<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1 style="margin-bottom:2em;"><SPAN name="BIRDS_AND_NATURE"></SPAN>BIRDS AND NATURE<br/> <span class="xx-smaller">ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY.</span></h1>
<div class="vlouter">
<div class="volumeline">
<div class="volumeleft"><span class="sc">Vol. VIII.</span></div>
<div class="volumeright"><span class="sc">No. 4.</span></div>
<div class="ac">NOVEMBER, 1900.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<h2 style="margin-top:2em;"><SPAN name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></SPAN>CONTENTS.</h2>
<table class="toctable" id="TOC">
<tr>
<td class="c1"> </td>
<td class="c2"><span class="sc">Page</span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#SONNET_NOVEMBER">SONNET—NOVEMBER.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">145</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#SOME_FACTS_ABOUT_THE_WESTERN_WILLET">
SOME FACTS ABOUT THE WESTERN WILLET.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">146</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#CRUEL_TREATMENT_OF_BIRDS_DEMANDED_BY_DAME">
CRUEL TREATMENT OF BIRDS DEMANDED BY DAME FASHION.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">150</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_FALL_MIGRATIONS">THE FALL MIGRATIONS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">151</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_WAYS_OF_SOME_BANTAMS">THE WAYS OF SOME BANTAMS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">152</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_BUFFLE-HEAD">THE BUFFLE-HEAD.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">155</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#AN_HOUR_WITH_AN_ANT">AN HOUR WITH AN ANT.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">156</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#SONG">SONG.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">157</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_AMERICAN_EARED_GREBE">THE AMERICAN EARED GREBE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">158</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_GEOGRAPHICAL_DISTRIBUTION_OF_FISHES">
THE GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF FISHES.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">161</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_LOUISIANA_TANAGER">THE LOUISIANA TANAGER.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">167</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#CHATTER_OF_A_CHAT">CHATTER OF A CHAT.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">168</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_LUNA_AND_POLYPHEMUS_MOTHS">
THE LUNA AND POLYPHEMUS MOTHS.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">170</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#CASTLES_IN_THE_AIR">CASTLES IN THE AIR.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">175</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_PRONG-HORNED_ANTELOPE">THE PRONG-HORNED ANTELOPE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">179</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#PLANT_PROTECTION">PLANT PROTECTION.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">182</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_BIRTH_OF_A_TREE">THE BIRTH OF A TREE.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">187</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="c1"><SPAN href="#THE_ALMOND">THE ALMOND.</SPAN></td>
<td class="c2">188</td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="SONNET_NOVEMBER" id="SONNET_NOVEMBER"></SPAN>SONNET—NOVEMBER.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Yet one smile more, departing, distant sun,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">One mellow smile through the soft vapory air,</div>
<div class="verse">Ere, o'er the frozen earth, the loud winds run,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Or snows are sifted o'er the meadow bare.</div>
<div class="verse">One smile on the brown hills and naked trees</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast,</div>
<div class="verse">And the blue Gentian flower, that, in the breeze,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.</div>
<div class="verse">Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way,</div>
<div class="verse">The cricket chirp upon the russet lea,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">And man delight to linger in thy ray.</div>
<div class="verse">Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear</div>
<div class="verse">The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—William Cullen Bryant.</div>
</div></div>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent-2">Oh, Autumn! Why so soon</div>
<div class="verse">Depart the hues that make thy forests glad;</div>
<div class="verse">Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">And leave thee wild and sad!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent-2">Ah! 'twere a lot too blessed</div>
<div class="verse">Forever in thy colored shades to stray;</div>
<div class="verse">Amid the kisses of the soft southwest</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">To rove and dream for aye.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—William Cullen Bryant.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="x-smaller">Copyright, 1900, by A. W. Mumford.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="SOME_FACTS_ABOUT_THE_WESTERN_WILLET" id="SOME_FACTS_ABOUT_THE_WESTERN_WILLET"></SPAN> SOME FACTS ABOUT THE WESTERN WILLET.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Symphemia semipalmata inornata.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<p>The Western Willet is one of the
largest of the Limicolae or Shore Birds.
The body is about the size of a common
pigeon, the long neck, legs and extent
of wings making it appear much larger.
The feet are only about one-half webbed
and only when great danger makes it
necessary will it go into the water beyond
its depth. The bill is straight and
in summer the color of the bird is gray
above, with many small but rather distinct
black marks. On the sides and
breast these marks are arrow-shaped.
In the plumage of winter and of the
young these markings are absent.</p>
<p>I am inclined to believe that this species
has a more extended range than any
other of the order. It has become quite
abundant of late years in the Calumet Region
in Northern Indiana, near Chicago.
Mr. E. W. Nelson, in the Natural History
Survey of Illinois, says, that in the
seventies this species was a rare summer
resident on the wet prairies of Northwestern
Illinois, although I can find no
authentic record of the taking of the nest
and eggs. Captain Charles Bendire found
it abundant and resident in Southeastern
Oregon when he procured several sets of
its eggs. It is said to breed from the
coast of Texas to Manitoba. Straggling
flocks of from five to fifty may be found
along the shores of our larger fresh water
lakes, particularly Lake Michigan, during
the fall migration, which takes place
from about the fifteenth of August to the
last of September.</p>
<p>This bird might well be called the
clown of the Limicolae. I have often
been amused by the antics of a flock of
Willets on the shore of Lake Michigan.
They would droop their necks and wings
in an absurd fashion, taking short runs
and jumps as the waves rolled in upon
them. I have never seen a bird which at
times could be so wary and hard to approach,
and again, if a number are shot
from a flock, the remaining birds will
seem to lose their senses, and I have frequently
walked within a few feet of the
survivors before they would take flight.
This trait is noticeable among a large
number of shore birds and the terns, but
more especially so with the Willet.</p>
<p>On the plains bordering the Brazos
river, near the Gulf coast of Texas, during
the months of April and May, I have
found the Willet proper (Symphemia
semipalmata), a smaller and darker form,
breeding in abundance. The Willets usually
select for a nesting site a thick tussock
of salt marsh grass on the borders
of a small pond, where they can command
a good view of the vicinity. In the
center of this they hollow out a space of
about six or eight inches in diameter, and
simply line it with the grass they have
matted down. In this nest are laid four
pyriform eggs of a greenish white, or a
light olive brown ground color, marked
with large, irregular blotches or brownish
black and faint purple; the eggs are
immense for the size of the bird, being
about two inches in length by one and
one-half in width.</p>
<p>The illustration faithfully portrays
three birds taken at Miller's, Indiana, on
the beach of Lake Michigan. The color
of the legs, which are obscured by the
shadow of the body, is a pale, slaty blue.</p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="THE WESTERN WILLET.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_005.jpg" id="i_005.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_005.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">THE WESTERN WILLET<br/>
(Symphemia semipalmata inornata.)<br/>
¼ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>Though the Willets are restless and
noisy birds, they are much less so, and,
indeed, quite unconscious of their surroundings
when nesting. Regarding
their habits at this time, Dr. Coues has
told us that if they "become thoroughly
alarmed by too open approach, particularly
if the setting bird be driven from
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</SPAN></span>
her nest, there is a great outcry, violent
protest and tumult where there was
quietude. Other pairs, nesting near by,
join their cries till the confusion becomes
general. But now, again, their actions
are not those they would show at other
times; for, instead of flying off with the
instinct of self-preservation, to put distance
between them and danger, they are
held by some fascination to the spot, and
hover around, wheeling about, flying in
circles a little ways, to return again, with
unremitting clamor. They may be only
too easily destroyed under such circumstances,
provided the ornithologist can
lay aside his scruples and steel himself
against sympathy."</p>
<p>It is to be hoped that all the States,
frequented by the Willets, will enact
proper legislation which will amply protect
these interesting waders.</p>
<p class="ar">Frank M. Woodruff.</p>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Autumn once more begins to teach;</div>
<div class="verse">Sere leaves their annual sermon preach;</div>
<div class="verse">And with the southward-slipping sun</div>
<div class="verse">Another stage of life is done.</div>
<div class="verse">The day is of a paler hue,</div>
<div class="verse">The night is of a darker blue,</div>
<div class="verse">Just as it was a year ago;</div>
<div class="verse">For time runs fast, but grace is slow!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Thou comest, autumn, to unlade</div>
<div class="verse">Thy wealthy freight of summer shade,</div>
<div class="verse">Still sorrowful as in past years,</div>
<div class="verse">Yet mild and sunny in thy tears,</div>
<div class="verse">Ripening and hardening all thy growth</div>
<div class="verse">Of solid wood, yet nothing loth</div>
<div class="verse">To waste upon the frolic breeze</div>
<div class="verse">Thy leaves, like flights of golden bees.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—Frederick William Faber.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="CRUEL_TREATMENT_OF_BIRDS_DEMANDED_BY_DAME" id="CRUEL_TREATMENT_OF_BIRDS_DEMANDED_BY_DAME"></SPAN> CRUEL TREATMENT OF BIRDS DEMANDED BY DAME FASHION.</h2>
<p>All of my readers probably know in a
general way that Dame Fashion is responsible
for the destruction of the lives
of many birds, but they may not know to
what extent this is true.</p>
<p>Why do we say that any cruel treatment
of the birds is chargeable to fashion?
It can hardly be necessary to remind
ourselves that there is in almost
every boy's nature a touch of the savage
instincts which find expression in the desire
to kill something. Traces of this instinct
do not entirely disappear with the
development into manhood, but show
themselves there in the love of hunting
and fishing. Let these remnants of savagery
be appealed to by the promise of
gain and they are immediately fanned into
flame in the natures of those persons
who are naturally more strongly drawn
to this primitive occupation of men. In
short, place before the professional hunter
an easy means of profiting by his skill
as a hunter, and in far too many instances
he will smother any humane instincts
which he may have for the sake of the
gain. It is the demands of fashion for
plumes and feathers for hat trimmings
which place before these hunters the
temptation to kill. Have we not a right,
therefore, to place the blame at the door
of Fashion?</p>
<p>But what are the practices which we
call cruel? In the first place it is cruelty
to cause the destruction of life without
good and sufficient reason. Unnecessary
sacrifice of life is cruelty. Certainly
no one will say that it is necessary to
trim hats with feathers. Fashion decrees
that feathers must be worn, and presto!
feathers are worn. In the second place,
it is cruel to kill birds who are feeding
young ones in the nest, leaving them to
starvation. Yet this is just what has happened
and does happen every year.
Plume hunters are no respecters of times
and seasons. With them there are no
closed seasons. The birds which they
are after gather in large rookeries during
the nesting season and are therefore
much easier to capture then than at other
times.</p>
<p>Most of the herons and similar plume-bearing
birds are hunted and killed for
the plumes alone, or, at most, for a very
small part of the whole plumage. The
part wanted is taken and the rest left to
waste, while the bird's body is never used
for anything. If nothing worse, it is an
unpardonable waste. In Florida alone
whole rookeries of herons and ibises
numbering hundreds and even thousands
of individuals have been wholly destroyed.
Now the insatiable plume hunter,
in his effort to supply the demands of
a no less insatiable fashion, is pursuing
the unfortunate birds into the fastnesses
of Mexico and South America. There is
but one way to stop this work of extermination,
and that is to take away the
demand. This remedy lies wholly in the
hands of women. Unless they are willing
to take a firm stand against the use of
feathers for purposes of ornament the
birds are doomed. This may seem like a
strong statement, but a little reflection
will prove it true. When the birds which
are now hunted for plumes and feathers
are gone, there will be a modification of
the demand to include birds of different
plumage, just as the aigrette is giving
place to the quill. After the quill and the
long-pointed wing will come the shorter
wing, and after that the plumage of the
small birds, and the cycle of destruction
will be complete.</p>
<p>Some one may ask why it is that the
birds are so foolish as to allow the hunter
to kill hundreds in a single day from one
rookery. Why don't they leave the region
when the shooting begins? The
plume hunter has learned cunning. He
no longer uses a shot gun, but a small
caliber rifle or a wholly noiseless air gun.
