,
floating on the surface of stagnant ponds in our country
districts. This habit of enclosing the eggs in a jelly-like
envelope is common to nearly all frogs. Sometimes the
spawn is in a single string, resembling a rosary, sometimes
in a double string ; at other times the eggs are laid singly
but still covered with the jelly, and there are many
occasions when a froth resembling white of egg takes
the place of the jelly. In the case of a few individuals
there is no gelatinous covering.

One newt carries its eggs about with it, and as they are
large and stalked they resemble a number of toy balloons
on strings, in miniature. Another goes a step further in
the nest-building stage ; she searches about for a suitable
water plant and, having discovered one, she holds some
of the leaves together in a bunch with her legs and
deposits an egg with its sticky covering in the bunch of
vegetation. When the animal, leaving behind a single
egg, leaves the water plant there remains a rough-and-
ready "nest," composed of a gelatinous mass sticking
the leaves together, with a contained egg. The number
of eggs laid by various kinds of frogs and their allies
varies greatly; the species which mother their young
lay a reasonable number, fifteen or so at a time, but one
species has been observed to lay 28,000 eggs in ten
hours.

It may seem peculiar that the custom of enclosing the
eggs in a jelly should be so universal ; the object is
Q 241

Frogs and Toads

probably twofold — the jelly forms a food for the young
animals when they have consumed all the food in the egg,
and also the envelope acts as a protection for the eggs.
Frog spawn slips readily through the ringers ; by the same
rule it is not easily snapped up by ducks and other
creatures anxious to make a meal of such fare.

The Surinam toad is one of the most curious of all the
amphibians, a name, by the way, which does not accurately
describe our example, for it is wholly aquatic. In ordinary
times this toad is remarkable for the wart-like growths
which cover practically the whole of its body. At pairing
time, which occurs during the rainy season, the male places
the eggs, as they are laid, one by one on the back of
the female. Each egg is sticky and so adheres to the
spot where it is placed. Then a very remarkable thing
happens : the eggs gradually sink into the mother's back,
each one into a little pit which is covered by a lid. In
time, of course, the eggs hatch and each little lid is pushed
up and a young toad surveys the world from its comfort-
able resting-place on the mother's back. Thus the
mother toad spends part of her life, at anyrate, as a living
nursery.

This habit of carrying the eggs is fairly common
amongst the amphibia which do not cover their eggs
with jelly, but it is not always the mother who acts as
a nurse. A Chilian frog, described by Darwin, rivals the \
Surinam toad for eccentricity of nursing habits. Unfortun-
ately, little is known of its life history, but what is known
is sufficient to whet the appetite of any naturalist desirous
of more information. The eggs to the number of fifteen
or so are placed in the mouth of the father frog. When
the eggs are in position they are held in a peculiar sac
which grows larger and larger to suit the needs of the
growing family, till it extends from the unfortunate
animal's throat to his groin. So encumbered does the
father frog become that all his internal organs are
misplaced to make room for his young. Within the sac

242

Frogs and Toads

the eggs hatch, the tadpoles go through their develop-
ment and the young frogs come into the world at a stage
at which they can look after themselves. As we have
mentioned, much light remains to be shed upon the habits
of this frog ; no one yet knows how the eggs find their
way into the mouth of the father frog.

Another frog from Southern Brazil has very curious
nesting habits. As with most other frogs, its tadpoles live
in water, yet the eggs are never laid in that element. The
mother frog, when about to lay her eggs, displays consider-
able ingenuity in selecting a suitable spot. She ascends
a tree near some stagnant pool, a tree whose branches
overhang the water ; she climbs to one of the outer
branches and on to what she deems a suitable leaf. Then,
beginning at the tip, she clasps the edges of the leaf with
her hand-like feet and bends them over towards one
another and, at the same time, deposits an egg within
the rolled leaf. Her eggs are covered with jelly which
not only acts as a protecting envelope but sticks the leaf
edges together. Travelling from tip to base of the leaf,
folding it and laying jelly-covered eggs all the time, she
eventually abandons the leaf as a cone-shaped envelope
containing a number of eggs. When the eggs hatch,
what could be more simple than for the tadpoles to fall
into the water below, and this is what they do.

The clumsily named midwife toad is another amphibian
where the male does his duty in the rearing of the family.
This toad is very common in certain parts of the continent
of Europe, particularly in Spain and Portugal. The male
spends most of his time in a comfortable dug-out, in
a crevice in some wall, beneath some shelving stone or
even in a hole appropriated from a mouse. The female
lays her eggs in double rosary-like strings and, after they
are deposited, the male obligingly draws the egg masses
over his hind legs, much as a mere man pulls on his
unmentionables, so that the jelly-covered eggs encircle his
waist. Then he goes back to his dug-out and remains in

243

Frogs and Toads

hiding during the day ; by night he sallies forth with a dual
object, to seek food for himself and to moisten the eggs,
either in the dew or in a nearby pond. For three weeks
he is sorely hampered by his burden, a fact which does
not prevent him from taking upon himself a second batch
of eggs should occasion arise. At the end of the third
week he betakes himself to water, that the young tadpoles,
as they hatch, may find themselves in their natural
element.

Before considering the architectural capabilities of the
amphibia, let us give a moment to the peculiar antics of
the fire-bellied toad. As is well known, very many, the
majority in fact, of brightly coloured animals are distaste-
ful to eat. Dozens of examples may easily be called to
mind : robins and blister-beetles are two of the number,
and the fire-bellied toad is another. No animal will ever
touch the little creature if it knows what it is about ; but
there comes the rub, for the vivid colours of this frog, in the
shape of a scarlet waistcoat, are hidden from view when
the frog is in its normal position. Its back is very similar
in colour to that of any other toad. Well, when this
little toad is in danger, what does he do? Roll on his
back and show his red waistcoat ? Nothing so crude. He
bends his head and the hinder part of his body backwards
so as to show as much as possible of his under side ; further-
more, like the true contortionist he is, he so twists hte
arms and legs that their palms and soles, which are also
red, are facing upwards. In this strained and ludicrous
position he remains absolutely motionless till the danger
be past.

Of the burrowing amphibia the Central European spade-
foot toad is the best known. His front feet are so
modified and armed with a hard, horny sheath that they
form excellent spades. Although quite common, it is
rarely seen, owing to the fact that it only comes from its
burrow by night and is completely hidden by day.
Frequenting sandy places, it digs deep burrows, which,

244

Frogs and Toads

owing to the nature of the soil, rapidly become filled in,
so that no trace of the toad can be seen. In the day-time
one might walk over ground literally riddled with the
burrows of these toads without being aware of their
presence. Should a toad be caught, however, he will
utter a piercing little shriek and cover one's hand with
a slimy substance smelling strongly of garlic, a proceeding
which has earned this creature the name of garlic toad
in some places.

Certain South American frogs construct little mud
nests in the neighbourhood of ponds, in which they may
deposit their eggs. These structures, which vary in size
from that of a tea-cup to a foot or so in diameter, are in
reality little mud-lined ponds cut off from the main water
supply, to afford better protection for the eggs.

More ingenious is the nest of the Brazilian tree-frog,
known as the smith, on account of its vocal powers, and
we cannot do better than describe its activities in the
words of Dr Goeldi, its discoverer. " The smith," he says,
" is common in the neighbourhood of Rio de Janeiro, more
frequently still in the mountain regions of the Serra dos
Orgaos than in the hot lowland, its voice is one of the
most characteristic sounds to be heard in tropical South
America. Fancy the noise of a mallet slowly and regu-
larly beaten upon a copper plate, and you will have a
pretty good idea of the concert, given generally by several
individuals at the same time, and with slight variations
in tone and intensity. When you approach the spot
where the tree-frog sits, the sound ceases. But keep
quiet and it will be resumed after a few moments. You
will discover the frog on a grass stem, on a leaf of a low
bush or in the mud. Seize it quickly, for it is a most
wonderful jumper, and it will utter a loud and shrill, most
startling cry, somewhat similar to that of a wounded
cat."

Of its tadpole nurseries Dr Goeldi writes : " We soon
saw a mass of mud rising to the surface carried by a tree-

245

Frogs and Toads

frog, of which no more than two hands emerged. Diving
again after a moment's time, the frog brought up a second
mass of mud, near the first. This was repeated many
times, the result being the gradual erection of a circular
wall. From time to time the builder's head and front
part of its body appeared suddenly with a load of mud
on some opposite part. But what astonished us in the
highest degree was the manner in which it used its hands
for smoothing the inside of the mud wall, as would a
mason with his trowel. When the height of the wall
ruled about four inches the frog was obliged to get out
of the water. The parapet of the wall received the same
careful smoothing, but the outside was neglected. The
levelling of the bottom was obtained by the action of the
lower surface (stomach and throat principally) together
with that of the hands."

The construction of a nursery occupies one or two
nights, and the operation might be hastened did the male
lend a helping hand. After the mother frog has deposited
her eggs within the walls of the nest, both parents remain
in the vicinity to see that all goes well ; sometimes,
however, tropical rains destroy the structure and then
the tadpoles are released before they are old enough to
face the world alone.

,;. , FISHES

As fishes and amphibia are so commonly associated in
our streams and ponds, we will group them together here.
From man's point of view the fishes are of the utmost
importance ; they form one of our greatest sources of food,
but their habits are not of a nature to impress the man
in the street. For the most part fish ingenuity is confined
to nest-building and, though few of them construct nests,
those that do so exhibit a* considerable variety in their
ideas of suitable hiding-places for their eggs. The salmon
builds one of the most primitive nests of all the nest-
building fishes, for it excavates a mere hollow in the

246

Frogs and Toads

gravel beds of some clear water stream. At the other
extreme are the elaborate nests of the sticklebacks.

Two rather curious facts strike the naturalist bent on
studying the nesting habits of fishes : the fresh-water
fishes are far better architects and builders than their
sea-water relatives and it is almost invariably the male
who acts as nurse. An exception to the latter rule is
afforded by the British butter-fish, a somewhat eel-like
creature, who rolls her eggs into a ball by coiling her
body round them ; the male and female, in turn, guard
the egg mass in this manner. After a while, apparently
tiring of their cares, the fishes remove their eggs from the
sandy beds where they have lain and deposit them, in
clumps, in the holes made by the piddock, a common
shell-fish of our coasts whose activities are discussed in
another chapter.

The little gobies, sand-coloured denizens of marine
pools, go a step further in their ideas of house-building.
They select a shell — that of the limpet is often chosen, or
even the hard covering of a crab— and turn it so that the
hollow of whatever building material they have decided
upon is at the lower side ; in other words, they make a
tent of their borrowed home. From beneath this shelter
they hollow out the sand and proceed to make a circular
opening at one side. This circular opening is their front
door, but, being made of sand, it is liable to collapse at
any minute. The father goby, however, is equal to the
occasion ; he swims to and fro, in and out of his front door,
rubbing his scaly sides on his structure as he does so.
One might think that this performance on the part of the
male fish was something in the nature of an exhibition of
delight at having a home of his own ; in reality he is
covering the sand around the door with a slimy secretion
from his body. This secretion holds the sand particles
together.

The nest completed, eggs are laid on the inner side of
the roof of the shelter. The male, it must be admitted

247

Frogs and Toads

is a useful member of goby society ; he builds the nest,
repairs it when necessary, guards the eggs and sees to it
that fresh supplies of water reach them, and he does so
in this manner : near his front door he takes up his
position and, with machine-like regularity, waves his fins
so that a continuous current of water passes over his
eggs. This is a common habit with many fishes, having
as its object the prevention of stagnant water collecting
round the eggs.

The bitterling rises superior to nest-building ; it prefers
a living incubator for its eggs, in the shape of the common
pond mussel. By one of those curious coincidences
which are so common in nature that they point to a well-
ordered scheme of things, the breeding seasons of the
bitterling and pond mussel coincide. For this reason
they are able to help one another, though they certainly
do not do so wittingly.

The bitterling, be it said, lays very few eggs. Were it
as prolific as the ling, which deposits twenty-eight millions
of eggs at a sitting, it would be hard on the pond mussel,
as we shall see.

The mother bitterling deposits her eggs in the gaping
valves of a pond mussel shell ; there they remain, hatch
and pass the early stages of their development into fishes.
At the time the mother bitterling comes along it so
happens that the young pond mussels are seeking some-
one to take them abroad into the world ; they cannot go
themselves, they need someone to carry them. What
more natural, then, than that they should cling on to the
mother bitterling and be carried by her to new quarters ?
We have described the habits of these young pond
mussels elsewhere, so we need not discuss the question
here ; the advantage to the bitterling and pond mussel of
attending to their parental duties at the same time is
obvious.

The wrasses, noted as being the only fishes known to
go to sleep, lying on their sides as they do so, build

248

FROG "MASONS"

One of the largest of the Brazilian tree-frogs builds circular mud walls in the shallow
margins of ponds to protect her eggs and tadpoles. When this curious nest is completed
both parents usually remain in its vicinity and appear to keep an eye upon it.

Frogs and Toads

moderately elaborate nests in hollows of marine pools,
using shells, corals, seaweeds, etc., in their construction.

There are one or two examples of fishes which shelter
their eggs in their mouths after the manner of some toads.
Another fish, after his spouse has laid her eggs, blows from
his mouth a frothy substance, which causes the egg mass
to float upon the surface of the water ; this floating nest
he guards assiduously till the eggs hatch.

None of these builders can compare with the pugnacious
sticklebacks, which, although they excel in nest-building,
are outdone in fighting powers by a little Siamese fish
bred by the natives and kept in captivity with the special
object of showing its fighting powers. So engrossed did
the Siamese become in the sport of fish fighting that,
about seventy years ago, it was necessary to obtain a
licence to exhibit such fishes, or rather their combats. The
fighting fish of Siam were the source of very considerable
revenue to the government.

There are many species of sticklebacks and they are all
named according to the number of spines they carry on
their backs. The fifteen-spined stickleback is a common
marine fish and his three-spined brother is common in
ponds. A remarkable fact about the three-spined species
is that it may be transferred suddenly from fresh to salt
water without suffering the slightest inconvenience.

Certain fishes, the salmon and eel to wit, can also live
in fresh or salt water, but the change from one to the
other must be gradual or the fish will suffer. The stickle-
back has only one tool for the construction of his elaborate
nest, and that tool is his mouth. His first care is to fix
on a suitable spot for his nest, and having done so, the
water in the immediate neighbourhood becomes his own
property ; no aliens may come within its bounds or they
will be compelled to run the gauntlet of the plucky little
fish's spines. And they form an armament by no means
to be despised. At rest they lie almost flat on his back ;
when he is alarmed the spines are erected like bristles on

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Frogs and Toads

a dog's back. What is the object of the stickleback's
ingenuity? Why should he trouble to build such an
elaborate nest? Well, the greatest enemies of stickle-
backs are other sticklebacks, and his nest is necessary in
order to protect his wife's eggs from enemies, particularly
those of his own kind.