The rifle makes no more noise than the
snapping of a twig, and will therefore not
frighten the birds. By remaining concealed
the hunter may kill every bird that
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</SPAN></span>
is within range. Since each bird is worth
from twenty-five cents to five dollars, according
to the kind, a single day's work
(or slaughter) is profitable. The temptation
is certainly great, and becomes almost
irresistible to him who loves hunting
for its own sake.</p>
<p>The most cruel part of the whole business
I have already stated, but it will bear
repeating. It is the killing of the breeding
birds before the young are able to
care for themselves. There is abundant
evidence that the breeding time is the favorite
time for hunting among plume
hunters, because then the old birds are
more easy to kill, and because then the
plumage is the most perfect, for then the
wedding garments are put on.</p>
<p>It should not be an impossible task to
stop this whole cruel business. But laws
will not do it without a wholesome public
sentiment behind it. Women are notably
foremost in all good works, and many
of them are doing nobly in this work, but
it is painfully evident that many are not.
Let us make "a long pull and a strong
pull and a pull all together," and then we
shall drag this growing evil back and
down forever.</p>
<p class="ar">Lynds Jones.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_FALL_MIGRATIONS" id="THE_FALL_MIGRATIONS"></SPAN>THE FALL MIGRATIONS.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">A rush of wings through the darkening night,</div>
<div class="verse">A sweep through the air in the distant height.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Far off we hear them, cry answering cry:</div>
<div class="verse">'Tis the voice of the birds as they southward fly.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">From sea to sea, as if marking the time,</div>
<div class="verse">Comes the beat of wings from the long, dark line.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">O strong, steady wing, with your rhythmic beat,</div>
<div class="verse">Flying from cold to the summertime heat;</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">O, keen, glancing eye, that can see so far,</div>
<div class="verse">Do you guide your flight by the northern star?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">The birds from the North are crossing the moon,</div>
<div class="verse">And the southland knows they are coming soon.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">With gladness and freedom and music gone,</div>
<div class="verse">Another migration is passing on.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">No long, dark lines o'er the face of the moon;</div>
<div class="verse">No dip of wings in the southern lagoon.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">No sweet, low titter, no welcoming song;</div>
<div class="verse">These are birds of silence that sweep along.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Lifeless and stiff, with the death mark on it,</div>
<div class="verse">This "Fall Migration" on hat and bonnet.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">And the crowd goes by, with so few to care</div>
<div class="verse">For this march of death of the "fowls of the air."</div>
<div class="verse ar">—Mary Drummond, in the Chicago Times-Herald.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_WAYS_OF_SOME_BANTAMS" id="THE_WAYS_OF_SOME_BANTAMS"></SPAN> THE WAYS OF SOME BANTAMS.</h2>
<p>Last summer, when I was out in the
country, I made the acquaintance of a
kind-hearted little bantam rooster, who
was as funny as he was kind-hearted.</p>
<p>An old speckled hen, who looked as if
she might be a good mother, but wasn't,
had brought up a family of chickens to
that stage where their legs had grown
long and their down all turned to pin-feathers.</p>
<p>Very ugly they were; there was no
doubt of it. Perhaps this queer mother
thought so. At any rate, she turned the
poor things adrift and pecked them cruelly
whenever they came near her.</p>
<p>Little "Banty" saw this unkind behavior.
He was small, but his heart was
big, and he set Madam Speckle an example
which ought to have made her hide
her head in the darkest corner of the hen-house
for shame.</p>
<p>He adopted those chickens!</p>
<p>Each one of them was about half the
size of "Banty," and to see that loving
little father-bird standing on tiptoe with
his wings spread, trying in vain to cover
all eight of his adopted children, was a
pathetic as well as a ludicrous sight.</p>
<p>They loved him and believed in him
fully. They followed him all day long,
and seemed to see nothing amusing when
he choked down a crow to cluck over the
food he found for them, and at night they
quarreled over the privilege of being
nearest to him.</p>
<p>I think bantams perhaps are more interesting
than other fowls. When I was
a little girl father brought three of them
home. Dandy and his two little wives
were all pure white and very small.</p>
<p>We had other fowls, the aristocratic
Spanish kind, each as large as two or
three of Dandy, and the Spanish rooster
hinted very strongly that Dandy's presence
in that barnyard could be dispensed
with. But Dandy was a brave little fighter,
and he soon settled it once for all
with Grandee as to what the rights of the
former and his family were.</p>
<p>In a month or so one of the little hens
was missing. After a long time we found
her, and in such a queer, cozy place! Upon
the foundations of the old red farmhouse
where we lived, rested great
squared beams. An end of one of these
beams had decayed, out of sight, under
the clapboards on the south side of the
house, until there was a large, soft-lined
hollow. Here the little hen had stolen
her nest, and when we found her she was
just ready to lead off twenty-one tiny
white fluff-balls of chickens, every egg
having hatched.</p>
<p>Dandy's bravery saved his little life
one day, and made him forever famous
in the annals of our pets. On this most
eventful day of his life, a shadow flitted
over the barnyard, and a wail went up
from us children as a chicken-hawk
swooped down upon our beloved Dandy
and carried him off before our indignant
and tearful eyes.</p>
<p>Up they went! But in a moment or
two we saw that the thief was having
trouble, as somehow Dandy had managed
to turn in those wicked talons, and the
little fellow was using his sharp beak and
spurs with all his might.</p>
<p>The battle was brief, and then Dandy
dropped at our feet. He was bleeding
and had lost the sight of one of his eyes,
but otherwise he was little hurt. All the
rest of his days Dandy carried himself
proudly, as one who has been tried as a
hero and not found wanting.</p>
<p class="ar">May H. Prentice.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="BUFFLE-HEAD.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_020.jpg" id="i_020.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_020.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">BUFFLE-HEAD.<br/>
(Charitonetta albeola.)<br/>
Nearly ½ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_BUFFLE-HEAD" id="THE_BUFFLE-HEAD"></SPAN>THE BUFFLE-HEAD.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Charitonetta albeola.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<p>This small and wonderfully beautiful
duck is a native of North America, wintering
in the latitude of Cuba and Mexico
and breeding from Maine to Montana
and northward. It is said that a favorite
place for its nesting is along the banks of
the Yukon river, and other streams of
the boreal regions, yet it is reported that
the young have been captured in the Adirondack
mountains. Though classed with
the "sea ducks" (Fuligulinae) it is one of
the most common of our fresh-water
forms, and, like many other animals, as
well as vegetable forms, of wide distribution,
it is the recipient of numerous popular
names, nearly all of them being more
or less suggestive of its characteristics or
habits. In the North it is frequently
called the Butter-ball, the Butter-box, the
Butter duck, the Spirit duck and the Dipper.
In the South some of the same
names are heard, but perhaps more often
the Marionette, the Scotch dipper, or
duck, the Scotch teal and the Wool-head.
However, no more appropriate name
could be selected than that of Buffle-head,
having reference to the showy, ruffled
or puffed plumage of the head. The
technical name, albeola, meaning whitish,
was given this species by Linnaeus
in 1758, on account of the pure white on
the side of the head.</p>
<p>The adult males vary but little. The
plumage of the head is puffy and, with
that of the upper half of the neck, is a
"rich silky, metallic green, violet purple
and greenish bronze, the last prevailing
on the lower part of the neck, the green
on the anterior part of the head, the purple
on the cheeks and crown." A beautiful
pure white patch extends from the
eyes, meeting on the top of the head. The
lower portion of the neck and nearly all
the feathers of the under side of the body,
as well as the wing coverts, are also
showy white. The lining of the wings is
dark, and the upper side of the body is
black.</p>
<p>The head of the female is less puffy
and of a brownish or dark gray color.
The white head patch is not so prominent
or pure and the plumage of the under
side of the body is more or less tinged
with gray. In both sexes the iris is dark
brown, the bill bluish or lead color, and
the legs and feet pinkish.</p>
<p>There are few birds that are more expert
in diving or swimming, while on land,
owing to their larger feet and shorter
legs, they are more awkward and waddle
more than many of the ordinary ducks.
Their graceful attitude while floating on
the water, moving apparently without any
motion of the body and scarcely causing
a ripple on even a placid surface, has
given them the name Spirit duck.</p>
<p>The Buffle-head, like nearly all the
sea ducks, feeds on mollusks and other
animal-forms found in the water. As a
result, their flesh is usually coarse and
quite too rank for use as a food. The
canvas-back is a notable exception, for
during the winter months it feeds on the
wild celery (Vallisneria) of the Middle
Atlantic coast, and thus its flesh receives
the flavor so appreciated by those who
relish game food.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="AN_HOUR_WITH_AN_ANT" id="AN_HOUR_WITH_AN_ANT"></SPAN>AN HOUR WITH AN ANT.</h2>
<p>If you want to know how to accomplish
a hard task, come with me and
watch a little ant for an hour.</p>
<p>She was a small, black ant, and, seeing
a brown worm eight times as large as herself,
she was seized with the ambition to
take it home in triumph.</p>
<p>Now will you tell me how she knew
that she could have no power over the
worm while he was on his ten feet, that
stuck to the sidewalk like glue? Before
she attempted anything, she fastened her
mandibles into his side and turned him
over on his back just as you see Bridget
turn the mattress. Then running to his
head she again fastened her mandibles
and dragged him for a couple of inches.
While pausing to get her breath, the
worm took the opportunity to get on his
feet once more. The ant did not seem to
notice the change in position till she tried
again to drag the body. As soon as she
felt it sticking, around she ran to the
side, over went the worm in a trice, and
once more the two started on their journey.
Now they were close to a crack in
the broad sidewalk, and I, thinking to
help the little worker, in whom by this
time I was quite interested, lifted the
worm across the crack.</p>
<p>Did you ever try to help some one and
find too late you had done exactly the
wrong thing? Then you know how I felt
when that little ant began rushing around
as if she were crazy, and when she got
hold of the worm again, began to drag it
back across the very crack I had lifted it
over. Can you guess why? She was
taking a bee-line to her house, and I had
changed the direction. But how was she
to get that big body across a crack that
could swallow them both? That was
what I waited anxiously to see. Soon the
worm felt himself going down, down into
a dark abyss, and of course caught hold
of the side to save himself, and when he
once felt he had a hold on life how he did
hold on! The ant was not to be daunted;
balancing herself on the edge, and holding
on by her feet, she reached down her
mandibles and dragged him by main
force straight up the perpendicular wall
to the top; nor did she stop till he was
carried far enough from the edge not to
get down again.</p>
<p>In this way three cracks were safely
crossed, and it was plain to see the worm
was losing heart, although every time the
ant paused for breath he would get over
on his feet and have to be tossed back
again.</p>
<p>And now a new difficulty arose. The
worm had been dragged about eighteen
inches over the boards. Fourteen inches
more would bring them to the ant's
house, or, rather, hill. But the way was
now off from the sidewalk, and no sooner
did the worm feel the stubble under
him than he gathered all his strength,
turned over on his feet, and held on to
every spear of grass for dear life.</p>
<p>Indeed, it was his last chance, and I
felt tempted to snatch him from the certain
death awaiting him, but curiosity to
see how this new obstacle would be overcome
induced me to wait. The ant now
felt justified in calling for assistance, and
soon a dozen ants had come to help. Only
five could work to advantage, so the rest,
for ants never like to do the "heavy looking
on," left to find other employment.</p>
<p>The first thing to be done was to get
the worm on his back, and this proved no
easy task. He could fasten his feet just
as fast as the ants could unfasten them.
At last two ants went to one end and two
to the other. Each one of the four seized
a foot in her strong mandibles and held
it out as far as possible, while the fifth
one turned the captive. It was the funniest
sight! It was easy now to drag
him two or three inches, but breath had
to be taken, and again the worm fastened.
In vain they tugged and pulled. He had
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</SPAN></span>
evidently learned their tactics and knew
how to defend himself. Suddenly his
body moved along an inch and a half, as
if by magic. Was it magic? Not at all.
One little ant had run up on an overhanging
blade of grass, and, reaching down,
holding on by the wonderful feet spoken
of before, and grabbed the poor creature
in the middle, raised it right up from the
ground, and keeping hold, ran along
overhead till the end of the spear of grass
was reached.</p>
<p>This was the last struggle of any importance.
The worm gave up discouraged;
it was only now a question of time
till they had dragged him through the
stubble up to the door of the house in the
hill, and I saw only a faint quiver as of
dread as his body passed through the
mysterious opening. I could not help
wondering if the ant who started the
capture received all the praise she deserved,
or if the other four took the glory
to themselves.</p>
<p>At any rate, no one could take away
her own satisfaction in overcoming and
winning in the struggle.</p>
<p class="ar">Harriet Woodbridge.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="SONG" id="SONG"></SPAN>SONG.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Day is dying! Float, O song,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Down the westward river,</div>
<div class="verse">Requiem chanting to the Day—</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Day, the mighty Giver.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Pierced by shafts of Time he bleeds,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Melted rubies sending</div>
<div class="verse">Through the river and the sky,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Earth and heaven blending;</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">All the long-drawn earthly banks</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Up to cloud-land lifting:</div>
<div class="verse">Slow between them drifts the swan,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">'Twixt two heavens drifting.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Wings half open, like a flow'r,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Inly deeper flushing,</div>
<div class="verse">Neck and breast as Virgin's pure—</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Virgin proudly blushing.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Day is dying! Float, O swan,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Down the ruby river;</div>
<div class="verse">Follow, song, in requiem</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">To the mighty Giver.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—George Eliot, in the Spanish Gypsy.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_AMERICAN_EARED_GREBE" id="THE_AMERICAN_EARED_GREBE"></SPAN> THE AMERICAN EARED GREBE.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Colymbus nigricollis californicus.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<p>The American Eared Grebe belongs to
the order of Diving Birds (Podicipedes)
and the family of Grebes (Podicipidae).
The order also includes the loons and
auks, having in all about thirty-six species
that frequent North America. Closely
related to the loons, the Grebes differ
from them in having the head incompletely
feathered near the nostrils, which
are not lobed. The feet also are not completely
webbed, as are those of the loons.</p>
<p>Owing to the inadequately developed
wings, the Grebes are poorly provided
with means for protracted flight. Locomotion
on land is equally difficult, due to
their short legs and the fact that they
are inserted far back on the body, necessitating
a partially erect position in walking.
However, they are expert swimmers
and divers and will, when alarmed,
sink quietly back into the water, swimming
long distances with only the bill
above the surface of the water. The popular
name "Hell-diver," by which these
birds are frequently known, has reference
to the rapidity with which they dive.</p>
<p>The apparent lack of a tail and the
ruffs, frequently composed of variously
colored feathers, give the grebes a peculiarly
characteristic appearance. The
plumage of the breeding season differs
greatly from that of the adult in winter
and that of the young.</p>
<p>The grebes are abundant throughout
the world, seemingly preferring lakes
and rivers as a foraging ground rather
than the seacoast.</p>
<p>The American Eared Grebe has an extensive
range, including that part of
North America west of the Mississippi
Valley and from the Great Slave Lake
south to Guatemala. It breeds in nearly
all parts of this territory.</p>
<p>A few years since Professor Henshaw
published in the American Naturalist
some very interesting facts concerning
the nesting habits of this bird, and they
especially well illustrate some of its
characteristics. He says, "In a series of
alkali lakes, about thirty miles northward
of Fort Garland, Southern Colorado, I
found this species common and breeding.
A colony of perhaps a dozen pairs
had established themselves in a small
pond four or five acres in extent. In the
middle of this, in a bed of reeds, were
found upwards of a dozen nests. These
in each case merely consisted of a slightly
hollowed pile of decaying weeds and
rushes, four or five inches in diameter,
and scarcely raised above the surface of
the water upon which they floated. In a
number of instances they were but a few
feet distant from the nests of the coot
(Fulica Americana) which abounded.
Every Grebe's nest discovered contained
three eggs, which in most instances were
fresh, but in some nests were considerably
advanced. These vary but little in
shape, are considerably elongated, one
end being slightly more pointed than the
other. The color is a faint yellowish or
bluish white, usually much stained from
contact with the nest. The texture is generally
quite smooth, in some instances
roughened by a chalky deposit. The eggs
were wholly concealed from view by a
pile of weeds and other vegetable material
laid across. That they were thus
carefully covered merely for concealment
I cannot think, since, in the isolated position
in which the nests are usually found,
the bird has no enemy against which such
precaution would avail. On first approaching
the locality, the Grebes all congregated
at the further end of the pond,
and shortly betook themselves through
an opening to the neighboring slough;
nor, so far as I could ascertain, did they
again approach the nests during my stay
of three days. Is it not, then, possible
that they are more or less dependent for
the hatching of their eggs upon artificial
heat induced by the decaying vegetable
substances of which the nests are
wholly composed?"</p>
<p>The food of the Grebe consists of fish
to a great extent, which are dexterously
caught while swimming under water.
They also feed upon the insects floating
upon the surface, and will, when other
food is lacking, feed upon mollusks.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="AMERICAN EARED GREBE.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_033.jpg" id="i_033.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_033.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">AMERICAN EARED GREBE.<br/>
(Colymbus nigricollis californicus.)<br/>
½ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_GEOGRAPHICAL_DISTRIBUTION_OF_FISHES" id="THE_GEOGRAPHICAL_DISTRIBUTION_OF_FISHES"></SPAN>THE GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF FISHES.</h2>
<p>There are known at the present about
twenty thousand species of fishes, which
are distributed throughout the creeks,
rivers, lakes, seas and oceans of the
world. A few species of the open sea are
cosmopolitan; the others are more or
less restricted in their range. Northern
Asia, Europe and North America have
in common a few species of fresh water
fishes. There are many others of close
relationship, which indicates a somewhat
common origin of the fish faunas. The
same is largely true of the salt water
shore fishes, which live well to the north.
The fresh water fishes of South America,
Africa and Australia are all different from
each other, none being even closely related
as are those we find in the countries
of the northern hemisphere.</p>
<p>The fishes of our Atlantic coast are
different from those of the Pacific, very
few species being common to both coasts.
The fishes of the Ohio river are entirely
different from those of the Columbia, not
a single species being common to both
streams. The fishes of the Missouri river
are very different from the Ohio, many
of the larger species, as catfishes, buffalo
fishes, black basses, and some of the
sun fishes are common to both rivers.
The difference between the fishes of these
two rivers is chiefly in the smaller kinds,
which do not migrate to any great extent,
and is greater as you go toward their
sources, or confine yourself to their
smaller tributaries.</p>
<p>There are many reasons why the fishes
of one region are not the same as those
we find in another. Some of these reasons
we may learn by making a careful
study of the fishes of each region, and
their environment. In addition we must
learn all we can about the past history of
the country, finding which streams were
formed first, and how they became inhabited
from the old ancient fish faunas
of our earlier geological periods. If you
visit streams in the Alleghanies, the
Ozarks and the Black Hills you will find
them much alike. All have clear, cool
water, flowing over sand or gravel. The
black bass, speckled trout, channel cat,
and the eastern pickerel will live quite as
well in streams of each locality. If you
spend a day at each place collecting
fishes all your catch will not be the same
species. In the Alleghany region you
will obtain about forty species, and a like
number in the Ozarks. Of these quite
one-fourth, or one-fifth, will be the same
species, and the others closely related. A
large portion will consist of sunfishes and
very small, perch-like fishes, which are
called darters. These are spiny-rayed
fishes; that is, nearly all of the fins are
made partly of strong, sharp spines, such
as you find on the back of sunfishes,
black bass and the like. In the streams
of the Black Hills you will not find more
than fifteen species, and not more than
one or two, if any, will be the same as in
either of the other two catches. There
are none of the spiny-rayed fishes in the
Black Hills, and no trout, though the
streams seem in every way well suited for
them. The fishes of the Black Hills consist
of two catfishes, four suckers, eight
minnows, and one member of the cod
family. Why are there no spiny-rayed
fishes? If you examine a map you will
find that the Black Hills is an isolated region,
about seventy-five by one hundred
miles in extent. It is covered with heavy
pine forests and drained by a dozen or
more good-sized creeks, which find,
through the north and south forks of the
Cheyenne, an outlet into the Missouri
river. Surrounding the Black Hills is a
broad plain one hundred or two hundred
miles in width. It has no forests, and
only a scant vegetation. Its streams are
alkali and contain much solid matter in
suspension. None of these streams flow
over rocky or gravelly beds. Like all the
streams of the great plains they are overloaded
with sediment. All the streams
can do with this sediment is to deposit it
in places during falling or low water, and
in time of freshets, pick it up, shift it
about and redeposit it farther down the
stream. Such streams are like the Platte,
narrow and deep in a few places, but
mostly wide and shallow, with a bottom
of quicksand. The streams of the plains
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</SPAN></span>
have in them but few species of fishes; especially
is this true of the upper Missouri,
and these are such species as we find in
the Black Hills. It is thus evident that
the fishes of this region migrated there,
and only such fishes as were able or willing
to live in the muddy, alkaline streams
of the great plains could have ever
reached the Black Hills. The minnows
and suckers are ever preyed upon by sunfishes,
bass and the like, and to escape
them evidently sought retreat in the alkaline
water, which was too much disliked
by their enemies for them to follow.
Once there and accustomed to such water
they would migrate farther up stream until
they reached the clear, cool streams of
the Black Hills. If we compare the fishes
of two rivers whose mouths are near each
other, as the Ohio and the Missouri, those
fishes found near the mouths will be the
same species and the two river faunas
will differ most as you go toward their
sources. On the other hand, if you select
two rivers whose sources are near each
other, as the James and tributaries of the
Ohio, then the fish faunas will differ most
as you go towards their mouths. The
same is true of the Missouri and the Columbia.
In such cases it often happens
that during high water some fishes are
able to pass from the head waters of one
river basin to the other, just as we see
the trout from the Columbia at the present
time colonizing the upper Yellowstone
through the Two Ocean Pass.
Near the head waters of many mountain
streams there is usually a pass, which
contains a strip of meadow land where
the small streams from mountains unite,
forming the sources of two great rivers
flowing in opposite directions. This is
the case both at the Two Ocean Pass,
the source of the Missouri and the Columbia,
and at the point where the Canadian
Pacific Railroad crosses the divide,
forming the source of the Frazier and
Saskatchewan rivers.</p>
<p>Many mountain streams whose sources
are at present in no way connected may
have been so at no very remote period.
All of our streams which have their
sources within the glaciated area were no
doubt connected as the ice receded. The
drainage of Lake Champlain and the
lakes in central New York was southward
at the close of the glacial epoch. It
is said that in times of high water one
may pass in a skiff from the head waters
of the Mississippi to the Red River of the
North. With such facts before us we can
easily understand why the fishes of two
rivers whose sources are near each other
should be most nearly alike nearest the
divide. If the two rivers were formed
about the same time, as no doubt were
the James and the Ohio, they would naturally
have several species in common.
In other words, the two fish faunas will
resemble each other throughout their
whole extent. In the case of the Missouri
and the Columbia, the former is
much the older stream, and while their
sources have fishes common to both
streams, in the lower parts of the rivers
the fish faunas are entirely different. The
upper Missouri river and its tributaries
are for the most part inhabited by Rocky
Mountain fishes, practically the same
fauna as we find in the Columbia, but few
species characteristic of the Mississippi
valley have been able to even cross the
great plains and none have ever passed
the Rocky Mountain divide.</p>
<p>In the study of the geographical distribution
of our fresh water fishes, we are
able to make a few generalizations as follows:
Two rivers in the same latitude,
and belonging to the same great drainage
basin, and draining similar areas, will
have similar fish faunas. Thus we find a
great similarity in the fishes of the Washita
and the Tennessee rivers, a much
greater similarity than we do in the fishes
of the Washita and the Cedar rivers. If
the stream is a large one, the fishes near
its source will be much unlike those near
its mouth. The fishes of Minnesota differ
greatly from those of Louisiana,
though the drainage of these two States
is in the Mississippi river basin. Limestone
streams have in them more species
of fishes than do sandstone. All things
being equal, the larger of two or more
streams will contain the most species of
fishes. There are few, if any, rivers as
rich in species as the Mississippi river
and its tributaries. It drains one slope
of each of our two great mountain systems,
besides an immense area of wood-land
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</SPAN></span>
and prairie, and numerous swamps
and marshes. Its upper course and many
of its upper tributaries lie in the region
once covered by glaciers, though now
traversed by great moraines. Its fishes are
as diversified as the area it drains. In its
mountain streams we find such fishes as
the trout, darters, minnows and suckers.