If a few stickleback eggs be taken from a nest and
thrown into a stream frequented by these fish "stickle-
backs rush at them from all sides and fight for them like
boys scrambling for halfpence." The male expends con-
siderable care and time in the construction of his nest ;
he selects his material to suit the locality, everything,
in fact, is done to render the nest as inconspicuous as
possible. The floor of the nest is first constructed. Pieces
of grass or water weed are brought from afar and laid
down with the utmost care on the bed of the stream.
Piece by piece they are placed in position, not at hap-
hazard, but interlacing with one another so as to form a
smooth fabric.

When his weaving is finished the father fish gives off a
sticky substance from his kidneys which sticks the woven
plants together; then he places little pebbles upon the
structure to prevent it from rising to the surface of the
stream. Next he turns his attention to the sides of his
nest and, little by little, builds up an arch over his closely
woven carpet. The completed nest somewhat resembles
a lady's muff, except that the opening on one side is
smaller than it is on the other. Beautifully smooth and
well finished inside, it is rough and unkempt - looking
without. Having completed his early labours, the stickle-
back assumes his wedding attire of emerald-green, decked
with bright pink, and sallies forth to find a mate. By
dint of much persuasion he induces a female stickleback
to deposit her tiny yellow eggs inside the nest. Over the
nest he now keeps careful guard, waving his fins steadily
the while, to keep a current of water passing through the
nest, a necessity for the efficient hatching of the eggs.

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Frogs and Toads

From time to time he looks to see that all is well, but woe
betide any intruder who tries to enter his domain ; retri-
bution will be levied, and quickly. In due course the
yellow eggs turn brown, a sign that the young sticklebacks
will soon appear. When they do so, they, being like all
other children, are anxious to see the world, and then the
real cares of the father stickleback begin, for he is kept
very busily employed driving them back to the safety of
the nest till such time as they are able to fend for
themselves.

The habits of the fifteen-spined stickleback are very
similar. His nest is built of seaweed, interwoven by
threads of a substance given off from his own body, and
suspended from a frond of a larger seaweed growing in
some sheltered pool. The eggs of this fish are as large
as those of the fresh-water stickleback were small ; in fact
few fishes lay larger eggs in comparison to their size.

A very remarkable adaptation for securing the safety
of its eggs has been described in a small fresh-water fish
from New Guinea. The eggs are surrounded by coiled
filaments, closely wound, like the india-rubber thread in
the core of a modern golf-ball. When they are laid, the
filaments uncoil automatically, and the eggs are bound
together in a double bunch, like a double bunch of onions.
At the same time on the skull of the male fish there is a
small bony process, like a bent finger, growing forwards
and downwards. Just before the hook process becomes
an " eye," the double bunch of eggs is in some way or
other slipped in ; as the " eye " is completed it is fixed,
and the male goes about with the developing eggs on
the top of his head. This case is particularly interesting
because the two adaptations, which so perfectly fit, are,
as it were, very far apart — the filaments round the eggs
and the bony process on the male's head ; of this the female
shows no trace.

The sea-horse, that eccentric-looking, upright-swimming
little individual so common in the Mediterranean, is a

251

Frogs and Toads

careful male nurse. He is provided with a spacious pouch
on the front portion, which is really the lower portion of
his body. In this pouch he carries the eggs of his wife
wherever he goes. The young hatch in the father's pouch,
and not till they are able to face the world and its troubles
is he relieved of his living burden.

For the rest there is little to add concerning the ingenuity
of fishes, unless we say a word for the pilot-fish, who leads
the shark to his food and receives a well-deserved measure
of protection in return for his services, or for the little
shooting-fish, which captures insects on which it feeds by
squirting a tiny jet of water at them as they settle on
leaves by the side of his home.

252

CHAPTER XXIII
CRABS, LOBSTERS, ETC.

ONE does not look for a very high order of intelligence
amongst the crustaceans, as the crabs, lobsters, shrimps,
barnacles and woodlice are called. To make a confession,
they seem a singularly dull lot, yet we must not omit
them. Of them all, perhaps the land crabs are the most
ingenious. Maybe it is because their habitat is one not
usually associated with such creatures — they seem to be
somewhat out of their element on land. Be that as it may,
they contrive to do very well for themselves out of water.

One of the commonest of these crabs is the violet land
crab of Jamaica. They live in warrens after the manner
of rabbits, some three miles from the sea. During the
day they remain in their burrows, issuing forth at night-
fall to feed. They are easily alarmed and then scuttle
back to their burrows with all speed — not that they are
averse to a fight should the need arise. During these
combats they exhibit their most extraordinary peculiarity.
In our chapter on reptiles we mentioned that many
lizards escape from their enemies by shedding their tails.
The violet land crab has developed a similar trick. Like
the sea crabs, they are armed with powerful nipping claws,
and with these they seize their enemies. When a claw
has taken a firm grip, the crab sheds the weapon, and it
remains still gripping tightly, the while the crab makes
good its escape.

This reckless shedding of limbs seems somewhat drastic
to our way of thinking ; as a matter of fact, it causes the
crab little inconvenience, for a new limb grows to take
the place of the departed member in an incredibly short
space of time. During the early summer the crabs make

253

Crabs, Lobsters, etc.

a wholesale peregrination to the sea, in order that the
females may deposit their eggs therein and allow the
young to hatch out. Marvellous stories have been told of
these trips to the sea — stories of obstacles surmounted in
the most astonishing fashion. One writer says : " The
noise of their march is compared to the rattling of the
armour of a regiment of cuirassiers."

At the end of the summer this crab, like all others,
sheds its shell. The hard armour of all crustaceans must
of necessity be changed from time to time, in order that
the animal may grow. When the shell is thrown off the
crab is soft and liable to fall a prey to marauding animals
who could do it no harm when encased in its armour.
The land crab overcomes the difficulty by retiring to its
burrow, which it thoughtfully stocks with grass and other
herbage. Then it closes the entrance and remains in
hiding till its new shell has hardened and it is able to face
the world and its dangers are no more.

The fiddler-crabs are well adapted to life on land and
they are more truly terrestrial than the violet land crabs.
The females are very ordinary-looking creatures and dwell
in burrows, which their mates guard assiduously. One
claw in the male is developed to an extraordinary degree
and is moved about in such a manner as to give a most
comical appearance to its owner. The scientific name of
this crab means " laughable," by the way, and the constant x
waving of its strong right arm has also earned it the name
of " fiddler." These well-developed claws are supposed to
be used for fighting purposes, but that they do no great
harm is the opinion of most observers.

The robber-crab is perhaps the most notorious of all
the land crustaceans. A native of the islands of the
Indian Ocean, he is a hermit crab, though he does not live
in a borrowed shell. This is the crab, by the way, which
is able to ascend trees. Considerable doubt has been cast
upon this assertion, nevertheless it is a fact. Photographs
of the crab in the act of ascending sago palms have been

254

Crabs, Lobsters, etc.

brought home by travellers. The robber or coconut
crab, as he is sometimes called, is enormously powerful for
a crab and a plucky fighter. In his encounters, curiously
enough, he does not use his strong pincers, but lunges
violently with his first pair of legs, which are armed with
extraordinarily sharp claws. The food of this animal is
uncommon in the extreme ; coconuts appear to be the
choicest fare, but it is by no means averse to the pith of
the screw pines and sago palms, also to dead rats, birds
and other carrion.

One species is said to climb coconut-trees, and having
selected a choice nut, to throw it to the ground, whither
it descends to remove the husk. Having done so, the
animal reascends the tree with the denuded nut in its
claws, and throws it to the ground from a height in order
to break it, which it usually does at the first attempt.
How much truth there may be in the story we are not
prepared to say ; it sounds rather too far-fetched to be
believed ; but many animal stories sound equally unbeliev-
able till we learn that they are true.

Of another species Darwin gives a good account. He
says : " I have before alluded to a crab which lives on
coconuts ; it is very common on all parts of the dry land,
and grows to a monstrous size. . . . The front pair of legs
terminate in very strong and heavy pincers, and the last
pair are fitted with others weaker and much narrower.
It would at first be thought quite impossible for a crab to
open a strong coconut covered with the husk, but Mr
Liesk assures me that he has repeatedly seen this effected.
The crab begins by tearing the husk, fibre by fibre, and
always from that end under which the three eye-holes are
situated. When this is completed, the crab commences
hammering with its heavy claws on one of the eye-holes
till an opening is made. Then turning round its body,
by the aid of its posterior and narrow pair of pincers, it
extracts the white albuminous substance. I think this is
as curious a case of instinct as ever I heard of, and like-

255

Crabs, Lobsters, etc.

wise of adaptation in structure between two objects
apparently so remote from each other in the scheme of
nature as a crab and a coconut-tree. The animal is
diurnal in its habits, but every night it is said to pay
a visit to the sea, no doubt for the purpose of moistening
its gills. The young are likewise hatched, and live for
some time on the coast. These crabs inhabit deep burrows,
which they hollow out beneath the roots of trees, and
there they accumulate surprising quantities of the picked
fibres of the coconut husk, on which they rest as on a bed.
The Malays sometimes take advantage of this, and collect
the fibrous mass to use as a junk. . . . To show the
wonderful strength of the front pair of pincers, I may
mention that Captain Moresby confined one in a strong
tin box, the lid being secured by wire ; but the crab
turned down the edges and escaped. In turning down
the edges, it actually punched many small holes quite
through the tin ! "

Later observers, however, doubt if the crab uses its legs
to extract the contents of the nut. The robber-crab pro-
vides for a rainy day by storing his burrow with coconuts
during the fruiting season. Another of these land hermit
crabs, like its water-frequenting relatives, shelters its soft
body within a shell which it brings from the sea-shore.
Accidents happen even in crab families and sometimes
the shells are broken when the animal is far inland ; then
and then only the ingenious animal will cover itself with
a broken coconut shell, which serves as a substitute for its
earlier shelter.

The hermit crabs are perhaps the most curious of all
the creatures of the sea-shore. Unlike the edible crabs,
the hinder parts of these animals are soft and need some
artificial protection. This usually takes the form of an
empty whelk shell, and with this portable home on its
back the hermit crab leads an apparently contented life.
When danger threatens the hermit simply retires into his
borrowed home and blocks up the entrance with the larger

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ROBBER-CRABS

These powerful land crabs inhabit deep burrows, which they make for rtiemselves
beneath the roots of trees. They climb trees and eat cocoa-nuts, which they break
open by hammering upon one end of the shell with their huge "pincers." In their
burrows they accumulate immense quantities of cocoa-nut fibre, which the Malays
sometimes collect to use as junk.

Crabs, Lobsters, etc.

of his two claws. His body is curved to fit the coils of
the shell and is so amply studded with file-like structures
that by swelling his body against the sides of the shell
the crab can avoid all risk of being forcibly dragged from
his home.

The time comes sooner or later when the hermit crab
grows too large for his home ; then he must needs seek
another abiding-place, and he is exceedingly cautious in
doing so. He looks around for a larger shell and, having
found it, probes its recesses with his claws to make certain
that it has no other occupant. Being satisfied that it is
empty, he, with an agility that is surprising, quits his old
home and dives into the hew one. But all the while he
retains his hold of the old shell and in case of mishap he
slips back into it as quickly as he had left it a moment
earlier.

Now hermit crabs are somewhat hampered in their
search for food by reason of their being compelled to
drag a heavy dwelling about with them on their backs
wherever they go, so some of the more ingenious members
of the family have devised means for securing food on
easy terms. A common British hermit crab habitually
carries a sea-anemone on its shell. The anemone affords
some protection to the crab by concealing it from view
and also obtains some of the fragments of food left over
by the crab. But, on the principle that two heads are
better than one, the crab also picks up some of the crumbs
from the anemone's table. So fond is the hermit crab
of its friend the sea-anemone, that when it removes to
another shell it takes the anemone along with it and
places it in position on the wall of its new home. At
times, however, there is no reason for the hermit to change
its abode, for the anemone, having dissolved away the
whelk shell, forms protection and covering for the crab,
enveloping it with its soft flesh.

This association of crabs with sea-anemones is by no
means uncommon, and the most curious of all these friend-
R 257

Crabs, Lobsters, etc.

ships is that of a little tropical crab and these animals.
This very ingenious individual lives on coral reefs. Its
claws are too feeble to enable it to obtain food, and food is
a necessity even to a crab. Nothing daunted, it removes
two small sea-anemones from their rocky homes and holds
one in either claw, grasping a friendly coral the while
firmly with its legs. Now the anemones, waving their
tentacles in the water, attract food thereto, and this the
wily crab removes and transfers to his own mouth by
means of his first pair of legs. There are said to be two
sides to every question, but on which side the unfortunate
sea-anemones find themselves is not quite clear, though
it must be admitted that they do not seem to suffer any
ill effects from their unwonted treatment ; perhaps the
crab permits them to partake of some of the food which
they have been at pains to capture.

Artifice has been brought to the pitch of a fine art by
the crab family. One species perambulates the floor of
ocean pools with its hind legs permanently bent over its
back. In the claws of these legs it holds shells, leaves
and the like with the object of hiding its movements.
Another species plants a small sponge on its back and
holds it there till it has become firmly fixed and able to
grow and form a living coat for the crab. Yet another
crab, and a common British species, has a back studded
with small hooks. To these it affixes pieces of seaweed,
should it dwell amongst such vegetation, or particles of
sponge if sponge-beds form its home. In time these
planted organisms take root and form a permanent
covering. This habit of the spider-crabs, as they are
called, may serve another purpose besides protection.
The plants form veritable portable kitchen gardens, from
which their owners pluck and eat tasty morsels from time
to time.

As architects, the crustaceans are sadly lax ; some of
them make burrows, as we have noted, but they display
little ingenuity in their labours. Many crabs do little

258

Crabs, Lobsters, etc.

more in the way of burrowing than simply to sink into
the sand till they are sufficiently covered to be out of
sight of their enemies. Of these species, by far the most
interesting is the masked crab, a wedge-shaped creature,
well adapted for pushing its way beneath soft sand.
More interesting than the general contour of the masked
crab is the form of its antennae ; they are particularly
long and stiff; moreover, each antenna bears a double row
of bristles on its inner face. When the antennae are
placed together side by side the four rows of bristles meet
and, to all intents, the two antennae form a long tube.