In the upland streams are darters, shiners,
suckers, sunfishes and small-mouthed
black bass. In the channels of the
larger tributaries are found the large
suckers, buffalo fishes, gar pike, channel
catfish, drum, pike and pickerel. The
lowland streams contain the dogfish, pirate
perch, some sunfishes, the large-mouthed
black bass, some suckers,
catfishes and other species. Minnows,
darters, suckers and sunfishes
are found in lowland, upland and
mountain streams, though not the same
species in each. These fishes belong to
families which are made up of many species,
some being strictly upland,
others strictly lowland, each having a
limited range. In the same way we have
fresh water fishes and salt water fishes;
some fishes, as the trout and salmon and
eel, live in both salt and fresh water.
Many other fishes, as the killifishes,
thrive best in brackish water. Each species
of fishes is best fitted for a particular
region into which it has been forced to
live, either to escape its enemies or to be
able to get a living easiest. In its migrations
it has moved along lines of least resistance,
and has colonized those streams
where Mother Nature has been able to
do the most for it. The darters are small,
perch-like fishes, which seldom exceed a
length of six inches, the average being
about three. All are active and swift
swimmers and well suited for a life
among the rocks and swift water of our
smaller streams. All countries have
small, swift, rocky streams, but few have
darters. In their stead we find loaches,
gobies, characins, sculpins, and the like.
These fishes have "become dwarfed and
concentrated, taking the place in their
respective habitats which the darters occupy
in the waters of the Mississippi valley.
By the same process of 'analogous
variation' the cichlids of South America
parallel the sunfishes of the United
States, although in structure and in origin
the two groups are diverse."</p>
<p>Dr. Jordan tells us that the trout of the
Pacific coast came to America from
Asia, and gradually spread eastward and
southward until now it is found in all the
streams of the Rocky Mountains, the
Sierra Nevada, the Cascades and the
Coast range. It is but a short distance
from Kamchatka to Alaska, and this distance
is traveled by trout to this day;
once over, a fish able to spend much of its
time in salt water could easily colonize
all our coast streams. Whether or not all
of our Pacific trout are descendants of
one species, the cut-throat trout, is more
or less uncertain, though it is quite certain
that all have descended from not
more than two or three species. In many
places they have been able to pass from
the head waters of one river to that of
another, just as they now pass from the
head waters of the Columbia to the Missouri
by the way of Two Ocean Pass.
The ancient lakes, Lahontan and Bonneville,
no doubt assisted them in their migrations.
Since these have disappeared
each colony has had to remain more or
less isolated. In time they have become
somewhat changed, to better adapt themselves
to their new environment. These
changes have developed certain peculiar
characters, by means of which we
can distinguish one kind of trout from
another, just as the farmer distinguishes
his Berkshire from his Poland China.
Spread, as the trout are, over such a large
area, in such an immense variety of
streams and lakes, and with a vertical
range of over one thousand feet, we
would certainly expect as large a number
of species and varieties of trout to be developed
as we find at present in the
streams of our west coast.</p>
<p>Fishes are found in the deepest parts
of the ocean. Some of these are peculiar
to the deep waters, none of the shore
fishes resembling them. On the other
hand, many deep sea fishes belong to
families well represented in the shallow
water. The flounders are found in water
at all depths, and the same is true of the
bat fishes, rock fishes and other shore
fishes. It is easy to understand how
these fishes have found their way to the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</SPAN></span>
deep water. It was either to escape their
enemies or to extend their range for
some reason; as Mr. Garman puts it,
"They have slid down," as it were to the
bottom of the ocean.</p>
<p>In general, animals migrating will always
move along lines of least resistance.
Some deep-sea fishes have a considerable
vertical range. It is thought that some
move into shallower water to deposit
their eggs or place their young in warmer
water, and where the peculiar kind of
food they need early in life is the most
abundant. To study deep sea fishes is
difficult, and so little has been done that
we not only know them imperfectly but
also know very little concerning their life
histories.</p>
<p>In February, March and April of 1891
the United States Fish Commission
steamer Albatross explored a portion of
the region between the coasts of Mexico
and Central America and the Galapagos
Archipelago. Besides obtaining a large
number of shore fishes, about nine hundred
specimens of fishes were secured,
ranging from a depth of one hundred to
twenty-two hundred and twenty-three
fathoms. This collection was carefully
studied by Professor Garman, of Harvard.
He found the collection to contain
one hundred and eighty species, eighty-five
per cent. of which were new to
science. The bottoms of the oceans are
far from level, and each deep basin has
its own peculiar fauna. The shallower
parts of the sea prevent migration of the
deep water forms and no doubt living as
they do in eternal darkness and in a temperature
near the freezing point, there is
little to induce them to much activity.
The fact that they are easily captured in
nets of comparatively small size would
indicate that they move about slowly.</p>
<p>Dr. Jenkins, who has lately studied the
fishes of the Sandwich Islands, informs
me that less than five per cent. are found
on our American coast, while a large per
cent. is found all the way to the Red sea.
In other words, the fishes of the Sandwich
Islands are East Indian rather than
American. This is no doubt caused from
the fact that the deep water between the
islands of the American coast forms a
barrier which has always prevented the
two fish faunas from mingling with each
other. Between Africa and the Sandwich
Islands this has not been the case.
A recent study of the fishes of the Galapagos
Archipelago shows its fauna to be
American, though in what respect its
fishes differ from those of our west coast
they resemble all the more the fishes of
the Sandwich Islands. Two fish faunas
will usually differ from each other if separated
by an impassable barrier; especially
is this true if the barrier be older
than the two faunas.</p>
<p>Any barrier which prevents or hinders
fishes in their movements from one body
of water to another will separate two
more or less well-marked fish faunas.
These barriers may be mountains, or
shallow water, as in the case of deep sea
fishes; deep water, as in case of shore
fishes; muddy or alkaline water, or water
of different temperature. Temperature
no doubt has far more influence in governing
the movement of fishes than is
generally believed. It plays an important
part in guiding salmon up stream to
their spawning beds. It explains why
they reach the head waters of some
streams and spawn earlier than in similar
streams not far distant, but of different
temperature. If you would know to what
extent fishes of one region differ from
those of another, study well the barriers
between the two regions, learn to what
extent and how long they have existed,
consider the age geologically of the two
regions, and how fishes may have migrated
to one or the other, and in a general
way you will have the key to the situation,
which a careful study of the fishes
is quite sure to verify.</p>
<p class="ar">Seth E. Meek.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="LOUISIANA TANAGER.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_045.jpg" id="i_045.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_045.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">LOUISIANA TANAGER.<br/>
(Piranga ludoviciana.)<br/>
Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_LOUISIANA_TANAGER" id="THE_LOUISIANA_TANAGER"></SPAN>THE LOUISIANA TANAGER.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Piranga ludoviciana.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<p>The family of Tanagers is remarkable
for the number of species, the gaudy coloring
of many and the interesting fact
that they are confined to the Americas
and the adjacent islands. Dr. Ridgway
says, "that the five families of Neotropical
birds, which are represented by the
greatest number of species, are absolutely
peculiar to America, these families being
the Tanagers, Tyrant Flycatchers,
Wood-hewers, Ant Thrushes and Humming-birds.
None of these families have
even true representatives in any part of
the Old World."</p>
<p>The family of Tanagers includes approximately
three hundred and eighty
species, of which not more than ten per
cent. have a range extending as far north
as Southern Mexico, and only four, or at
the most five, species are known to the
United States. Of these only two, the
Scarlet Tanager and the Summer Red-bird,
are generally known as far north as
Canada.</p>
<p>The Tanagers make their home in the
trees, and, being of a retiring disposition,
are more numerous within the bounds of
the forest. During the breeding season
they retire still further into the interior.
No wonder that they are more numerous
in tropical regions, where the luxuriant
foliage of the forests furnishes them with
a safe retreat, and where there is an abundance
of food suited to their taste. This
tendency to avoid the society of man has
made the study of their habits much more
difficult, and but little has been recorded
except that which pertains to the more
northern forms.</p>
<p>The food is chiefly insects, especially in
the larval form, and berries. To some
extent they also feed upon the buds of
flowers. Mr. Chapman tells us that "the
tropical species are of a roving disposition,
and wander through the forests in
search of certain trees bearing ripe fruit,
near which they may always be found in
numbers." Their nests are shallow and
the eggs, usually three to five in number,
are greenish-blue in color, speckled with
brown and purple.</p>
<p>The Louisiana Tanager is a Western
species, ranging from British Columbia
on the north to Guatemala on the south,
and from the Missouri river to the Pacific
coast. Our illustration well represents
the male. The female, like its sister
tanagers, is plainly colored, but still beautiful.
It is olive green, with the underside
yellowish. The feathers of the wings
and tail are brown, edged with olive. It
resembles the female Scarlet Tanager.
The young are at first like the female.
Then appears the black of the back,
mixed with some olive and a slight tinge
of red on the head.</p>
<p>It would seem that its name is a misnomer,
as it is not found in the State of
Louisiana.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="CHATTER_OF_A_CHAT" id="CHATTER_OF_A_CHAT"></SPAN>CHATTER OF A CHAT.</h2>
<p>I'm the "Chat." You've heard me if
you haven't seen me. But there isn't a
better lookin' bird in our wood, either.
My olive-green coat is a beauty. My yellow
satin vest would dazzle your eyes.
And my white china spectacles are heirlooms
in our family. My wife dresses
just as handsome as I do. I'm a prey to
high spirits. Some folk call me a "wag."
Don't know what that is, but I don't see
the use in bein' doleful. Why, when I
get back from Mexico, I feel obliged to
holler. So I just holler. The way old
Mother Earth rigs up in the Spring
makes me full of life. I get down and
cool my legs in the deep grass. It brings
my appetite back a-whizzin'. My! If I
don't eat a thousand bugs a day. "Juicy"
don't describe 'em. Then I climb a tree-top
and holler. If I eat a thousand bugs
seems like I have to give two thousand
hollers. I holler straight through a
moonlight night. You see, I hate to let
old Whippoorwill think he's the only bird
alive. Mornin' after folks stop talkin'
'bout how bad they slept and say,
"What's that?" somebody says, "That's
the Chat." Then they always laugh. And
I laugh, too—a very Falstaffian laugh, as
if I'se shakin' great fat sides out of their
accordion plaits. Then I give a beautiful
whistle. And they say, "Now, what's
that?" The fellow I know says, "That's
the Chat." Then I give a surprised whistle,
just as if you stepped on a tack or
took a drink of red-hot coffee. And they
say, "And what's that?" And the wise
man says, "That's the Chat again."
Well, says the other fellow, "I'll never
know that bird." But the bad sleeper
says, "Well, you would if he kept you
awake all last night as he did me. He
never knows when to stop." But even
that fellow will never know when I've
said my last word!</p>
<p>These rag folks are awful stupids, anyhow.
I call 'em "blunderers." Do more
harm than good wherever they're at. My
wife knits our house among thorns just
to plague 'em. They hate to get their
rags torn. Then they'd better keep
scarce of our door. If it ain't in blackberry
jungles it's in catbrier tangles. I
could yarn from sun-up to sundown
'bout how rag folks come blunderin'
round interferin'. Barrin' o cat's, they've
got the most meddlesome forefeet I ever
saw. But it ain't often they find us. Cause
why? We keep still. Our next-door
neighbor's Dame Indigo. Can't a body
go by she don't pop up scoldin' like a
house afire. Then they blunder round
till they find her nest-eggs, too! Lots of
other feather-heads just like her! There's
Topknot Cardnal makes such a fuss anybody'd
know he's got something to hide.
Sure enough, he's had such lots of kin
behind the bars it makes him scary. But
I'd show more pluck, anyhow.</p>
<p>Once this summer a blunderer smarter'n
common came along by us. We had
a nice place, too, in a dreadful blackberry
tangle. A small sassafras threw a
nice shadow over it when the sun got
hot. Well, I shut up quick, I tell you.
Was just tellin' Mrs. Chat a few things
while she kep' an eye on our four eggs
like. We kep' still as mice. But didn't
that blunderin' rags march right up to
our door and push and scratch till she
saw what we had? Had a little rag blunderer
with her. An' she held her up to
look in, too. Every single feather we had
stood on end! It was good riddance
when they went along. Couldn't believe
my specs when I saw they had left our
eggs alone. Seven suns after, big rags
came back. We're in a peck o' trouble.
Our four bairns just out the shell. We
both had to scratch round with all our
toes to feed and keep 'em breathin'. Been
rainin' for a solid week. Dame Chat said
she just knew they'd get a chill and die.
But the blunderin' party didn't stay long.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Well, sir, we hadn't got rid of that
blunderer yet. The nex' time she brought
another, bigger one, along. Both crowded
up and looked in our door. You
never saw such beauties as our bairns
that day. Just gettin' so plump and
featherin' right along. But it meant a
sight o' work for us. They just sat and
took in every mouthful we could rake and
scrape. They kep' us busy. Well, when
these blunderin' rags shook the house the
bairns all up and spread their jaws wide
open. Rags thought it was awful cute,
but I'm thankful they didn't offer to feed
'em anything. Did bad enough, anyhow.
Big one said, "Why don't you take their
picture?" First rags said she couldn't.
Second rags said she'd try, anyhow. With
that, first rags began to snap off our best
defenses—without so much as by your
leave. They scratched her good, anyhow;
for she said so. Well, she put some
kind of square black gun right up to our
door. Dame Chat went into hysterics
and those little Chats just boiled over
like a teakettle and went out the nest in
four different directions! The two blunderers
went off in a hurry, both talkin' at
once and one suckin' her paw. Thankful
to say ain't ever seen 'em since. But
Dame Chat's a nervous wreck from the
fright they gave her; and I'm worked to
skin and bone takin' care of the little
Chats. I just wish all the town's fenced
in so's blunderers couldn't get loose to
meddle round in their bunglin', elephant,
rhinoceros way!</p>
<p class="ar">Elizabeth Nunemacher.</p>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">He comes—he comes—the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his footsteps now</div>
<div class="verse">On the naked woods and the blasted fields, and the brown hill's withered brow.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their pleasant green came forth,</div>
<div class="verse">And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them down to earth.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—John Greenleaf Whittier.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_LUNA_AND_POLYPHEMUS_MOTHS" id="THE_LUNA_AND_POLYPHEMUS_MOTHS"></SPAN> THE LUNA AND POLYPHEMUS MOTHS.</h2>
<p>The two silk-worm moths which we
figure this month both possess a point of
excellence far in advance of any other of
our native silk-worm moths; Luna on account
of its graceful form and delicate
colors, and Polyphemus for the silk of
its cocoons.</p>
<p>It seems that most persons who speak
of the Luna moth (Tropaea luna) feel
called upon to give a more or less poetic
description of it. This, I hope, has been
rendered unnecessary by the colored
plate, so that it will suffice simply to mention
that the beautiful shade of green is
of very rare occurrence among our larger
moths, and that no other has the long,
graceful "tails" on the hind wings, a
characteristic which adds greatly to the
beauty of this insect.</p>
<p>This moth does not seem to be very
abundant anywhere, but when once seen
will long be remembered on account of
its great beauty. The green and yellow
colors are evidently very closely related,
because either one may, to a greater or
less degree, replace the other, so that
some of the moths have quite a strong,
yellowish tinge. One of our common
swallow-tail butterflies (Iphiclides ajax)
possesses a very similar green color in its
wings, but does not seem to show this
tendency to replace the green by yellow.
On the wings are four eyespots which are
also found in Polyphemus. These are
remarkable in that they are transparent
in the center. This clear area in Luna is
quite small, while in Polyphemus it is
about as large as the entire eye spot of
Luna. The legs are brown and colored
like the front edge of the fore wings. The
hairs on the body and at the base of the
wing are very long and are white or yellow.
The wing expanse ranges from
three and three-fourths to five and one-half
inches.</p>
<p>During April or May the mother moth
lays her dark-brown or chocolate-colored
eggs upon hickory, walnut, beech, oak,
and a few others of our forest trees. The
limited number of food plants is doubtless
one reason for the rarity of the
moths, as compared with such a common
and almost omnivorous larva as Cecropia.
A single moth may lay about
one hundred eggs, which are smaller than
those of Polyphemus. These hatch in
about ten or fifteen days, the larva making
its escape by eating a circular hole in
the shell. Occasionally a young larva
may be seen crawling about for a short
time, carrying upon its head or tail the
empty shell.</p>
<p>The adult larva is about three inches
long, of a delicate pale green, a color very
difficult to preserve in the dead larva.
Those on the plate have lost this delicate
green and have become yellow, but show
the form perfectly. This larva is very
much like that of Polyphemus, but may
be distinguished from it by possessing a
longitudinal pale yellow lateral line,
which is not found in Polyphemus. Since
the cocoon is quite thin and contains but
little silk, it is considered of but little
value. This cocoon is spun among two or
three weaves, and is about two inches
long. Some authors claim that the cocoon
falls to the ground with the autumnal falling
of the leaves; others that it transforms
on the ground among the fallen leaves.
The cocoon is quite similar to that of
Polyphemus, but not so firmly attached
when fixed to a stem. The moths emerge
in April and May, there being only a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</SPAN></span>
single brood in the north, while there are
two in the south.</p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="LUNA MOTH.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_058.jpg" id="i_058.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_058.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">LUNA MOTH.<br/>
(Tropaea luna.)</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Adult Male.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">Pupa.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Adult Female</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30"></td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">POLYPHEMUS MOTH.<br/>
(Telea polyphemus.)</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Adult Male.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">Eggs on Maple Leaf.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Adult Female.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Larva.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">About ½ Life-size.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Cocoon.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>The color of the cocoon seems to be influenced
in some way by the kind of food
eaten by the larva. Cocoons made by
larva which have been fed on hickory
leaves have a darker color. In the true
silk worm moth this same influence has
been noticed; larvae fed upon the vine
producing red cocoons, on lettuce emerald
green cocoons, while those fed upon
white nettle produce yellow, green or violet
cocoons. It is necessary in order to
procure these results, that the larvae be
fed upon the mulberry till about twenty
days before the formation of the cocoon.</p>
<p>Polyphemus. The life history of this
native silk worm (Telea polyphemus) is
by far the best known, because many
years ago it was very carefully studied
with the hope that it would prove an important
silk insect. This hope unfortunately
has not been realized.</p>
<p>The moths, as shown by the plate, are
really beautiful; the large eye spots on
the hind wings contributing much towards
this effect. The transparent, window-like
centers in the eye spot are also
of quite rare occurrence among our
moths. These transparent areas do not
possess the very minute scales found on
the other parts of the wing. Almost all
of the wonderful variety of colors found
in the wings of butterflies and moths are
due either to coloring matter in these
scales, or to the breaking up of the white
light by minute lines on these scales, such
as are seen in the play of colors on a
soap-bubble. These fine lines on the
scales are only on the upper side, and are
about one-sixteen-thousandth of an inch
apart.</p>
<p>The eggs of Polyphemus are very
much flattened, about the size of those of
Cecropia, and are deposited on leaves and
twigs singly or in small groups. These
hatch in about ten days and usually in the
morning. The young larva often devours
the shell which a few moments before afforded
it shelter. This larva feeds upon
oak, hickory, apple, maple, elm and a variety
of other trees, and thus has a larger
range of food plants than the Luna larva.
The rate of growth is prodigious, as has
been shown by Mr. Trovelot. When the
larva hatches it weighs about one-twentieth
of a grain; in ten days it weighs one-half
of a grain, or ten times its original
weight; in twenty days it weighs three
grains, or sixty times its original weight;
when a month old it weighs thirty-one
grains, or six hundred and twenty times
its original weight, and has consumed
about ninety grains of food; after fifty
days it weighs two hundred and seven
grains, or over four thousand times the
original weight. At fifty-six days the
larva has eaten eighty-six thousand times
its original weight in food! It is therefore
not surprising that these larvae can
often be easily detected upon trees by the
large number of leaves which they have
devoured.</p>
<p>To provide for this great change in
size, the larva moults five times, but the
time between these moults is not always
the same; there is usually about ten days
between the first four moults and about
twenty between the fourth and fifth. The
larva stops eating a day before the moult,
spins a few threads upon the leaf to which
it attaches its hind legs, and waits for the
transformation, which usually takes place
in the afternoon. The larva, when mature
and ready to spin its cocoon, is about
three inches long. It is sometimes influenced
in its color by the food plant;
the normal larva being of a golden green,
although it has been known to show more
yellow coloring when found on red
maple.</p>
<p>A short time before beginning its
cocoon the larva ceases to eat and selects
a place for its cocoon. These cocoons are
usually found upon the ground among
the leaves, but are frequently attached to
twigs. After about a half day's work the
larva spreads over the inside of the
cocoon a gummy, resinous substance,
which binds together the threads. After
four or five days more of almost continuous
work, another coating is smeared
over the inside, which renders the cocoon
practically air-tight. The silk fibres become
considerably finer as the cocoon
nears completion and the supply of silk
begins to run low. For this reason the
inner layers of the cocoon are only about
half as strong as the outer ones. The
larva, as the supply of silk diminishes in
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</SPAN></span>
the silk glands, becomes perceptibly reduced
in size. It has been estimated that
the larva, in attaching the continuous
thread of its cocoon, makes two hundred
and fifty-four thousand back and forward
movements. The cocoons are very
strong and dense, of a dirty white color
and generally coated with a white powder,
the female being the larger.</p>
<p>There is but a single brood in the
north, while in the south there are two.</p>
<p>In order to see if the pupa needed air,
Mr. Trovelot sealed up some cocoons
over winter in shellac, but the moths
emerged in due time after being in an air-tight
space for nine months. He also delayed
the emergence of the moth till
twenty-one months after entering the
cocoon by placing it upon ice.</p>
<p>The silk in the spinning glands before
it is spun is a clear, transparent fluid.
These glands seem to be of excessive size
when compared with that of the larva,
since, when fully expanded, they reach
the great length of twenty-five inches, or
about eight times the length of the full-grown
larva. These glands are paired,
one being found on each side of the body,
are considerably folded and taper at each
end. The ducts leading from the anterior
end of the glands unite to form a single
duct which opens below the mouth. The
thread is double, being really composed
of two different fibres, one from each
gland, as may be shown by separating
them. The silk in these glands is prepared
and sold as silk "gut" to anglers.
On account of its transparency when in
water, it becomes invisible and thus aids
in deluding the wary fish, who does not
see any connection between the line and
the baited hook. The "gut" is prepared
as follows: Larvae which are ready to
spin their cocoons are cut open and
placed in strong vinegar for eighteen
hours; the glands are then taken out,
stretched and dried in the shade.</p>
<p>Six or eight days after beginning the
cocoon, the larval skin is moulted and the
real chrysalic or pupal stage begins. This
stage normally lasts till the following
spring or summer. A few days before
the time of emergence a pair of glands
which open into the mouth become very
active and secrete an acidulated fluid
which escapes and wets the fore end of
the cocoon, causing the resinous material
binding together the fibres to become
soft. Even cocoons sealed up in shellac
and starch have been dissolved by this
fluid, and thus the moths have been able
to escape. When the cocoon has become
sufficiently soft, the moth pushes its way
between the fibres, but in doing so often
breaks some of the threads, thus making
the silk of such cocoons useless for commercial
purposes. The moth at the time
of emergence, with its folded and crumpled
wings, is quite a forlorn-looking object.
These wilted wings soon begin to
fill up with fluids from the body, which
is very large at this time. In some cases,
the fluid is driven into the wings with so
much force that they swell up, and if such
a wing is punctured, thus allowing some
of the fluid to escape, the mature wing
will be of a smaller size than one from
which no fluid has been lost. It must be
remembered that it is possible to inflate a
butterfly or moth's wing, because the
wings of insects are not composed of a
single layer, but are sacs of two layers
which are closely applied. It is thus possible
to split the wing into upper and
lower halves, but this can only be done at
the time of emergence, when these two
layers are not so firmly cemented together
as they are in a few hours after emergence.</p>
<p>The enemies of Polyphemus are numerous.