Now this tube is of the greatest use to the crab, as
it lies buried in the sand. The two antennae, placed
together, are pointed upwards towards the surface of the
water, and thus their owner, though itself in sand-laden
water, is enabled to draw clear water, from which it obtains
air to breathe, down its self-made tube. But this is by
no means the only use of the antennae. When the female
crab lays her eggs, after they hatch she passes the young
up between the antennae to the purer layers of water
above. A North American crayfish, which has taken to
life on land, burrows deep in the soil till it reaches the
water below the surface. During its excavations this
creature throws up substantial chimneys of mud at the
entrance to its burrow, with what object is not known.

As the creature best able to suit the colour of its coat
to its surroundings most people would award the palm
to the chameleon. It may not be generally known that
a quite common little shrimp of our sea coasts runs the
chameleon very close in this respect. This curiously shaped
little crustacean, by reason of its build, has earned the
name of hump-backed shrimp. When it lurks beneath
brown seaweed it is brown coloured ; amongst green
seaweed its coat is green ; red seaweed as a background
causes the little fellow to turn red in sympathy. By night
he turns decidedly paler in colour, whatever his hue may
have been at departing day.

259

Crabs, Lobsters, etc.

A very interesting experiment has been carried out
with the hump-backed shrimp. As we have just mentioned,
he turns pale at night ; it is not very surprising, therefore,
to find that if he be taken into a dark room he rapidly
blanches. Now comes the extraordinary part of the
experiment — by keeping the shrimp in the dark for
several days it will be found that it changes from a light
to a dark shade by turns, and, furthermore, these alternate
colour changes correspond exactly to the hours of night
and day. That is to say, although the little creature, by
reason of its being in the dark, never comes under the
influence of changes in the intensity of light, it still retains
its old habit of turning pale when the hours of night are
at hand and becoming darker with the day.

260

CHAPTER XXIV

SPIDERS

THE spiders run the ants, bees, wasps and other ingenious
creatures pretty close in the matter of ingenuity. Much
of the ingenuity displayed by insects is the result of their
living social lives ; their labours are so divided and organ-
ised for the common good that each individual becomes
more or less of a specialist. It is somewhat surprising
that spiders should be so ingenious, for they are not
insects — the fact that they possess four pairs of legs
instead of three tells us as much ; they are close relatives
of the Crustacea, amongst whom ingenuity is at a low ebb.
In the main, spiders may be classed among the useful
members of the animal kingdom. They are beneficial to
mankind in that they kill and devour enormous quantities
of insects which, if allowed to survive, would damage
crops, etc. Fate alone has saved the spider from
becoming a domesticated animal like the silkworm.

All the spiders possess spinning organs, of which we
shall speak presently, though they do not all make use
of them, Many spiders spin two kinds of silk, the web
silk and the cocoon silk, of which the latter is by far the
stronger, and it was thought that this substance could be
used as a substitute for the product of the silkworm.
Certain articles were actually woven from this silk, but
it proved inferior in every way to the silk of the silkworm.
This, however, was not the only difficulty. Silkworms are
harmless, docile creatures ; spiders are pugnacious and
war-like, even cannibalistic, so that it was found almost
impossible to keep them in captivity, a necessary pro-
ceeding if their silk was to be used commercially.

In habit the members of the true spider family are very

261

Spiders

diverse. There are orb- weavers, line-weavers and cobweb-
weavers, all named according to the snares they spin.
Then, again, there a/e wolf-spiders, jumping, trapdoor,
bird-eating and crab spiders. In addition, there are
money-spinners and others.

The great bird-eating spiders are the largest members
of the spider family. Great hairy brutes possessed of
enormous poison fangs, capable of killing birds and
small animals, they have nevertheless earned a title which
they do not merit, for their usual food consists of large
insects.

They spin no webs or snares of any kind, but dwell in
holes in the ground or in hollows in trees. They hunt by
night, a fact which renders their study by no means easy.
The little that is known of these creatures shows that they
are long-lived, even in captivity. Their senses of hearing
and smell are little developed ; their eight eyes do not ap-
pear to enable them to do more than distinguish between
light and shade.

Their sense of touch appears as highly developed as
in the bats. It is most striking when these spiders are
courting. " When the male is seeking the female he seems
quite unaware of her proximity unless he accidentally
brushes up against her. If he loses contact for a moment
he is quite at sea and wanders blindly about, turning^
perhaps, to the left when the least motion to the right
would bring them together again. . . . He seems to be
aware at once of the nature of the object which touches
him, assuming a threatening attitude if the touch is hostile,
or pouncing instantly if hungry and the touch is that of
a passing insect. If, however, the insect is lucky enough
to escape, it is in no danger of pursuit."

There is one remarkable trait among spiders. It
almost invariably the case that the female is larger thai
the male. As frequently it happens that she " makes no
nice discrimination between an amorous male and a succu-
lent insect." Well, the males of some of these bird-eating

262

Spiders

spiders are more or less prepared for a hostile reception
on the part of their wives and the thighs of their front
legs are accordingly armed with spurs, with which to hold
back and render powerless the female's fangs.

Specimens of the spider family may be found every-
where. They spin their orbs on our garden fences, their
cobwebs in our rooms ; they swim in our ponds or construct
rafts upon which they float down our rivers ; they excavate
their marvellous tunnels, closed with trapdoors, though
we must travel to sunnier climes to see these creatures at
their work in plenty, despite the fact that there is a British
trapdoor-spider.

In general their silk and the uses they make thereof is
the most interesting part about spiders. Let us therefore try
to discover something about their means of making silk
before we pass to the discussion of the uses to which they
apply it. The method of producing silk exhibited by the
silkworm is quite different to its method of production in
the spiders. In both cases the silk issues in a semi-liquid
state from the creature's body and almost instantaneously
hardens in the air, and there ends the similarity between
the two cases.

The silk is given off by the silkworm from its mouth ;
in the spiders, the silk comes from special spinning organs
called spinnerets, situated on the under sides of their
abdomens. The number of spinnerets varies in the
different species of spider ; in some cases, again, they are
hidden from view when the spider is seen from above ;
in other cases they project from the tail end of the animal.

It is obviously impossible to describe the spinning
organs of all the species of spider, so we will take the
common garden-spider, often called the cross-spider, by
reason of the white cross it bears on its back, as our
example. It has the advantage of possessing well-
developed and numerous spinnerets ; moreover, it is
common and therefore easily observed. No spider is
better endowed for the production of silk than the garden-

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Spiders

spider. As we have remarked, the number of spinnerets
varies, but in the case of this spider we find that there are
three pairs. Some spiders possess but a single pair, others
are rich in the possession of four pairs. Each spinneret
consists of a little knob, studded at its tip with a number
of fine tubes and a few larger tubes called spigots. These
tubes and spigots are merely the external openings of
silk glands, of which there are about six hundred in the
garden-spider. Imagine, in the relatively small spider's
body, six hundred little factories all turning out silk at
top speed !

The spinnerets of the garden-spider are arranged in
three groups. The pair of spinnerets nearest the head
each bear a single spigot, the middle pair bear three
spigots each, and each of the hind pair bears five spigots.
To these must be added at least a hundred of the smaller
tubular openings in each spinneret, giving a total of
eighteen spigots and six hundred smaller tubes to each
spider. Six hundred and eighteen little openings all able
to turn out the work of the six hundred odd silk factories
in the body of the garden-spider ! Each opening is
capable of giving off silk, though this is never done indis-
criminately and the silk from the different openings is not
all of the same quality.

For the silk of the foundation lines of their webs strong
threads are required and obtained from the pair of spigots
on the spinnerets nearest the head. When, as occasionally
happens, still stronger silk is required, additional threads
are supplied by a single spigot on either of the middle
spinnerets. The remaining four middle spigots, together
with four of the spigots on the hinder spinnerets, supply
the stronger but less elastic silk which is used in the
construction of cocoons and never for the weaving of
snares. This leaves us with six hinder spigots to be
accounted for and they, again, supply silk of a peculiar
nature. We have mentioned that silk issues in a semi-
liquid state and hardens in contact with the air. Here,

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however, we must qualify our statement. The silk from
these hinder spigots remains sticky and forms the gummy
threads in the snare, upon which insects are actually
held as a bird upon bird-lime.

It is in the construction and design of their snares that
spiders display their greatest ingenuity. Let us, therefore,
consider a few typical snares, beginning with the well-
known orb of the garden-spider. In outline the orb is,
usually, roughly circular, but, whatever its shape, we
notice that it is bounded by threads obviously stronger
than the rest. These are the so-called foundation lines
on which the structure is built up. Running to the
foundation lines there are a number of radii at more
or less equal distances apart. Binding the radii together
there is a silken spiral, covered with minute sticky
globules, but, towards the centre of the orb, the radii
are joined by very fine non-sticky threads, forming an
irregular spiral. At its centre is the hub, either an empty
space or a number of scattered threads.

Let us try to find a spider at work, that we may see
how the wonderful orb is constructed. This is by no
means difficult, for, in the summer, when the spiders are
most active, new orbs are constructed every day. The
mother spider does all the work of orb-weaving, whilst
the male lurks in the vicinity buoyed up by the hope of
favours to come in the shape of prey which he may be
able to snatch from his spouse's orb during some moment
of her unwatchfulness. The laying down of the founda-
tion lines, the threads upon which the whole safety of
the orb depends, is a source of considerable anxiety to
the mother spider. Great care is taken in the selection
of suitable positions to which these lines may be affixed.
She presses her spinnerets against some solid support
she has selected, then walks away, drawing out her silken
thread as she goes, holding it the while with one of her
hind feet so that it may not catch on any object which
may lie across her path.

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ers

Having reached the limit of her travels, a limit which
is determined by the discovery of a suitable object to
which the other end of the foundation line may be
attached, she stops and pulls the slack thread taut, then
fixes it by applying her spinnerets to the support. In
this manner she proceeds till all her foundation lines are
completed. Should they require further strengthening, she
repeats the process, spinning more silk the while. Not
till these lines are quite strong and taut is the rest of
the work put in hand.

The construction of the radii or spokes of the web is
the spider's next care. She begins operations by fixing
a thread to the centre of the upper foundation line and
dropping with it to the lower line, where it is fixed.
From the centre of this line she runs spokes in all
directions to the bounding foundation lines. She works
apparently at haphazard, but in reality the spokes are
arranged so that the tension on the foundation lines is
fairly uniform. In the hub of the web the little worker
then spins a few irregular threads to afford a foothold
and, starting from this point, she spins a spiral line of
silk which she attaches to each of the spokes in turn.
Creeping from spoke to spoke, and working from centre
to circumference, the construction of this transient struc-
ture, which is merely a scaffold for future operations, is
but the work of a few moments.

Now the most important part of the orb remains to be
laid down, the spiral of sticky threads upon which the
insects are caught. Beginning at the circumference, the
mother spider works towards the centre, stepping carefully
on the scaffold threads as she goes. As she spins her
sticky thread she affixes it carefully to each spoke in
turn ; having done so, she pulls at it with her foot and
then suddenly releases it. The reason for this strange
proceeding we shall learn presently. As she joins each
spoke with its neighbour by means of a sticky thread,
she bites away the connecting threads of the first-formed

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spiral which has served its temporary purpose as a
scaffold. With the completion of the spiral of sticky
threads little more remains to be done. The spider may
elect to remain in the hub of its web, there to await its
prey, or it may choose to hide at a distance for the same
purpose ; in that event a strand of silk is attached to the
hub and drawn out to the spider's hiding-place to serve
as a telephone line along which the message may pass
to the spider that some victim awaits its attention.

Let us return for a moment to the sticky threads.
When examined under a lens, as they leave the spider's
spinnerets they may be seen to be somewhat thicker than
the other threads and covered with a sticky substance.
After they have been stretched, examination will show
that they are studded with minute globules of the sticky
substance, all of the same size and all equal distances
apart. So numerous are these globules that it has been
estimated there are more than one hundred and twenty
thousand in a large orb. The regular arrangement of
these globules long puzzled scientists, but it is now a well-
known physical phenomenon that if an elastic band be
covered equally all over with a sticky, semi-liquid sub-
stance and then stretched, the sticky substance will
arrange itself in equal - sized, equally - spaced globules.
This accounts for the stretching of its sticky threads
by the spider, who is evidently somewhat of a physicist.

Having studied the making of a spider's orb, let us see
how the prey is captured. Now spiders are possessed of
poor sight and, in consequence, they rely on their sense
of touch for the capture of their victims. No matter
whether the spider remains on the hub of its orb or at
the end of its telephone wire some distance away, its
mode of procedure is the same. Immediately some
luckless insect precipitates itself against the sticky
spiral its fate is sealed ; struggles are useless, in fact
more than useless, for they only cause the unfortunate
creature to become more and more entangled on the

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sticky threads and, at the same time, give the signal
which the spider anxiously awaits.

The vibrations of the orb, caused by the victim's
struggles, intimate to the spider that it is time to bestir
herself. She rushes from her resting-place to the spot
whence the vibrations arise, being exceedingly careful
not to step on the sticky threads herself, for, by doing so,
she might be enmeshed, or at least she would irretrievably
damage her snare. Having come up with her victim, she
seizes it in her mouth and, bringing her two hundred odd
foremost spinning tubes into play, literally trusses her
victim in a broad silken band, rolling it over and over
with her mouth and fore-legs, the better to accomplish
her purpose. When thoroughly trussed and quite in-
capable of movement, the spider removes its victim to a
place of safety and sucks out its life-blood in comfort.
The orb, which suffers materially in the tussle, is quickly
repaired or a new one constructed, and the spider is again
ready to play the part of the villain in this humble drama.

There are all kinds of orb webs all designed to achieve
the same ends though in different ways. A North
American orb-weaver, closely related to our garden-spider,
decorates its orb with a broad band of woolly silk extend-
ing from one edge to the other ; a disc of the same
material covers the hub. This apparently purely decorative
addition to the snare has its uses. The weaver of this
ornamental orb is often confronted with large and formid-
able prey, of such a nature that rapid trussing is essential
if the victim is to be prevented from escaping. Although
the operation of spinning the trussing band is but the
work of a few moments, the utilisation of a ready-made
band is still more expeditious. When an insect of an
intractable nature becomes entangled in this spider's orb,
it rushes out, seizes the woolly band and without delay
winds it round its victim. Should the prospective victim
prove too powerful, the spider, having no stomach for
a fight, beats a hasty retreat to the back of its woolly orb,

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there to await the passing of the insect upon which it had
hoped to make a meal.

From what we have already said, it is evident that,
though the sticky threads of the spider's orb will hold
a victim for a limited period, it is always essential for the
spider to lose no time in trussing its prey. We have
pointed out, too, that in reaching its prey the spider must
never touch the adhesive portions of its own orb. To
overcome this difficulty, one of our common spiders leaves
the space between two neighbouring spokes free of threads,
except for a silken line which it runs from the hub to its
hiding-place near by. When the signal runs along the
trap-line, as this single thread is called, the spider hurries
from its hiding-place and rapidly reaches the scene of
action via the sector devoid of sticky threads.

There is a rare British orb-weaver whose snare is more
ingenious than those we have considered. It consists of
but four spokes and is only one-sixth of a complete orb ;
in outline it is roughly triangular. At the point from
which the four spokes arise the spider fixes a trap-line
which it leads to and affixes upon some solid support
near by. Now the spider converts this simple orb into an
ingenious spring trap ; taking up its position on the
under side of the trap-line with its head towards the snare,
the animal takes a firm hold of the line with its hind feet
and hauls in the slack with its fore-legs, till there is a con-
siderable length of trap-line lying between its fore and
hind legs. In this position the wily spider awaits her
prey. Immediately the vibrations of the trap-line show
that something is caught in the orb the spider releases its
hold with its fore-legs ; the snare, no longer held by the
tension on the trap-line, springs forward and the insect is
hopelessly entrapped. At least this is the eventuality
which the spider desires, but should failure to completely
enmesh the victim be the only result, the spider will
spring her trap again and again, till either the insect is
firmly held or makes good its escape.

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We must leave the orb-weaver with the mention of yet
another species who uses her orb as a spring trap. Spin-
ning an orb very similar to that of the garden-spider, this
individual leads a trap-line from the hub to some solid
support. On this trap-line she takes up her position with
her head away from her orb ; with her hind feet she
grasps the hub of the orb, with her fore-feet she hauls in
the trap-line, till the centre of the orb is drawn back to
such an extent that it resembles an umbrella blown inside
out. On the usual signal being communicated to the
spider, she leaves hold with her fore-feet, the snare flies
back by its own elasticity and the spider is carried to the
very position where it is best able to deal with its victim,
to the hub of the orb.

We must not devote much of our limited space to the
work of the cobweb-spiders, so common in our houses, and
their allies. From the point of view of ingenuity, they are
not in the same street with the orb- weavers. For the most
part their webs consist of irregularly arranged, non-sticky
threads, with a few sticky threads intertwined for the
purpose of capturing insect prey. Closely related to the
cobweb-spider is the common labyrinth-spider of our
gardens, and it displays a little more ingenuity than its
relative. Its snare consists of a horizontal, slightly
hollowed sheet of dense webbing affixed to some con-
venient vegetation ; from one corner of the web there runsv
a hollow silken tunnel, at the end of which the spider
awaits her prey.

Here we may mention that some species of spider, the
lace-weavers, display a certain amount of decorative ability
in their work. True, a pocket lens is necessary to reveal the
beauty of their webs, but that does not alter the fact that
their silk is of exceeding beauty. Spinning sheet-webs
not unlike those of the common cobweb-spider, inspection
will reveal the fact that a number of wavy bands of very
fine silk run through the structure. These lace-weavers,
in addition to spinnerets, are provided with an apparatus

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called a cribellum for spinning this decorative silk. The
cribellum is a plate, situated in front of the foremost pair
of spinnerets and perforated with a number of very fine
holes. From the pores of the cribellum the finest of silk
issues and, as it does so, it is carded and distributed into
the lace-like bands of the web, by means of fine combs
situated on either hind leg of the female spider.

Strange as it may seem, the cobweb-spider has a near
relative of aquatic habits, the common water-spider.
Frequenting ponds and slow-running streams in plenty,
the water-spider and its ways may easily be observed.
The female spins a web as beautiful as it is ingenious,
a web designed to serve as her boudoir and not as a trap
for prey. Having found a suitable water weed, the mother
spider proceeds to spin silken threads loosely from branch
to branch, or from leaf to leaf. These threads form at
once foundation and guy ropes for her future home, for
on them she weaves a closely woven web which is at first
horizontal. Having completed her building operations,
her next care is to fill her home with air ; this she does by
ascending to the surface of the water, when air is entrapped
about her hairy body. With the captive bubble, which she
often encircles with her hind legs for greater security, she
swims below her web ; then with her hind legs she kicks
her burden free. This operation she repeats again and
again, with the result that the web, originally flat, becomes
thimble-shaped by reason of the contained air.

The female spider hunts her prey on the surface of the
water and, having made a capture, returns with it to her
thimble-shaped home. Towards the end of summer the
mother spider's boudoir is converted into a nursery ; the
eggs are laid in the upper part of the dwelling and a wall
is built across the shelter to prevent the inmates from fall-
ing out. Having completed her labours, the mother spider
retreats to the deeper water, where she spins a very similar
though more densely woven shelter in which she retires
for her winter rest. When the young water-spiders

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emerge they do not at first spin webs, but fill empty snail
shells with water and float in them to the surface of the
pond.

Another common British water-spider belongs to a
different family ; he is one of the wolf-spiders, a family
with many interesting habits. Of webs they spin little
or not at all. Unlike the web-spinners, they are keen-
sighted, a necessity, for they hunt their prey. The
females carry their eggs about with them in a little
sac till the young are ready to hatch, and the young,
in turn, spend the first few days of their lives in clamber-
ing over their mother's back, dropping off by degrees
and starting life for themselves. The raft-spider, though
capable of walking on the surface of water, needs some
resting-place on this element, so he collects together a
few dead leaves, spins them with silk into a miniature
raft and crouches atop of his structure to await passing
prey in the shape of water insects. From time to time
he will leave his raft to make a capture and will return
thereto for his meal. Occasionally he goes beneath the
surface after some tasty morsel ; in doing so he does not
swim, but creeps down some water weed.

No account of the ways of spiders would be complete
without a word concerning the species which construct
trapdoors. Though common throughout the Medi-
terranean region, their nests are never easy to find, so|f
skilfully are they hidden. In its usual form the nest of
the trapdoor-spider consists of a simple, straight, vertical
burrow in the ground, a little wider than a lead pencil
when first made, but enlarged with the growth of the
inmate. A layer of coarse silk lines the burrow and
prevents the earth from falling into the nest. The actual
lining of the nest is composed of fine, smooth, lustrous
silk. At its upper, open end the burrow is fitted with a
lid, which fits its mouth as accurately as a well-made
glass stopper fits the neck of a bottle. The edges of the
lid are bevelled, so that it falls into close contact with the

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slightly funnel-shaped mouth of the burrow ; at one side
a strong silken hinge completes the lid.

When the young trapdoor-spider first builds its under-
ground home it covers the external opening with a thin,
wafer-like layer of silk and soil. As it grows it enlarges
its burrow and at the same time increases the dimensions
of its lid by adding alternate layers of silk and soil. The
upper surface of the lid it always covers with the material
of the immediate neighbourhood, be it shingle or moss,
sand or grass, so that detection of its haunt may be
rendered difficult. All the work of digging is performed
by the spider's mouth ; particle by particle the soil
fragments are taken up in the spider's mouth and re-
moved to a distance. Everything in order, the spider
awaits its prey at the door of its residence. Having made
a capture, it retires to its inmost recesses to enjoy its meal,
secure in the knowledge that few will discover its well-
concealed home. But the spider is not without its enemies,
who, having discovered the spider residence, try to open
the door. The inmate resents this intrusion, and by
clinging to the silken lining of the lid with its jaws and
fore-feet and to the silken lining of the burrow with its
other feet, it is often able to save the situation. Should
the door be forced, the spider slides down the smooth
lining of his home with astonishing rapidity.

Some of the trapdoor-spiders construct a more com-
plicated burrow, making it in the form of the letter Y.
The lower arm of the Y is, of course, permanently closed ;
one of the upper arms is provided with a trapdoor ; the
other upper arm is closed with a wafer-like layer of silk,
skilfully concealed on the outside with moss or grass.
This arm of the nest forms an emergency exit should
the occasion arise for a rapid retreat. Another more
ingenious Y-shaped nest-builder constructs a fragile trap-
door at the junction of the arms of its haunt. When the
upper door, the real trapdoor, is forced this spider beats
a hasty retreat to the lower cul-de-sac of its home and
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Spid

closes the inner door against the intruder. Should this
ruse fail, the spider ascends to the second arm of its home
and pulls up the door behind it with its fore-feet. In the
event of the intruder being an enemy, the spider has
reached its last line of retreat ; on the other hand, should
some unwary insect have entered the burrow, the ever-
alert spider will open its inner door, seize its victim and
devour it in peace.

At certain periods of the year it is quite impossible
to walk along a country road without one's being aware
of the presence of innumerable fine silken threads floating
in the air. Cobwebs they are often and wrongly termed.
Gossamer is the name by which these threads are known.
A warm autumn day when scarcely a breeze disturbs the
air is the time to encounter gossamer in the greatest
quantity. As with pearls and many other of Nature's
possessions, a great deal of imagination was woven round
this substance in early days. It seemed the custom in
less matter-of-fact times than our own to invent some
pretty story to account for matters that were not quite
obvious. Chaucer frankly admitted that he could not
account for the origin of gossamer ; Spenser thought it
was dew. All who wrote of gossamer were very wide of
the mark in their surmises. Gossamer is merely the silk
of young spiders, and silk spun for a special purpose, to
act as a parachute and transport its maker to some other
district.

On a day when the warm air, by rising upwards, assists
in the operations, young spiders of many species, wolf,
crab and jumping spiders, may be seen scrambling, with
eager haste, to the top of various vantage points. After
aimlessly wandering about for a short time a halt is
called, and the young creature raises himself on tiptoe
and points the tip of his body up on high ; at the same
time strands of the finest silk are given off by the
spinnerets. When sufficient silk has been spun the
little creature relaxes its hold and is carried far into

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ers

the air. The warm air current carries it upwards and
the slightest breeze in the upper layers of the air is
sufficient to carry our little aeronaut for some distance.
The youngsters are not so completely at the mercy of
the breeze as might be thought, for when the journey,
in the opinion of the little voyager, has lasted long
enough he simply hauls in the silken strands, to which
he owes his buoyancy, rolls them into a ball and gently
descends to earth.

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CHAPTER XXV

SHELL-BEARERS

IN this chapter we propose to deal briefly with certain
peculiarities of shell-bearing animals. To make our
position clearer, before we proceed on our way, let us
mention that our subjects fall naturally into four classes
— univalves, of which the snail is a type ; bivalves, or
molluscs, with two shells, as in the mussel ; animals with
an internal shell, such as we find in the cuttle-fish, and
those without a shell, the sea-slugs. Carrying this brief
definition in our minds, let us learn something of the ways
of these animals which carry their homes about with
them wherever they go. Many of the most interesting
habits of the mollusca can only be fully understood when
we are conversant with their structure ; but anatomy is
outside our province, so we must confine our attention
to facts which require no such knowledge for their
comprehension.

Many of the shell-bearing molluscs typify, in the popular
mind, a high degree of inactivity, but as a matter of fact
their powers of locomotion are not nearly so limited as is
generally supposed. If we examine a cockle or a horse-
mussel, we shall notice a wedge-shaped organ which, to
the touch, is much more rigid than any other part of the
animal. This wedge-shaped structure is the mollusc's
foot ; a queer-looking foot we must admit, nevertheless it
serves its purpose admirably. When a pond-mussel
desires to change its position, it extends its foot to
the full, buries it in the mud at the bottom of the
pond in which it is living, attaches itself to the mud
particles and then, by gradually contracting, drags the
shell along.

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Shell-Bearers

Progress with these creatures is slow but sure. Some
of the molluscs are much more lively. The scallop, a
familiar object on the fishmonger's stall, with its pretty
shell and bright orange foot, swims rapidly in the water
with a zigzag movement by quickly opening and closing
the valves of its shell. While we are on the subject of
the scallop, let us notice another peculiarity in structure
by means of which the creature is ingeniously protected
from danger. The cockle will serve equally well as an
example if a scallop be not at hand. Despite their hard,
substantial, portable housesj all molluscs are fit food for
a number of hungry beasts, and ingenious beasts withal.
Some of their enemies pierce their shells, some dissolve
them, some break them, and some, catching the inmates
napping, force them open. There is one thing the
enemies of the cockle and scallop cannot do, and that is,
push one valve from another sideways, and for this reason :
the margins of the valves are wavy or toothed or serrate,
and the hollows of one valve fit into the raised portions
on the margins of the opposite valve. Willy-nilly some
of these bivalves display considerable ingenuity in
attempting to rid themselves of their enemies.

The oyster is a type of stationary mollusc ; except in
its very young stages it never moves from the spot where
it first takes up its position. Those of us who eat these
so-called delicacies cannot fail to have noticed that the
left-hand valve is the larger and is curved, whilst the right-
hand valve is flat or nearly so. Quite early in life the
curved or lower valve becomes attached to a stone or
some other support, whilst the right or upper valve
remains free to open and close. Seeing that the oyster
is such an immobile creature, it is hardly necessary to add
that it has no foot. In our wanderings by the sea-shore
we may often have picked up the valve of an oyster shell
pitted and bored in all directions with a number of small
holes.

Our find probably means little or nothing to us, but if

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Shell-Bearers

we read its story correctly there is a wealth of tragedy in
this half shell. It tells of a life-and-death struggle on the
part of the oyster to get the better of an insidious enemy
in the shape of a small orange-coloured sponge. This
little sponge has the objectionable habit of settling itself
upon an oyster shell and, having done so, of boring in-
numerable tunnels in its surface. The bivalve, in a vain
attempt to repair the damage, spends laborious days in
forming layer after layer of shell to keep pace with the
ravages of its enemy.

Here we may mention that all these molluscan shells,
like the eggs of birds, are formed, for the most part, of
calcium carbonate, the substance of which chalk is com-
posed. Sea and fresh-water molluscs derive the calcium
carbonate from the water in which they dwell ; land mol-
luscs obtain it from the vegetation which forms their food ;
and for this reason molluscs living on chalky soil have
heavier, stronger shells than those which frequent soils want-
ing in chalk. Related to the oyster are the file-shells, which
have the extraordinary habit, among molluscs, of building
nests. From their bodies a large number of very fine
threads are given off. These threads entangle themselves
with bits of shell, small stones and other flotsam and jetsam.
Beneath some favourable stone this ingenious nest is placed.