Birds prey upon the larvae, in
addition to numerous parasitic insects
which are very similar to those which destroy
Cecropia. The cocoon itself is not
a complete protection because rats and
squirrels plunder them. We thus see
that the life of even an insect is full of
dangers, and that it is really a wonder
that so many are able to become mature
and reproduce.</p>
<p>The silk-worm moths are excellent illustrations
of what is called complete
metamorphosis in insects. An insect like
the grasshopper, when it hatches from
the egg, is very much like the adult insect
in its general form and appearance;
the most evident difference being the lack
of wings. An insect which shows such
slight changes in its growth to maturity
is said to have an incomplete metamorphosis.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</SPAN></span>
It is incomplete in the sense that
the change is not of a very radical nature.
But in the case of the silk worm moths,
and moths and butterflies in general, the
larva which hatches from the eggs has
not even the most superficial resemblance
to the adult insect, the fully-developed
moth. This necessitates a complete
change or metamorphosis in the form
and structure of the insect before it can
become mature. This great change is accomplished
during the quiet pupal stage
in the cocoon. Because the pupa is apparently
passive when viewed from the
exterior, one must not conclude that it is
so internally; far from it; the digestive
organs of the larva must be completely
made over from those of a chewing leaf
eater to those of a moth which can only
take liquid food.</p>
<p class="ar">Charles Christopher Adams.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<h2><SPAN name="CASTLES_IN_THE_AIR" id="CASTLES_IN_THE_AIR"></SPAN>CASTLES IN THE AIR.</h2>
<p>In a little bend of the San Joaquin
River, where the current, attempting
to straighten its course, has left a bank
a few feet wide, there is a small grove
of tall cottonwood trees, perhaps a
dozen in number, whose branches lean
far over the stream and whose tops
reach almost to the level of the bluff
or rather the floor of the valley 250
feet above, for this swift river has, in
the course of ages, cut thus deep a
channel for itself.</p>
<p>The place is not easy of access, for
the shore narrows above and below the
bend to a few inches where one with
difficulty keeps from crumbling away
the sand with his feet and falling into
the water, and the cliff is so nearly
perpendicular that in many places it is
inaccessible to a climber, being of soft
sand whose different stratas are clearly
defined where they have been sliced
off by the cutting stream.</p>
<p>The valley above is a vast grainfield
out almost to the edge of the bluff, and
along the edge and face of the bluff,
wherever root can cling or tendril hold,
grow beautiful wild flowers in the
early spring days—their last refuge
between the cultivation and the deep
sea, or rather, river.</p>
<p>In the tops of the cottonwoods live
a number of baronial families in castles
huge, gray and ugly, overlooking the
sweep of the stream. They are the
Great Blue Herons whose Latin title,
(Ardea herodias), gives one some idea
of their ancient lineage. They claim to
be older than the storks of Egypt, and
indeed, they look older as they stand
humpbacked and sleepy on one leg by
the side of their nests, the long fringe
of light-speckled neck feathers underneath
looking like a long gray beard
sweeping over their recurved neck and
breast. There is a wise look about
them, too, for the black markings of the
head sweep back over the eye and prolong
into the appearance of a quill extending
behind their ears.</p>
<p>Though they are almost four feet
long and spread their wings to six feet
and over, the herons' large blue-grey
bodies are often almost indistinguishable
from the bark of the cottonwood
branches and the blue of the sky
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span>
against which they are silhouetted so
oddly. One's eyes open with astonishment
when these sticks or excrescences
of the tree-tops slowly unfold an
enormous sweep of sail and, extending
their long stilts behind them, flap off
across the stream with a creaking
sound like the pulleys of a vessel when
the halliards are running through them.
Standing or flapping they are not
handsome birds and one who comes
suddenly upon a large heron for the
first time as he stands in the shallow
water of the brookside, will be convulsed
with laughter, for if there is an
utterly clumsy and awkward form or
motion in bird-life it belongs to this
heron.</p>
<p>Their homes are big baskets of nests
made of twigs as large as a man's
finger, closely intermeshed. From year
to year they use the same nest or build
over it until it has two or three stories
or more and is bigger than a bushel
basket. There are probably two dozen
nests in the dozen cottonwood trees,
some of the larger trees having three
or four or even six away up in their
tops where the branches seem scarcely
strong enough to bear such heavy burdens.
From the top of the bluff one
can look down into the nests and in
early March see the big blue eggs, almost
as large as hens' eggs, reposing
like amethysts in their rough brown
setting. Some authors state that not
over three eggs are laid, but I have
seen four about as often as three and,
on one occasion, five in a nest.</p>
<p>From their high-placed towers the
herons watch the small fry in the river
below and make forays among the
young trout, pike and catfish and the
frogs. They listen to the complaining
voices in the twilight and in the morning
give them cause for still further
complainings. They keep in terror the
big wood rats whose homes in the
clumps of elder berries below surpass
in size those of the herons. And the
gophers and field mice of the grain
fields never know at what moment an
ungainly shadow shall fall upon them
and end their harvestings. There was
a conceited young frog who sang loud
and shrill at sunset on the edge of the
river and who had an ambition to be,
not an ox like the one in the fable, but
a Patti. And she had her wish after a
fashion, for that connoisseur, the heron
who dwelt on the farthest branch over
the water, attracted by her vocal abilities,
sought her out, and the little herons
thought her the nicest <i>paté de foie
gras</i> they had ever eaten.</p>
<p>There they dwell, this ancient race
of high-born philosophers, stalking the
shallows of sunny baylets, or dreaming
in the breeze of the tree-tops of traditions
old as the sequoias. What an
authority would you and I be if we
could read the unwritten history of
their race!</p>
<p class="ar">
Charles Elmer Jenny.</p>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Boughs are daily rifled</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">By the gusty thieves,</div>
<div class="verse">And the Book of Nature</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Getteth short of leaves.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—Hood, "The Seasons."</div>
</div></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</SPAN></span></p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="PRONG-HORNED ANTELOPE.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_073.jpg" id="i_073.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_073.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM COL. CHI. ACAD. SCIENCES.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">PRONG-HORNED ANTELOPE.<br/>
(Antilocapra americana.)<br/>
Greatly reduced.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_PRONG-HORNED_ANTELOPE" id="THE_PRONG-HORNED_ANTELOPE"></SPAN> THE PRONG-HORNED ANTELOPE.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Antilocapra americana.</i>)</span></span></h2>
<p>The antelope family comprises many of
the most beautiful and graceful species
among horned animals. When we behold
the curiously twisted horns of the
sasin, the long, sharp horns of the pasan,
the large, spiral horns of the koodoo
and the shorter horns of the eland, not to
mention the graceful bodies and limbs
of these animals, we are led to wonder at
the extravagance of nature in furnishing
such a variety of appendages to these
creatures.</p>
<p>By far the larger number of species of
this family live in Africa and Asia, where
they have reached the highest development
of structure. They are not, like
some families of mammals, confined to
any one particular locality, but are
found on the plains and high up on the
mountains; in a country sparsely covered
with vegetation and in the thick forests;
in marshes and bogs. In fact, they seem
to inhabit all varieties of country. While
the family is thus diversified in habitat,
the different species are by no means so
widely distributed, for while some species,
like the sasin, live only on the open
plains, others, like the chamois, live high
up on the mountains, frequently above
the snow-line.</p>
<p>The subject of our sketch, the Prong-horned
antelope (Antilocapra americana),
is not as large nor so strikingly
horned as the other animals which have
been mentioned. In fact, so different is
its structure, having hollow, pronged
horns which do not increase by continuous
growth, as do those of the true antelopes,
but are shed like those of the deer
family, and having a somewhat different
structure of feet and different texture of
hair, that a family has been made for it
known as Antilocapridae.</p>
<p>The Prong-horn ranges throughout
the western part of North America from
the Missouri river to the Pacific ocean,
and from the Saskatchewan river south
to the Rio Grande. It is not confined to
the plains, but has been found in the wild
valleys of the Rocky mountains to a
height of over eight thousand feet above
sea level.</p>
<p>The daily life of this interesting animal
is thus described by Canfield, who made
an exhaustive study of them and who
also kept them in captivity: "From the
first of September to the first of March
one always sees them in larger groups
composed of bucks, does and yearlings.
Shortly afterward the does individually
retire from these herds and give birth
to their young. After a short interval
they again unite with other suckling does
and their little calves, possibly with a view
to common defense against the wolf and
coyotes. The adult bucks roam about
singly or two together, leaving the mothers
with their latest progeny to their fate,
the young Prong-horns in the meantime
gathering in groups of their own apart
from the older animals. Apparently tired
of the world and bored by society the old
bucks wander about for one or two
months, frequenting localities in which
they are not ordinarily seen. Two or
three months subsequently the adolescent
bucks again join the old does and
their calves, and finally the old bucks also
put in an appearance, so that one can observe
herds, numbering hundreds, or
sometimes even thousands, after the first
of September. A herd never leaves its
native locality or roams over more than a
few miles of range. In dry summer
weather they seek water and go to drink
regularly once a day or twice in three
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</SPAN></span>
days; but if the grass is fresh and green,
as is the case during the greater part of
the year, the Prong-horns do not drink
at all."</p>
<p>The food of the antelope consists to a
great extent of the short, succulent herbage
of the prairie, of moss, and also, to a
limited extent, of the young and tender
branches of trees. Like many other ruminants,
this animal is passionately fond of
salt and they will remain about saline deposits
for many hours, satisfying themselves
by licking the salty ground.</p>
<p>The antelope is the swiftest runner of
any animal in North America, though
perhaps less agile and speedy than some
of its relatives in the old world. It has
been said by competent observers that so
swiftly do they run that it is absolutely
impossible to distinguish their limbs.</p>
<p>The senses of the antelope are unusually
developed. Their sight is exceedingly
keen and their hearing very acute.
Their sense of smell is so well developed
that no danger can possibly approach
from the windward side. When a herd is
feeding, sentinels are placed on the outskirts
to scent any impending danger,
and to give due warning to the herd.
Their curiosity is one of their most peculiar
qualities and seems to overshadow
every other sense.</p>
<p>For a number of years this graceful
animal has been considered royal game
for the sportsman and a good round-up
of antelopes is considered a great achievement
among hunters. Mr. G. O. Shields,
in his interesting book, "Hunting in the
Great West," very vividly describes a
hunt for antelopes, and we cannot better
illustrate the peculiarities of the animal
than by giving his pen sketch:</p>
<p>"We had heard from some ranchmen
along the way that the buffalo herd was
at this time grazing about fifteen to twenty
miles up the Big Porcupine, and knowing
that antelopes are nearly always
found hanging on the outskirts of every
large herd of bison, we were on the look-out
for them, for it would not seem at all
strange to find them near the stage trail
on which we were traveling. We scanned
the country closely with the field glass
and were finally rewarded by seeing a
number of small white spots on the dead
grass away up the Porcupine, that
seemed to be moving. We rode toward
them at a lively trot for perhaps a mile,
and then stopped to reconnoitre again.
From this point we could plainly distinguish
them, though they looked to be
about the size of jack rabbits. We again
put the rowels to our donkeys and rode
rapidly up to within about a mile of them,
when we picketed our animals in a low
swale, took out our antelope flag—a piece
of scarlet calico about half a yard square—attached
it to the end of my wiping
stick, and were ready to interview the antelopes.</p>
<p>"I crawled to the top of a ridge within
plain view of the game, and planted my
flag. The breeze spread it out, kept it
fluttering, and it soon attracted their attention.