Very many marine molluscs are burrowers, but their
work is of so simple a nature and displays so little
ingenuity that we cannot afford it more than passing
notice. Their burrowing simply consists of the animals
sinking themselves in mud or sand, that they may be
hidden from their enemies. The bodies of all molluscs
possessed of this habit are more or less elongated, so that
they are enabled to reach the water for feeding purposes,
while their shelly homes remain buried. Certain of these
molluscs do not even hide in the sand, but take up their
positions in the burrows of other marine organisms or in
cavities in the roots of seaweeds. On the other hand,
a few of these creatures are such inveterate burrowers and

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tunnellers that they are the cause of considerable damage
in one way and another.

The piddock, an exceedingly common bivalve, with a
delicate shell whose surface is somewhat reminiscent of
that of a file, is, despite its fragile shell, a rock burrower.
The precise method by which this creature makes its
home in the rock is not known, but it is probably accom-
plished by the foot, aided by the rasp-like surface of the
fore part of the shell. Once within the burrow, the mollusc
never leaves it, and so for the remainder of its life is
amply protected against its enemies. That this industrious
and notorious bivalve plays a considerable part in the
erosion of our coasts, especially where the coastal cliffs
are formed of chalk or limestone, there can be no doubt.
So riddled with holes do the cliffs become, where the
piddock is common, that the destructive action of the
waves is far more effective than would be the case were
the cliffs undamaged.

There are other molluscs possessed of this strangely
unaccountable habit of boring into rocks. One of them is
absolutely impartial as to the kind of rock it attacks.
Kentish rag, clay ironstone and Portland stone all come
alike to the mollusc, for it tunnels them all with pits five
or six inches long. It does not appear to have any sense
of direction, for its borings point all ways, in striking
contrast to those of the piddock, which are always
approximately vertical and parallel to one another. As
may be guessed, one result of this indiscriminate boring
is that the tunnel of one animal frequently opens into that
of its neighbour. But the molluscs are absolutely devoid
of all sense of politeness, and they simply bore on and on,
with the result that one individual will surely bore through
the shell and body of its neighbour.

Of all the burrowing molluscs by far the worst enemy
of mankind is the shipworm, which makes tunnels of no
inconsiderable dimensions along the grain of wood-piles,
the bottoms of wooden ships, etc. The adult shipworm

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Shell-Bearers

departs from the usual appearance of marine molluscs ;
it is greyish-white, nearly a foot long and provided with a
pair of very minute valves on its hinder end. The young
shipworm, during the first few hours of its existence, is a
lively little creature ; a miniature hedgehog, in fact, all
studded with spines. Pine, elm, oak and teak are all
tunnelled by this creature, and so closely placed are the
borings of the different individuals that the dividing walls
are often as thin as a sheet of paper. Each tunnel is
lined with a thin layer of chalky matter, and it has been
statedthat a piece of wood, badly attacked bythe shipworm,
contains as much of this deposited mineral matters as of
the original wood. Our common shipworm has a relative,
dwelling in the tropics, with the curious habit of tunnelling
into the husks of coconuts which have found their way
into the sea.

There is a very common mollusc of our coasts which
deserves more than passing notice. We refer to the limpet.
Everyone knows the limpet, but few of us probably have
paid much attention to it. Astonishing as it may sound,
it is none the less true that this creature is possessed of
nearly two thousand teeth, which it uses to scrape minute
vegetation, as food, from the rocks on which it dwells.
The most extraordinary and, curiously, the most commonly
observed trait of the limpet is its power of adhering to the
surface of the rock on which it has taken up its abode.
Its adhesive powers are wellnigh beyond belief, and
experiment has shown that a moderate-sized limpet will
support as much as a quarter of a hundredweight for several
seconds before relaxing its hold.

The most popular theory, in explanation, is that the
mollusc affixes itself by drawing up its body in the centre,
thus imitating a schoolboy's sucker. It is a theory, however,
which will not hold, for if a limpet and its shell be cut in
two, the halves will adhere as tightly as the whole. Of
one thing we are certain, the mollusc must have a perfectly
level surface to pitch its home, and to make certain of

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Shell-Bearers

this each limpet constructs a little level patch on the rock
exactly corresponding to the size of its shell. And this,
again, brings us to a remarkable fact in the history of the
limpet. Inert as these creatures may appear at low tide,
they wander about over the surfaces of the rocks, when
they are covered with water, in search of food, returning
with unerring certainty to their particular level patch
after each foray. This homing instinct seems to be well
developed in the molluscs, for snails usually return to the
same place to roost evening after evening. With the
limpet its return is a case of necessity, for limpets are
of all sizes, so that individuals which cannot recognise
their own level patch and return to it are likely to
find a patch which does not fit them, with the result
that, to their undoing, they cannot adhere firmly to the
rock.

Amongst land molluscs we can find few examples of
real ingenuity. The prickly snail is a little aeronaut and
becomes so in an ingenious manner. It is prone to ascend
trees, but loath to walk down again, so what does he do
but climb upon a leaf which is about to fall, takes a firm
hold and comes to earth on his primitive parachute. It is
fortunate that the snail only develops this tree-climbing
habit towards autumn, otherwise he would be com-
pelled to bestir himself and walk down any tree he had
ascended.

The cuttle-fish and the sea-hare have respectively some-
what ingenious methods of escaping from their enemies.
When alarmed, instead of showing fight, or burying them-
selves in the sand or hiding behind seaweed or employing
any of the other methods usual to sea-dwellers, they simply
discharge a coloured fluid into the water and enveloped
therein they swim rapidly out of danger.

We cannot close our chapter on molluscs without some
mention of pearls. Valuable as they are, when of good
quality, at the same time they are merely the result of
efforts on the part of the mollusc to prevent injury by a

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Shell-Bearers

foreign body. The pearl was esteemed as a jewel so long
ago as 300 B.C. By the Romans it was looked upon as a
sign of wealth, and seeing that it was found in this country
in the time of Julius Caesar, it may have had something
to do with the Roman conquest of Britain.

Pearls may occur in almost any bivalve, and they are by
no means confined to the pearl oyster, as is commonly
supposed, though in the shell of this mollusc they attain
their finest proportions. By the way, the true pearl oyster
is not an oyster at all, but is more nearly related to the
edible mussel. And what of the pearl? It is simply a
perverted growth, as we shall see presently. The Hindoos
consider that pearls are consolidated drops of dew. Flashes
of lightning have been said to cause them, and that they are
nereids' tears is a common belief. That these theories
are all very wide of the mark we need hardly state, but
the fact remains that, despite the great value of pearls
and the amount of attention which has been paid to pearl-
fishing, the exact cause of the jewels is still somewhat
veiled in mystery.

That the pearl is the result of a growth in the lining of
the shell, over some foreign body that has lodged therein,
is well known ; the precise nature of the foreign body is
doubtful. Some scientists aver that it is a grain of sand
or some similar substance ; others that it is a parasite.
Probably the formation of pearls in the various pearl-
producing bivalves may be due to different causes. In
the Ceylon pearl oyster the cause of pearl formation is
certainly a little worm, whose eggs hatch in the sea, but
whose larvae enter a bivalve, set up pearl formation and
die entombed in a pearl.

The Ceylon pearl fisheries form one of what may be
termed the romantic industries of the world. A fishery
which took place at Marichchikkaddi, near the mouth of
the Modragain river, has been so graphically described by
Dr W. J. Dakin in his excellent little book on pearls that
we make no excuse for quoting his words, almost in

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Shell -Bearers

extenso. After a preliminary inspection of the oyster-
beds by the government officials and the marking out of
the ground, advertisements are published, announcing that
a fishery is about to take place. " As a result of these
advertisements divers, gem-buyers, speculators, money-
lenders, petty merchants and persons of very diverse
occupations make speedy arrangements for attending the
fishery.

" Stories of mushroom growth of towns wherever gold is
found, or diamonds discovered, or oil struck, have become
quite commonplace. Tales of the uprising of Klondike,
Coolgardie and South African cities fade beside Marich-
chikkaddi — the city with no foundation. This place, with
its unpronounceable name, is the pearl metropolis of the
universe. Probably there is not a stocked jewel-case that
does not contain gems that have filtered through this
unique city by the sea. A sand-drifted waste lying
between the jungle of the hinterland and the ocean is
transformed by the c open sesame ' of a fishing proclamation
into a seething mass of working humanity in a few weeks.
For ten or twelve weeks Marichchikkaddi is one of Asia's
busiest marts. One would hardly think that these
Easterners, squatting on mats in open-front stalls, could
judge the worth of a gem with a wonderful precision.
Usually they have learned by long experience every
* point ' that a pearl can possess, know whether it be
precisely spherical, and has a good ' skin ' and a lustre
appealing to connoisseurs. A mental colander or simple
scale enables them to know to the fraction of a grain the
weight of a pearl, and experience and the trader's instinct
tell them everything further that may possibly be known
of a gem.

" Each fishing-boat is a hive of competitive noise and
activity. All around are disappearing and reappearing
seal-like heads. By noon most of the divers are tired out
and, if it has been a successful day, the boats are fairly
loaded up. The signal is then given for pulling up

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Shell-Bearers

anchors. The men, other than the tired - out divers,
occupy themselves nominally in picking over their oysters,
throwing away stones, shells and other useless things,
and in preparing the loads for easy transport from the
boats to the shore. But, as a matter of fact, it is well
known that this opportunity is seized to * pick ' the
oysters in another sense. Almost invariably the finest
pearls occur just inside the edge of the shells, and may
fall out at any moment. No doubt many of these round
and best-coloured pearls are picked out during the run
home and concealed about the persons of the boat's crew.
This is one reason why the government does not get its
fair share of the pearls.

" The homeward race of a hundred or so ruddy-sailed
craft before a strong wind and over a tropical sea is a very
pretty sight. They are orientally fantastic in colour and
shape, and each deck is crowded with men and boys, with
shining brown skins and lightly coloured clothes wrapped
round them. Each crew strives to get in first, because —
' first come is first served,' and they who first dispose of
their loads are the first to be free to rest. The load is
counted and divided into three piles. An official selects
two piles for the government, whilst the other is divided
amongst the divers. On their way to their houses these
divers are besieged by a crowd of natives eager to buy
from them their oysters by the dozen, or the half-dozen,
or even singly. They may be observed stopping at
boutiques and paying their score with oysters, extremely
acceptable to the shopkeeper itching to try his luck. In
a small way oysters pass current here as the equivalent of
coin."

The oysters belonging to the government are all sold
by auction, and the day's catch is usually sold the same
night. Failing this, the balance is disposed of privately
the next morning.

" The washing of the pearls from the oyster is a
most tedious, primitive and somewhat disgusting process.

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Shell-Bearers

The oysters are simply left to rot, the process being
much assisted by vast numbers of a species of blow-
fly, which after the first day or two infests the whole
camp. The maggots of this fly eat their way through
everything.

" After a week's rotting, the seething and disgusting mass
is sorted by hand and the pearls, or such of them as are of
sufficient size, are picked out. The residue is now ready
to be washed. This is carried on in dug-out canoes or
' ballams.' The bivalves are put in and water is poured
over them. As the water rises, a wriggling mass of
maggots floats up from the lower recesses. The shells
are rinsed, and the valves separated and rubbed to remove
any detritus in which a pearl might lodge. The men
scrutinise the nacreous lining for attached or shell pearls,
placing any found in a special basket. After the quantity
has been reduced somewhat the floating maggots are
skimmed off.

" Some of the water is baled out through a sieve, any
material that remains therein being carefully returned to
the ballam lest a pearl may be contained or entangled in
the dirt. More water is then added and the process of
washing the shells is continued. Finally, after all the
shells have been removed a fresh supply of water is
poured into the ballam until it overflows. By this method
the lighter filth is got rid of. The remainder of the water
is decanted and the heavy debris in which the pearls are
mingled is exposed at the bottom. More water is added
and the detritus or 'sarraku' kneaded and turned over
and over again. The * sarraku ' is sorted and winnowed
at leisure, and examined till the smallest-sized pearls have
been extracted. The final search is carried on by women,
and it is amazing to see what a large quantity of small
pearls their keen eyes and fine touch enable them to
obtain.

" The whole process is intensely interesting and
picturesque, but it leaves much to think about afterwards

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Shell-Bearers

and much to hope for. The same process has been going
on in the same way for centuries, and it would continue
for centuries to come if the busy Western mind, so full of
new ideas and plans, were not turning its attention 'to
improving the old system."

286

CHAPTER XXVI

CORALS, WORMS, ETC.

IN this our penultimate chapter we reach the low water-
mark of animal ingenuity. One does not expect much
intelligence in an earthworm or a sea-cucumber or
a star-fish. However, it is our aim to review the
animal kingdom as a whole, therefore we cannot omit
any animals which, however humdrum their lives, judged
from our own standards, are of the greatest interest to
scientists.

Let us begin at the lowest step in the ladder of life.
In the mud at the bottom of our ponds there is often, in
fact usually, to be found a very minute little animal
called an amoeba, so small that it can only just be seen
with the naked eye. It is impossible to imagine a living
creature more simple in structure than this. To all intents
the amceba is little more than a small blob of jelly-like
substance called protoplasm, the basis of all animal life.
When the amoeba wishes to feed it simply flows round
the substance destined to form its meal ; having digested
all it can, it merely flows away from the undigested
portions. The life of such a simple creature one might
surmise would be free from all cares, yet the amceba, like
the rest of us, has its troubles. Ponds are liable to dry up
in summer-time and the amceba, being essentially a water
animal, must make provision for such an emergency, and
it does so in this manner. The outer edge of its jelly-like
body simply hardens and forms a thin shell, so that
periods of drought cannot dry up the main body of the
animal. In this state it either awaits the rain and the re-
formation of the pond or is carried by the wind to another
more hospitable pond. In either event, as soon as it

287

Corals, Worms, etc.

comes in contact with water, the shell is thrown off and
the amoeba resumes its normal life.

A little higher up the scale of development we find
creatures almost as minute as the amoeba, which, however,
are covered with solid armour as beautiful as it is varied.
These little creatures, called foraminifera, float freely in
the waters of the ocean and when they die their shells sink
to the bottom. As there are countless millions of these
creatures in certain parts of the ocean, their shelly deposits
are of considerable extent and, in course of time, after
long ages, in fact, the pressure of the water welds them
together and they form chalk. Heat, in addition to
pressure, which occurs when volcanic action occurs in
the deposits of foraminifera, results in the formation of
marble. Many of these lowly animals are quite unable to
exist as individuals, they therefore combine together to
form colonies, where each being sinks its own individuality
for the good of the colony.

Sponges, which are almost plant-like in growth, are
merely colonies of minute animals. "They are living
thickets in which many small animals play hide-and-
seek." Their most striking peculiarity, from our point of
view, is the fact that they form so-called spicules of silica.
Silica is the substance of which flint is composed, and the
sponge spicules are of real beauty, needle-shaped, star-
shaped, dumbbell-shaped, like studded clubs, and a hundred s
and one other forms may be found ; in fact, they make
beautiful objects for the microscope. To the sponges
they act as some protection against their enemies. More
remarkable than the beautiful shapes of the spicules is the
power possessed by the sponges of extracting the silica
for their manufacture from the sea-water in which they
dwell. Sea-water is said to contain about one and a half
parts of silica to a hundred thousand parts of water ; there-
fore, to form an ounce of spicules a ton of sea-water must
pass through the body of a sponge.

Very closely related to the sea-anemones of our coasts

288

A MISCHIEVOUS BEAST

A wolverine, finding a backwoodsman's house empty, will clear it of everything
movable down to tne gridiron.

Corals, Worms, etc.

are the corals of warmer seas. Now the corals, without
knowing it maybe, are great architects. The great B&rrier
Reef, one thousand two hundred miles in length and fifty
miles in breadth, is the sole handiwork of these little
creatures. For our purpose let us look upon the coral as
a minute sea-anemone. Each individual forms a little cup-
like resting-place with a solid base ; in this shelter the coral
lives. As growth takes place, the coral adds more and
more to its home, for it only dwells on the ends of the
stony branches. In this way enormous coral deposits are
built up.

" Animals cease not to pay their filial debts. We see
a multitudinous life rising like a mist in the sea, countless
millions of microscopic creatures often enclosed in beauti-
ful shells of flint and lime ; myriads of them are always
being killed at the surface by vicissitudes of temperature
and the like ; they sink gently through the miles of water
to find a grave in the abysmal ooze. The submarine
volcano top, which did not reach the surface, is slowly
raised by the rainfall of these countless minutiae. Inch by
inch for myriads of years the snow-drift of dead shells
forms a patient preparation for the coral island. The
tiniest, hardly bigger than the wind-blown dust, form when
added together the strongest foundation in the world.
The vast whale-skeleton falls, but melts away till only the
ear-bones are left. Of the ruthless shark^nothing remains
but the teeth. The sea-butterflies with their frail shells
are mightier than these, and perhaps the microscopic
atoms are strongest of all. The pile slowly rises, and the
exquisite fragments are cemented into a stable foundation
for the future city of corals.

" At length, when the height at which they can live -is
reached, coral germs move themselves to the sides of the
raised mound and begin a new life on the shoulders of
death. They spread in lightly coloured festoons and have
often been likened to flowers. They surround their soft
bodies with strong shells of carbonate of lime, obtained by
T 289

Corals, Worms, etc.

some transformation from the calcium chloride or calcium
sulphate of the sea-water. Sluggish creatures they are,
living in calcareous castles of indolence ! In silence they
spread and crowd and smother one another in a struggle
for standing-room. The dead forms, partly dissolved and
cemented, become a broad and solid base for higher and
higher growth. At a certain height the action of the
breakers begins, great severed masses are piled up or roll
down the sloping sides. Clear daylight at last is reached,
the mound rises above the water.

" The foundations are broadened as vigorously out-
growing masses succumb to the brunt of the waves and
tumble downwards. Within the surface-circle weathering
makes a soil, and birds resting there with weary wings, or
perhaps dying, leave many seeds of plants — the beginnings
of another life. The waves cast up dormant life which
has floated from afar, and a terrestrial fauna and flora
begin. It is a strange and beautiful story, dead shells of
the tenderest beauty on the rugged shoulders of the
volcano; the slowly laid foundation of the reef-building
polyps ; at last plants and trees, the hum of insects and
the song of birds over the coral island."

Turning for a moment to the common starfish, we are
confronted with an undoubted case of animal ingenuity, as
exhibited by the creature's manner of feeding. The star-
fish, though muscular, is a soft-bodied creature, and his food
consists of bivalves, mussels and the like. Now the star-
fish has no means of piercing the shell of its victim as does
the whelk, or of causing it to rot away as do certain
sponges ; it relies on main force to accomplish its object.
The common starfish is a five-rayed creature, and at the
centre of the rays on the under surface its mouth is
situated. When a suitable mussel is found, the first care
of the starfish is to place its victim below its mouth, with
the help of the innumerable little structures, called tube
feet, with which the under surfaces of its rays are studded.
Having placed its prey into position, the starfish raises

290

Corals, Worms, etc.

itself on to the tips of its rays so that its body is strongly
arched or humped. Next it applies its many tube feet to
the sides of either valve and pulls strongly and steadily at
right angles to their surfaces. Eventually the valves
separate ever so little and the starfish turns its stomach
inside out, a feat it can accomplish without difficulty,
inserts it between the valves and sucks out the unfortunate
mollusc.

Experiment has shown that the valves of a healthy
mussel can withstand a sudden pull of 4000 grammes, but
-that they will yield to a continued pull of 900 grammes.
Seeing that the starfish can exert a continued pull of 1350
grammes, it is hardly surprising that it never goes hungry.
A fight between a starfish and a sea-urchin is an exciting
yet frequent event.

The sea-urchin, sometimes called the sea-hedgehog, is,
as its popular name implies, densely studded with spines
of various sizes. Each spine is attached to the body of
the urchin by a ball-and-socket joint and is therefore
freely movable. Despite its formidable armour, the
urchin is no match for the starfish, which simply lays one
of its rays upon the urchin and holds on as tightly as it
can with its tube feet. The urchin replies by biting its
adversary vigorously, and the starfish replies by removing
its ray and tearing off several of the urchin's spines as it
does so. This performance on the part of the starfish is
repeated again and again, till the urchin is denuded of
its armour, when the starfish, with its uncanny elastic
stomach, sucks out the vitals of its victim. One would
think that the starfish suffers somewhat in these conflicts.
Probably this is the case, but it is of little moment, for the
starfish is so highly imbued with the power of regenera-
tion that one of its rays, torn from the rest, will eventually
grow into a new starfish.

The power of regeneration reaches an extraordinary
degree of development in a minute, trumpet-shaped
animal known as Stentor, which lives affixed to water weed

291

Corals, Worms, etc.

in marshy pools. Stentor may be "chopped, broken or
shaken up into pieces of all sizes and shapes, and every
piece, provided only that it is above a definite minimum
size (less than -^^ inch in diameter, and in bulk only one or
two per cent, of a full-grown Stentor] and that it contains a
piece of the nucleus, will blossom out as a minute but fully
formed individual, which will feed and grow and be indis-
tinguishable from a product of natural generation."

We have just mentioned that when the sea-urchin is
attacked by the starfish it defends itself by biting. If
we examine an urchin carefully we shall see that its
armour consists of two kinds of spines, some relatively
long and sharply pointed, others smaller and terminating
in a pair of pincers. It is with these small pincers that
the urchin attacks its adversary. Their main use is the
capture of small prey, and they are also used to clean the
larger spines, for, despite the fact that the sea-urchin is a
slow-moving creature, it never allows itself to become over-
grown with seaweed as do so many animals of a sluggish
nature. One, at least, of our common urchins, the purple-
coloured individual so common round our coasts, is a
burrower of no mean order. In limestone and other
rocks it excavates holes often as deep as ten inches. It is
not known precisely how the industrious little creature
works, but from the fact that the spines of the urchins
found in these excavations are always considerably worn
it is quite probable that the work is accomplished by the
constant movement of the larger spines on their ball-and-
socket joints.

The urchins' hollows make good shelters for their
inhabitants ; for, although the urchin can walk slowly by
a movement of his spines, he has not the power of clinging
firmly to his rocky home. Therefore till he has con-
structed his shelter he is at the mercy of the waves. The
closely related sea-cucumbers are of little interest to us.
In one of them dwells a little fish, with what benefit to the
sea-cucumber it is hard to say. Another species, under

292

Corals, Worms, etc.

the name of "trepang," is considered a delicacy in China.
Many of these animals carry their young on their backs
till they are able to fend for themselves..

The worms, in the broad sense of the word, are an
exceedingly interesting group of the animal kingdom.
As an engineer the common earthworm has few rivals, or
should we more fitly call him a tiller of the soil ? Each
earthworm forms for himself a burrow which varies in
depth from about eighteen inches in summer weather to
as much as six or seven feet in dry, cold weather. These
excavations are made in the simplest possible manner, for
the worm simply pushes its way through the earth and
swallows the soil as it goes. The digestible matter, in the
form of decayed vegetable matter, goes to build up the
tissues of the little burrower, the indigestible substances
pass through the earthworm's body to form the familiar
worm castings. Occasionally, however, the worm plasters
this finely divided soil which has passed through its body
against the sides of its burrow, by means of its flattened
tail. In this manner it provides a smooth lining for its
home and one, moreover, which it covers with a slimy
substance from pores in its back, a substance which forms
both lubricant and antiseptic against the advent of
harmful bacteria.

By day the worm lives below ground, at night it sallies
forth in search of food, but always keeps the tip of its tail
just within the entrance to its burrow, the reason being
that on the least hint of danger it is thus enabled to fly back
into safety. Cold and damp are distasteful to earthworms,
and, in addition, they have many enemies ; it is not sur-
prising, therefore, to learn that they plug the mouths of
their burrows with leaves. As Darwin pointed out, they
do not do this at random. Each leaf is carefully
examined till the narrowest part is discovered, and this
is the part which is drawn first into the burrow.

At times these leaves are used to line the burrow, and
when Scotch pine is used for the purpose Darwin noticed

293

Corals, Worms, etc.

that they are drawn into a hole by the part where the
two leaves join and that the pointed, needle-like tips of
the leaves are pushed into the earth at the side of the
burrow, so that they may not damage the inmates'
delicate skins.

Perhaps in our gardens we may have dug up the cocoon
of the earthworm without knowing it. They are white when
first formed, turning yellow later, rounded at one end
and almost pointed at the other. Their mode of forma-
tion is peculiar. On examining an earthworm we cannot
fail to notice, about one-third of the way down its body,
a light-coloured ring. When about to lay eggs, the worm
gives off a sticky substance which, in contact with the air,
rapidly becomes hard and horny. As this ring is formed,
the worm withdraws and at the same time deposits three
or four eggs within it. When free of the worm, the ends
of the ring close up to form the cocoon. Later a single
worm emerges, a perfect worm in miniature, which
completes its development in the cocoon at the expense
of the other eggs.

That earthworms do a great deal of good is undoubted.
Darwin estimated that the average garden in this country
contains 53,000 earthworms and that ten tons of soil per
acre pass through their bodies each year, or, in other
words, that the earthworms of England pass 320,000,000
tons of earth per annum through their bodies. " In the
history of the habitable earth, earthworms have been the
most important feature in progress. Ploughers before
the plough, they have made the earth fruitful."

The earthworms belong to the class of bristle-footed
worms because they move from place to place by means
of minute bristles which project from their bodies. In the
sea there are many interesting worms of the same class.
The little sand-mason is one of them. So delicate is this
creature that it builds for itself a tube of sand in which it
dwells. In appearance it is quite unlike the earthworm ;
round its mouth there is a fringe of tentacles, and with

294

Corals, Worms, etc.

these it builds its little shelter, slowly, laboriously, yet with
infinite patience. The sand is taken up, grain by grain, in
the tentacles and passed to the animal's mouth, where it is
covered with saliva ; then the tentacles transfer the sand
grain to the margin of the tube and place it in position.
The sand-mason is a little builder using sand grains in
place of bricks, saliva in place of mortar.

A closely related species uses fragments of broken
shell for its home ; others make shells so closely resembling
those of certain snails that there is every excuse for
mistaking the worms for molluscs. There are hosts of
other worms — flat-worms, tape-worms, ribbon and round
worms. Most of them show life histories of the greatest
interest ; many of them are parasitic. But, though interest-
ing, their doings hardly form pleasant reading, and of signs
of ingenuity they display not a particle, unless the fact
that many of the parasitic worms require two hosts to
complete their life cycle. Thus the tape-worm of the
mouse can only complete its growth within the intestines
of the cat ; that of the rabbit must pass to the dog for
complete development ; a snail parasite would die out
entirely were it not swallowed by the thrush, and so on.
Interesting but nauseating.

295

CHAPTER XXVII

PARASITES AND PREDATORS

JUST as, in the world of humans, there are certain indi-
viduals who manage to eke out an existence at the
expense of other people, without doing any work or
performing any services in return, so, in the world of
the lower animals, there are creatures of similar kind.
Just exactly what we mean by a parasite ought to be
quite clear to us before we go any further. A parasite is
a living being which dwells upon or within another living
being and derives the whole of its livelihood from its host,
as the individual upon which a parasite lives is called.
There are semi-parasites or partial parasites and total
parasites. The partial parasite is a creature which is not
wholly dependent upon its host for its well-being ; the
total parasite cannot exist without its host.

We must be careful not to confuse parasites with guests
who contribute in labour or in kind to the well-being of
the animals with which they live ; nor even must they
be confused with those individuals who share another's
dwelling without robbing their associates of any of their
goods. Although the term parasite is often used in a
derogatory sense, it must not be imagined that all parasites
are harmful to man. Many of them are so, it is true, but,
again, the activities of many have been harnessed for his
benefit. Predators are simply creatures which wander
over the face of the earth in search of prey. The tiger is a
predator, and so is the lady-bird, and a useful one too.

Let us first of all consider the doings of a few of the
animal predators. We have just mentioned the lady-bird
so we will take this little beetle as our first example. It
deserves pride of place, for it is an exceedingly useful

296

Parasites and Predators

little creature, doing yeoman service in ridding our gardens
of the obnoxious green-fly. It is, however, of an Australian
and not of a British lady-bird that we would speak, a little
creature that formed the central figure in one of the
greatest romances of the insect world. We will relate the
story from the beginning.

In the year 1868 a scale insect, known as the cottony-
cushion scale, was introduced into the United States from
Australia. Now there is no family of insects more
destructive than the scale insects. Two of them only are
of use to man : the cochineal insect, from which a dye is
prepared, and the lac insect, from which shellac is obtained.
A large family with only two reputable members is indeed
in bad case.