They were then near the bank
of the river, grazing quietly, but this bit
of colored rag excited their curiosity to
a degree that rendered them restive, anxious,
uneasy, and they seemed at once to
be seized with an insatiable desire to find
out what it was. An antelope has as
much curiosity as a woman, and when
they see any object that they don't quite
understand, they will travel miles and run
themselves into all kinds of danger to
find out what it is. They have been
known to follow an emigrant or freight
wagon with a white cover several miles,
and an Indian brings them within reach
of his arrow by standing in plain view
wrapped in his red blanket. Some hunters
"flag" them by lying down on their
back, holding one foot as high as possible,
and swinging it to and fro. A piece
of bright tin or a mirror answers the
same purpose on a clear day. Almost
any conspicuous or strange-looking object
will attract them, but the most convenient,
as well as the most reliable at
all times, is the little red flag, such as we
employed in this instance.</p>
<p>"Huffman went to the top of another
ridge, to my right and some distance in
advance, and Jack crawled into a hollow
on the left, and well in advance, we three
forming a half circle, into which it was
our intention if possible to decoy the
game. When they first discovered our
flag they moved rapidly toward it, sometimes
breaking into a trot, but when they
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</SPAN></span>
had covered half the distance between us
and their starting point, they began to
grow suspicious and stopped. They circled
around, turned back, walked a few
steps, and then paused and looked back
at the, to them, mysterious apparition.
But they could not resist its magic influence.
Again they turned and came toward
it, stopped, and gazed curiously at
it. The old buck who led the herd
stamped impatiently, as if annoyed at being
unable to solve the mystery. Then
they walked cautiously toward us again,
down an incline into a valley, which took
them out of our sight, and out of sight
of the flag. This of course rendered
them still more impatient, and when they
again came in sight on the next ridge,
they were running. But as soon as their
leader caught sight of the flag, he
stopped, as did the others in their turn
when they reached the top of the ridge.
There were seven in the herd, two bucks,
three does and two fawns. They were
now not more than a hundred yards from
me, and still less from the other two of
our party. Their position was everything
we could wish, and though we
might possibly have brought them a few
yards nearer, there was a possibility of
their scenting us, even across the wind,
which, of course, we had arranged to
have in our favor, and I decided that
rather than run the risk of this and the
consequent stampede, I would shoot
while I had a good chance. It had been
arranged that I was to open the ball, so I
drew my peep and globe sights down
very finely, taking the white breast of the
old buck for my bull's-eye, and pulled.
Huffman's Kennedy and Jack's carbine
paid their compliments to the pretty visitors
at almost the same instant, and for
about two or three minutes thereafter we
fanned them about as vigorously as ever
a herd got fanned under similar circumstances.
The air was full of leaden missiles;
the dry dust raised under and
around the fleeing herd as it does when
a team trots over a dusty road. Clouds
of smoke hung over us, and the distant
hills echoed the music of our artillery
until the last white rump disappeared in
the cottonwoods on the river bank.</p>
<p>"When the smoke of battle cleared
away, and we looked over the field, we
found that we had not burned our powder
in vain. Five of the little fellows, the
two bucks and three does, had fallen victims
to their curiosity. The two fawns
had, strangely enough, escaped, probably
only because they, so much smaller than
their parents, were less exposed."</p>
<p>The antelope have a curious way of
protecting their young, when on the open
prairie. This is accomplished by placing
a ring of sharp-pointed cacti about a spot
which has been beaten smooth by their
hoofs. Inside this ample protection the
animal cares for its young and secures ingress
and egress for itself by jumping
over the ring of cacti. This serves to protect
them from the majority of their foes,
which inhabit the open country.</p>
<p>The antelope does not thrive well in
captivity, the older ones soon killing
themselves in their attempts to escape.
The young taken soon after their birth
generally die early, unless very special
care is bestowed upon them, and even if
they survive the juvenile state, they are
very likely to die when three or four
months old, from pyaemic sores or inflammation
of the limbs.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="PLANT_PROTECTION" id="PLANT_PROTECTION"></SPAN>PLANT PROTECTION.</h2>
<p>In the <SPAN href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/48540/48540-h/48540-h.htm#Page_119">
last number</SPAN> of this journal it
was shown how plants seek to avoid the
visits of unsuitable insects to their flowers.
This is one means of protection, but
there are many others which are even
more striking and vital. It is supposed
by many that plants are helpless beings,
which must submit to all sorts of unfavorable
conditions which come upon
them. This is far from true, for while
plants as a rule are fixed and unable to
escape from danger by flight, still they
have very many ways of helping themselves.</p>
<p>Prominent among the dangers which
come to active green plants are those
which arise from too intense light, which
may destroy the delicate working substances.
Since the leaves are the great
working organs in the manufacture of
food, they are especially equipped for
protection. Those leaves which must
work in exposed places have many details
of structure which are evidently for
guarding them against the ill effects of
too intense light. The most striking
adaptations, however, are those which
have to do with protective positions. Under
ordinary circumstances leaves are
placed so that their flat faces are exposed
to the most intense light. In some cases
this is so great a danger that the leaves
are set edgewise, the edges being directed
upwards and downwards. When a
plant assumes this habit, the leaves are
said to be in a profile position, and the
plants are sometimes called "compass
plants." The latter name has come from
the fact that such leaves usually point
north or south, and once it was assumed
that this position was in response to
some mysterious magnetic influence. It
is found, however, that it is merely an effort
on the part of the plant to protect its
leaves from the intense light of midday,
and at the same time to expose them to
the morning and evening rays of much
less intensity. If a leaf is to be placed
with its edge upwards and its flat faces
east and west, it follows of necessity that
it will point either north or south.</p>
<p>Some leaves, however, have the power
of shifting their position according to
their needs, directing their flat surfaces
toward the light, or more or less inclining
them according to the danger. Perhaps
the most completely adapted leaves of
this kind are those of the "sensitive
plants," whose leaves respond to various
external influences by changing their positions.
The sensitive plants abound in
dry and hot regions, and one of the best
known is represented in our illustration.
It will be noticed that the leaves of this
Mimosa are divided into very numerous
small leaflets, which stretch in pairs along
the leaf branches. When the time of intense
light and dryness approaches some
of the pairs of leaflets fold together,
slightly reducing the surface exposure.
As the unfavorable condition continues,
more leaflets fold together, then still
others, until finally all the leaflets may be
folded together, and the leaves themselves
may bend against the stem. It is
like a sailing vessel gradually taking in
sail as a storm approaches, until finally
nothing is exposed, and the vessel weathers
the storm by presenting only bare
poles. These are but a few illustrations
of the very numerous devices for escaping
too intense light and the dangers
which accompany it.</p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="SENSITIVE PLANT.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_084.jpg" id="i_084.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_084.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">PLANTS PRESENTED BY LINCOLN PARK COMMISSIONERS.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">SENSITIVE PLANT.<br/>
(Mimosa pudica.)</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">COPYRIGHT 1900, BY<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, CHICAGO.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Awake.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40"></td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">Asleep</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>One common danger in temperate regions
comes from the lowering of the
temperature each night, which sometimes
may chill the living substances to the
danger point. This is particularly dangerous
to seedlings, whose tender structures
have not yet developed the ordinary
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</SPAN></span>
protective coats. In the spring the
seed leaves of numerous seedlings may
be seen at the approach of night to rise
upward and come together, just as the
palms of the hand may be placed together
over one's head. This reduces the surface
of exposure and the danger of chill
at least one-half. Darwin experimented
upon these seedlings, and discovered that
by preventing some of the seed leaves
from moving, the seedlings were seriously
injured. The leaves of very many
plants assume a peculiar night position
which tends to meet the danger of loss of
heat. Often the three leaflets of the common
clover, if growing in an exposed
place, may be observed to fold together
into a sort of tent-like arrangement.</p>
<p>Many plants are also observed to protect
themselves against rain, as it is necessary
for leaves to avoid becoming wet.
If the water is allowed to soak in, the
work of the leaves is at once interfered
with. Hence it will be noticed that most
leaves are able to shed water, partly by
their position, partly by their structure.
In many plants the leaves are so arranged
that the water runs off toward the stem;
in other plants the rain is shed outwards
as from the eaves of a house. Some of the
structures which prevent the rain from
soaking in are a smooth epidermis, layers
of cuticle, hairy coverings, etc. Interesting
experiments may be performed
with different leaves to test their power
of shedding water. If a gentle spray be
allowed to play upon different plants it
will be observed that the water glances
off at once from the surfaces of some
leaves, runs off more slightly from others,
and may be more or less retained by
others.</p>
<p>Perhaps the most general preparation
for protection in our region is that which
is made for the coming of the winter's
cold. In many cases plants do not attempt
to protect their delicate structures
from the severity of winter, but disappear
entirely, leaving only well-protected
seeds to carry them over into the next
growing season. This results in the so-called
"annual habit," which has been
learned by many plants in order to escape
a season of danger. Other plants
do not disappear so completely, but everything
above the surface of the ground
dies, while the plant continues in the
form of underground bulbs, tubers, or
various thickened structures. This habit
of seeking a subterranean retreat at
the approach of some dangerous season
is a very good one, and is found in
many of our early spring plants. This
subterranean habit has a great advantage
over the annual habit, since a seed is very
slow in bringing the plant back again,
while a bulb can produce its plant very
rapidly.</p>
<p>Still other plants preserve more of
their structures than either the annuals
or the ground-loving plants. For example,
most of our trees have cultivated
what is known as the deciduous habit,
that is, they merely drop their leaves,
which are the endangered structures, at
the approach of the unfavorable season,
and renew them again when the favorable
conditions return. It should be remarked
that these leaves do not fall because
they are broken off, but that in a certain
sense it is a process of growing off, which
is carefully prepared for. One of the
most prominent features associated with
the deciduous habit is the autumnal coloration.
The vivid colors which appear
in the leaves of many trees just before the
time of falling have attracted a great deal
of attention, but although it is so prominent,
the causes for it are very obscure.
It will be noticed that this autumnal coloration
consists in the development of
various shades of two typical colors, yellow
and red. It is known that the yellow
is due to the breaking down of the green
substances, so that it simply indicates a
post mortem change, as may be noticed
in connection with the blanching of celery
in which the leaves and upper part of
the stem may be green, the green may
shade gradually into yellow, and finally
into the pure white of complete blanching.
The red coloring matter, however,
is very different. Certain experiments
upon plant colors have indicated that the
presence of the red slightly increases the
temperature by absorbing more heat. It
is suggested that the red color may be a
slight protection to the living substance
which is ceasing to work, and which is in
danger of exposure to cold. If this be
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</SPAN></span>
true, it may be that the same explanation
will cover the case of the red flush so conspicuous
in buds and young leaves in
early spring. It must not be supposed
that the need of protection has developed
the coloring, but since it is developed it
may be of some such service to the plant.
Even the conditions which determine autumnal
coloration have not been made
out certainly.</p>
<p>It is instructive to notice how differently
the so-called evergreens, as pines,
spruces, etc., have answered the problem
of protection against the cold of winter.
The evergreens, instead of dropping their
leaves, have undertaken to protect them,
giving them a small surface and very
heavy walls. In this way protection has
been secured at the expense of working
power during the season of work. Reduced
surface and thick walls are both
obstacles to leaf work. On the other
hand, the deciduous trees have developed
the working power of their leaves to
the greatest extent, giving them large
surface exposure and comparatively delicate
walls. It is out of the question to
protect such an amount of surface during
the winter, and hence the deciduous habit.
The evergreens are saved the annual
renewal of leaves, but lose in working
power; the deciduous trees must renew
their leaves annually, but gain greatly in
working power.</p>
<p>To obtain the most striking instances
of protection, however, one must examine
plants which belong to permanently
dry regions, such as may be found in the
United States along the Mexican border,
or in the regions of tropical deserts. In
the first place, it will be noticed that the
plants in general produce smaller leaves
than in other regions. That this holds a
direct relation to the dry conditions is
evident from the fact that the same plant
often produces smaller leaves in dry conditions
than in moist. One of the most
striking features of an arid country is the
absence of large leaves. These reduced
leaves are of various forms, such as the
needle leaves of pines, or the thread-like
leaves of certain sedges and grasses, or
the narrow leaves with inrolled margins
such as is common in many heath plants.