Most of the scale insects have the obnoxious habit
of driving their awl-like beaks into plant tissues and
sucking out their juices ; at the same time they cover
themselves with hard and horny cases, whence they derive
their name. Well, as we have said, a number of these
insects reached America about fifty years ago. It so
happened that these particular insects were very
destructive to citrus plants and, of course, they found their
way to^ the citrus groves of California. Here they did
enormous damage, and all the efforts of the orange and
lemon growers to keep them in check proved of no avail.
The Americans, therefore, sent an entomologist to
Australia with the object of discovering how it happened
that this scale insect was not particularly destructive in
its native home.

Success met this scientist. He found that everywhere
in Australia the scale was devoured by a little red lady-
bird and its larvae. Some of these beetles were sent home,
but they died on the voyage. A second shipment was
more fortunate, and the little aliens bred and multiplied
in the land of their adoption to such an extent that the
cottony-cushion scale is now no longer a pest in California.
The wise American government, from which our own has

297

Parasites and Predators

much to learn in such matters, established breeding
stations for the little beetles, and now, whenever or wherever
the cottony-cushion scale seems likely to gain the upper
hand, hosts of the beautiful little lady-birds are despatched,
to deal with the menace in their own way.

Some of the other attempts to enlist the services of
predaceous insects have not been quite so happy. About
the time that the cottony-cushion scale was ravaging the
orange groves of California, a destructive moth, the gipsy-
moth, was introduced into the eastern states from Europe.
The larvae of this moth lost no time in stripping all the
trees bare of leaves, killing them wholesale and ruining
the crops of fruit. The net was spread far and wide in
the endeavour to find a saviour in the shape of an insect
friend. Could the story of the lady-bird be repeated in
this case? A large ground-beetle was selected for the
work. This ground-beetle is essentially predaceous. He
kills moths, their larvae and their pupae by severe nips
from his powerful jaws ; he chases his prey on the ground,
pursues them up trees, travelling to the very tips of the
branches when on hunting bent, and not only so, but his
larvae are equally bloodthirsty.

The purple ground-beetle did not prove the success
against the gipsy-moth that had been anticipated. True,
he did his duty right manfully in the work of destruction,
but he did not increase sufficiently rapidly in the land of
his adoption to be of any real use ; moreover, in the event
of a temporary shortage in the supply of the gipsy-moths
which formed his food he would turn upon his fellows
and devour them.

There are many other predators in the insect world :
dragon-flies, which prey upon insects smaller than them-
selves ; robber-flies, which will even hawk insects so large
and powerful as locusts ; hover-flies, which devour green-fly.
Amongst the birds and quadrupeds predators are every-
where to be found,

From the very nature of their existence all parasites

298

Parasites and Predators

are interesting. Their subterfuges to gain their ends, the
inordinate periods over which many of them can exist
without food and the fact that many of them can only
attain maturity after having parasitised two hosts, all
combine to make their lives worthy of careful study. The
insect parasite, be it said, does not scatter its favours at
haphazard ; it is every whit as careful to lay its eggs on
food which will suit its young as the moth, which deposits
its eggs on a certain food plant ; it takes infinite care that
the food may be in a fit condition for consumption when
its larvae are ready to make use of it.

Few insects show better judgment in finding where
to lay their eggs than a little black wasp which seeks
out the common museum-beetle. These museum-beetles
belong to a large family known as the leather-beetles,
from their partiality for such fare. All of them are drab
little beasts and our example is a voracious devourer of
feathers, dried insects and the like. The grubs of these
beetles are peculiar amongst beetle larvae in being hairy,
exceptionally so, a fact which serves as an excellent
protection from most of their enemies, for few creatures
will attack a hairy insect. Our little black wasp is not to
be put off by such a trifle as a fur coat ; she hunts
assiduously for the beetle grubs amongst the feathers and
similar substances which they frequent. Having found a
victim, the delicately fashioned little wasp jumps upon
his back. Such a proceeding is more than the beetle grub
can stand, and he struggles violently to rid himself of his
uninvited guest. The more he struggles, however, the
tighter the wasp clings, till at length, tired out by his
efforts, his violence subsides. This is the chance for
which the little wasp has been waiting ; she curls her long,
flexible body round to the under side of the grub and
inserts her sting just behind its middle pair of legs.

The usual effect of this proceeding is to paralyse the
grub, but on this point the wasp is most careful to make
every investigation. To watch her testing her victim to

299

Parasites and Predators

see if her sting has done its work is a sight that must
interest every naturalist. She climbs down from her
position on the back of the beetle larva ; then she proceeds
to pull its legs, in turn, and also various parts of its hairy-
covering. To satisfy the wasp, her victim must exhibit no
sign of life. And the reason is not far to seek.

We mentioned that certain solitary wasps were in the
habit of producing paralysis in their victims before they
laid their eggs upon them : this little black wasp affords
a parallel case. Should the beetle grub be killed outright,
it would putrefy in a very short time ; should it not be
paralysed, it would continue to grow, and a growing insect
sheds its coat from time to time, a happening that would
be fatal to the parasite's projects. Satisfied that her
victim is reduced to a sufficiently comatose state, the
wasp will reduce grub after grub to a state of inertia. Far
more grubs are put out of count than ever the wasp can
utilise.

Returning after her labours to her first victim, she again
inserts her sting in the very spot where she first punctured
the grub's skin ; in doing so she enlarges the first-formed
hole. Around this hole she carefully deposits from one
to six semi-opaque eggs, in such a position that, when her
larvae hatch, their heads will all be turned towards the
wound she has made.

On hatching, the pale yellow larvae all apply their heads
to the cavity formed by their mother and suck the juices
of their victim in no uncertain manner. Six hungry grubs,
all imbibing vital fluids continuously, soon reduce the beetle
larva to the condition of a shrivelled husk. This mere
shell, however, still has its uses, for the wasp grubs crawl
within it for shelter, preparatory to spinning their cocoons.

There are a very large number of these insect parasites.
In general habits they are very like the wasp we have just
described, and most of them also are closely related to the
wasps and bees. In one case matters are cut so fine that
if all the parasitic grubs do not grow at the same rate

300

Parasites and Predators

disaster awaits the whole brood. This happens in the
case of a little wasp, with the uncomfortable habit of
laying its eggs on the backs of caterpillars. Now a good
fat caterpillar may be described in very unscientific
language as a juicy individual ; when his thin skin is
punctured his vitals quickly dry up.

The grubs of the wasp we mentioned come into the
world on the back of a caterpillar and they all begin to
feed at holes in the skin of their host. So long as they
keep their heads buried in his flesh, all well and good, but
should one of them meet with mishap or cease feeding,
a most unlikely event, his host will rapidly dry up, losing
his moisture from the open wound in his skin. The
result of this would be that all the other wasp grubs would
die from lack of nourishment. Now most caterpillars feed
for some time, and as they do so they grow and cast their
skins several times before they are fully fed.

In the case of our wasp grub, Nature, as though fearing
that misfortune might overtake the grubs were they long-
lived, has ordained that they shall attain their full develop-
ment in three days. In fact the whole life cycle of this
little wasp, from mother insect to egg, from egg to grub,
from grub to chrysalis and again to prospective mother, is
completed in the remarkably short time of a week and
a day !

One of the most extraordinary of insect parasites is
known as the ant-decapitating fly. It is almost brutal in
its methods. The little fly deposits a single egg on the
neck of a common black American ant. When the grub
hatches from the egg it loses no time in boring into the
head of its living host. As it grows it gradually fills the
whole head cavity, till at length the unfortunate ant
gradually loses that useful member. The grub still hides
within the shell of a head, feeding on such morsels as the
brain, but the hinder parts of its body project from its
shelter, so that we are presented with the curious spectacle
of the ant's head, apparently, walking about on its own

301

Parasites and Predators

account. Still within the head of its victim the fly grub
changes into a chrysalis.

All the parasites we have described are external ; they
live outside the bodies of their hosts. There are also a
very large number of insect parasites which never see the
light of day during their immature stages, dwelling all
the while within the body, which at once provides them
with board and lodging. A very remarkable fact about
these internal parasites is that, though they may live and
feed for a considerable period within the body of some
luckless caterpillar, for instance, they never touch any
vital organ till their feeding days are over and they are
ready to change into chrysalids. By avoiding the vitals
they ensure a supply of food for themselves as long as it is
needed.

Before leaving the insect parasites let us notice two
points. It is an almost universal rule in the animal
kingdom that a single egg produces a single young one.
A search amongst parasitic insects will reveal exceptions
to this rule. There is a little parasite given to laying its
eggs in those of a moth closely related to our clothes-
moth. Each parasite egg gives rise to several grubs which
feed upon the bodies of their host larvae. We all know the
old saying concerning big fleas having little fleas, etc., but
few of us realise how true in fact these words are. They
are well exemplified in the many cases of hyperparasitism
— that is to say, cases where a parasite is itself preyed
upon by another parasite ; and this reminds us of a triple
tragedy which actually took place.

During the gipsy-moth's depredations in America it
and its doings were very carefully studied with a view to
discovering certain parasites which might lend their aid
in getting rid of the moth. During some investigations on
the eggs of the moth a certain insect was found to deposit
its eggs therein. Hardly were the parasite's eggs safely
packed away within those of the gipsy-moth when another
insect — a hyperparasite — came along and deposited a

302

Parasites and Predators

couple of eggs in each parasitised egg. From the hyper-
parasite's eggs two fat and lusty grubs emerged, and they
remained within the gipsy-moth's egg, feeding upon the
yolk. Fate, however, was not to treat them kindly, for
they had hardly begun to enjoy life when a third parasite
came along and deposited its egg within that of the gipsy-
moth. From the egg of this third parasite there hatched
a youngster, which devoured his two companions, the
grubs of the second parasite and, weathering all the
storms of infancy, emerged in due course as a perfect
insect.

And the tale with variations could be repeated over and
over again. The struggle for existence amongst the insects
is indeed severe. Amongst the birds, parasites are not
common, or we should say, more correctly, that bird
parasites are not common, for the birds, like the rest of us,
have their worries in the shape of insect parasites. Many
of the cuckoos have parasitic tendencies ; the frigate-birds
and skuas are also parasites.

A most peculiar and insidious parasite, known as
Sacculina^ occurs amongst the crabs. Sacculina in its
young stages is a free swimming individual ; with the
passage of time it loses its good character, enters the body
of a crab and resigns itself to a parasitic life in its worst
form. Changing its appearance as well as its habits, it
becomes converted into what may be termed as little
better than a growth which branches in all directions
within the body of its unfortunate host.

The worms can offer parasites galore, unpleasant
creatures most of them, yet teeming with interest one and
all. Flat-worms, tape-worms, thread-worms and liver-
flukes, they are nearly all of parasitic habit. We may let
the very common liver-fluke serve as our example of
a parasitic worm. This creature lives upon the livers of
sheep and cattle. They are not pleasant visitors, for they
cause the death of hundreds of thousands of sheep
annually. They are interesting because they form an

303

Parasites and Predators

example of the large group of parasites which require
two hosts to complete their life cycle.

The adult fluke, as it infests the liver, has a flattened
leaf-like body and measures nearly an inch in length:
There are no males and females ; each individual is
capable of producing about five hundred thousand very
minute eggs. These eggs pass from the body of the host
and then their troubles begin. Should they fall on dry
ground, their careers are at an end, but, Fortune favouring
them, they may fall into a pond at which the sheep is
drinking. Should this happen, small tailed larvae will
hatch therefrom, and they swim about in the water for
a day.

Again, at this period they are in danger of extinction.
No wonder the liver-fluke lays hundreds of thousands of
eggs, for many dangers await the youngsters. Should the
swimming larvae come in contact with a certain water-
snail, all will be well. They bore into the soft tissues of
the snail and undergo certain changes within its body.
Eventually they leave the snail and become encysted — that
is to say, covered with a resistant shell. Within this shell
further changes take place till the little creatures assume
the form of minute liver-flukes. Sheep in drinking
swallow these little shells with their contained flukes and
by the action of the digestive juices the flukes are soon
liberated from their imprisonment ; they rapidly work
their way to the liver and develop into adult flukes.

The mention of the snail which plays so important
a part in the development of the liver-fluke reminds us
that some of the shell-fish are parasitic during a portion of
their lives. In our chapter on fishes we mentioned the
case of the bitterling and the pond-mussel.

We need not trace the development of the young
mussel from its egg to its parasitic stage. Quite early in
its life, however, soon after it has attained the dignity of
a pair of valves, it possesses a long sticky thread which
floats, from between its valves, in the water. Should any

304

Parasites and Predators

passing fish come in contact with this thread the little
mussel has found what it was seeking. The sticky thread
adheres to the fish and the mussel as likely as not will come
in contact with the body of its new-found host Directly
this happens the shell-fish adheres with the tenacity of
a bull-dog ; it is enabled to do so because its valves are
armed with sharp hooks. Holding tight to the flesh of
the fish, considerable irritation is set up, and this causes
a cyst, a sort of case, to be formed around the mussel.

Thus ensconced within the flesh of its host, the bivalve
continues its development, assumes the valves of the adult
in miniature and is ready to fend for itself. By this time
the cyst on its host's body withers and falls off, with the
result that the young mussel is set free.

The subject of parasitology is one of the most absorb-
ingly interesting branches of natural history, but it is
hardly a subject that can be discussed in any work of
a popular nature.

Among predators there are many animals of peculiar
habits. It is difficult to define a predator ; practically
every flesh-eating animal is a predator, for, of necessity, all
such creatures must hunt their prey. Of all these animals
the most interesting are those who allow their fellows to
do the hunting and then rob them of their hard-won spoils.

The naturalist - Audubon instances an extraordinary
case of impudence which he observed in the southern
states of America. At a spot where brown pelicans were
common, black-headed gulls, in quantity, would lie in
wait for the larger birds. A pelican, fortunate enough to
have had a good catch, was the object of attention on the
part of the gulls. As the pelican swam shorewards, his
pouch well stocked with fish, the gulls harried him to such
an extent, even to alighting on his head, that he opened
his beak and out dropped some of his catch. The fish, as
they tumbled back into the water, were seized by the gulls,
who thus secured a meal without the trouble of hunting
for it.

u 305

Parasites and Predators

The robbing of the pelican by the gulls may have been
an isolated instance of piracy, but there are many cases
of animals which persistently and methodically rob their
fellows.

The white-headed sea-eagle or bald-eagle lives by piracy
on the osprey. The latter bird is an expert fisherman.
A keen-sighted, powerful flyer, he sails majestically over
his fishing grounds till he is rewarded by the sight of some
finny prey worthy of his mettle. Down into the water he
plunges anon and momentarily vanishes in a shower of
spray, to return presently with a fish grasped firmly in his
powerful talons.