The extreme of leaf reduction has been
reached by the Cactus plants, whose
leaves, so far as foliage is concerned, have
disappeared entirely, and the leaf work is
done by the surface of the globular, cylindrical,
or flattened stems. A covering of
hairs is an effective sun screen, and it is
very common to find plants of dry regions
characteristically hairy. In such
regions it is to be observed also that
dwarf growths prevail, so that the plant,
as a whole, does not present such an exposure
to the drouth as in regions of
greater moisture. One of the most prominent
measures of protection in dry regions
is the organization of what are
known as water reservoirs. Nearly all
plants of such regions have leaves which
are known as fleshy, that is, they are
thick and juicy, being reservoirs of stored
up moisture which is doled out cautiously
according to the needs of the plant, without
any wastefulness.</p>
<p>The whole subject of plant protection
is an immense one, and the illustrations
given above are merely intended to suggest
that there is such a subject, and to
lead to some observation of the various
schemes of protection which are to be
seen plainly on every hand.</p>
<p class="ar">John Merle Coulter.</p>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">Nature is but a name for an effect</div>
<div class="verse">Whose cause is God.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—Cowper, "The Task."</div>
</div></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_BIRTH_OF_A_TREE" id="THE_BIRTH_OF_A_TREE"></SPAN>THE BIRTH OF A TREE.</h2>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Once I lay 'neath quilt of green,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">All unthought of, all unseen;</div>
<div class="verse">Little thinking of the world</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Out of which I had been hurled.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">By and by, when quilt grew hot,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Mother Nature touched my cot,</div>
<div class="verse">Whispered softly in my ear,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">"Higher, higher, higher, dear."</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Painted lovely scenes for me,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Saying, "Child, climb up and see."</div>
<div class="verse">I was lazy, so I said,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">"Please, ma'am, let me stay in bed."</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Something whispered, "Child, I fear</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Life will be but meager here."</div>
<div class="verse">Golden sunbeams bade me start,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">And a purpose filled my heart.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">I would leave my bed of ease,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">I would join the forest trees;</div>
<div class="verse">Shelter travelers passing by,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Hide squirrels in the branches high.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Purpose, mighty power, led,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Ever, ever on ahead,</div>
<div class="verse">Till I grew up here so high,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Near the sunlight and the sky.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">Mother Nature, mother dear,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">I am glad you called me here.</div>
<div class="verse">Thus the mighty forest oak</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">From his wooded homeland spoke.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">And I thought a lesson this—</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">We, to reach the highest bliss,</div>
<div class="verse">Must arise from beds of ease,</div>
<div class="verse indent-2">Growing like the forest trees.</div>
<div class="verse ar">Lucia Belle Cook.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</SPAN></span></p>
</div>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_ALMOND" id="THE_ALMOND"></SPAN>THE ALMOND.<br/> <span class="xx-smaller"><span style="font-weight:lighter;"> (<i>Amygdalus communis L..</i>)</span></span></h2>
<p class="bq">And it came to pass that on the morrow Moses went into the tabernacle of witness;
and behold, the rod of Aaron for the house of Levi was budded, and brought forth buds,
and blossomed blossoms, and yielded <i>almonds</i>.—Numbers 17:8.</p>
<p>The almond is the fruit of a small tree
(Amygdalus communis) belonging to
the Rose family (Rosaceae). The plant is
believed to be a native of northern Africa,
Persia and Turkestan. It occurs wild
in Sicily and Greece and is cultivated
throughout temperate Europe, including
England.</p>
<p>The leaves of the almond tree are simple,
broadly lanceolate, margins serrate,
bright green and stalked. The flowers
are nearly sessile, mostly solitary, petals
bright pink; otherwise similar to the
flowers of the rose family as seen in the
apple blossom, cherry blossom and the
wild rose. The fruit is a drupe or stone
fruit, resembling the peach in its general
structural characters. It is, however,
much smaller, measuring about one and
one-half inch in length. As in the peach
the outer portion of the fruit coat (sarcocarp)
is fleshy, the inner portion (endocarp
or putamen) is hard and encloses the
kernel or seed to which the term almond
is usually applied. The plant is very ornamental,
producing its beautiful flowers
in March before the leaves are developed.</p>
<p>Two natural varieties of almonds are
quite universally recognized, the sweet
(A. communis var dulcis) and the bitter
(A. communis var amara). They resemble
each other so closely in general appearance
that it is practically impossible
to distinguish between them. The principal
difference lies in the chemistry of
the kernels or seeds themselves. In the
bitter variety amygdalin is found, which
is practically wanting in the sweet variety.
Some botanists describe quite a
number of varieties. Karsten, for instance,
describes five varieties of A. communis,
namely, dulcis, amara, fragilis,
macrocarpa and persicoides. Boissier
in his Flora Orientalis describes as many
as seventeen distinct species.</p>
<p>The almond tree is one of the oldest
of the cultivated plants. It was a great
garden favorite in and about Palestine.
It is frequently mentioned in the books
of Moses. In Exodus 25:34, we find
that the "candlestick shall have four
bowls made like unto almonds." As explained
in the 8th verse of chapter 17 of
Numbers the blossoming rod of Aaron
was from an almond tree. Even to this
day Jews carry rods bearing almond blossoms
to the synagogues on great festival
days. The Romans designated the almonds
(the kernels or seeds with the hard
endocarp or shell) Nuces graecae (Greek
nuts), from which it is concluded that the
almond tree was brought to Italy from
Greece. Almond oil was known to the
ancient Greek and Roman writers. Plinius
and Dioscorides make reference to
the gum which exudes from the bark.
Karl der Grosse (Charlemagne) recommended
the cultivation of almonds in
Germany. In view of the fact that some
authorities state that the sweet variety is
a product of cultivation, it is interesting
to note that the two varieties have been
known equally long. The bitter variety
was described by Scribonius Largus and
Plinius. Alexander Trallianus described
the medicinal virtues of the oil of bitter
almonds. Palladinus gave directions
how to convert the bitter variety into the
sweet variety by methods of cultivation.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</SPAN></span>
Later experiments have, however, proven
this to be a false conclusion.</p>
<table class="sp2 mc w50" title="ALMOND.">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td colspan="3"><span class="ac w100 figcenter">
<SPAN name="i_096.jpg" id="i_096.jpg"> <ANTIMG style="width:100%"
src="images/i_096.jpg" alt="" /></SPAN></span>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">FROM KŒHLER'S MEDICINAL-PFLANZEN.</td>
<td class="x-smaller ac w40">ALMOND.</td>
<td class="xx-smaller ac w30">CHICAGO:<br/>
A. W. MUMFORD, PUBLISHER.</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>Description of Plate:—A, B, branch
with flowers and fruit; 1, 1a, flowers from
different trees; 2, 2a, petals; 3, stamens;
4, pollen; 5, stamen; 6, 7, ovary; 8, 9,
seed with shell; 10, seed without shell;
11, 12, sections of seed.</p>
<p>The fruit and seeds of several other
plants are known as almonds. The seeds
of the African shrub Brabejum stellatifolium
are known as African almonds.
Country almonds is a name given to the
fruit of the East Indian tree Terminalia
Catappa. The fruit of Canarium commune
is known as Java almonds.</p>
<p>At the present time the sweet almond
is extensively cultivated in northern Africa,
southern Europe and in the warmer
parts of the United States, particularly in
California. Climatic conditions and cultivation
have a great influence upon the
quality of the almonds and we have as a
result quite a number of commercial varieties,
just as we have commercial varieties
of coffee, tea, oranges, etc. The more
important commercial varieties are the
Jordan, Valencia, Barbary and California
almonds. These vary somewhat in size,
form and thickness of the kernel and the
hardness and thickness of the shell (endocarp).
The Jordan almonds are imported
from Malaga (Spain) and are said
to be the finest. They differ from the
others in the greater length of the kernel
(seed), for which reason they are also
known as long almonds. These are official
in the English Pharmacopoeia because
they are not readily confused with
other sweet varieties and the bitter almond.
The Valencia almonds come from
the Balearic islands (Majorca); they are
characterized by a comparatively soft
shell and are less highly prized than the
Jordan or the California almonds. The
Barbary almonds from northern Africa
are quite small and unsightly and for
those reasons have comparatively little
commercial value. In the United States
the principal commercial variety is the
California almond. The kernel is shorter
and flatter than that of the Jordan almond,
but almost equal to it in quality.
It is extensively cultivated, about one
hundred trees being planted to the acre.
The trees attain a height of fifteen to
twenty feet and begin to yield when three
years old. In California it is customary
to bleach the almonds by exposing them
to the vapor of burning sulphur, which
also destroys insect parasites which attack
almonds very readily.</p>
<p>Other less important sweet commercial
varieties are the Provence almonds of
southern France, the Florence and Ambrosia
almonds of Sicily, the Pitti almonds
of Portugal and the small Puglia
almonds of Italy.</p>
<p>The bitter almond seeds are as a rule
somewhat shorter, broader and thinner
than those of the larger, sweet varieties.
Those found upon the market are largely
from northern Africa, Sicily and southern
France.</p>
<p>The principal constituents of sweet almonds
are a fixed oil, sugar, some albuminoid
substances, and perhaps a
small quantity of amygdalin or a substance
akin to it. The purified fixed oil
from both varieties of almonds is a bland,
thin, pale yellow liquid, having a faint
taste and odor of the almond. When exposed
to the air it becomes rancid quite
readily. Medicinally it finds use as an
emollient in external applications. Taken
internally in small doses it is nutritious;
in large doses laxative. Mixed with mucilage
or yolk of eggs and sugar it is
found useful in allaying troublesome
coughs due to irritation of the throat. It
also finds a table use similar to that of
olive oil.</p>
<p>Bitter almonds contain a very poisonous
volatile oil in addition to the fixed
oil just described. In small quantities
this oil finds a use for flavoring by the
cook and confectioner, and by the perfumer
for scenting toilet soaps and for
other purposes. This oil is obtained by
distillation after the fixed oil has been expressed.
It is the product of the decomposition
of amygdalin under the influence
of emulsin and water. The poisonous
properties of this oil are due to the
hydrocyanic acid which is present. This
acid may be removed and the oil is then
known as purified oil of bitter almonds.
Even the purified oil is not safe, as it decomposes
quite readily unless all of the
water is removed by the use of fused
chloride of lime.</p>
<p>The symptoms of poisoning from the
oil of bitter almonds, or from a quantity
of the bitter almonds, are the same as from
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</SPAN></span>
a dose of hydrocyanic acid. Medicinally
the oil is used like hydrocyanic acid in
various disorders of nervous origin, as
whooping cough, spasmodic troubles,
etc.</p>
<p>Sweet almonds are variously employed.
Roasted and salted almonds are very
much liked by everybody. Almonds for
the table must first be "blanched," that
is, the outer, reddish brown, thin seed
coat must be removed, as it contains irritant
properties. They are used in making
cake and other pastry. Cake or bread
made from almond meal has been recommended
as a substitute for ordinary bread
in the treatment of diabetes, as it is free
from starch, a food substance which
proves harmful in this disease. Almond
cake is a term applied to the crushed
seeds from which the oil has been expressed.
Finely-powdered this is used
for washing hands and face. Almond
paste is a cosmetic made from powdered
bitter almonds, white of egg, rose water
and rectified spirits. It is used to soften
the skin and prevent chapping of hands.
An emulsion of sweet almonds is also
used as a substitute for milk in feeding
infants.</p>
<p class="ar">Albert Schneider.</p>
<hr class="sect" />
<div class="ac">Nature, the Vicar of the Almightie Lord.</div>
<div class="ar">—Chaucer, "The Assembly of Foules."</div>
<div class="poetry-container p1">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">All Nature is but art, unknown to thee;</div>
<div class="verse">All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;</div>
<div class="verse">All discord, harmony not understood;</div>
<div class="verse">All partial evil, universal good;</div>
<div class="verse">And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,</div>
<div class="verse">One truth is clear, whatever is, is right.</div>
<div class="verse ar">—Pope, "Essay on Man."</div>
</div></div>
<div class="p1">Nature is a frugal mother, and never gives without measure.</div>
<div class="ar">—Emerson, "Essays."</div>
<div class="poetry-container p1">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse indent4">But who can paint</div>
<div class="verse">Like Nature! Can imagination boast</div>
<div class="verse">Amid its gay creations hues like hers?</div>
<div class="verse ar">—Thompson, "Seasons."</div>
</div></div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
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