Lucky is the osprey who has fished unobserved, for the
bald-eagle and his mate have probably watched him from
afar. The lightning plunge of the osprey is the signal for
these bold robbers to hasten themselves. With awe-
inspiring screams, he and his mate attack the heavily laden
osprey, who sooner or later abandons the unequal combat
and relinquishes his prey. Almost before the fish has left
the osprey's talons it is seized by the eagles and borne off
in triumph to the neighbouring cliffs and there devoured.

306

INDEX

I
I

^PYORNIS, 137
Albatross, in
Alligator, 227, 231
Alternation of generations,

Amblystoma, 225

Amoeba, 287

Anaconda, 232

Ant, 17, 42, 165 ; Amazon, 54 ;
callows, 47 ; cleanliness of,
48 ; cocoons, 47 ; decapi-
tating fly, 300 ; driver, 43 ;
eggs of, 45 ; gardens, 52 ;
harvesting, 43, 51 ; honey-
pot, 48 ; leaf-cutting, 52,
106 ; legionary, 43 ; lion,
61 ; lion pits, 61 ; nest, 43 ;
nuptial flight of, 44, 47 ;
nurses, 46 ; queen, 44 ;
slave-making, 53 ; societies,
42 ; soldiers, 52 ; white, 55 ;
workers, 45

Aphis, 77, 222

Axolotl, 225

BADGER, 193, 209

Bag-worm, 83

Bald-eagle, 306

"Balling "bees, 22

Barbet, 146

Barnacle, 253

Bat, 194 ; colour of, 198 ;

Hodgson's, 198 ; plantain,

198 ; senses of, 195

Beaver, 201 ; dams, 202 ; huts,
202, 203 ; lodges, 203

Bedeguar, 74

Bee, 17, 18, 90 ; bread, 21, 34 ;
blunt-tongued, 36 ; carpen-
ter, 33 ; carpenter, small,
35 ; doorkeeper, 25 ; drones,
18 ; eggs, 21 ; hive, 18 ;
ventilation of, 24 ; honey,
24 ; jelly, 20, 22 ; leaf-cut-
ting, 31 ; nests of, 32; louse,
26 ; mason, 36 ; moth, 26 ;
nurses, 27 ; parasites, 33 ;
potter, 36; queen, 18 ;
sharp-tongued,36; solitary,
31 ; swarm, 19 ; trumpeters,
28 ; wax, 19 ; wool-carder,
35 ; workers, 18

Beef-eater, 174

Beetle, ambrosia, 67 ; blister,

107, 244; cigarette, 69;

leather, 299 ; museum, 299;

purple ground, 298 ; silver

^ water, 93 ; tiger, 79

Bird of paradise, 155, 161 ;
king, 155

Bitterling, 248, 304

Bittern, 148

Blackbird, 129, 137, 141

Black-headed gull, 305

Bower-bird, 154, 160

Brambling, 181

Brazilian tree-frog, 245

Bright colours, 107

Brock, 209

Brown pelican, 305

Brush-tailed rat, 215

307

Index

Brush-turkey, 112, 113

Buccaneer-fly, 105

Buffalo, 174

Bulbul, 108

Bullfinch, 150

Bumble-bee, 18, 26, 106 ; and

clover, 28

Bustard, crested, 175
Butterfish, 247
Butterfly, cabbage, white, 97 ;

leaf, 100

CADDIS-FLY, 80 ; cases, 81, 84

Callows, 47

Canary, 223

Caribou, 187

Cassowary, in

Cat, 189, 295

Chaffinch, 125, 150

Chameleon, 235, 259

Chimpanzee, 219

Chipping squirrel, 211

Cicada, 97

Cochineal insect, 17, 297

Cockchafer, 178

Cockle, 276

Cockroach, 94; egg-case of, 94

Colour of eggs, 139

Commensalism, 165

Coot, 114

Coral, 289

Cormorant, 141

Corn-crake, 148

Cottony-cushion scale, 297

Courser, black-backed, 115

Crab, 154, 163, 174, 253, 303 I

coconut, 255 ; fiddler, 254 ;

hermit, 171, 256; masked,

259 ; robber, 254, 255 ;

spider, 258 ; violet land,

253

Crayfish, 259

Crocodile, 174, 196, 227, 331
Crow, 142 ; king, 108
Cuckoo, 107, 153, 181, 303^

bees, 36 ; fork-tailed, 108 ;

spit, 88
Curlew, 181
Cuttlefish, 276, 281

DABCHICK, 114, 115
Death-watch, 66
Desert birds, 146, 147
Dipper, 131, 181
Dog, 189, 190, 295
Dormouse, 217, 221, 223
Dragon-fly, 298
Drone, 18 ; fly, 90, 105
Duck, 136, 141
Duckbill, 211
Duck, tufted, 181

EAGLE, 108 ; bald, 306;

white-headed sea, 306
Earthworm, 287, 293
Earwig, 96
Eel, 185, 249
Egret, 174
Elephant, 174, 196
Elk, 205 ; yard, 205
Elvers, 180
Emu, in
Ermine, 221

FALCON, Arctic, 149
Fern owl, 142
Fieldfare, 181, 182
Fiery topaz, 131
File shell, 278

308

Index

Fishes migrating, 185

Flamingo, 112

Flatworm, 295, 303

Flea, 223

Foraminifera, 288

Fox, 178, 192, 208 ; Arctic,

209 ; earth, 209
Friar birds, 108
Frigate birds, 303
Frog, 241 ; hopper, 88

GADFLY, 94

Gall, artichoke, 73; currant,

73> 74; formation, 73;

kidney, 73 ; makers, 72 ;

marble, 76 ; pine-apple, 77 ;

spangle, 73, 74, 75
Gipsy migrants, 182
Giraffe, 196
Glutton, 208
Gnat buffalo, 90
Goby, 247
Golden eye, 63
Goldfinch, 125
Gorilla, 220
Gossamer, 274
Grallina, 129

Grebe, 136, 139; great-
crested, 157
Greenfinch, 150
Green-fly, 165, 222, 297, 298
Greyhound, 190
Grosbeak, 127
Grouse, in ; red, 148, 180,

181 ; sand, 181 ; willow,

146
Guillemot, 109, 143

HAMMER-HEAD, 123
Hang-nest, 127, 129

Hawk, 143, 152, 192
Harvest mouse, 216
Hedgehog, 223
Heron, 141, 152
Herring gull, 224
Hippopotamus, 196
Honey, 19 ; bee, 17, 18 ; comb

19; dew, 165; pot, 48; sac,

Hornbill, 120, 137
Hornet, 29
Horn-tail, 72
Horse bot-fly, 98
House-martin, 130, 140
House-sparrow, 143, 161, 191
Hover-fly, 105, 298
Humming-bird, 123, 137
Hyaena, 191
Hyperparasite, 302

IDENTIFICATION marks, 197
Insects and disease, 17 ;
domesticated, 17

JACKAL, 191
Jackdaw, 119, 142
Jacksnipe, 181
Jaguar, 191
Jay, 150
Jelly-fish, 173

KINGFISHER, 117, 137,

140, 141, 146
Kiwi, 115, 137
Knot, 147, 181

139,

JL J.O.11J

LACEWING, 63, 167 ; eggs of,
63

309

Index

Lac insect, 17, 297
Ladybird, 296
Lantern-fly, 165
Lark, crested, 147
Leaf-miner, 89 ; roller, 85
Lemming, 188
Leopard, 191
Leptocephali, 186
Limpet, 280
Lion, 191, 197
Liver-fluke, 303
Lizard, 227, 232 ; horned,

234 ; teratera, 175
Lobster, 253
Locust, 94, 178, 298
Looper caterpillar, 102

MAGPIE, 126, 142

Manna, 166

Mantis, 94

Marsh birds, 146

Marten, 192

Meadow-pipit, 142

Migration of fishes, 185

Mimicry, aggressive, 100 ;
protective, 100

Mole, 195, 206, 212 ; fortress,
206 ; hill, 206

Moor birds, 146

Moor-hen, 114

Moose, 205 ; yard, 205

Mosquito, 97

Moth, bag-worm, 83 ; brown
china-marks, 82 ; clear-
wing, 70, 104 ; clothes, 84 ;
gipsy, 298 ; goat, 65 ; hornet
clearwing, 104 ; lackey, 97 ;
oak tortrix, 86 ; pine-
beauty, 103 ; processionary,
178 ; red underwing, 103 ;
resin, 72; wood-leopard, 70

Mound birds, 112, 113

Mountain hare, 221

Mouse, 218, 295 ; short-tailed

field, 218
Musk-rat, 204
Musquash, 204 ; huts, 204
Mussel, 174, 276, 304

NASUTI, 57
Nectar, 24
Newt, 241
Nightingale, 140
Nightjar, no, 137, 138, 142
Noddy, no, 112

OAK apple, 73, 76

Orang-outang, 219

Oriole, 108 ; Baltimore, 128 ;

golden, 125, 215
Osprey, 306
Ostrich, in, 137, 138
Otter, 193
Oven-bird, 129
Oxpecker, 174
Oyster, 277 ; catcher, 147

PAPER-MAKERS, 29
Parrot, 141, 146, 152
Partridge, in, 141
Peacock, 154
Pearls, 281
Peccary, 192, 232
Pelican, brown, 305
Pencilled bettong, 215
Penguin, 109
Perils of migration, 183
Pheasant, 141, 146
Piddock, 279

310

Index

Pigeon, 146, 154

Pilot-fish, 175, 252

Pine-marten, 192

Plaice, 224

Plover, 137, 139; black-
headed, 174 ; ringed, 143,
147; split-winged, 174

Pocket-gopher, 212

Polecat, 192

Pollen baskets, 23

Powder-down, 152

Prairie dog, 175, 210 ; villages,
210 ; hen, 159

Prawn, 173

Prickly snail, 281

Propolis, 25

Protective coloration, 145

Proteus, 225

Ptarmigan, 148, 221

Puffin, 119, 137, 140

RABBIT, 150, 197, 210, 295
Rabbit-eared bandicoot, 216
Rat-tailed maggot, 90
Rattlesnake, 210
Raven, 149

Recognition marks, 197
Redstart, 150 ; black, 150
Redwing, 182
Reed-warbler, 133, 215
Reindeer, 187
Rhea, in
Rhinoceros, 174
Rhinoceros bird, 174
Ribbon-worm, 295
Ring-dove, 126, 150
Robber-fly, 105, 298
Robin, 122, 181, 244
Robin's pincushion, 74
Round-worm, 295

Ruff, 158
Russell's viper, 239

SACCULINA, 303
Salamander, 223
Salmon, 185, 246
Sand-mason, 294
Sand-martin, 116, 140
Sandpiper, 139, 182
Sand-wasp, 36
Sawfly, 96
Scale insect, 165
Scallop, 277
Scorpion, 154, 162
Sea-anemone, 173, 257, 288 ;

cucumber, 287 ; hare, 281 ;

hedgehog, 291 ; horse, 251
Seal, 194
Sea-slug, 276
Seasonal changes, 226
Sea-urchin, 291
Shark, 175, 252
Shape of eggs, 139
Sheep, 304 ; nostril fly, 99
Sheldrake, 119
Shipworm, 279
Shooting-fish, 2^2
Shore birds, 141
Shore lark, 182
Shrike, 108; grey, 132 ; larder,

132 ; red-backed, 132
Shrimp, 253 ; hump-backed,

259

Silkworm, 17, 263
Silver-fish, 170
Skua, 108, 303
Skunk, 200
Skylark, 142
Slave-making ant, 53
Sloth, 199
Smith, 245

Index

Snail, 276, 295

Snake, 235; charming, 238;

hog-nosed, 235
Snipe, 137, 140
Snow bunting, 149, 182
Social wasps, 18, 28
Soldier ants, 52
Sole, 224

Solitary wasps, 36, 300
Sparrow-hawk, 107, 108
Spider, 154, 161, 261 ; bird-
eating, 262 ; garden, 263 ;

raft, 272 ; trapdoor, 272 ;

water, 271 ; web of, 123,

265 ; wolf, 272
Sponge, 288
Springbok, 189
Springtail, 161
Squirrel nest, 217
Star-fish, 287, 290
Starling, 122, 181
Stentor, 291
Stick insect, 96, 101
Stickleback, 249 ; fifteen-

spined, 249; three-spined,

249

Stoat, 192, 221
Stockdove, 119
Stork, 141
Stormy petrel, 119
Sun-bird, 146
Swallow, 139, 149, 181, 182,

184

Swarm of bees, 19
Swift, 144, 181, 182
Sword-fish, 200

TADPOLE nurseries, 245
Tailor-bird, 134
Tape-worm, 295, 303
Tent caterpillars, 89

Teratera lizard, 175

Termites, 17, 42, 55, 65 ; egg-
laying of, 58 ; in nests, 114 ;
mounds, 56; nasuti, 57, 60 ;
nuptial flight of, 56 ; nurses,
57; queen, 57; royal cell,
57> 595 soldiers, 57, 60;
workers, 57 ;

Tern, 108, no ; Arctic, 181 ;
lesser, 143

Texture of eggs, 138

Theories of migration, 184

Thread-worm, 303

Thrush, 117, 129, 141, 146,

295

Ticks, 223

Tic-polonga, 239

Tiger, 191

Titmouse, 122, 140, 181 ; long-
tailed, 125, 150

Toad, 241 ; fire-bellied, 244 ;
midwife, 243 ; spade-foot,
244 ; Surinam, 242

Tortoise, 227 ; giant, 230 ;
gopher, 229 ; pond, 230

Tree-creeper, 140 ; hopper,

165

Turtle, 227 ; dove, 126 ;
edible, 229

V
VARIABLE hare, 221

WAPATI, 197

Wasp, 18, 28, 29; mud, 41;
queen, 29 ; sand, 36 ; soli-
tary, 36, 300 ; sparring, 40 ;
wood, 71

Water boatman, 197

Water-hen, 151

Water-snail, 304

312

Index

Wax plates, 19 Woodcock, 144, 146

Weasel, 192 Woodlouse, 253

Weaver-bird, 127, 129, 153 Woodpecker, 119, 140, 141,

Weevil, birch, 85 146

Whale, 200 ; killer, 200 Wood-wasp, 71

White ant, 55 Wrasse, 248

White-headed sea-eagle, 306 Wren, 140

Wind and migration, 183 Wryneck, 122, 137, 140

Wolf, 191 , Wydah bird, 153

Wolverine, 208

Worker ant, 45

Worker bee, 23 ZAITHA, 95

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